Midnight Marked: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel

Praise for Chloe Neill’s
Chicagoland Vampires Novels

“Neill creates a strong-minded, sharp-witted heroine who will appeal to fans of Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse series and Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake.”

—
Library Journal

“One of my all-time-favorite vampire series. . . . It’s witty, it’s adventurous, there’s political intrigue, murder, magic, and so much more.”

—
USA Today

“The pages turn fast enough to satisfy vampire and romance fans alike.”

—
Booklist

“Despite all that has and continues to be thrown at her, Merit’s courage, guts, and loyalty make her one amazing heroine. Terrific!”

—
RT Book Reviews

“I was drawn in . . . from page one and kept reading far into the night.”

—Julie Kenner,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Devil May Care novels

“Action, supernatural politicking, the big evil baddie with a plan, and, of course, plenty of sarcastic Merit one-liners. . . . Chicagoland Vampires is one of my favorite series.”

—All Things Urban Fantasy

“All I can say is
wow
.”

—Bitten by Books

“An absolute treat not to be missed.”

—A Book Obsession

“Delivers enough action, plot twists, and fights to satisfy the most jaded urban fantasy reader.”

—Monsters and Critics

OTHER NOVELS BY CHLOE NEILL

The Chicagoland Vampires Novels

Some Girls Bite

Friday Night Bites

Twice Bitten

Hard Bitten

Drink Deep

Biting Cold

House Rules

Biting Bad

Wild Things

Blood Games

Dark Debt

“High Stakes” novella in
Kicking It

Howling for You
(A Chicagoland Vampires Novella)

Lucky Break
(A Chicagoland Vampires Novella)

The Devil’s Isle Novels

The Veil

The Dark Elite Novels

Firespell

Hexbound

Charmfall

NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY

Published by New American Library,

an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

This book is an original publication of New American Library.

Copyright © Chloe Neill, 2016

Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

New American Library and the New American Library colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

For more information about Penguin Random House, visit
penguin.com
.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18072-7

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING
-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
:

Names: Neill, Chloe, author.

Title: Midnight marked: a Chicagoland vampires novel/Chloe Neill.

Description: New York City: NAL, 2016. | Series: Chicagoland vampires; 12

Identifiers: LCCN 2015041703 (print) | LCCN 2015044833 (ebook) | ISBN

9780451472335 (softcover) | ISBN 9780698180727 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Merit (Fictitious character: Neill)—Fiction. |

Vampires—Fiction. | Chicago (Ill.)—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION/Romance/

Paranormal. | FICTION/Fantasy/Paranormal. | FICTION/Fantasy/Urban

Life. | GSAFD: Fantasy fiction. | Occult fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3614.E4432 M53 2016 (print) | LCC PS3614.E4432 (ebook)

| DDC 813/.6—dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015041703

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

“Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.”

—John Dryden

THE DEVIL’S EYE

Late April

Chicago, Illinois

I
stood at the corner of Clark and Addison in jeans and a Cubs T-shirt, my long hair pulled into a ponytail through a vintage Cubs cap.

At a quick glance, I probably didn’t look much different from the thousands of humans around me. But I was a vampire, and I’d caught the devil’s eye. So there was a House medal around my neck, a Master vampire beside me, and a dagger tucked into one of my boots.

I stared up at the building, excited as a kid at her first baseball game. The famous red marquee glowed over the hologram of Harry Caray smiling behind thick black glasses that was projected onto the sidewalk.

I’d been a vampire for three hundred and eighty-four days. This was going to be one of the best of those, because I was home.

For the first time since becoming a vampire, I was at Wrigley Field.

“Do you need to take a moment, Sentinel?”

I ignored the teasing tone of the man who stood beside me, the four-hundred-year-old Master vampire who ruled Chicago’s Cadogan House and the parts of my heart that weren’t devoted to great books and good pizza.

I turned to give him a pithy look, expecting to see sarcasm on his face. But there was something softer in those deep-set green eyes. Love tinged with amusement. His hair, thick and gold like summer silk, was tied at the nape of his neck, showing off knife’s-edge cheekbones and a square chin. And although he wasn’t much of a baseball fan, and even though we lived on Chicago’s South Side, he wore a vintage Cubbies shirt that fit his lean body like a very fortunate glove. Ethan Sullivan didn’t wear casual clothes very often, but he wore them as well as he did his bespoke, thousand-dollar suits.

“I
am
taking a moment,” I said with a grin. “Quit distracting me.”

“Heaven forbid I should do that,” he said knowingly, putting a hand at my back.

“Could you possibly goggle from a booth? I am absolutely starving.”

For once, I wasn’t the one asking to eat. That honor belonged to my best friend, newlywed Mallory Carmichael Bell.

I was still getting used to the name change.

I glanced back at her, her hair as deeply blue as the Cubs logo, her petite frame tucked into skinny jeans and a snug blue and red Save Ferris T-shirt. “Didn’t you eat a granola bar in the car?”

