The neighborhood on the west side where Slavs, Poles, and then Ukrainians had settled had a lot of town houses, plenty of dives, and several gorgeous churches. It was also home to Little Red, the Pack’s Chicago headquarters.
When the Auto stopped, I found nothing left of the bar I’d seen four years ago: the scrubby little brick building that had squatted on the corner, a plate glass window in front so the Pack could keep an eye on the street. It had been replaced by a three-story building marked by horizontal stripes of steel and tinted glass. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask Lulu if the Pack had moved, relocated to some other part of the city. The change was disorienting, and I turned a circle on the sidewalk to get my bearings... and caught the scent of roasting meat in the air.
Curious, I looked back at the new building, caught the tidy red inscription in the front door, also metal. “NAC Industries.”
“I guess they upgraded,” I said, and walked to the door and pulled it open.
The smell was even stronger here. Sweet and sharp and smoky, with a spicy kick. And behind it, the faint smell of fur and animal, and the vibration of powerful magic.
“Close door! You are letting out air.”
The voice was rough, but one hundred percent recognizable. She rolled up to me in a red motorized scooter. Her hair was still dyed blond, her body a sturdy box on stick legs, her face lined with a few more wrinkles. But her eyes were still clear and suspicious, and her magic put a spice in the air that nearly overpowered the scent of food.
Her gaze narrowed. “You look familiar. I remember a little girl who came in here with her parents. Brat,” she added with a sly smile. “And then a young woman. And then, poof, gone.”
“Hello, Berna. It’s been a long time.”
Berna was one of the matriarchs of the NAC Pack, and Connor’s great-aunt. Her particular corner of the Pack was from the Ukraine.
She clucked her tongue. “For years, you have not come by.”
“I was out of the country.”
“You have not seen our new building.”
“I didn’t even recognize it. It’s so”—I looked up at the glass and steel atrium, and the mobile of metal parts that swung above our heads—“different.”
“Modern,” she said, lip curled like the word itself tasted sour. “Is not my style. But humans, they like.” Her eyes narrowed, and her smile went sly as a fox’s. “And they spend money.”
“So I see. Smells like the barbecue business is doing well.”
“Not just barbecue!” Before I could ask what she meant, she zipped her scooter around and headed down a hallway.
Deciding I’d better follow or be left behind, I hurried to catch up.
The floor here was shiny concrete, and the smell of fresh paintstill tinted the air. But it wasn’t strong enough to beat back the scent of food. And I hoped some of it was destined for the Cadogan House party.
“The kitchen,” she said, pointing to a door. “Restaurant over there, bar over there.”
“Over there” was behind what I thought was the same tufted red leather door that had hung at the old bar.
“Is still the Pack’s place. For now,” she added, her tone and narrowed eyes adding an ominous edge.
“For now?”
“Pack has been in Chicago for a long time. We are not as strong when we do not recharge. Some of us will return, be part of the woods and the air and the water. Join with the earth. And we will be stronger again.”
“Only some of you?”
“We have business here,” she said. “Industry. Many have started families, live as humans. But the Pack must be strong. So there must be a reconnection. A rekindling. That magic will be shared among us, and we will be whole again.”
“Then I hope the Pack finds what it needs,” I said with a smile. “I’m here to see Lulu,” I added, before I ended up on another leg of the tour.
“She’s in back, working.” Her gaze narrowed again. “You will interrupt her?”
“No. I will just say hello.”
There was an aching silence while Berna probably evaluated whether I was going to cost the Pack time or money. Then she nodded toward the far door. “Through there. She is working on the wall.”