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Authors: Chloe Neill

BOOK: Drink Deep
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CHAPTER FOUR
 
CHICAGO GIVETH; CHICAGO TAKETH AWAY
 
S
o, it turns out each body of water had its own protector. There were spring nymphs and fountain nymphs, ocean nymphs and waterfall nymphs. And sirens, not nymphs, controlled the Great Lakes.
In Chicago, the River nymphs had control of the river and its boundaries. Lorelei, the Lake Michigan siren, controlled the ebb and flow of the lake. She was the only inhabitant of an otherwise deserted, woody, three-square-mile island in the middle of the water.
Most important, the nymphs
hated
her. They treated us to a screechy, twenty-minute-long lecture on her faults, an antiperfor-mance evaluation. I reduced the list to her biggest faults:
1. Lorelei made a pact with the devil (who lived on the island with her);
2. Lorelei was a purveyor of black magic, including made-to-order hexes and jinxes;
3. Lorelei ate babies (human and otherwise); and
4. Lorelei was an all-around, black-wearing, Goth-leaning, antisocial freak (frankly, just the kind of girl a bunch of cute, pretty, busty nymphs would hate).
I had a pretty clear mental image of Lorelei—helped along by havin F"1eo .
g read way too many fairy tales and horror novels as a teenager—as a hunchbacked crone draped in shabby black fabric, standing above the lake in a position not unlike Alanna’s had been. Arms outstretched, craggy nose poised over cruelly twisted lips, offering up incantations to kill the lake for some reason we hadn’t yet determined.
But planting that image in my brain seemed to soothe the pretty girls, who were now hugging and adjusting their slips and wiping their tears away in a giant nymphy hug-fest.
Frankly, it was hard to keep the boys’ attention. A little throat-clearing did the trick.
“We could pay her a visit,” Jonah suggested.
To be honest, that idea didn’t thrill me. Unfortunately, this problem was bigger than my discomfort. The nymphs were getting weaker, and God only knew how the other sups were faring.
“It’s probably a good idea,” my grandfather said, “if there’s even a small chance it would make a difference. And I don’t recall there being any means of communication out there, so it’s not as if we could simply call her.” He looked at me, a question in his eyes.
I sighed. “Why me?”
“Because you’re a girl,” Catcher said.
It took me a moment to fathom a response. “Excuse me?”
“She’s a siren,” Catcher said. “Luring sailors to their deaths? Singing songs beautiful enough to make them weep? Trapping them in eternal ecstasy?”
Jonah’s eyes went big as saucers, which made me roll mine. “And that makes my visiting her a bad idea because . . . ?”
“Because you wouldn’t come back,” Catcher dryly said. “She’d be magically bound to seduce you, to entrance you, and you’d be stuck in siren limbo for the rest of your immortal days.”
“Again, I’m not really feeling dissuaded.”
“You’d feel dissuaded when you’d forgotten to eat or drink because you couldn’t stand to be out of her presence. Dying of starvation ain’t a pretty way to go.”
“Okay,” Jonah said with a grimace. “That’s a better argument.”
“And that’s why we’re sending Boobs McGee.”
I slowly swiveled my head to glare at Catcher. “Seriously. You’re, what, twelve now?”
“The point is, men don’t visit a siren on purpose. She’d have no choice but to seduce them, and that’s not really going to help us drill down into the magic problems.”
“Then I guess that settles that,” I agreed. “My boobs and I will go. But I’m not crazy about the idea of getting in a boat in that water. Transportation ideas, anyone?”
“I’ll take that one,” my grandfather said. “I’ll make some calls and see if I can find a helicopter pilot willing to visit an isolated island over a lake tainted with magic. Of course, there’ll be paperwork, so it will be tomorrow before we can take any action.”
“And in the meantime?” I asked, looking at the group. “What do we do about the lake?”
The question set off the nymphs again. When Jeff knelt down to pat the closest nymph on the back, she turned, wrapped her arms around him, and began to sob with impressive dramatic flair.
“Well done, vampire Kdonated islan,” Catcher muttered.
“It was a legitimate question,” I said. “We still have a crisis—and since we can’t travel at night, an entire day will go by before we’re talking to the siren about it.”
“First step is move the nymphs inland,” Jeff said over the shoulder of his embracing nymph. “Farther from the water and whatever is going on out there. Maybe that will help them retain some strength in the meantime.”
Cue the crying.
“I know, honey,” he said, patting her back with brotherly affection. “But we need to let the lake heal, don’t we?”
She bobbed her head while sniffing, but maintained her vice-like grip on Jeff.
“I’ll coordinate the move,” Catcher said. “Maybe the fairies will host some of them overnight.”
“The Breckenridges have a huge house in Naperville, but putting shifters and nymphs together probably isn’t a good idea.” As if on cue, I watched the nymph’s hand sneak down Jeff’s butt and get in a good squeeze. He yelped and politely pushed her away, but she smiled unapologetically. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t know Jeff had a girlfriend—or just didn’t care.
“That would be a ‘no’ on the Brecks,” Catcher grumbled.
“What do we do about the humans?” Jonah said, watching as more lines of people moved toward the lake to get a look. “They are going to freak out.”
I couldn’t blame them. As paranormal events went, this one was very disconcerting, and it hit something close to our hearts. Chicago curled around the lake, and the river ran through the heart of the city. They were bound together, and humans would inevitably see this as a paranormal violation of that connection. I didn’t look forward to the outcry.
“I’ll work up some talking points for Mayor Kowalczyk,” my grandfather said, “although God knows how we’ll explain it.”
“Focus on the part about how this isn’t the apocalypse,” I suggested, but a frisson of fear still tightened my chest. “And try to make sure they don’t automatically blame it on vampires. We have enough to deal with right now.”
He patted my back. “We’ll work the problem, do a little research. You kids get home. I know you’re short-staffed at the House. I’ll give you a call when we’ve got the transportation lined up.”
I nodded, although I hated bailing on a project. Sitting around and anticipating things to come wasn’t exactly a favorite pastime. To keep busy, I made a mental note to check out the House’s world-class library; if there was information to be found about our reclusive siren, the library would have it.
I made my good-byes to Jeff (still entangled in nymph), but pulled Catcher aside for an update. “How goes the studying?”
Catcher rolled his eyes. “I’m told her stress level has only been historically exceeded by the ‘Meisner-Moxner Presentation,’ whatever that was.”
I grimaced. Meisner-Moxner was a household products company for which Mallory, a former ad exec, spent two straight weeks preparing a kick-ass branding campaign, only to be told three days before the presentation that her boss “just wasn’t feeling it.”
The next seventy-two hours involved a caffeine-induced and sleep-deprived haze of massive proportions. Mal chained herself to her desk, surviving on d Kurvext seventiet soda, energy drinks, and a creative euphoria she later described as “epic.” When all was said and done, the agency bagged the deal and she slept for two straight days.
The Meisner-Moxner campaign went down in advertising history as one of the most successful household product rollouts of the century. Unfortunately, Junior Moxner spent the company’s newfound money on call girls and cocaine, and Meisner-Moxner Home Brands, Inc., went bankrupt soon after that. Mallory slept for another two straight days after learning about that.
So if her exam prep was even close to Meisner-Moxner, I felt for Mallory . . . and Catcher.
“God bless you, man. But at least Simon has to take the brunt of the stress. Since he’s seeing her during the testing part, I mean.”
Catcher’s expression went flat. “I’m sure he’s seeing plenty of her.”
The squint in his eyes had all the hallmarks of a jealous boyfriend. But how was that possible? This was
Catcher
. Six-pack-abs-and-ridiculous-body-and-brilliant-wielder-of-magic Catcher. He who took gruff from no one. Maybe I misread him. Maybe he just didn’t like Simon. I’d had a sense of that before, but curiosity killed the cat, not the vampire, so I pushed ahead.
“Bad blood between you and Simon?” I wondered.
“I don’t trust him.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I almost asked if he meant he didn’t trust Simon with Mallory, but thought better of it. Catcher was a man’s man, and suggesting he was jealous would not go over well.
Instead, I gave him a supportive pat on the back. “When this is all over, I’ll buy drinks for you and your newly minted official sorceress.”
Catcher grumbled something I didn’t catch, but I assumed it was related to his hatred for the Order. He’d been excommunicated, and it couldn’t have been easy for him to watch Mallory struggle so hard to gain membership. What Chicago giveth, Chicago taketh away.
We made our good-byes to Catcher, and Jonah and I headed back toward our cars.
“I know you’re bummed you won’t be able to visit the siren tomorrow,” I offered.
“Clinically depressed,” he agreed. “Do you think her skirt will be shorter than the nymphs’, or maybe a bit longer?”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t keep from smiling. He was funny. But I wasn’t going to contribute to what I’m sure was already a healthy ego.
“Since we’re effectively done for the night, you wanna grab a bite?”
He probably meant the question in a purely platonic way, but it still triggered fluttery panic in my chest. On the other hand, dinner would give me opportunity to quiz Jonah about his relationship with my grandfather. Having learned my father had tried to bribe Ethan to make me a vampire, I was understandably suspicious about vampires’ relationships with members of my family.
“Will you tell me how you know my grandfather?”
“Possibly. How do you feel about spicy?”
“Nuclear-explosion spicy or supermarket-salsa spicy?”
“Whichever you prefer. The world is your oyster.”
“I should probably say no. You totally sold me out.”
“How so?”
“You told them I got hit with a stiletto.” Getting sliced up by a Jimmy Choo knockoff hadn’t exactly been my finest moment as Cadogan Sentinel. I saw no need to spread the news around.
He faked shock. “Merit, would you have me lie to your grandfather?”
“That depends on how long you’ve known him.”
Unfortunately, he didn’t take the bait. “Quid pro quo. Dinner first, then details.”
I sighed, knowing I’d been beaten. “Fine. But I want the truth.”
“Oh, you’ll get the truth, Merit. You’ll get the truth.”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better.
 
