My pockets ful , I closed the drawer again and walked back to the front door. Catcher was stil on the couch, frowning at what looked to be another Lifetime movie.
"What's the appeal?" I wondered aloud, watching a montage of a woman getting a makeover with girlfriends, probably after some ridiculously bad breakup.
"Normalcy," he said. "The stories are melodramatic, sure, but the problems are profane. They're about love and il ness and money and nasty neighbors and creepy ex-boyfriends."
"They aren't about magic and irritating vampires and awful politicians?"
"Precisely."
I nodded in understanding. "I pul ed some stuff from the chocolate drawer. But I don't think you'l miss it. Hey, have you noticed anything weird about Mal ory? She seems, I don't know, real y focused. And not real y in a good way."
"She's fine," was al he said. I waited for more, but got nothing but thick tension and a little peppery magic. He may have verbal y disagreed with me, but there was nothing in his body language that said he was okay with her behavior.
"You sure about that? Have you talked to Mal ory about Simon? About what he's having her do? I get the sense she's doing things she's not comfortable with."
"This isn't exactly your area of expertise."
There was a sharpness in his voice I hadn't expected to hear. Catcher may have been gruff, but he was also usual y patient about supernatural issues.
"True," I al owed. "But I do know Mal ory. And I know when she's avoiding something."
"You think I don't know her?"
"Of course you know her. I just know her in a different way than you do."
Ever so slowly, he slid me a skewering glance. "What goes on in this house between us isn't exactly your business, is it?"
I blinked from the sting, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After al , he'd just lost his job and his girlfriend was a giant stressbal .
"Okay," I said, hand on the doorknob. "Fine. You guys have a good night."
"Merit."
I looked back.
"Before you go . . ." He began, then wet his lips and looked away. It wasn't often that I'd seen him uncomfortable about voicing an opinion, and that made me nervous. "I've heard you've been spending time with Jonah lately. I have to admit: I'm not thril ed about it."
How did word travel so fast? This was like being in high school al over again. "We're working together," I said.
"He's my backup."
"Is that al ?"
I gave back the same doubtful expression he'd offered me. "Is that al ?"
"I know it wasn't always obvious, but Ethan and I were close."
"I could say the same thing."
"And are you respecting his memory?"
The question was as brutal as a slap, and as surprising as it was harsh. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I am. And regardless, I have a right to live my life even if he's not here."
My heart pounded with adrenaline and irritation and . . .
hurt. This was Catcher, my best friend's boyfriend. He was basical y a brother-in-law, and he was accusing me of disrespecting Ethan's memory?
"That was a real y shitty thing to say," I added, as the irritation grew.
Silence.
"He was a pain in the ass," Catcher said. "But I'd gotten used to him, you know?"
The hurt softened a bit. "I know."
It was another minute before he spoke again. "Have I ever told you how Sul ivan and I met?"
I shook my head.
"The Order was convinced there shouldn't be sorcerers in Chicago. But I knew - we al knew - that supernatural issues were going to come to a head here before anywhere else. I'd always thought the Order just didn't want to get their hands dirty. Now I think they were afraid. At any rate, I'd had a prophecy, and I'd told them about it. I told them we needed sorcerers here. That it was imperative that we have sorcerers here."
"They didn't believe you?"
"Or were in denial. And when I came to Chicago anyway, they saw that as a breach of the chain of command and they kicked me out. They left me without a sponsor, and they accused me of being arrogant, of trying to usurp the authority of the union. As an act of courtesy, I cal ed the Houses and let them know I was coming. I didn't want my arrival to ruffle any feathers. Scott wouldn't talk to me; he didn't want to get involved in Order issues. Celina offered me a meeting, but that was largely an exercise in self-absorption."
"Not entirely surprising."
He made a sound of agreement. "I cal ed Ethan, gave him a heads-up. He invited me over. We talked about Chicago, the Order, the Houses. We talked for hours. And at the end of that conversation, he offered to let me stay in Cadogan House until I got situated in Chicago."
Catcher was silent for a moment, maybe letting that sink in. Except that it didn't real y surprise me. Ethan was strategic, and he was also loyal. He'd have rewarded Catcher for fol owing the etiquette, and he'd have had the grace to offer him the House afterward.
"That was years ago," he final y said. "Years before you became a vampire, years before you met Mal ory. Years before you moved back ku m agto Chicago. Years before the city turned against its own."
"Years before we lost Ethan. But we did lose him."
"I know," Catcher said. "I know he's gone, and I know your relationship was rocky right up to the end. But deep down, he was good people."
"I know he was."
Catcher nodded, and silence reigned for a moment.
But before I could speak, my cel phone rang. I pul ed it from my pocket and checked the screen. It was Jonah.
"Hel o?"
"Have you looked outside recently?"
"Not in a couple of hours. Why?"
"Go and look."
"Is this a joke?" I asked him. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"It's aspen serious. Go look outside. Check the sky and the moon."
"I'l cal you back," I told him. I tucked the phone away and glanced back at Catcher. "Excuse me for a moment," I said, opening the door and peering outside.
I froze. "Oh, my God," I muttered, and heard Catcher rustling behind me.
The sky was ruby red. Not sunrise or sunset pink, but red.
A dark, rich red of cherry cola or wel -worn mahogany. A glowing bloodred moon hung low in the sky, and bril iant white forks of lightning crossed it with alarming frequency.
Mal ory had made a prophecy about a red moon once, something about the fal of "White City kings." Once upon a time, parts of Chicago had been cal ed the "White City."