“Is such a thing possible?” Ethan asked.
Mallory snorted. “Anything and everything is possible.”
“Truer words,” I murmured.
“Visibility could be a problem,” Mallory said. “Actually being able to see where the symbols are, I mean. If they’re spread out, we’ll have line-of-sight problems.”
“Maybe I could help with that,” Jeff said.
“What are you thinking?” Catcher asked.
Jeff rubbed his temple absently. “Maybe I can align a program to the magic? So even if we can’t see the locations’ IRL, we can watch them on a screen? A three-dimensional map?”
IRL? Ethan asked silently.
In real life, I said. As opposed to the lighthearted fantasy we’re pretending to live in.
“Yeah,” Mallory said, nodding as she looked at Jeff and Catcher. “Yeah. That might actually work.”
Ethan looked at Mallory. “There’s no risk that this would harm you?”
His question was softly spoken. And it wasn’t about doubt or lack of confidence in her, the fear that she’d use dark magic again, backslide into the hole she’d only so recently crawled out of. There was only concern for a woman who’d been his enemy, and who’d gained back enough trust to become his friend.
“No,” she said, her voice calm and clear. And then she held out her hands.
Black magic, when she’d been using it, had chapped and cracked them. But they looked healthy and healed, each nail painted a different pastel shade, so they formed a long rainbow when she lined them up. Which made for a gorgeous effect.
“I wasn’t asking—” Ethan began, but Mallory shook her head.
“I know,” she said, meeting his gaze, chin up. “I was showing you. I owe you that much.”
Ethan’s expression stayed serious, and he nodded at her, something important, something weighty, passing between them. I had to bite my lip to keep quick, bright tears from welling. That he and I weren’t in sync right now didn’t minimize the importance of the gesture, especially given the similarity between Reed’s alchemy and Mallory’s dark magic.
Catcher put an arm around his wife, pressed a kiss to her head.
“Well, then,” Luc said. “That gives us a plan for the alchemy.”
“And Reed?” Scott asked, rocking back in his chair. “What’s the plan there?”
Ethan’s gaze went flat. “His destruction and expulsion from the city of Chicago.”
“So humble goals, then,” Scott said.
“He won’t stop,” Ethan said. “This isn’t a vendetta against me or my House. Reed doesn’t care about anything other than his empire. We’ve seen that with Cadogan, we’ve seen it with Navarre, and now we’ve seen it with the unfortunate shifter who crossed his path.”
“Then we won’t let him,” Morgan said, raising a bottle of water like a sword of allegiance. “It’s about damn time we took back this city.”
• • •
When details had been discussed and work assigned, supernaturals rose and dispersed. Some lingered and chatted; others left immediately.
Scott and Jonah were the first to go, which meant I didn’t have to make awkward small talk while avoiding the real issue between us. Morgan followed, and then the guards went back to the Ops Room, and Paige returned to the library.
I checked with Jeff again about the safe-deposit box key. Still no dice after checking nearly three-quarters of the city’s banks. Yes, it had been a long shot. We didn’t even know if the key fit a box in Chicago. But we had to keep trying, had to do the work, even if it didn’t seem to lead anywhere.
Margot brought in a care package for Mallory—a bag of junk food apparently intended to make up for the “kale and quinoa” at the Bell house. While Catcher and Ethan chatted, Mallory shuffled through the bag of chips, popcorn, and cookies Margot had prepared like a woman preparing to wage her own Hunger Games.
“You have an entire chocolate drawer,” I reminded her, thinking of the long bay of chocolate I’d collected when we were roommates.