“Grey,” I said.
“Grey,” Louie agreed. “No gate there, so it’s easier to get in. No gate at that business at Wicker Park, either. If I can be frank—”
“You can’t,” Angelo muttered.
“—you don’t have security at your place, you’re asking for trouble. Here?” He gestured at the gate behind him, and the posted guards. “Here, you’ve got plenty of security. Obstacles. Live guards, and the closed circuit. It’s a good setup.”
“I’m sure Luc appreciates that.”
“I’ll tell you what he appreciates,” Louie said. “He appreciates not having crazy people throwing bottles of Smirnoff through his fancy front door and into his fancy house.”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“It’s a shame, too,” Louie said. “People minding their own business, bothering no one, and then the rioters hit.”
“Makes you wonder what the world’s coming to,” Angelo quietly agreed.
“But then, if the world was perfect, we’d all be out of jobs, am I right?” Louie asked, nudging Angelo for effect. Very little effect.
Having talked himself out, Louie went silent. For a few quiet minutes we sipped our hot chocolate. I swayed back and forth just to keep my blood circulating. I didn’t think vampire blood was so organically different that it would freeze in my veins, but neither did I want to test the theory.
When the hot chocolate was gone, and I had nothing else to focus on but the nose-numbing cold, I put down the container and looked back at Angelo and Louie, who’d begun to argue about the Bears’ failure to make the Super Bowl. Again.
Angelo said the team’s offensive line was shit; Louie said the problem was coaching.
I could think of nothing else but the thirty-mile-per-hour wind that was seeping in through the fibers of my jacket.
“Guys, I’m going to take a walk around the block. I need to keep moving.”
They nodded. “Good for the circulation,” Louie said.
“Keeps you healthy,” Angelo agreed.
Cadogan House took up a lot of space, but I wasn’t sure walking the handful of blocks around the perimeter was really going to accomplish much from a cardiovascular perspective. But at least I’d be moving.
I stuck my hands into my pockets and tightened the scarf around my neck, then set out down the street. The streetlights reflected off the snow and a bank of low clouds above us, which made the evening unusually bright. It was bright enough to read by, if I didn’t think Luc would have my ass for reading a novel while on guard patrol.
I walked down the block, being careful to avoid patches of ice, my sword slapping my thigh beneath my coat as I walked. I hadn’t yet figured out exactly how to arrange coat and sword, and figured I could spare a second or two to rip off my coat and draw it if the need arose.
I nodded to each human guard I passed. They all seemed less miserable than I was. Most, but not all, were brawny men who, like Angelo and Louie, looked like they’d done time in a weaponized uniform. They all looked focused, with earpieces in place and weaponry shined and polished. I was out here because I’d drawn the duty; they were here because their jobs involved keeping us safe, even in freezing weather. I had to respect that.
I rounded the corner and headed around the block, the fence extending the entire block on my right. On the left side of the street, nice houses where nice families lived glowed in the darkness, the families having dinner or watching television or preparing for another day of work or school.
Cars occasionally passed, but the streets were quiet enough that I could let my mind wander, and I could think about the problems before us with clarity.
It all came back to the riots.
The riots inconvenienced us and injured us, but they were almost secondary attacks. They hit structures, not vampires. If McKetrick was involved, it was a change from his last round of attack. He’d hired Michael Donovan to assassinate vampires and destabilize the Houses.
This time, he’d skipped killing vampires outright. Maybe this was another attempt to destabilize? Try to interrupt our blood supply, try to destroy our Houses, and motivate us to leave Chicago?
I kept coming back to that—if he meant to kill us all or kick us out of town, surely there were faster and more effective methods.
It all came back to the riots.
I reached the front of the House again and found Juliet standing at the gate, waiting for me. She was packed into even more outerwear than I was, including a full-length camouflage coverall. And because I was usually waiting for the other shoe to drop, seeing her standing there made me nervous.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.