“I did,” she said, “but it’s the only thing I’ve eaten today. I spent half the day bitching at the Order for its record-keeping failure,” she grumbled. “Anyway, I’m starving.”

The Order was the official, if surprisingly incompetent, union of American sorcerers. It wasn’t the kind of complaint you’d expect to hear in front of Wrigley Field, but it wasn’t unusual for our group. Two vampires, two sorcerers, and all four of us trying to nail the city’s most powerful financial and political mogul, who also happened to be the leader of the city’s criminal underground. Our enemy was Adrien Reed, and his organization was known as the Circle. He had supernatural minions, including a sorcerer of his own who’d used his impressive power to transform a vampire into the Master whom Ethan had believed was long dead.

“Let’s discuss the details away from the crowd,” said the sorcerer beside Mallory. Her husband, Catcher Bell, was tall and leanly muscular, with shorn hair, green eyes, and a generous mouth currently pulled into a line as he scanned the crowd for threats.

He wasn’t the only one looking. Ethan had informed the Cubs we’d be attending the game, and given the
WELCOME CADOGAN HOUSE!
message on the marquee, they’d decided not to be shy about it. We had to be on our best behavior—and our highest alert.

The evening at the ballpark had been Ethan’s idea—a few hours of normalcy in a month that had involved a mysterious evildoer from Ethan’s past and a new evildoer who believed he could lie, cheat, and steal with impunity. We’d temporarily thwarted Reed, but he’d promised us another round. We were looking forward to the battle, and we were determined this inning would be the last.

Also, my birthday was in a few days. I’d officially turn twenty-nine, although I still looked twenty-seven and three-quarters and would for the rest of my potentially immortal life. There’d been a time when I wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Ethan had made me a vampire—it had been necessary because of a violent attack by another vampire, and not of my choosing—but I’d worked through those issues.

My vampire senses were strong. I’d filtered them heavily because we were surrounded by so many people, but I still heard my name and Ethan’s whispered around us by humans who recognized us from newspaper articles and Internet sites. Ethan had his own fandom; EthanSullivanIsMyMaster.net was a very real thing. Given the e-mails the House’s Initiate Liaison and social secretary, Helen, had intercepted on my behalf, he wasn’t the only one with fans. Personally, I found all of it unnerving. Flattering, but unnerving.

As to the real-world threats, Ethan had ordered me not to be brave, not to engage anyone unless absolutely necessary. Since protecting him and the House was my solemn responsibility as Sentinel, we undoubtedly had different definitions of “absolutely necessary.”

“Where are we eating?” Mallory asked, glancing at the restaurants arranged around the ballpark. The neighborhood had always been crowded on game day, but recent renovations had spawned more bars and pubs and brought out more people.

“Someplace familiar,” Ethan said, then glanced at me. “If you’re ready?”

I grabbed Ethan’s wrist, checked his gleaming steel watch. Tonight’s game was a rare late-night matchup at Wrigley sponsored by a battery company that was giving away Cubs flashlights.

“We’ve got an hour and a half,” I said as Ethan adjusted his watch again. “And I’m going to get one of those damn flashlights.” Since we were awake only at night and usually on a Mission to Save the Vampires and Humans of Chicago Even if They Didn’t Appreciate It, a flashlight would most certainly come in handy. And a Cubs light? Total score.

“I’ll do everything in my power to get you one,” Ethan said. “We’re going to Temple Bar.”

I brightened. Temple Bar was Cadogan’s official watering hole and only a couple of blocks away from Wrigley. I hadn’t had a chance to visit in months.

“They have food?” Catcher asked.

Ethan smiled knowingly. “They’ve ordered pizza in the event Merit was hungry. I understand cream cheese and double bacon is on the menu.”

“You know me too well,” I said. I really wanted one of those flashlights, but I could still appreciate an hour of deep dish with friends. Besides, cream cheese and double bacon was my favorite topping combination—a culinary concoction that could cure most ills, at least in my bacon-addled opinion.

“Let’s get moving,” Mallory said. “Because God forbid Merit doesn’t get her flashlight.”

“They sell flashlights everywhere,” Catcher muttered as Mallory slipped her arm into his and we crossed the street toward the bar.

“You don’t get it,” she said, patting his arm, then glanced over her shoulder. “Husbands. Am I right?”

God, it was weird to hear her say that.

•   •   •

Temple Bar was a narrow building full of brass, wood, and Cubs memorabilia. The paneled walls were lined with vintage pennants, T-shirts, and game balls, and bleacher seats scavenged from Wrigley during the renovation. High-top tables and leather booths filled the space, and they’d added a pool table. The bar was packed with vampires in Cubs gear, their supernaturalness obvious from the buzz of magic that electrified the air.

Sean, one of the two vampire brothers who managed the place, rang the brass bell that hung behind the bar. The patrons turned their heads toward the sound.

“Master on the premises!” Sean yelled cheerfully, pointing toward Ethan with his free hand.

