ASAP.
Unfortunately, "ASAP" translated only one way in Cadogan House these days: "It's time for another meeting."
Once again, with feeling: another meeting. Kel ey, our newly appointed guard captain, was a fan.
"Mal," I said, climbing off the bed, "I need to run. It's time to play Sentinel. Good luck with your exams."
Mal ory made a huffy noise. "Luck doesn't figure into it.
But sweet dreams to you."
I hung up the phone, not thril ed about our conversation, but wel aware that I needed to pick my battles. I'd done a real y crappy job of supporting Mal ory when she'd discovered she was a sorceress, mostly because I'd been knee-deep in newbie vampire drama at the time. I needed to be supportive, even if it wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to be. This was not the time to lay into her about sarcasm. She'd given me slack when I'd needed it; it was time to repay the favor.
Besides - we both had other fights to wage.
Luc took his job seriously, but he also had a pretty good sense of humor. He brought a jokey camaraderie to the Ops Room, along with a taste for denim, swearing, and beef jerky. Luc was a great strategist and a big picture kind of guy. I was perfectly fine with al those qualities.
Kel ey, his replacement, was smart, savvy, and skil ed . . .
but she was no Luc - cowboy boots or otherwise.
When she'd accepted the position, she'd chopped her silky dark hair into a short, sleek bob. Her hair became al business, and so did the Cadogan House guards. Our schedule became tighter, our meetings more formal. She scheduled daily workouts and required us to complete end-of-shift reports. Virtual y everything in the Ops Room had become virtual, and the few bits of paper that remained were color-coded, tabbed, alphabetized, and col ated. We had time cards and name tags, and we were required to wear the latter during our nightly patrols of the House grounds "for public relations."
"Part of keeping a safe House," Kel ey had said, "is instil ing a sense of trust in the neighborhood. If they know who we are, they'l be less inclined to violence."
It's not that I didn't agree. It's just - name tags? Real y?
But while I thought the idea was corny, I didn't voice the objection. When Ethan had been Master, before they'd needed me back in the guard corps, I'd spent most of my time on special assignments with him. Now that he was gone, Kel ey was my boss and my primary point of contact for the House.
She was my boss, so she'd get no name tag arguments from me. Besides, now was the time for solidarity, name tags or not. We'd had enough upheaval lately.
Surprisingly, the Ops Room was meeting-free when I arrived, post-shower and clothed in my Cadogan uniform - a black, slim-fit suit. Lindsey and Juliet sat at two of the room's computer stations, while Kel ey stood beside the conference table, a cel phone in hand, her eyes on the screen.
"What's up?" I asked.
Without a word, Kel ey turned her cel phone around and thrust it toward me. A picture fil ed the screen - or what I assumed was a picture, since the screen was pitch-black and I couldn't actual y see anything.
"I don't get it."
"This is Lake Michigan."
I frowned, trying to figure out what I'd missed. Lake Michigan made up the eastern border of the city. Since we were awake only at night, the lake was always pitch-dark by the time we woke up. So I didn't understand the concern.
"I'm sorry," I told her apologetical y, "but I stil don't get it."
Kel ey pul ed back the phone, punched some buttons, and swiveled it again. This time, it displayed a photo of a drinking glass ful of inky black water.
"That's water from Lake Michigan," she explained before I could ask. "The Internet is going crazy. About two hours ago, Lake Michigan turned completely black."
"And that's not al ," Lindsey piped up, then swiveled in her chair to face us. "Same thing happened to the Chicago River, at least as far as the city limits. They've both gone black, and they've stopped moving."
I struggled to understand what they were tel ing me. I mean, I understood the literal meaning of the words, but they didn't make any sense. "How could they just stop moving?"
"We aren't certain," Kel ey said, "but we have a sense this might be involved." She flipped the screen to a third image. It showed a petite but busty woman with long red hair and a very tiny green dress. She stood on a bridge over the river, arms outstretched, eyes closed.
I'd seen a girl like that before - a number of them, actual y. She looked like one of the nymphs that ruled Chicago's waterways. I'd met them before when my grandfather, the city's supernatural mediator, had helped them resolve a dispute.
"A River nymph," I concluded, leaning in to peer closer at the screen. "But what's she doing to the water?"
"We aren't entirely sure," Kel ey said. "This photo's making the Internet rounds just like the one of the water.
Based on the picture's time stamp, the lake went dark a few minutes after she did that - whatever 'that' was."
I grimaced. "That's not a good coincidence."
"No, it's not," Kel ey agreed. "Especial y not with the mayor convinced we're the root of al evil."
Former Mayor Seth Tate had made his mark - at least pre-indictment - by staying on top of the supernatural situation in Chicago and supporting our integration into the human population. He set up my grandfather's office, and when vampires came out of the closet, he positioned Chicago as the frontier of supernatural relations in the U.S.
Mayor Kowalczyk was no Mayor Tate, and she certainly wasn't interested in positioning herself as a friend to sups.
The campaign for her special election had been short, but she'd made her position plenty clear. Chicago might have been built on patronage, but under the Kowalczyk administration, that patronage didn't extend to vampires or shifters. No "special treatment" for supernaturals.
"As if we weren't already popular enough," I mumbled.
When she and Lindsey exchanged a glance, I knew I was in trouble. "What?"
"Here's my thought," Kel ey said. "I know this water thing isn't exactly our problem, especial y if nymphs are involved.
I seriously doubt any vampire created the issue, and probably the Om-bud's office wil get people working on it, right?"
"It's a definite possibility."
But we are the public face of supernaturals."
Kel ey said. "The public only knows about us and shifters, and Gabe's keeping them on the down low. If people start freaking out . . ."
"They're going to blame us," I finished for her. Suddenly nervous, I tugged at the hem of my jacket a bit. "What do you want me to do?"