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“Like Illinois,” I said, and she nodded.
“We explain the whole deal, get them mentors and training, make sure someone watches over them.” She blushed a little. “You know, so as not to repeat the whole Army of Darkness in Chicago scenario.”
“That’s awesome,” I said. “Really, really awesome.”
She shrugged. “Anywho, I’d just like to bring some money into the household, you know? Make my contribution. Other than with my sweet, sweet sexual prowess.”
I winced. Like most people at the table, I presumed, I neither needed nor wanted a play-by-play of Mallory and Catcher’s romantic life.
“Back to the work you don’t get paid for,” Catcher prompted. Mallory nodded, and I tried not to think of how he’d issued “payment” for the work she did get paid for.
“You mentioned something about going to a source?” Jonah said.
“The Magic Shoppe,” she said, tapping the cards.
Catcher rolled his eyes. “We took a damn long trip to get back to the Magic Shoppe.”
I held in a snicker, glanced at Jonah. “Did you already go by the store?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t, actually. The CPD settled on Mitzy Burrows before I could get over there. Looked like a cool place online, though. It used to be a very old-school pharmacy back in the day. Wooden floors, old-fashioned soda counter, big wall of herbal ingredients.”
“We’ll go tomorrow,” Mallory said with a nod, the issue decided. “When the sun goes down again and there’s no risk of you turning into vampire jerky on the sidewalk. Verky?” she absently considered, but rejected the word with a toss of her head. “Not the point. The point is, tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Give me a call. I’ll see what I can do.” Seeing as how my boyfriend and I were fighting and he’d still challenged the king of vampires, my schedule could get tight.
Catcher looked at Mallory. “Don’t get squirrelly and go without one of us—wait until I can go with you, or Merit can get away. Until we’re sure the store’s not directly connected, I want you to be careful.”
“I will be,” she said, and I wondered whether my voice had had the same petulant tone when I told Ethan I’d be careful. “Especially since this probably isn’t over.”
Catcher turned to her sharply. “What do you mean?”
Mallory put the cards she’d pulled out in numerical order again. “The killer’s modeled murders on the Two of Swords and the Three of Pentacles.” She pulled out the Four of Cups and Four of Wands, placed the cards on the table.
On the Four of Wands, a naked woman with a blond braid that fell strategically across her br**sts rode sidesaddle on a black destrier. She carried two long wands in each hand, and she and the horse were headed toward a castle festooned with pennants.
On the Four of Cups, a generously breasted woman in a white robe sat on the edge of a fountain and dipped her hand into the water. Four golden chalices sat on the fountain’s edge around her, and a crescent moon dotted the blue sky.
“The question is—who’s going to be number four?”
Cassie came back and tapped a delicate gold watch. “Time’s up. Back to work.”
“Easy on the eyes,” Jonah said as she walked away again, “but hard on the heart.”
“Trust me,” Jeff said, standing and lifting the ceramic platter, which had been stripped bare of food by supernaturals. “You have no idea.”
Once again, he left us speechless.
Chapter Twelve
PRIVATE DANCER
Jonah and I had been served by Ombuddies, which made it only fair we help bus the table in preparation for the meal to come—the one with the honored guests. We carted dirty dishes back to the gym’s kitchen, exchanged used linens for clean ones.
I grabbed the obelisk from my car—thinking it safer to keep it behind steel, all things considered—and, when Catcher emerged first from the back room, handed it over.
Catcher’s immediate expression was bland. He was clearly not impressed with our magical technique. “A plastic bag and salt? That’s the best you could do?”
When Jonah snickered, I elbowed him. “We were trespassing in a penthouse at the time,” I said. “We didn’t really have time to pore through an ancient tome and figure out how to turn down the magic on an alabaster obelisk. Because, you know, assassins.”
I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but I was really getting the hang of arguing with Catcher. And enjoying the hell out of it. A little verbal sparring put me in a good mood.
“Did you have time to pull out your phone? There’s an app.”
“There’s no app.”
Catcher gave me a flat look, pulled out his phone, thumbed the screen, and turned it to face me. A graphic of a rotary phone dial filled the screen below the words “Dial-A-Spell.”
“Why do I even argue with people about this stuff anymore?”
“Because you’re a vampire. It’s what you do.”
Mallory and Jeff walked out, eyes on the bag. “That’s your charm?” she asked.
“It’s something.”
Mallory tapped a finger on her chin, brow furrowed as she stared through the plastic. “The salt actually neutralized it?”
“Darius came back to his senses, if that’s what you mean.”
“Instantly, or over time?”
“Pretty much instantly. It was like the air cleared.”
Mallory nodded matter-of-factly. “Okay, okay. That helps. Some sorcerers have a style,” she explained, hands moving as she talked. “You break the magic down into its component parts and actions, maybe you can figure that out. Digging through it might take a little time.”
“I’d appreciate any help you can give us.”
“We all would,” Jonah added. “Whoever spelled that thing used it to coerce a very powerful vampire and steal a whole lot of coin. Take whatever time you need.”
She looked back at the obelisk, sighed heavily. “I can deal with the salt. But seriously, a plastic bag?”
“It wasn’t my idea. The other vampire did it.”
“If I had a nickel . . . ,” Catcher muttered.
He’d probably have been a very wealthy man.
* * *
By the time I returned to the House, it was a couple of hours before dawn.
On the one hand, I needed to check in with Ethan, update him about the murder, and find out whether we’d heard anything from Darius.
