Chicagoland Vampires - Some Girls Bite Part 14

Catcher swung the sword above his head, then sliced the blade through the air, the steel whistling as it fell. "Three-destroy the body. Remove the head, remove the limbs, the body dies. Slicing and dicing will weaken the body, as will guns. But guns are too easy. Bullets too easy. If you want to take out an immortal, you do it carefully, precisely, and after battle. You take out an immortal because you've fought them, used the old traditions, earned the right." Pommel up, he gripped the sword and sliced it beside his body, a move that would have gutted an enemy behind him. Then he looked up at me. "Honor among thieves," he concluded, brows lifted, and I wondered, not for the first time, how Catcher knew so much about vampires, and what put that intent gleam into his eyes.

He glanced back at Mallory. "That's why they don't use guns."

"How do you know all this?" she asked.

Catcher shrugged matter-of-factly. "Weapons are what I do."

"That's how he works his mojo," Jeff said.

"It's the second Key," I added, enjoying the surprised expression on Catcher's face. "I am capable of learning."

"Color me surprised," he snarked, then moved to his knees, resheathed the blade, and placed the sword in front of him on the floor. Solemnly, he bowed to it, then rewrapped it in the silk. "Next time, I'll let you hold her."

"Next time? What about your job? My grandfather?"

"Chuck doesn't mind that I'm ensuring your safety." When the scabbard was covered again, he rose, cradling it in his arms, and surveyed us all. "Who wants eggs?"

CHAPTER SEVEN.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?.

"Eggs," it turned out, meant a deliciously greasy breakfast. After I'd showered and changed back into my street clothes, Mallory and I followed Catcher and Jeff to a tiny aluminum diner situated in the shadow of the El in a commercial neighborhood that had seen better days. An electric blue neon sign blinked "Molly's" in one of the round windows.

Once inside, we piled into a booth and surveyed the breakfast-only menu. After a gingham-clad waitress took our orders-eggs, sausage, and toast all around-we lapsed into a companionable silence, marred only by the intense stares that Mallory and Catcher couldn't seem to help but exchange.

When the plates arrived minutes later, laden with greasy breakfast necessities, I tore into the sausage. I sucked down three links immediately and made doe eyes at Mallory, who handed me a fourth.

Catcher chuckled. "You're craving protein."

"Like a s.h.i.+fter," Jeff put in, grinning wolfishly. And that made me wonder something.

I nibbled the edge of my toast. "Jeff, what kind of animal do you change into?"

He and Catcher exchanged a glance, wary enough that I guessed that I'd made another supernatural faux pas. I mentally reiterated my interest in getting a guidebook. h.e.l.l-writing one, if that was what it came down to.

"Did I ask the wrong question again?" I asked, taking another bite, social clumsiness clearly not affecting my appet.i.te.

"Asking about someone's animal is the s.h.i.+fter equivalent of pulling a ruler and asking a guy to whip it out," Catcher said.

And down went toast into my trachea. I choked, had to swallow half my gla.s.s of OJ to get my breath back. "I'm okay," I said, waving Mallory off. "I'm fine." I gave Jeff a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

He beamed at me. "Oh, I'm not offended. I could show you. I think you'd be pretty pleased."

I held up a hand. "No."

Jeff shrugged and chewed a mouthful of eggs, apparently unruffled.

Catcher took a sip of his coffee, then dunked a corner of toast in the remnant of gooey egg yolk on his plate. "There's an easy way for you to remedy your ignorance, you know."

"What's that?" I asked him, pus.h.i.+ng back my plate. I'd finished off five links of sausage-three of my own, two pilfered-three eggs and four triangles of toast, and I'd just taken the edge off the hunger. But two thousand calories or so of grease, carbs, and protein was my limit at one sitting. I'd catch a snack later, and wondered how late Giordano's was open. Or how late Superdawg stayed open. A hot dog and fries-how good did that sound?

