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I gave him the rundown, substituting Noah's name for Jonah's again, and hating that the lies were beginning to layer on top of one another.
Pretty soon I was going to need an app just to keep everything straight.
"Is there a chance humans were being doped with it?" I wondered aloud. "To make them more susceptible to glamour?"
"So they'd be more willing to give blood at a party? That doesn't ring for me." I imagined him leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, ready to dish out some wisdom. "Kind of a lot of trouble to do something glamour would do anyway. I mean, that is the point of glamour, after all."
"True."
"And besides, I don't want to blame the victim here, but if they're showing up at a vamp party, they probably have some idea that bloodletting's going to happen. That doesn't mean they're consenting to it happening to them - playing pro-vamp at a party isn't the same thing as sitting down and offering up a vein - but the point is they may not need a double dose of convincing.
You know about the wristbands?"
"The red ones? Yeah, I saw them. There were a few there."
"Then it doesn't sound like the vamps needed to convince anyone. And, frankly, humans sitting down and presenting a vein doesn't exactly offer much challenge. I'm not sure that's the kind of thing testosterone-laced vamps would even enjoy."
"This one doesn't," I confirmed. "There was a lot of magic floating around. Any chance the magic was external? Not vampire, I mean?"
His voice went flat. "You're asking if a sorcerer would knock out a human so a vampire could go at her? Even if there were Order schlubs in Chicago other than Mallory and her tutor, which there aren't, no. There's no way a sorcerer would do that."
"What about aggression? Would a sorcerer be interested in making vamps more aggressive, giving them a hair-trigger temper, that kind of thing?"
"I hate to dash your dreams, Merit, but your testosterone levels aren't really of interest to the Order."
So much for Jonah's sorcerer idea, not that I'd been a big fan of it anyway. "Then I'm flummoxed. I was hoping you'd have insights."
"I always have insights. You said there were violence, glamour, and drugs, right?"
"It was Ghouls Gone Wild in there. The biters had fangs out, and I saw a lot of really silvered eyes. Not the usual irises-turned-silver bit. There was enough magic, enough glamour, enough blood floating around, that their pupils were narrowed down to nothing." I nearly outed Jonah, and had to remind myself to use his cover - "Noah created a distraction with some blood, and the vamps went batshit crazy."
"It's blood. You're vampires. Batshit crazy is pretty basic math."
"Not just First Hunger bloodlust. More, I don't know, angry?" I thought about what Ethan had said. "It was like the whole event wasn't about sensuality; it was about fighting. Aggression.
Adrenaline. We're not talking a few vamps drinking in some hole-in-the-wall hiding place.
We're talking a big party with a lot of magic, a lot of glamour, a lot of susceptible humans, and a lot of very angry vampires ready for a fight."
Catcher sighed. "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but maybe that's just a side effect of the popularity. Maybe that's just how vamps are partying these days."
"If so, they're doing the recruiting at Temple Bar. And the phone that received the text was found at Benson's."
I heard the creak of his chair.
"They're recruiting at House bars?" he asked.
"From what we've heard. Word is, the recruits at Temple were a short guy and a woman. We think her name was Marie. Did I ever tell you Celina's given name? Marie Collette Navarre," I said, without waiting for his answer.
"Now, that is interesting. It's shitty evidence, but it's interesting."
"I live to infotain."
"I don't suppose you have plans to head to Temple Bar and investigate?"
"I'm leaving within the hour."
"Good girl. In the meantime, I'll talk to our vamp source and see if I can find out anything about the recruiters. Besides, I owe you a favor."
"You do?"
"I do." He cleared his throat a little nervously.
"Mallory and I talked last night."
"Is she okay?"
"She's not her best. But she's feeling a lot better after a little conscience clearing. You did good by her, Merit, and I appreciate it. A lot. I talked her down," he assured me. "The rest will come with time."
My eyes welled a little at the corners.
"Thanks, Chief. I was worried. I love her, too, you know. Just not in the grotesquely physical way that you do."
"The sex is phenomenal."
I made a faux gagging sound. "Spare me the details and call me if you learn anything."
"On it," he said, and the line went dead.
I hung up the phone and stared at the receiver for a minute, not quite ready to make the next connection in tonight's callathon.
Ethan might not have bought my argument, but I still suspected Celina had some part in this: at a minimum, hiring vamps - or perhaps a short guy - to do her dirty work. It was too much of a coincidence that "Marie" was running around inciting vamps to treat humans like disposable convenience food.
I made myself a promise - whatever it took, she was mine. She'd caused me trouble, she'd caused Ethan trouble, and she was lining up trouble for the House and the city. Even if I had to hide it from Ethan and the GP, I was going to bring her down.
Of course, I still needed evidence. I could admit the use of an old alias wasn't exactly strong support for my theory. And if I wanted to confirm whether she'd been involved, who had the best access to Celina?
Morgan Greer. Newish Master of Navarre House, former (brief) boyfriend, and former Celina booster. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the call. But he'd been Celina's Second, and that made him my best source for info about her current whereabouts. I couldn't trust he'd voluntarily call up Scott and Ethan and offer them information.
I punched in Morgan's number - which was still in my phone just waiting for a drunk dial - and hung on for the ring.
"Greer," he threw out. There was something pretentious about his answering with his last name. He'd gained it back when he became Master of Navarre House; apparently he wanted to remind callers about that change in position.
"Hey, Morgan. It's Merit."
"Oh. Hi." Suspicion snuck back into his tone.
"I'm sorry to call you, but I need a favor."
"A favor?"