The bar exploded with cheers and applause as vampires turned in their seats, craning to get a look at their Master. I took for granted how often I saw Ethan, whether personally or professionally. To the other Cadogan Novitiates, being near him socially was a rarity, a treat. They smiled as we walked in, their gazes still slightly suspicious when they got to Mallory. She’d mostly redeemed herself to the House after a troubling history, but vampires had long memories.

We headed to a four-top. Sean’s brother, Colin, came around the bar, white towel slung over his shoulder. Sean was younger than his brother, but both looked as if they’d stepped out of an Irish travel brochure: tall and lanky, with red hair, blue eyes, and ruddy complexions.

“Liege,” Colin said, giving Ethan a little bow, then smiling at me. “It’s been too long,” he added, playfully squeezing my shoulder. “What’s the occasion?”

“Merit’s first post-fang game at Wrigley,” Sean said, setting a pizza box, paper plates, and napkins in the middle of the table. The scents of spicy sauce, smoky bacon, and cheese filled the air, and the box had one of my favorite words printed across it in bold red letters—
SAUL
’
S
. Not just my favorite kind of pizza, but from my favorite pizza place in Chicago. Ethan had really gone above and beyond.

Thank you,
I said silently, activating the telepathic link between us.
I appreciate the effort.

You’ll appreciate it more later,
he said, with a wickedness in his eyes that promised delightful things to come—even if the Cubs didn’t pull out a win.

“Well, well,” Colin said, glancing at me. “That’s worth a drink on the house. You’re a gin-and-tonic girl, right?”

“I am,” I agreed. “And that sounds great.”

“Done,” he said, and looked at Ethan. “Sire?”

Ethan had gotten an upgrade, at least in title, when he became a member of the Assembly of American Masters, a newly created organization intended to give American vampires control of their futures. So far, they’d been very low-drama, which was a nice change from their predecessor.

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

“I knew you’d trust my judgment eventually.”

Catcher snorted. “About food pairings, anyway.”

“A Novitiate takes what a Novitiate can get,” Colin said with a wink. He took Catcher’s and Mallory’s orders, left us with pizza. We exchanged shrewd looks, waiting for someone to make the first move toward a slice.

“Well, I’m not waiting for your people to play supernatural rock-paper-scissors,” Mallory said, spinning the box so its maw opened toward her, and sliding a piece onto a plate.

“Which would be what, exactly?” Ethan wondered.

She paused, chewed contemplatively, then raised two fingers in a “V,” curled them into would-be claws, and wiggled them like she was sprinkling a spell over us. “Vampire-shifter-sorcerer,” she said. “You can call it ‘VSS.’”

“I think you just invented a meme,” I said, impressed.

“Of course I did. I’m awesome. Pass me the cheese.”

•   •   •

We’d nearly finished the pizza when Catcher gestured toward the pool table. “You play?” he asked Ethan.

“Every now and again.”

“You up for a match?”

Ethan glanced back at me, eyebrows lifted.

I looked at the clock. We’d eaten quickly, still had time before the game started. I would have been perfectly fine getting to the stadium early, watching players warm up and fans file in, balancing Chicago dogs and phones and beers as they did so. But when Ethan glanced longingly at the table’s immaculate green felt and curvy baroque legs, I knew I was lost.

“Go for it,” I said, then cocked my head. “Although I didn’t know you played.”

“I’m not a hustler,” he said, with a smidge of indignation. “But I play as well as I Master.”

Insecurity was not a trait Ethan was familiar with. “In that case, have fun.”

“You think he’s going to school Catcher?” Mallory asked as they made their way through the crowd to the pool table.

“I don’t know,” I said. That was true enough, although Ethan didn’t do much without a plan for victory—or at least an exit strategy.

I watched him, tall and rangy, select a pool cue, test its weight, and check its flexibility. A pair of vampires rose from their seats near the bar, wandered over to say hello. Blond hair tucked behind his ears, the cue he’d selected in hand, Ethan shook the vampires’ hands, then introduced Catcher. They chatted as Catcher racked the balls, and they prepared to play.

“Will Catcher throw a fit if he loses?” I asked. He was the generally grouchy type. I liked him very much.

“Catcher thrives on moderation and reasoned action.”

I snorted. “And Ethan is humble and operates the House as a democracy.”

“So we’re both full of shit,” she said, then cast her gaze toward her well-toned husband. “If he loses, it serves him right for challenging a vampire in his own place.”

“Maybe not the wisest move,” I agreed.

“Anyway,” she said, scooting closer, “I’m glad they’re gone. Now we can talk.”

Given the drama of the last few weeks, I assumed she had bad news about evil or magic, and prepared myself for the worst.

“I’m afraid the sex is going to become stale.”

Colin arrived with fresh drinks—a Manhattan for Mallory, another G&T for me. For one last, peaceful moment, I squeezed the lime into the glass, licked lip-puckering juice from my thumb. And then I took a drink, put the glass down on the table again, and did what I had to do. I invited her to talk to me about sex with Catcher.