The building sported some serious 1970s decor, and Catcher and Jeff shared an equal y ugly office down the hal . Metal desks probably grabbed from a city surplus auction fil ed their smal room, and posters of River nymphs lined the wal s.
I found Jeff and Catcher at their desks, but they were so heavily immersed in conversation they hadn't even heard me enter.
"Her hair's a lot darker," Jeff was saying, while simultaneously typing on one of the rainbow of keyboards that covered his desk. "So I'm pretty sure our kids would have darker hair, too."
"That's not necessarily the case," Catcher disagreed. He was folding a sticky note into a tiny, origami something-orother. "I mean, they could get your genes. And your hair is lighter. You're tal er than Fal on, too."
"True. True," Jeff said.
Was this for real? Were these two magical y oriented, problem-fixing, ass-kicking guys talking about what their kids would look like?
Jeff leaned over and offered a bag of pistachios to Catcher. Catcher smiled genial y - and without even a bit of snark - dropped the origami and plucked a few from the bag. Jeff split the hul on one and chewed it.
"You ever think about coaching basebal , that kinda thing, when you and Mal ory have kids? You know, doing the whole soccer dad routine?"
Catcher threw a pistachio in the air and caught it in his mouth. "While hoping they don't fry the universe from day one? Yeah, that thought has occurred to me." He sat up straight and looked at Jeff. "Can you imagine some little girl with Mal ory's hair? The blond, I mean."
"Heart. Breaker," Jeff said. "You'l have to keep a shotgun by the front door just to ward off the players. Or, I guess, you could have Mal ory do it for you."
"I could," Catcher al owed, then - realizing I was in the room - looked up and glared right at me. "I'l do that right after I have her kick Merit's ass for spying."
I grinned and stepped inside, offering each a wave.
"Hel o, proud papas of children not yet conceived."
Jeff's cheeks blossomed crimson. "You could have given us a heads-up."
"And miss the parental discussion? No thank you. It was adorable. You two kids, being al chummy and paternal."
"I guess the siren didn't drown you?" Catcher dryly asked, getting me back to the point.
"Not even close. She was pretty nice, actual y."
"She must have been," Jeff said with a grin. "I mean, you convinced her to do the right thing. The lake is back to normal."
"Thank Christ," Catcher said. "Did she make the trip worthwhile and confess to f**king up our lake?"
"As a matter of fact, she didn't," I said, pul ing out a chair of my own. "Let's cal in my grandfather. He'l want to hear this, too."
I didn't mean to set a dramatic scene, but I wanted them al in the room at the same time when I laid down the facts about our lake siren.
After a few minutes, my grandfather walked in, offered me a hug and a smile. But then his eyes changed, the joy flattening as he prepared to get down to business.
"Lorelei has been the lake siren since she took possession of the Piedra de Agua, the water stone, which somehow imparts its power to the holder. She's weak -
looked pretty awful, actual y - and seems to be in pain.
She'd actual y hoped the nymphs had been responsible.
We flew back to Chicago, total y uneventful, and I'm told when we arrive the lake is suddenly back to normal.
Magically back to normal."
There was silence in the room.
"It wasn't her," my grandfather concluded.
"Not unless she was lying and worked some real y fast magic."
Catcher frowned and began to rock in his ancient metal office chair, which squeaked in time to his movements. "So we're dealing with something unknown."
"She did have a theory," I began, and offered Jeff an apologetic glance. "She thinks it's the combination of shifters and nymphs in town that made the magic. Their elemental magics working together or against each other, and the result of al that power in one place, she thought."
Jeff looked taken aback. "That's a new one."
"Is that even possible?" my grandfather asked. "That the number of sups would create spontaneous magic?"
Jeff frowned and scratched absently at his head. "I guess it's theoretical y possible there'd be some lambent magic spil age, but you'd expect to see a positive increase in magic - not something that's sucking the magic out of the city."
"Unless it's like the effect of a tsunami," Catcher suggested. "Is it possible the shifters being together in one place pul ed out so much magic the lake began to pul it back in?"
Jeff shook his head. "If that were true, we'd shift ocean currents every time we met in Aurora or anywhere else." He glanced at me. "I'm not aware of any instance of a magical vacuum being created because too many shifters got together. This would be a first."
His tone was polite, but his expression made clear he didn't buy Lorelei's theory.
"I didn't real y buy it either," I said. "Although I like even less the fact that we have no explanation for something this powerful."
"We may not have an explanat ce a that ion," my grandfather said, "but at least we have a reprieve. I know times are not easy at the House. Let us do the heavy lifting on the rest of the investigation."
My lip curled at the implicit mention of Frank. "I can't schedule my work based on what the GP might say.
They're going to criticize me regardless, so I have to do the right thing by the House and by the city. And if worse comes to worst . . ."
"Merit," Jeff quietly said, "you don't want to be cast out of the House."
"No, I don't," I agreed. "But I'm not going to act like there's nothing going on when, clearly, something is brewing. I can't let the city go to hel because the receiver has his head up his ass. Sorry, Grandpa," I added about the language.
He patted my back. "We'l carry the burden," he said.
"You keep your head down and do your job. I know how hard it's been for you lately. How hard it must be without Ethan. He was a good man - a good Master for his people.
But tough times don't last forever, and Malik wil need you when he's free and clear of the receiver."
It was great advice; it was just going to be hard to fol ow.
Ethan hadn't exactly trained me to sit on the sidelines and watch a problem unfold. He'd taught me to strategize and investigate. To soldier. And what soldier bowed out because the pressure was too high? Sure, fol owing orders was important, but a soldier stil had to rely on her own conscience, right?