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

minions you want to create, or are you ready to face me on your own?”
    When she didn’t answer, I moved closer.
    “It’s me and you,” I said, only inches away. “Are you ready for that? Are you willing to kill me to get what you want?” I rotated the sword in my hand, hoping I might intimidate her at least enough to let her guard down.
    “I’m not afraid of you.”
    “That’s funny, because I’m afraid of you. I’m afraid of who you’ve become and who you’re going to be if you finish this the way you want to. I’m afraid you’ll never come back from it.”
    “I’m not afraid,” she repeated, but there was clearly fear in her eyes. As much as she wanted the Maleficium —as much as she believed she needed it—she was scared.
    Good. Maybe the Order had managed to talk a little sense into her in those few hours before her escape.
    Thinking I was making progress, I kept pushing. “Look at what you’ve done. You’ve hurt people, Mallory, for a spell you think is going to make your life better. But if that was true, wouldn’t the sorcerers have done it by now?”
    “They don’t understand.”
    “Then make them understand. But with words, not by turning our lives upside down.”
    No response.
    “Please,” I quietly said. “Just come home with me. You can see Catcher and talk to the Order. We can try to get you back on track. I know it will be hard, but you can do it. I know you. I know who you are and what’s in your heart.”
    Silence. And for a moment, I thought I had her. I thought I might have convinced her to give up her misguided quest for peace of mind and go back with me to Chicago.
    But it wasn’t to be. She suddenly looked up, like a deer scenting a predator in the woods, then looked at me.
    “This isn’t over,” she said, then disappeared in blue light of her own making.

C HAPTER S IX

    SWORDPLAY
    T he world was quiet again.
    “Where did she go?” Todd asked. His hat was dirty and rumpled, and his clothes were torn and filthy. He’d had a hard night.
    “I’m not entirely sure.” I glanced around, momentarily panicked that I wasn’t sure where Ethan had gone. He was rising from the ground at the edge of the trees, a couple of gnomes assisting him. But he still winced at the apparent pain, and his steps were labored as he joined us.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Headache,” he said. “And still dizzy.”
    “Is she still nearby?”
    He closed his eyes and nodded.
    “So you’re definitely connected to her?”
    He opened his eyes again. “Emotionally, I think. I feel her anger, her stress. Her addiction.” He looked at me with apology in his eyes. “Her frustrations.”
    I think he meant to apologize for grabbing me, but we could have that conversation later. “If she’s still here, where is she?”
    “She didn’t make it through the trees,” Todd said. “So she couldn’t have gotten into the silo.”
    “And Paige?” Ethan wondered. “Where is she?”
    “And how did she miss the fight?” I quietly wondered.
    But that question answered itself as soon as I’d asked it. I closed my eyes . . . and smelled the faint aromas of lemon and sugar.
    “What is it, Sentinel?”
    “Tate is here.” My heart began to pound in anticipation.
    “How do you know?”
    “He has a scent—lemon and sugar.” I felt stupid suggesting it—what supernatural creature smelled like sugar cookies?—but there was no denying the scent, or whom it signaled.
    Ethan didn’t seem to think it strange. “If he’s here, and you already know it, why doesn’t Paige?”
    “I think we need to get back to the house,” I said, and I started running, with Ethan following me.
    We’d gone far enough in exploring the property that we’d ended up on the other side of the house and silo, and I nearly tripped crossing uneven ground that wasn’t familiar. I vaulted two fences, my heart pounding, before the back of the house appeared on the horizon again. I ran around to the front door, which stood wide open, the foyer floor littered with books, their pages open and fluttering gently in the breeze.
    Ethan stepped behind me and swore softly.
    “Paige?” I called out, treading carefully down the hallway. The living room was empty and dark, as was the kitchen. I kept walking, then peeked into the room I assumed was the master bedroom. It was empty, the bed neatly made, the light off.
    “Paige!” I called out again, but the house was silent, and there wasn’t even a hint of magic in the