Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(9)

But I wasn’t the only one who aimed for the door. Mallory was right behind me.

I put out a hand. “Where are you going?”

“With you,” she said, petulantly as any teenager. “I have certain skills, as we’ve seen.”

I glanced around, realizing we weren’t exactly in the right place to have a discussion about her skills—or whether she should be showing them off.

“You’re not supposed to be using your particular skills,” I murmured, “and I don’t want to initiate a war with the Pack because I let you do it.” We had enough intraspecies animosity in Chicago.

Mallory leaned in. “And I’m not going to stand around while you walk out into trouble.”

“We don’t know it’s trouble yet.”

“You know,” she countered. “Your magic’s all over the place. You know something about what’s out there. Something you haven’t said yet.”

I hadn’t mentioned the weapons, because I couldn’t confirm anything in here. Not for sure. I looked at her for a moment, weighing my options: using her as backup and risking Gabriel’s ire versus leaving her inside and risking her ire.

“If nothing else,” she said, “I’ll need a ride back to the bar. I’ve got an hour until Catcher is supposed to pick me up. He and Gabe aren’t going to want me waiting here without you if there’s trouble out there.”

Unfortunately, she was right. They’d both have my ass in a sling if she got hurt on my watch. “Fine. You can come. But you don’t move an inch unless I tell you to.”

She gave me a salute, and we slipped out the door. When we were free of it, Saul pulled it shut and clicked the lock again.

I scanned the street, looking for the source of the noise. But other than the worried faces of humans peeking through doorways and windows, looking for the source of the percussions, I couldn’t see anything. There was smoke in the air, so the trouble was nearby, but not in my line of sight. Whatever it was, it grew closer; the rhythmic sound grew louder, and the sensation of steel grew stronger.

Sirens began to whine as two CPD cruisers sped past the restaurant, lights flashing.

“What is it?” Mallory asked.

“I’m not sure. But I think they have weapons.” Weapons and a total lack of visibility meant I needed backup. I could be brave when necessary, but I tried very hard not to be stupid.

I took out my phone and dialed up the Cadogan House Operations Room, where Cadogan’s guards (and I) investigated and strategized.

Luc answered on the first ring. “Sentinel? What’s the good word?”

“I’m in Wicker Park at Saul’s. We just heard two really loud bangs. I can’t see anything, but I can smell smoke. And I think they’ve got weapons. Can you get eyes on it?”

I heard a click and then the sound of frantic typing in the background. I’d been switched to speakerphone, and the noise of computers and research was audible.

“We’re checking the scanners, Sentinel. You there alone?”

“I’m with Mallory. And I’m thinking I need to get her out of here.”

“No argument there, Sentinel.”

“Merit, it’s Lindsey.” Lindsey was another House guard—Luc’s girlfriend and my House bestie. “CPD scanners are talking about explosions. It sounds like they suspect Molotov cocktails blew propane tanks or something.”

“Who’s throwing Molotov cocktails in Wicker Park?” I asked. Mallory’s eyes grew wide.

Cadogan House didn’t answer. I could hear the static drone of scanner feed in the background, but I couldn’t distinguish the words. They must have been listening.

And still, the sound of drumming grew louder, mimicking the acceleration of my heart.

“Guys, I’m going to need something here pretty soon.”

“The CPD’s reporting riots,” Luc said. “There’s a fire a few blocks west of you, and a cabal of rioters moving east.”

That explained the noise. “I think they’re chanting with drums or something. I can hear them moving. What was the target?”

“Looking,” Luc said. “Oh damn.”

“What?”

“They hit Bryant Industries.”

I frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s the company that distributes Blood4You in Chicago. Each distributor is independently owned. They call theirs ‘Bryant Industries’ to keep a low profile.”

In order to assimilate, most American vampires avoided drinking from humans or vampires and, instead, relied on bagged blood called “Blood4You.”

What were the odds of rioters in this day and age accidentally bombing a Blood4You distribution center?