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

stop when something big was on the line.
    “Ethan Sullivan. You are four hundred years old, killed and resurrected twice. You are stronger than she is. Fight back. Do not let a self-centered sorceress bring you to your knees.”
    He tried to look away, but I held his chin tight, red welts appearing beneath my fingers. I’d been a vampire for less than a year, but I was a strong one. Might as well show it off for a good cause.
    It worked: When his gaze found mine again, there was fury there. His eyes had changed from emerald green to molten silver, and he clearly wasn’t pleased with my attempt at an intervention.
    “Watch your tone, Sentinel.”
    Mimicking him perfectly, I arched a single eyebrow. “You watch your tone, Sullivan. You will not allow a child to make you weak. She is no vampire. She is no predator. She is a witch .”
    There was a rumble deep in his throat. He was getting pissed, so I knew I was on the right track. It was just a matter of making him remember what he was.
    “You are a vampire,” I repeated. “A predator among predators. A creature of deep nights and full moons. But you have learned to survive in an urban environment. You have learned to block out the sensations you don’t need. Mallory is one of those sensations. The feelings aren’t yours—they’re hers. So suck it up, and block them out.”
    He shivered as he fought for control, trying desperately to separate what he felt from what she felt.
    I saw the moment Ethan’s control kicked in—his eyes flashed back to green shards of ice.
    “Thank you,” he quietly said, unusually still with the effort of keeping her angst in check.
    “You’re welcome.”
    We looked at each other for a moment, and something passed between us. Something new. For months, I’d been comforted by others, and now I was comforting him . . . at least until a sharp pain radiated from my shin.
    “Ow!” I yelped, instinctively looking down—and staring in shock.
    There, at my feet, tapping his foot impatiently, stood a brightly uniformed . . . Well, he looked like a garden gnome. White cap. Stumpy shoes. Long beard. Red pants and green shirt. Just like the kind you’d see in someone’s backyard. Except for the sulking. Which he was clearly doing.
    “If you two are done with all the lovey-dovey crap,” he said, “can we get down to business?”
    “Well,” Ethan said, eyebrow arched at the man at our feet. “I did not expect that.”

C HAPTER F IVE

    GNOME SWEET GNOME
    I could hardly form words. “Are you—you’re a—”
    “Gnome, yes. Clearly. Obviously .” He sighed with obvious irritation. “Let’s go.”
    “Go where, exactly?” Ethan asked.
    The gnome rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders dramatically. “You’re here to help take care of the witch. We’re here to help take care of the witch. And the witch is clearly brewing something up, so we need to take our positions and prepare to kick her ass.”
    Okay, the gnome had a potty mouth. Which was an odd juxtaposition.
    “Wait,” Ethan said, holding up a hand. “Paige made you to help her guard the book?”
    His lip curled in anger, the gnome tottered forward and kicked Ethan in the shin.
    Ethan spewed out a curse, but he had it coming.
    “No one made me, bloodsucker. I am what I am. We help Paige only because we don’t want the world to go completely crazy just because some stuck-up Chicago sorceress can’t mind her own business. I don’t especially like sorceresses; they don’t get me. Much like vampires.” Then he muttered something under his breath about vampires and arrogance and our being “basically really big mosquitoes.”
    “Okay,” I said, “let’s all calm down.” I looked down at the gnome. “I’m sorry for the confusion. We weren’t aware you were working with Paige. And we didn’t catch your name?”
    One eye squinted closed, he looked me over, gauging my trustworthiness. “My name is Todd.”
    Not the type of name I would have expected for a gnome, but fine all the same. “Todd, I’m Merit, and this is Ethan.”
    “Nice to meet you. Now that we’re all buddy-buddy, we should probably deal with that.”
    “With what?” Ethan asked.
    Todd pointed across the pasture. The scattering of clouds above the field had turned blue, and they were swirling with a speed that wasn’t natural.
    I’d once joked with Jonah that we’d find the source of the city’s magical drama when we found the giant sucking tornado that marked the spot. I