Biting Cold: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (CHICAGOLAND VAMPIRES SERIES)

order them, and get double sets of anything we might need.”
    “Eye of newt and toe of frog?” Mallory asked.
    “‘Double double toil and trouble,’” Ethan said, quoting Shakespeare’s Macbeth . “Just get it done. Let’s meet back here in an hour.”
    I murmured the rest of the witches’ song. “‘Fire burn, and caldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon’s blood—’”
    Mallory’s voice echoed through the phone. “‘And then the charm is firm and good.’”
    An ominous chill ran through me. But it was too late to turn back now.

C HAPTER T WENTY-TWO

    THE FIRM AND GOOD CHARM
    I spent the first bit of the hour in my room, oiling and cleaning my blade, ensuring it was as well prepared as I could make it, and then in the training room, slinging and slicing the katana around to limber up my body and my mind.
    Maybe the fight would come tonight. Maybe it would come tomorrow. Crises didn’t work on predictable timetables. If you had most of your pieces in place when the need arose, you were doing well, by my account.
    I tried to clear my mind of the importance of what I had to do, the battle I had to wage. Worrying about the impact of the outcome wasn’t going to do anything but make me more afraid. More nervous.
    I tried to focus on my body, my movements, the dance of the fight and the rhythm of it, just as Catcher and Ethan had taught me.
    It was hard.
    A knock at the door threw me off balance, and I landed a move in an ungainly position. I righted myself just as the door opened.
    Malik walked in.
    “Hi,” I said.
    “Hello.” He closed the door behind him and walked inside. “You’re practicing?”
    “I guess. More like working off nerves.”
    “You can do this,” he said.
    I nodded. There was much to be said for Malik’s quiet confidence, but my crisis of confidence was bigger than any one vampire.
    “I know Catcher and Ethan focus on technique,” he said. “But don’t be afraid to trust your instincts. Let the sword be an extension of you, not just something you wield.”
    I nodded. “I appreciate that. Got anything else?”
    Malik chuckled and looked over the walls of the training room. “Most of these weapons were his, you know.”
    I assumed he meant Ethan. “I didn’t,” I said, following his gaze. The paneled walls were periodically decorated with antique weapons: pikes, shields, swords, and the like.
    “They are symbols of his victories. Of the battles he won and lost. Not always perfectly. Not always with rigorous technique. But always with heart.”
    He looked back at me. “There are few things in the world that he loves more than this House, Merit. Possibly only one.”
    At the knowing gaze in his eyes, my cheeks flushed.
    “And in all the world, he entrusted one girl, one scholar, with the right to defend it.”
    I knew he meant it as a compliment, but it felt like a burden. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
    “Not pressure to win,” he said. “Pressure to try . Pressure to push through pain and fear and to do the thing even if you don’t want to do it. He did not trust you with this task because you guarantee him a victory; he trusts you with this task because he believes you will give everything you have to the effort. It is the heart, Merit, not the sword, that rules the day. Remember that, and good luck.”
    With that, he walked out of the training room again, leaving me dumbfounded in the middle of the room, the katana still in my hand.
    Maybe Malik would hold Cadogan House for years to come; maybe he would hold it only for days more. Either way, there was little doubt he was a Master among men.
    When our hour was up, we gathered together again in the Ops Room to report our progress, the advance team on the phone.
    Jeff went first.
    It turned out the requirements for consecrated ground weren’t as specific as you’d think. We didn’t necessarily need a church or graveyard. Although both would have been consecrated or blessed, all sorts of religions blessed all sorts of places. Community gardens were blessed by neighborhood pastors; parks with strong magnetic currents were blessed by those who believed in the power of that kind of thing.
    We needed a nice, clear area for Seth to create the sigil and call Dominic. We wanted to be close enough to the House that we could retreat, if necessary, but not so close that we risked anyone who might be living or working around us.
    Gabriel had recommended a spot. “Proskauer Park,” Jeff said, and we all looked down