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

him riding excitedly in an old-fashioned sidecar—brown locks waving in the wind, as happy as a puppy—out of my mind.
    “I drove my own rig,” he said. “The sidecar was for the book. And now it’s for the girl who destroyed the book.”
    We all looked at her again, limp on the ground, plans for her future being decided around her and without her permission, because she’d given up her right to object.
    The low roar of a fire truck sounded in the distance. It must have taken the neighbors a while to realize that anything was amiss. That meant it was time for us to make our exit. The Order could clean up the rest of this mess.
    “How will you get back?” Gabriel asked.
    “I have a truck,” Paige said. “Fortunately, the keys are inside it.”
    “Then, if you can give us a ride to the airport, we can take the jet,” Ethan said.
    I stared at him. “I’m sorry—the jet?”
    “The House has a jet,” Ethan said. “Well, the House leases a jet on occasion. And I’d say this is an appropriate occasion.”
    “Were you going to mention we had a jet before we spent eight hours driving to Nebraska and destroyed your Mercedes in the process?”
    He looked up and arched an eyebrow at me. “If I’d done that, we wouldn’t have had all those hours together, Sentinel.”
    That might have been an unintended benefit, but he wouldn’t have delayed us with a car ride if a faster alternative had been so easily available. “Couldn’t find a pilot on such short notice?” I asked.
    “Perhaps. But don’t ruin the illusion.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “We’ll get her settled and introduce her to the rules,” Gabriel said, “and then you can say hello. It’ll give you a chance to check out her situation. Although I’m fairly certain you’ll approve; you’ve already met the caretaker I have in mind.”
    I didn’t have a good reason to object to that offer, so I nodded. “By the way, there’s a strip along I-29 that’s probably going to require a detour.”
    Gabriel frowned. “It was clear on the way down.”
    “That was pre-Tate.”
    Gabriel sighed, and I looked at Ethan. “By all means,” I said, “let’s take the jet.”

C HAPTER E IGHT

    HOME IS WHERE THE SHOWER IS
    I took the passenger seat, and Paige drove us in a beat-up extended-cab pickup truck with farm truck license plates to a private hangar at Omaha’s airport. Ethan was in the backseat with our swords and Paige’s pile of cherished books.
    To call the mood somber was an understatement. Mallory had proven again that she was willing to hurt others to rid herself of pain. It wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration. But at least the Maleficium was gone.
    We were mostly silent, probably all ruminating on what we’d seen—and what was to come. I was especially worried about Ethan. He was connected to Mallory in a way that was causing him physical pain. If a new sorceress could bring a four-centuries-old vampire to his knees because she was feeling agitated, what else could she do? It wasn’t a question I was comfortable considering, and Ethan couldn’t have felt any better about it.
    Paige broke the ominous silence. “And I suggested she was a novice. The gnomes came because I asked them to, because I promised them she was all smoke and mirrors and very little skill. They were hurt because of me in a fight they didn’t want to wage in the first place.”
    The regret on her face was clear. I didn’t relish the fact that she’d been wrong, or that the gnomes had suffered because of it, but at least she was willing to reconsider her choices. Mallory still hadn’t come around to that point yet.
    “Because of Mallory,” I clarified.
    “Does it matter?” Paige asked. I’m not sure she meant me to answer it, so I changed the subject.
    “Todd said they’d go back to ground,” I said.
    She nodded. “They live in underground networks. They’re incredibly industrious, and the tunnels keep the soil aerated. You ever wondered why the midwestern states are so big on agriculture? It’s not the dirt,” she said. “It’s who’s under the dirt.”
    Ethan rubbed his temples. That small action was enough to make the panic flare in my chest.
    “What is it?” I asked. “Is she free again?”
    “Just a headache,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I think she’s still unconscious. She’s certainly still drained, and I can feel it. But it’s lessening since we’re headed in opposite directions, at least until we get to the