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

might not be necessary, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt.
    I touched my fingers to the Cadogan medal at my neck and took a moment of silence to remind myself why we were doing this, and the things Malik had said. That I only had to try my best.
    We met downstairs, Ethan and I both quiet, greeting each other with a nod and a check to ensure the other had the right equipment. Clothing. Swords. And just in case, medals.
    “You’re ready?”
    I nodded, incapable of speech. Too nervous for words.
    “Let’s go.”
    We walked past the ballot box, and outside to the portico. The House’s front yard was full of fairies—all black clad, with the same severe features and long, dark hair.
    One fairy stepped forward; I put a hand on the hilt of my sword just in case.
    “There is no need for that, vampire,” he said, looking between me and Ethan. “We are not here for battle.”
    “Respectfully,” Ethan said, “why are you here?”
    “Tonight, you battle the one who rejected her?”
    I nodded.
    The fairy looked me over. Evaluating. “You will beat him?”
    “I will do my best,” I promised.
    The fairy nodded. “So it shall be. Tonight, if you will have us, we will guard your home. You help to rid this city of a pestilence; we help protect you and yours against any who would seek to cause harm in your absence.” He scowled. “Such acts are not honorable, but humans so rarely are.”
    Ethan seemed dumbfounded by the offer. We usually had to pay the fairies to guard the House while we slept. And yet, here they were, offering to defend us gratuitously? The city was changing, but maybe not for the worse. Even if humans gathered to revile us, perhaps the supernaturals might find new friendships.
    Ethan dropped his head. “We acknowledge your offer and are honored by it.”
    “It is done,” the fairy said, then stepped back into line with his colleagues. Half of them marched outside the gate. The other half dispersed inside the fence, a fairy every few feet, creating a shield against whomever—or whatever—might seek to injure the House while we were gone.
    I drove Ethan, Seth, and Paige to the park. Catcher arranged to meet us there with Mallory and Jeff.
    My grandfather—at my demand—stayed home to keep an ear on the scanner and coordinate what he could with the CPD.
    Along the way, Ethan told Malik of the fairies’ offer. A good idea, lest Malik should suddenly think the House was under attack by a completely new enemy. The ride was otherwise silent. I was nervous, my hands gripping the steering wheel like the car might suddenly dive off the road if I didn’t.
    Of course, with Dominic on the loose, I suppose stranger things had happened.
    Jeff’s description of the neighborhood had been right on. It looked not unlike other run-down areas in Chicago. Empty lots, strewn with trash. Boarded buildings. There were few signs of life. for sale markers offering the development’s lots appeared at the edges of the street, and abandoned equipment stood near unfinished concrete foundations.
    And just as Jeff had found, a metal arch announced that Proskauer Park was open for play. Tonight, it simply looked abandoned. Brightly colored equipment sat empty. Swings, their chains tangled together, creaked ominously in the dark. The cherry red paint on picnic tables that had probably never held lunches was beginning to peel. A carved wooden sign that held the park’s rules seemed pointedly irrelevant with no children to mind them.
    “Is it just me,” Paige asked, “or is this place creepy?”
    “It’s not just you,” Seth said.
    Car doors opened and closed. Catcher, Jeff, and Mallory walked toward us.
    “There’s an overgrown baseball diamond over there,” Jeff said. “Good spot. Empty, flat ground.”
    Ethan nodded. “Then let’s get this started and done.”
    We moved to the diamond at a quick jog. Catcher flipped on the lights at a pole on the edge of the field.
    As they began to glow, Seth, Paige, and Jeff walked into center field and wasted no time preparing the sigil. Seth pulled a bottle of black granules from the pocket of his cassock. The bottle was clear, and the contents looked like ground charcoal.
    “What is that?” I asked.
    He uncapped the top and walked in a straight line, sprinkling the powder on the ground as he moved. “They call it witch’s flame.”
    Paige leaned toward me. “They call it that, but it’s actually household cleaners in granular form. Margot helped me mix