The Thai Mansion was stuck in the middle of a squatty strip mall, a dry cleaner on one side and take-out pizza chain on the other.
A bell on the door rang when we walked in. “El Paso” by Marty Robbins played on a small radio perched on the glass counter beside a golden Buddha, an ancient cash register and a plastic bucket of peppermints.
The interior of the restaurant wasn’t much to look at. The walls were painted concrete blocks and bore a random mix of 1970s B-movie posters. These were mingled with handwritten signs warning patrons not to park in the spaces owned by the dry cleaner or attempt to pay with anything but cash. Plastic was not the new black at the Thai Mansion.
“This is the best Thai food in Chicago?” I wondered.
“Trust me,” Jonah said, then nodded to a petite, dark-haired waitress who smiled back pleasantly, then nodded when he pointed to an empty table.
We took seats, and I scanned the plastic-covered, handwritten menu. There were a few sloppy translations, but most of the words weren’t in English, which I figured was a good thing in a Thai restaurant. “You come here a lot?”
“More than I should admit,” he said. “I’m not knocking the Grey House cafeteria, but Scott’s big on convenience foods. We’ve had entire meals that were beige.”
I imagined a plate of bread, mashed potatoes, tater tots, stuffing, and pound cake. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“On occasion, no. But a vamp with a taste for life likes a little more variety.”
“And you’re a vamp with a taste for life?”

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