"Read the Canon," Catcher answered, interrupting my meat reverie. "It's your best source for information on sups, including all the s.h.i.+t you're already supposed to know about vampires. There's a reason they give those out, you know."

I drummed fingers on the table-well on my mental way through a Hackneyburger with bleu cheese-and made a face. "Yeah, well, I've been busy-getting death threats, kicking my Master's a.s.s, getting training."

"You finally have an excuse to buy that BlackBerry," Mallory pointed out, sipping at her diamond-patterned plastic tumbler of orange juice. I scowled at her, then batted my eyelashes at Catcher. "So, what's the story with Mallory?"

Mallory growled. Catcher ignored her. "Now that she's been identified, the Order will contact her. She'll get her training, be a.s.signed a mentor-not me," he clarified, giving her a look, "and will be asked to swear never to use her magic for the forces of evil"-he crossed a hand over his heart-"but only for good."

"Is that what you did?" I asked him. "Used magic for evil instead of good?"

"Nope," was all he said, tossing his napkin onto his plate.

"Why now?" Mallory asked. "If I'm so powerful, why the interest only now? Why wasn't I identified before?"

"p.u.b.erty," Catcher said, relaxing back into the booth. "You've just come into your powers."

I snorted out a laugh. "And you thought the weird body hair and pimples were the end of it."

Mallory elbowed me in the gut. "What powers? It's not like I'm out there waving a magic wand or something."

"A sorcerer's power doesn't work like that. We're not spell casters-no charms, no recipes, no cauldrons. We don't have to invoke it or ask for it. We don't draw it through a wand or the combination of words and ingredients. We pull it through our bodies, merely by the strength of our own will." Catcher crooked a thumb at me. "She's a predator, a genetically altered human, tempered by magic. Her magic is accidental; vamps notice it more than humans, have a greater awareness of it than humans, but can't control it. We are vessels of magic. We keep it. Channel it. Protect it."

At Mallory's blank expression, Catcher said, "Look, have you recently decided that you wanted something, and then got it?

Something unexpected?"

Mallory frowned and nibbled on the end of a sausage link, a move I noted was watched with avidity by Jeff.

"Not that I can think of." She looked at me. "Something I wanted and got?"

That was when it hit me. "Your job," I answered. "You told Alec you wanted the job-next day, you had it."

Mallory paled, and turned to Catcher. "Is that right?" There was sadness in her expression, probably dismay at the possibility that she hadn't gotten the job at McGettrick because of her qualifications or creativity, but because she'd made it happen, the result of some supernatural force she could flick on like a light switch.

"Maybe," Catcher said. "What else?"

We frowned, considered. "Helen," Mallory said. "I wanted her out of the House-virulently. I opened the door, told her to get out, and poof, she's on the stoop." She gazed up at Catcher. "I thought if you revoked a vampire's invitation they got sucked out?"

Catcher shook his head, his expression radiating quiet concern. They'd be good for each other, I decided. Her energy, expressiveness, impulsiveness, creativity, matched against his smart-a.s.s solidity.

"They leave by rule, by paradigm. Not by magic. That was your doing."

Mallory nodded and let the sausage fall back to her plate.

"You can try it, if you want. Right now, while I'm here." Catcher's voice was soft, thoughtful. Mallory's gaze on the table, she wet her lips. Finally, after a long silence, she looked up.

"What do I do?"

Catcher nodded. "Let's go," he said, reaching back into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beaten black leather wallet, then slipped cash from the center fold and laid it on the table. After he'd leaned forward to push the wallet back in, he rose from the booth and held his hand out to Mallory. She paused, looked at it, but let him help her up and out. They headed for the door.

Jeff swallowed the remaining inch of his orange juice, then put the empty tumbler back on the table, and we both followed.

Outside, the rain had finally stopped. Catcher led Mallory, her hand still in his, around the restaurant. Jeff and I exchanged a glance, but hurried to keep up.

