Home > Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires #5)(67)

Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires #5)(67)
Author: Chloe Neill

Jenkins Supply Company, it turned out, was a hardware store not far from Hyde Park. Before heading in, we stood outside for a moment just taking in the building. It was a mom and pop store, with a sign above the door in olthes go find d-fashioned, red cursive letters. There weren't many cars in the lot, but the lights were stil on, so we headed inside.

Like most hardware stores, it smel ed like rubber and paint and wood. An older man with white hair and square glasses tidied the area near a cash register, and he nodded at us as we entered.

We offered smiles and moved past him into an aisle of cold weather gear - shovels, ice melt, gloves, and snowblowers. Al the necessities of a Chicago winter.

There was no immediate sign of Simon, but there was a lingering trail of magic in the store. I motioned to Jonah, and fol owed it like a bloodhound.

We found Simon and Mal ory together in an aisle with smal tools - hammers, screwdrivers, that kind of thing.

They were loading items into a basket.

Jonah and I exchanged a glance, then made our way down the aisle.

Simon looked up as we walked toward him. He wore a polo shirt and jeans, and looked completely innocuous. But there was no mistaking the concern in his expression. Was it concern about what was going on - or because he'd been caught?

Mal ory also looked worse for wear; exams had clearly taken a tol . She looked tired, and her T-shirt and skinny jeans seemed baggier than usual. I always gained weight during exams - too many late night pizzas and ice cream breaks. She smiled a little at me, then crossed her arms, hiding her hands. She barely made eye contact.

My stomach bal ed with nerves. Maybe Simon did know something about the Maleficium - and she couldn't get away to tel us.

"How bad is it out there?" Simon asked.

"Pretty bad," I said. "The cleanup is going to take a while."

"There were no fatalities, right?"

"None," Jonah confirmed. "Minor injuries and major property damage. What are you doing here?"

"Gathering supplies," he said, then gestured at Mal ory.

"Exams are pass-fail, and the Order won't al ow exams to be suspended. If we stop, she fails. But we were thinking we could use the last exam to help clean up. Move mountains, as it were."

Curious, I peeked into Mal ory's basket. It held candles, salt, and a couple of thick construction pencils. Nothing dangerous, at least from what I could tel , and al stuff that looked pretty witchy. The kind of things you might have used to work a spel you found on the Internet.

"We think they're fol owing an elemental pattern," Jonah said. "Water, air, now earth. Do you know what might be causing it?"

"I've been researching," Simon said. "And I know Catcher has, too. I haven't found anything discussing these kinds of problems."

"What about the Order?"

Simon and Mal ory shared a glance, and then Simon looked around worriedly as if he expected someone to burst through the door after him.

"The Order's taken a hard line," Simon said, leaning forward conspiratorial y, and there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes. "They think there's old magic involved -

magic that existed before the Order was even organized.

That's not their territory, and they don't want anything to do with it."

Awesome. Denial was total y going to help me right now.

But I pressed forward, the Order be damned. "What anedo wibout the Maleficium ?"

"Don't say that aloud," Simon whispered. "That's dangerous stuff. The Order would go bal istic if they even heard the word mentioned."

"Fine," I said. "Cal it what you want. Is it possible someone could be using it now to work some kind of magic? That it could be in Chicago?"

"It's under lock and key," he assured me. "It's not even possible."

Jonah frowned at him. "Then how would you explain what's happening?"

"It's not a sorcerer," Simon slowly said, "so it has to be Tate."

I didn't disagree that we were running out of options. I just wasn't convinced Simon wasn't involved. If I'd learned anything over the last few months, it was that things were rarely as simple as they seemed. Simon was too quick with answers, too positive of his facts. The supernatural world was rarely that black or white.

But if he was tel ing the truth, and he didn't already recognize that principle, there was no hope for him now. So I offered him a vague smile, then checked on Mal ory. She final y made eye contact, her gaze chal enging, as if she were daring me to accuse her of something. Maybe she wasn't hiding anything. Maybe she was stil angry about the phone cal we'd had the other day, about my interrupting her studies to accuse sorcerers of being involved in Chicago happenings.

Her eyes shifted to something behind me, and I glanced around.

Catcher walked through the aisle, his stride determined and no love lost in his expression. He glared at me and Simon, and I wasn't sure if he was pissed or just feeling particularly protective.

"What are you doing here?" Mal ory asked, obviously puzzled.

"I thought I'd give you a ride home," Catcher said. "You are done for the night, right?" he looked pointedly at Simon, and made it obvious that's where his suspicions lay.

"We're al done," Simon said. "Mal, I'l see you tomorrow night."

"Sure thing," she said with what looked like a half-forced smile. But that didn't deter the near growl of aggression from Catcher's direction. He took her shopping basket in one hand and put his other hand at her back, where he guided her away from Simon and toward the front of the store.

"I think the stress is getting to both of them," Simon said.

"I think that's probably true," I agreed.

"Wel , I need to get some things in place for Mal ory's work tomorrow. Get in touch if there's anything we can do to help."

"Sure thing," Jonah said, and we watched him walk back down the aisle.

"Is he that na?ve?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. And did Catcher just play the jealous boyfriend?"

"He's fighting some emotional demons right now."

We stood there quietly for a moment.

"If it's Tate," Jonah said, "we're going to have to nail him on our own."

My stomach grumbled. "Can I get a red hot before we save the world?"

"Definitely," he said. "You can buy." He walked toward the door.

I fol owed. "Why do I have to buy?"

He pushed open the store's front door, holding it so I could pass through. "Because you're my new partner. It's customary."

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