Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(46)

“It was a smart decision by the rioters,” Ethan said. “Hard to detect; easy to get close.”

“The worst injuries were during the initial explosions,” Jonah said. “The CPD got here in minutes.”

“Any sign of Robin Pope?” I asked Jonah.

“The disgruntled employee?” He glanced at Scott, and both shook their heads. “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“Catcher and I went to her apartment. She ran when we asked her about the Bryant Industries riot. We suspect she’s wrapped up in it.”

Speaking of which, I realized we hadn’t yet seen Catcher. I pulled out my phone in case he’d left a message; to my relief, I found one waiting: I KNOCKED OUT 32 RIOTERS. THEY’LL WAKE UP AND ONLY REMEMBER EATING BAD CHEESE. HEADING BACK TO CHUCK’S HOUSE.

I sent a note back: GLAD YOU’RE SAFE.

“Liege,” said a breathless voice. Luc ran toward us, Juliet behind him. Their clothes were sooty, but they looked otherwise healthy and hale.

Luc and Ethan embraced like long-lost comrades, and Luc exchanged a pleasant—if tense—nod of acknowledgment with Scott.

“Merit, glad to see you took care of our Master,” Luc said.

“Unfortunately, she took the brunt of it.” Ethan pointed to the tear in my jacket, and Luc winced sympathetically.

“Katana?” he asked.

“Chef’s knife.”

Luc pursed his lips, apparently trying not to laugh.

“I didn’t get to select my attacker’s weapon,” I pointed out.

“I know, I know. It’s just not the weapon I’d have figured you’d take a hit from.”

A group in Chicago Fire Department gear stepped out of the gaping hole in the front of Grey House and walked toward us.

The fireman in front raised his visor. “It’s clear,” he said. “The fire’s out. But be careful of the glass. The ceiling took a beating.”

“Thank you again,” Scott said, shaking his hand.

“Just doing our job.” The man reached into his pocket and fished out a small card, which he handed to Scott. “Got friends in the rehab industry if you want help with the cleanup.”

“I appreciate the recommendation,” Scott said, stuffing the card into his jeans pocket.

Scott and Jonah watched the firemen walk away, but I glanced back at Grey House. The middle of the warehouse was a garden atrium, shielded by an enormous glass roof and covered by a shutter that closed automatically at sunrise. If that shutter had been damaged . . .

The roof is glass, I silently told Ethan. If the shutter is broken, they’re going to need shelter when the sun rises.

Ethan nodded ever so slightly and looked at Scott. “Between Navarre and Cadogan, we can house your vampires. Noah might also be able to offer some beds.”

“The blacklist?” Scott asked.

“As we discussed,” Ethan said mildly, “we came here anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, holding up his hands. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful that you’re here. But staying at the House would be stratospherically different than your coming here to help. The GP will be pissed, and it puts an even bigger target on your back. I don’t want to invite additional trouble to your House.”

The sound of shattering glass—a lot of it—echoed across the yard, probably more panels from the House’s roof. The sun would be rising soon; one way or the other Scott was going to have to find shelter.

“On the other hand,” Scott said, “I’m not sure we have another option.”

“It’s done,” Ethan said. “We’ll handle the Cadogan arrangements, but you might want to contact Morgan directly, considering the blacklist. I suspect burn phones are not his style.”

Ethan meant Morgan, Master of Navarre House. “Speaking of,” Ethan added, “I notice Mr. Greer is not here.”

“Neither him nor his people,” Scott said, equally unimpressed by the sound of it. “He’s taken losses lately. We presume that’s why he stood us up.”

“Losses or not, one does not avoid one’s obligations.”

“No,” Scott said. “You’re right.” He extended his hand toward Ethan. “We’re no longer part of the same European family, but you offered bodies in support. We won’t forget that. I can’t guarantee anything until the GP situation is sorted out, but we’re here if you need us.”

“I appreciate that,” Ethan said.

The momentary peace was interrupted by the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Scott!” she screamed, running toward him. She was a human in her early thirties, with tan skin and long, dark hair.