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

seeing.
    I picked an easy answer; this wasn’t the time for complicated honesty. “He’s a monster. He’s something that doesn’t belong here, but he’s going to do a lot of damage until he’s gone. I’m a vampire, and I think I can stop him, but I need my sword.”
    Still nothing. The guy was stuck in a paralyzing panic, so I broke out the big gun.
    “I’m Caroline Merit,” I said. “Chuck Merit’s granddaughter.”
    His eyes cleared, understanding blossoming in his expression. Not for me, most likely, but for my grandfather, who’d walked a beat in Chicago for years before he’d become Seth Tate’s Ombudsman.
    The officer Tate had nicked on the chin screamed as Tate cut him down with the sword. Other cops in the crowd fired, but their bullets had no effect on him.
    So he had magical weapons, giant wings, and a sword, and he was immune to bullets. This was getting better and better.
    “I need to go now!” I told the cop.
    It took him a second, but he finally nodded and handed back my sword. “Go! Go!”
    I nodded and took it, savoring the bite of leather cording against my palm. I yelled out over the barrage of bullets, “Please try to stop them from firing at me, if you can. It won’t kill me, but it will hurt like a son of a bitch.”
    The cop nodded back, and I watched his eyes flatten as his instincts took over. He’d be fine.
    “Hold your fire!” he yelled out, arms flapping the air to get the others’ attention. “Hold your fire!”
    The shots trailed off and finally stopped. The attorneys had abandoned their clients, leaving three of the released cops frozen in fear on the stairs. The fourth lay arms and legs akimbo on the step below them.
    I said a silent prayer, gripped my sword, and moved forward.
    “Tate!” I called out when I reached the bottom step.
    He stopped and froze, and I suddenly knew how every movie heroine who’d tried to save someone by diverting the monster’s attention felt. The obvious problem with that approach? It put the monster’s attention squarely on you.
    Slowly, Tate turned toward me. His face so handsome but so deadly. His eyes burned like blue fire, fed by zealotry and a power that eclipsed anything else I’d seen before.
    It seemed the rest of the city fell quiet to hear him speak. “This isn’t your fight, Ballerina.”
    He recognized me—but did that mean he was Tate Part One or Tate Part Two?
    I took another step. “You’ve attacked my city, Tate. That makes it my fight. Walk away and leave them be.”
    “You think you can take me?”
    In the corner of my eye, I saw Jonah nearing Tate again, back on his feet with his sword in hand.
    “Whether I can or not is irrelevant. I will try because you don’t have the right to attack these men.”
    “Justice is not being served,” he said.
    “That’s an issue for humans. It’s not your concern.”
    “And yet here you are,” he said, reaching out to grab one of the other three released cops by the neck. The cop screamed and kicked, but Tate was unmoved. He held him in the crook of his arm like the cop was nothing more than a game animal, caught for sport.
    Or in this case, to prove a point.
    “This city is corrupt!” Tate yelled out, thrusting the sword into the air with his free hand, the fervor of a zealot in his voice. “It must be cleansed, and mine is the sword that will see it purified.”
    It was time to bring him down a peg. I took another step forward. “You know, Tate, if I had a quarter for every time a politician promised to clean up this city, I’d be a millionaire by now.”
    I heard an appreciative chuckle in the crowd, as Jonah stepped slowly toward Tate from behind as I moved closer in front.
    “Justice will be done,” Tate said, then threw the cop to the ground and raised his sword to strike.
    Neither Jonah nor I wasted any time. Jonah struck Tate from the back, and I launched toward him, katana in the air, from the front. I aimed for his sword and managed to knock him off target. Our swords clanged together with body-shaking force, and I hit the ground in a roll before popping up again.
    “Run!” I told the cop, and he squirmed away.
    Tate roared out his displeasure, turning to swipe at Jonah, which sent his wings flying in my direction. I jumped back, but the tip of a claw grazed my stomach, sending a sharp spike of pain across my belly.
    I cursed but hopped to my feet again. Jonah and Tate began sparring, Jonah’s thin, sleek katana an odd foil against Tate’s