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I wasn't na?ve enough to tell him I wouldn't ask, to deny that I'd ever seek him out again. I knew better; we both knew better.
"I'm afraid," I finally confessed.
"I know." His voice was quiet. "I know, and it kills me that I put that fear into your eyes."
We were both silent for a moment.
"Next steps?" I asked, turning him back to business once again.
"A stiff drink?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but then something occurred to me. I thought about what Sarah had said, and then gestured toward his shiny new furniture. "You know, a stiff drink may not be such a bad idea."
"Have I finally driven you to alcohol, Sentinel?"
I grinned back at him, a sparkle in my eyes.
"We're nearing the end of the construction. Maybe I should round up some Novitiates for a drink at Temple Bar."
His eyes widened appreciatively. "Offering an opportunity to casually investigate whether someone is using my bar to recruit human victims. Good thought, Sentinel."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sullivan. I'm just talking about a few drinks with my girlfriends."
We sat quietly for a moment, the new deal between us solidifying. I was Ethan's eyes and ears, his tool to solve the problem Tate had presented. But in order to keep him safe, he couldn't have any more information than necessary. I wasn't crazy about taking on the GP, and I hadn't had much experience playing Sentinel without Ethan at my side, but I did like the idea of playing Sentinel without constantly fighting the chemistry between me and Ethan and the danger that brought with it.
He glanced down at his watch. "In case you're vaguely curious, Darius will undoubtedly be back for additional threats, but he'll eventually retire to the Trump. Some combination of jet and vampire lag. If you were to head to the bar at, let's say, three o'clock, you'd probably miss him entirely."
"How unfortunate." The deal struck, I headed for the door. "I'll keep you posted on any pertinent drink specials."
"Sentinel?"
I glanced back.
"Next time you're feeling chatty, don't forget to check the room first."
Chapter Eleven
PARTY GIRLS
It wasn't healthy, I could admit. I knew sponge cake and marshmallow cream weren't the cure for physical frustration, that a long run through Hyde Park or a training session with Luc would have cured me better than calories might have.
But that didn't make my fourth Mallocake - a processed and hydrogenated log of chocolate sponge cake filled with marshmallow cream so sugary it left your teeth gritty - any less delicious than the third had been.
Mallory had discovered Mallocakes one night at a convenience store in Bucktown. There were only a few stores in Chicago that sold them, which made her burgeoning love for the things - sparked in part because of the similarities in their names - that much more inconvenient.
Mallocakes were made by a mom-and-pop bakery in Indiana that shipped them out only once a month, which made them harder to find.
But pain in the rear that they were to acquire, I couldn't fault her taste.
They were ridiculously good.
The chocolate sponge cake was just the right balance of tangy chocolate and not-too-sweet cake, which matched up perfectly against a cream filling that reeked of sugar. There were a few hundred calories in a single dose, and each box boasted half a dozen cellophane-wrapped cakes. They were a self-pity sesh just waiting to happen.
On the other hand, I was a vampire. They couldn't hurt me. Whatever criticisms you might level against Ethan for making me a vampire, I had a crazy-fast metabolism and no obvious means of weight gain.
A smarter vampire might have tried blood, satiated the need with a bag or two of type O or AB. But Mallocakes were so very human. And sometimes a girl needed to stay in touch with her humanity. Sometimes a girl needed breakfast that didn't involve flax or wheatgrass or organic free-range cruelty-free whole grains. Besides, we were the only beings alive who could eat processed sugar and carbs with impunity - why not go for it, right?
Mallocakes, it was.
Really, it was a celebration prompted by the fact that the day's paper didn't reveal word one about last night's rave. Things may not have gone smoothly in the House when I'd returned, but a quiet press was still a victory we needed.
And so, one small victory and two thousand calories later, I stuffed empty cellophane wrappers into the trash and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I'd had my snack, so it was time to get back to work.
Jeff answered before the first ring was complete. "Merit!"
"Talk to me, Jeff. Any news on that phone number?"
"Not a damn thing. It was assigned to a disposable phone, and the account has no other outgoing messages or calls. Just the one text. And I didn't find any record of purchase in my merchant-data file for the minutes or the phone itself, so it was probably cash on both those transactions."
"Hmm. That's a bummer. And for the record, I'm very disturbed you've got merchant-data records."
"It's only mildly illegal. Hey, you want me to make you disappear from the financial system? I can do that. Even the Fed couldn't find you. They are such noobs over there."
There was too much enthusiasm in his voice for my comfort. I was the granddaughter of a cop, after all. On the other hand, Jeff worked for that cop.
"No, thanks. And if you're committing felonies, let's make sure it's for the good of the city."
"You're no fun," Jeff complained.
"Aw, that's not true. I'm plenty fun."
"Vamps are really only like ten percent fun at any given time. The other ninety percent is largely fretting. And bloodletting."
"You've been spending way too much time with Mr. Bell. Hey, while I've got you on the phone, can I talk to him? I've got a question."
"Absotively," he said, and then I heard his request. "Catch, the grandkid's on the phone."
I heard shuffling, which I imagined was the sound of Jeff carrying his phone to Catcher. That gave me time to adjust to the fact that I'd been deemed "the grandkid." So much for my vampire suaveness.
"Yo gabba gabba," Catcher said. "What's up?"
"Drugs."
"We're in the third-biggest city in the country. You're going to need to be more specific."
I picked up the envelope and looked it over.
"White tablets. Dose is maybe two at a time, and they're delivered in a little white envelope.
There's a V on the pill and also on the outside of the package."
He was quiet for a moment. "I'll have to check the database, but it doesn't sound familiar. Why do you ask?"
