"There is water," he said. "Earth, and sky."
"Again," Jonah firmly said after waiting for a moment,
"that could be anywhere in the city. That doesn't mean anything to us."
But I touched Jonah's arm. "It's okay. I think I know where that is."
"You're sure?"
I looked at the fairy. "It was the home of the city's human king?"
When the fairy nodded back, I pul ed the medals from Jonah's hand and placed them into his. "Thank you for your business," I told him, then pul ed Jonah away. "Let's go."
Without objection from Jonah, we walked to our cars, climbed inside and were on our way.
We drove separately and parked on the edge of the street.
We got out, suspiciously eying the trails of lightning that were creating a strobe light effect across the park.
There were a number of mansions in Chicago that had once been home to famous families. During the city's golden age, entrepreneurs built homes along Lake Shore Drive in the Gold Coast neighborhood (now home, not coincidental y, to Navarre House), affording the fashionable a view of the lake and access to the rest of the city's wealthy.
Some of the mansions were stil standing; some had been razed. One of the most famous - the Potter Mansion, built by ancestors of the city's former mayor - had been demolished when the mayor moved to Creeley Creek.
Wel , mostly demolished.
The Potter family donated the grounds to the city, which was turned into the aptly named Potter Park. The only remaining bit of the mansion - a four-story brick turret -
punctuated the middle of the park like a spear.
"This is it?" Jonah asked.
I fil ed him in on the history. "The tower was built by a family with a manufacturing fortune, and is al that's left of the house. It reaches into the sky, it's surrounded by green, and it's two hundred yards from the lake."
"Wel done, Nancy Drew."
"I try. The more interesting question is how the parks district doesn't know there's a fairy queen living in their tower?"
"Magic, I'd imagine. Although I'm surprised they'd al ow their queen to live in a house built by human hands."
"I had heard they hate humans."
"And for good reason," Jonah said. "You know of the changeling myth?"
I did. It was a prominent story in medieval literature, and warned that fairies occasional y stole healthy human children, replacing them with sickly fairy children. Thus, as the story went, any humans born with unusual features were actual y fairy children who'd been switched at birth. Humans cal ed the sickly children changelings, and would leave them in the woods in a ploy to win back their human children.
"I do," I said.
Jonah nodded. "Thing is, it's not myth. The stories are real - fairy tales in the truest sense of the word. They just got the protagonists wrong. Fairy children were stolen by humans, not the other way around. Sometimes their children were replaced with sickly human children; sometimes they were taken by parents desperate for a child."
"And because fairies were, at best, myths or, at most, real-life monsters, no one considered such things a kidnapping."
Jonah nodded. "You got it. Unequal treatment of supernaturals is centuries old. In any event, they probably won't be glad we're here. Keep your sword in hand, a finger on the steel at al times. Steel and iron solve the same problem - keeping fairies at bay."
"I thought the point of this exercise was asking them for help."
"The point of this e sintI thoughxercise is finding out if they're to blame. And from Frank's perspective, it was also probably to get us to piss off the fairies so we incite a war."
"How is our starting a war with the fairies going to help him?"
"Chicago is the only American city with three vampire Houses. Even New York and L.A. can't claim that. We are the locus of vampire power in the United States, and Cabot knows it. Cabot House is smal . Elitist, and necessarily smal . If he minimizes Chicago's importance - "
"He increases Cabot House's power proportional y," I finished. I knew I'd given the little weasel too much credit.
"Precisely. I'd say it's part of a long-term plan to wrest control of Cabot House for himself. Victor Garcia is the current Master. He's a good man, a solid leader. He was Cornelius Cabot's right-hand man, which irked Franklin to no end. Franklin was just a cousin from some far-off branch of the family tree, but he thought he had a right to the House. That it was his birthright."
"And Cornelius disagreed?"
"I've heard the old man thought Franklin was too caught up in human affairs to effectively manage the House. Too concerned with prestige and fast cars and human girls, which didn't exactly fly for an old school, under the radar, east coast House."
"Let me guess," I said. "The GP figures he's ambitious and is wil ing to play bal , even against another House, so they appointed him receiver for Cadogan House. He figures he comes down here, screws over the Chicago Houses and wins the support of the GP, and that positions him perfectly for a spot at the top."
"That's how it plays for me."
I blew out a breath. So much drama, so little of it actual y originating in Cadogan House. Whatever the original goal of the GP and the House system might have been, they were now tools for the narcissistic and the manipulative.
Maybe Jonah was right about the Red Guard.
"Won't they take it as a threat if we come in bearing weapons?"
"Only if we're lucky," he said. "Let's go."
Lightning flashing around us, we ran toward the tower.
The exterior was narrow and crumbling. An open doorway led to a spiral of old stone steps that weren't in much better shape than the exterior. I took the first step, pausing on the tread to make sure the staircase didn't crumble beneath us.
"Al the way up?"
"Yep. I assume they prefer to live above the human plane."
He began to pick his way up and around the spiral. I gripped the handrail and started the slow climb behind him.
After a few thigh-burning minutes of climbing, we reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
A door led into the tower room. It was huge, made up of long, horizontal strips of wood. Two giant, circular, filigreed hinges connected it to the wal .
"Lovely door," I said.
"They're known for their love of beauty," he said, then glanced at me. "Are you ready for this?"
"I'm working from the assumption it's going to go horribly wrong. If we get out of here with limbs intact and no aspen slivers in uncomfortable places, we're cal ing it a win."