Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(95)

“Weird,” Luc said. “That’s an odd set of circumstances, not that we’re low on those right now. Anyway, I’ll tell Ethan.”

“Please do. I’m going to call my grandfather and take the syringe over there.”

“Got it,” Luc said. “Stay in touch. Things are calm here for now, all things considered. But that could change at any minute.”

I took that as a hint to get to work. Two calls down, I prepared to dial up the third. Catcher answered immediately.

“Catcher.”

“Hey, it’s Merit. Are you guys around? I’ve actually got something I’d like you to take a look at.”

“What’s that?”

“A syringe. We think it has something to do with a sick vampire that’s also a friend of Jonah’s.”

“How does a vampire get sick?” he asked.

“Presumably from whatever was in the syringe. I checked out her apartment. It was on the floor. I grabbed it, was hoping you could get it to Detective Jacobs.”

“You’ve escalated to breaking and entering?” Catcher mused. “I’ll not mention that to your grandfather.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m out,” Catcher said. “Jeff and I both left early. It is Valentine’s Day, you know.”

“I’m aware,” I said dryly.

“Your grandfather was talking to Jacobs about their little forensic mystery, but he’s home now. He’ll be happy to see you. I’ll check in when I’m done here.”

“Roger that,” I said, and ended the call, then sent Ethan a message: TAKING EVIDENCE TO GRANDFATHER. LUC HAS DETAILS. HOME AFTERWARD.

I tapped the screen for a moment, thinking about the surprise I’d planned and debating whether to tell him. But if I couldn’t actually give him a decent Valentine’s Day, the least I could do was tell him I’d tried.

I HOPED TO GRAB TT FOR DELAYED VALENTINE’S DINNER, BUT VAMPIRES INTERVENED.

TT? Ethan asked, and I sighed with pity.

TUSCAN TERRACE, YOU TROGLODYTE. SORRY AGAIN FOR POSTPONEMENT.

LIFE GOES ON, Ethan philosophically answered. EVEN FOR TROGLODYTES. AND UNLIKE TROGLODYTES, I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE.

God, I loved that man.

—

Now that I had toured northern Chicago, it was time to head south. My grandfather lived in a working-class house in a working-class neighborhood, precisely the type of place my father avoided. Unlike my father, Grandfather didn’t believe he had to prove himself by having the biggest or fanciest of anything.

The streets in this neighborhood weren’t plowed as well as other places, and the street signs were in need of repair. But the people were good, and that was what kept my grandfather here.

The driveway held only my grandfather’s giant boat of an Oldsmobile; Catcher, Jeff, and Marjorie, the admin, were gone. The living room light was on.

I pulled up to the curb and grabbed my katana and the plastic bag from the passenger seat. Maybe it was time to find a messenger bag to compliment my leathers, something I could transport my goods in. As I locked the door, I wondered if they made specialized messenger bags for vampires with straps for Blood4You bottles, hidden pockets for emergency weapons, and a flap for the registration cards we were required to carry.

I am a nerd, I thought to myself, slamming the car door.

I carefully navigated the ice at the edge of the street, then hopped onto a dry spot of sidewalk.

I was excited to see my grandfather, glad I had evidence in hand, and optimistic we might find something useful.

But in that excitement, I was oblivious.

The push came from behind, a strike that sent me reeling forward into the snow. I dropped the plastic bag and used my free hand to unsheathe my katana, but the push, like so much else, had been a distraction.

Time slowed to a crawl. I jumped to my feet, snow glinting off the steel in my hand, and ran toward the front door.

But they’d been ready, the plan under way. Three more ran from the back of the house to the front, the bottles already lit in their hands.

“Grandpa!” I screamed as they tossed the Molotov cocktails through the windows, still running through the snow.

The front of the house exploded, flames rushing through the windows and sending a spray of glass and fire and heat into the yard. The barrage hit me, full force, and threw me backward into the snow.

But I felt no pain, no fear.

There was no thinking, no rationalizing, no weighing of cost.

There was only do.

I dropped my sword, ran toward the flames, and leaped into the fire.





 Chapter Seventeen




HELL HATH NO FURY

The front of the house was gone. There remained only a curtain of rising flames and burning debris. I landed in the middle of a conflagration, the fire crackling and climbing the walls to the ceiling as if it were a breathing thing. Like the fire was made of a thousand hands, all grasping upward, all climbing from some hell down below.