“It is.” She tucked in the bag like it was precious cargo. “I think I’m going to distill something. Try to make a salt, which doesn’t really mean what you think it means.” She sighed happily. “Oh, alchemy. You’re so wonderfully wacky.”
She might have appreciated the alchemy, but she wasn’t nearly as careful with the ceramic crucible as she was with the bag of snacks.
“Mallory, you know I love you, but I wonder if going to this much trouble to keep some candy from Catcher is a bad plan.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. I just need a new hiding place. I’m thinking a cabinet in the basement, but then the spiders might get in there.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to make light of this Reed situation, but honest to God, we have apocalypse-level spiders. Spiders big enough to operate motor vehicles. If the world ends, it will be because they’ve stolen tanks and challenged the president.”
“Nope.” I held up a hand. “Nope. Nope. I do not want to hear about revolutionary spiders.”
“You truly don’t,” she said. Having secured her goodies, she slammed the trunk closed.
I turned to head back to the House . . . and that was when I saw him.
A lean man about forty yards down the sidewalk, looking up at the fence and stone behind it. Pale skin, thick hair. He wore jeans, dark shoes, a dark jacket, and a black skullcap.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone staring up at Cadogan. Gawkers and tourists visited all the time, as did paparazzi, hoping for a million-dollar shot. There were even tourist buses that carted humans down the street for a look.
The man shifted, situating his face in the light of the corner streetlamp and revealing the thick beard that made him all too recognizable.
He wasn’t just an onlooker.
He was a vampire—the vampire who’d killed Caleb Franklin. The one who’d gotten away from me in Wrigleyville and was now standing in front of Cadogan House.
My heart began to race, my blood to pound with need, with fight. “Get in the House, Mallory.”
“What?” Her smile faded, and she looked around, sensing my sudden caution.
“Get in the House, right now. Tell Ethan to close the gate and lock it down.”
“Merit, I’m not—”
I looked at her, and whatever she’d seen in my eyes must have convinced her.
We might have started this journey together, unsure of our steps, unfamiliar with the kinds of darkness we’d come to see. But we knew it now—how to react, how to protect. Her gaze steeled, and she slid her glance slowly, casually, to the vampire who I didn’t think had yet realized we were watching.
“He works for Reed,” I said. “I’m going to approach him. He’s going to run, and I’m going after him. I’m not going to stop until I get him.”
Ethan would be pissed that I was doing exactly what I lectured him not to do—taking Reed’s bait—but it couldn’t be helped. I couldn’t just let the vampire go. Not when we’d made a promise to Gabriel. And not when Caleb Franklin deserved better.
Fear crossed her eyes, but she put it away. “I’ll tell Ethan,” she said. “Go.”
I turned toward him.
He turned, I think, because he’d noticed my movement. And it took only an instant for him to recognize me, to see. We looked at each other, just long enough for me to confirm that he was the vampire I’d wanted . . . and for him to confirm that it was time to go.
He smiled at me, and took off in a sprint, heading north.
I’d be damned if I lost him again.
• • •
With the House’s gate clanking closed behind me, I followed him down Fifty-third toward the lake. He barreled past bars and twenty-four-hour restaurants where patrons still lingered, me in his wake.
All the while, I checked my pace, kept my gaze trained on his back, and wished to God I’d had my katana. But it was in the House, parked in our apartments, because I hadn’t thought I’d need it in a meeting of friends.
I’d been half right.
He ran toward the Metra Station, then inside the lobby. A train had just arrived; people streamed through the station, trying to get outside. I lost him in the crowd, scanned heads and shoulders frantically to catch sight of him.