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“But I won’t make that request,” he continued with a smile before I could object. “Because I know you. And because I cherish who you are.” He put a hand against my cheek, rubbed his thumb along my jaw. “You will fight for the city, for the people who cannot fight for themselves. There is no better reason to fight fiercely.”
I smiled at him. “You’re a pretty good reason.”
He smiled, touched his forehead to mine. “I love you beyond reason.”
“Same goes for me. Otherwise, I’d have locked you away in the House a long time ago.” I leaned up, kissed him on the lips. “Go make me proud, Sullivan.”
“Same for you, Sentinel. Stay safe.”
• • •
I’d never been in Soldier Field without people. It was odd, to be in such a large and empty space. It wouldn’t be empty for long, and I had a sinking suspicion it wouldn’t feel very large with a dragon in it. But we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
“Mallory,” Catcher said as we unsheathed our swords, left the scabbards by the entrance tunnel. “You’re up.”
She blew out a breath, nodded, and carried her pot into the middle of the field, right on the fifty-yard line.
She put it down, then looked back at us, held up a finger. “One thing first,” she yelled as we walked toward her, and then leaned down and did a tidy cartwheel across the grass, followed by a front handspring.
When she came up, she pulled down her shirt, pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” she said with a grin. “Figured I’d get it in now in case I don’t get another chance.”
“You are medal ready,” Ethan said with a grin.
We took the positions we’d agreed upon—four roughly cardinal points around her, fifteen feet away.
She pulled out a can of white spray paint, grinned as she shook it up, the metal bearings rolling around inside.
“I’ve always wanted to do this, too,” she said, and began to spray white symbols around the crucible, symbols of alchemy.
When that was done, she tossed the can away, pulled a vial from her pocket, and emptied it into the crucible.
“What is this, exactly?” Ethan asked.
“A little river water, a little scraping from Sorcha’s alchemy, a smidge of grass from Wrigley Field, and sand from Oak Street Beach, and a few other odds and ends, combined with a little magic of my own. Like calls to like,” she said, straightening again. “Or at least that’s the theory.”
She pulled a box of matches from her pocket and took one out, holding it up while she waited for our nods.
“Ready,” Ethan said, and she nodded.
“And away we go,” she said, and whipped the match against the side of the box, sparking sulfur into the air.
She dropped the flame into the crucible. Almost immediately, thick white smoke began to rise from the vessel’s top, streaming upward in a column toward the sky and spilling the Egregore’s scents into the air. Smoke, earth, and water, carried by magic.
The smoke rose like a signal fire over the stadium and seemed to glow orange in the lights. Mallory took a seat on the ground.
“While we have a moment,” I said, “how’s Margot?”
Jonah looked startled by the question. “I’m not— Why do you ask?”
I gave him a bland look.
“That was a setup?”
“It was supposed to be. No spark?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to discuss this with you.”
I narrowed my gaze at him, but the harsh look didn’t work. I’d have to talk to Margot later.
