That had my attention. “What texts?”
“Have you not checked your screen?”
I looked around, realized I’d left it downstairs last night in our... haste. I grabbed it, found a message from my mother:the librarian found a portfolio of old docs dated after great fire. strange language, and possibly spells. paige working to translate.
I looked up at Lulu. “Your mom thinks she can help?”
“She’s going to try. Paige sent her some images, but Mom thinks they don’t make sense as written, and they probably need some kind of magical overlay. Paige hasn’t done that before, so Mom offered to come out and work with her.”
Lulu looked at me for a moment, seemed almost to say something. And instead opened the juice and drank from the carton. She was still holding something back. Something heavy that she seemed to want to confess but couldn’t.
Monster nudged me a bit, just enough to remind me of its presence and the similarity between me and Lulu. That didn’t make me feel better. It just made me feel dishonest.
But Lulu shook it off. “She’s volunteered Cadogan House as a meeting spot. We can have dinner and whatever.”
“That sounds great,” I said, making it a statement, and assertion, and not open for negotiation. I wasn’t thrilled at the idea ofwalking back into the House with Mallory there—not when monster was so interested in the sword, and she could probably see more of the magic than my parents. But doing tough things for the people we loved was part of that love. If she had any suspicions, I could play them off. I was getting better at that.
Still in my hand, my screen buzzed, and I nearly jumped. And found a message from an unexpected sender:seriously need to talk about the magic,read the short text from Jonathan Black.
I only then realized I’d totally forgotten to respond to his message from yesterday. Informants weren’t much use if you didn’t let them inform.
Connor and Alexei came downstairs. “Why is your brow all furrowed?”
I looked up at Connor. “What?”
“Furrowed,” he said again, and kissed the spot between my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Jonathan Black wants to talk,” I said. “He messaged yesterday and I forgot to respond. So I should probably talk to him.”
“I don’t like him.”
“I don’t think I like him, either. But he has supernatural connections, and we need supernatural information.” I sent Black a response, agreeing to meet him, then put my screen away. “Pack?” I asked him.
“All quiet,” he said. “But the night is young.”
***
Jonathan Black’s mansion was on Chicago’s Prairie Avenue, where Gilded Age entrepreneurs had made their homes. It was just south of downtown, not far from the lake. In terms of atmosphere, its old and elegant wealth was about as far away from the Pack’s HQ as one could get. I’d taken an Auto, which pulled up in front of his stone house half an hour after his message.
Jonathan answered the door in a dark button-down and slacks. He was fit, with sun-kissed skin, blond hair, and ears that pointedslightly at the top. He wasn’t hiding his magic today, and it prickled in the air like dust motes through a beam of light.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” I lied. But he wasn’t lying in wait for me in the dark, so that was at least some improvement.
He didn’t look like he believed me but gestured grandly. “Come in.”
I walked into his beautiful historic home, with its crown molding, tall ceilings, and fireplaces in every room.
“I need to know what happened two nights ago.” There was confidence and demand in his voice. As if he refused to consider the possibility that I’d refuse to answer. No magic in it, at least. But I wasn’t that easy.
“What happened two nights ago?” I asked, all innocence.
“There was a lot of magic. I figured the Ombuds might have been called.”
I cocked my head at him. “How did you know there was a lot of magic?”
His look was bland. “Am I being interrogated?”