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"That explains Dominic," Luc said. "But what about Seth?
Any sign of him? Any word at al?"
"Nothing at al, as far as we know," Jeff said. "And there's no sign of him or talk online or among the other sups."
"So he's lying low," Luc said. "And even if one of them popped up, it's not like we could tel them apart. But at least we know what they are."
"At least," I agreed. "But that doesn't solve our larger problem."
"Which is?" Luc asked.
"We don't know how to stop them."
That's when we got to work.
There's at least one common thread linking detective stories and cop shows - the board that shows a victim's picture, the potential suspects, and the witnesses. We opted for something similar, except instead of victims and suspects, we had a demonic angel and a something or other we weren't quite sure about.
Wel, we had pictures of Seth Tate and a movie stil from Hellboy Jeff had e-mailed us, red skin and al.
I glanced over at Luc, who stood beside me, studying the whiteboard.
"Sometimes, we need a little humor," Luc said.
"I guess I can't argue with that." I drew a simple image of a book on the board between Seth and Dominic.
"Seth touched the Maleficium. He split into Seth and Dominic. But why were they linked together in the first place?
And if Dominic is a falen angel, what's Seth?"
"And most important," Luc said, "how can we use that against them?"
We stared silently at the board for five minutes. Unfortunately, we stil didn't have an answer for either question.
"Angel, man, or monkey," Lindsey said, "it makes no difference to me. I wil kil him al the same." She put an arm around me. "He hurts you, he goes down."
I put an arm around her waist. "I appreciate the support."
There was a knock at the door. Malik peeked his head in.
"Liege?" Luc asked.
"Darius would like to speak with Merit."
I was half stunned, half confused, and one hundred percent nervous. "He wants to talk to me?"
"You are, and I quote, 'a lynchpin in my review of the House.' "
Lindsey winced on my behalf.
I stood up and walked for the door, wondering if I should have just stayed with Dominic.
I folowed Malik to the first floor of the House, then the second, and the third. Since there weren't any public rooms up there, I was admittedly confused. "Where are we going?"
"The roof," Malik said, folowing the halway toward Ethan's apartments.
"I'm sorry, the roof?"
"The roof," he dryly confirmed, as if he was equaly confused
by the location. "Just folow me."
Without a reason to argue, I folowed him to the end of the halway. He opened the last door on the right, then flipped on the light in an empty, vampire-sized bedroom. But unlike the others, a folding pair of simple stairs offered access into the ceiling.
"Attic?" I wondered aloud.
"Yep," Malik said, then hopped up the stairs.
I grabbed the railing and folowed Malik into the ceiling and then the space above. This was clearly an older part of the house. The beams were stil exposed, showing antique square-headed nails and insulation that looked like horsehair.
Kowalcyzk would have loved to send some building code inspectors in here.
"Watch your head," Malik said, and I folowed as he half walked, hunched over a bit to accommodate the low ceiling, across the room.
The air was chily. An open window let moonlight and a stiff fal breeze spil into the room. The breeze carried the scent of clove cigarettes.
Darius was the only man I knew who smoked cloves.
Malik stopped a few feet from the open window and motioned me toward it. At my nervous expression, he smiled, then leaned in.
"Remember who you are, and who you were appointed to be," he whispered. "We al believe in you."
I smiled appreciatively, then climbed out the dormer window and outside onto the thin widow's walk that capped the edge of the roof.
It was cold, and I zipped up my jacket as soon as I stepped outside and stuffed my hands into my pockets. I found my bit of worry wood stil lodged there, and I rubbed its surface for luck.
As if that would help me.
Darius leaned against the thin wrought-iron banister that outlined the widow's walk. He wore a button-up shirt and trousers that couldn't have been much protection against the chil, but he didn't look cold. He looked wel at home up here in the dark.
A dark cigarette between his fingers, Darius cast me a glance.
"Sentinel," he said, blowing out a stream of smoke.
"Sire."
He looked out over the city, the moon milky beneath a haze of clouds.
"It's quiet out here," I said, not sure of the etiquette. Was I supposed to start talking? Or wait for him to do it?
"It is," he said. "Although I suspect the city bustles considerably more in the daytime."
I looked toward downtown Chicago, where skyscrapers blinked at us. Lights in condos and offices twinkled, and bright red beacons on the roofs rotated to warn passing planes. The view wasn't unlike the postcard I'd stuck in the car for my trip to Nebraska, and I realized I hadn't thought to check if that little bit of paper had survived the crash.
"The Loop definitely bustles," I finaly agreed. "A lot more than Hyde Park."
"London has its quiet parts, as wel."
I nodded, and for a moment we stared out at the quiet city.
But it was time to get this show on the road. I had a monster to hunt.
"You asked to see me?"
"I'd like your opinion."
"My opinion?"
"On the state of affairs of your House, Sentinel. You've been here some months. You must have a sense of the House and its goings-on."
I "sensed" a lot of things, but that didn't mean I wanted to raise them with Darius West. "I think the House is operating as wel as it can in troubled times."
"Troubled times?"
Did he realy need me to recite the list? They were the same grievances we'd been leveling against the GP for months now.
"Our existence was announced to the public without our consent. Celina made attempts on our lives. Malory threw dark magic across the city. A supernatural mayor, or two of them, are out there somewhere. Al problems that we have to solve."
"And why you, Merit? Why must you solve them?"
I didn't realy have an answer for that, except the obvious: If not us, then who? The GP seemed to be stuck in a mode of refusing to make decisions. Who refused to act, even when the choices were clear and present before them? Were they afraid they'd be judged? Afraid they might be wrong? We had alies, unofficial or otherwise - a select few Houses, shifters, nymphs, a few fairies, a rebelious sorcerer or three. Together, we seemed to be the only ones wiling to actualy do anything.