Catcher walked a block or so until he and Mallory stood directly beneath the El, then positioned her body so they stood facing each other. Jeff stopped five yards from them and put a hand on my arm to stop me, too.

"Close enough," he whispered. "Give them room."

"Give me your hands," I heard Catcher tell her, "and keep your eyes on me."

She hesitated, but held out her hands, palms up.

"You're a channel," he said. "A conduit for the energy, the power." He held out his own hands, palms down, over hers, a little s.p.a.ce between them.

For a second, there was nothing but the sounds of the city. Traffic. Conversation down the street. The thud of a hip-hop ba.s.s line.

The drip of water from the tracks above us.

"Wait for it," Jeff whispered. "Watch their hands."

It happened simultaneously, the roar of the train overhead and the glow that began to gather in the s.p.a.ce between their outstretched fingers.

Mallory's eyes widened; then Catcher mouthed something and her eyes lifted. They gazed at each other, Catcher telling her things I couldn't hear over the grate and rumble of the El.

The glow built, grew into a sphere, a golden orb of light between them.

The train completed its pa.s.s, the sudden silence a vacuum of sound."I can feel it," Mallory said, gaze dropping to her hands and the light between them.

"What do you feel?" Catcher asked.

She looked up at him, their faces illuminated by the glow.

Chemistry, I thought, my lips tilting into a smile at the mix of joy and surprise on her face.

"Magic," Jeff whispered beside me.

"Everything," Mallory answered.

"Close your eyes," Catcher told her. "Breathe it in."

She gave a hesitant nod. Her lids fell, and then she smiled. The orb grew, engulfed their hands, arms, torsos until it was a yellow bubble of light encasing them both. The air electrified, the breeze of magic fluttering my bangs and Jeff's floppy hair.

And then with a pop, it was gone, a plane of yellow mist dissipating into the air around them.

Mallory and Catcher, arms still outstretched, stared at each other.

He lifted his gaze. "Not bad at all."

"As if you've had better, Bell."

I grinned. That was my girl, magic funnel or not. She'd be okay, I decided.

They dropped their arms and rejoined us.

"So, what the h.e.l.l was that, exactly?"

Catcher looked my way. "Need-to-know basis, vamp. And you do not need to know right now."

The magic demonstration concluded, we headed back to the block on which we'd left our cars, my chunky Volvo, Catcher's hipster sedan, and Jeff's old hatchback.

"Plans?" Catcher asked.

Jeff grinned. "It's a Friday night, I'm off work early, and I'm gonna chat with this cute kid from Buffalo. She's blond and curvy in all the right places, so I need to get home and get online." He elbowed Catcher. "Right, C.B.?"

"I told you not to call me that."

"It's, you know, so we have a thing, the two of us. You know."

Catcher gazed at Jeff. "I don't know, Jeff. I really, really don't." But when Jeff began to explain, Catcher held up a hand. "Nor am I interested." He looked at Mallory and me. "Plans?"

We shook our heads.

"There's a club in River North that looks cool." Catcher pulled a flyer from his pocket. It was similar to the one that had been left beneath my wipers when my car was parked outside Cadogan, advertising Red. "It's not too far from the gym."

I pointed at it. "I got one of those, too. They must be papering the city."

Catcher shrugged, refolded the paper, and stuffed it back into his pocket. "Anyone wanna dance?"

"Oh, Jesus," Mallory muttered.

"Dance?" I asked. "I could dance. I need to change, but I can dance." I could always dance. My hips didn't lie.

Mallory tucked her tongue into her cheek, then gave Catcher a look of mock irritation. "Nice going, Gandalf. You'll rile her up, and I'll never get her tucked in. You wanna give her candy and caffeine while you're at it?"

Catcher smiled at her, and even though the smile wasn't for me, it was hot enough to curl my toes. "Sorcerer, not wizard. Yes?"

After a beat, she nodded, a flush high on her cheeks.