“What do you want?”
He chuckled. “We want our city back, of course. We want the departure of all vampires in Chicago. We don’t care where you go—we just don’t want you here. I hope that’s understood?”
“Fuck you,” Ethan said. “Fuck you, and your prejudice.”
McKetrick looked disappointed, as if he truly expected Ethan to see the error of his ways.
He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could answer, I heard it: cutting through the night like roaring thunder, the sound of rumbling exhaust. I glanced behind me and saw the headlights—a dozen in all—moving like an arrow toward us.
Motorcycles.
I began to grin, now knowing whom Ethan had contacted on his cell phone. These weren’t just motorcycles; they were shifters. The cavalry had arrived.
The troops looked back to their leader, not sure of the next step.
They cut through the darkness like sharks on chrome. Twelve giant, gleaming, low-riding bikes, one shifter on each—brawny and leather-clad, ready for battle. And I could attest to the battle part. I’d seen them fight, I knew they were capable, and the tingle that lifted the hair at the back of my neck proved they were well armed.
Correction—eleven of them were brawny and leather-clad. The twelfth was a petite brunette with a mass of long, curly hair, currently pulled back beneath a Cardinals ball cap. Fallon Keene, the only sister among six Keene brothers, named alphabetically from Gabriel down to Adam, who’d been removed from the NAC and sent into the loving arms of a rival Pack after he took out their leader. No one had heard from Adam since that exchange had taken place. Given his crime, I assumed that wasn’t a good sign.
I nodded at Fallon, and when she offered back a quick salute, I decided I could live with her poor choice of baseball allegiances.
Gabriel Keene, Pack Apex, rode the bike in front, his sunkissed brown hair pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck, his amber eyes scanning the scene with what looked like malicious intent. But I knew better. Gabriel eschewed violence unless absolutely necessary.
He wasn’t afraid of it, but he didn’t seek it out.
Gabriel revved his bike with a flick of his wrist, and like magic, McKetrick’s men stepped back toward their SUVs.
Gabe turned his gaze on me. “Problems, Kitten?”
I looked over at McKetrick, who was scanning the bikes and their riders with a nervous expression. I guess his anti-vamp bravado didn’t extend to shifters. After a moment he seemed to regain his composure and made eye contact with us again.
“I look forward to continuing this conversation at a more appropriate time,” McKetrick said.
“We’ll be in touch. In the meantime, stay out of trouble.” With that, he slipped back into the SUV, and the rest of his troops followed him.
I bit back disappointment. I’d almost wished they’d been naïve enough to make a move, just so I could enjoy watching the Keenes pummel them into oblivion.
With a roar from custom mufflers, the SUVs squealed into action and drove away. Pity it wasn’t forever. I checked the license plates, but they were blank. Either they were driving around without registrations or they’d taken off the plates for their little introductory chat.
Gabe glanced at Ethan. “Who’s G.I. Joe?”
“He said his name was McKetrick. He imagines himself to be an anti-vampire vigilante.
He wants all vamps out of the city.”
Gabe clucked his tongue. “He’s probably not the only one,” he said, glancing at me. “Trouble does seem to find you, Kitten.”
“As Ethan can verify, I had nothing to do with it. We were driving toward Creeley Creek when we hit the roadblock. They popped out with guns.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Only vampires would find that a limitation instead of a challenge. You are immortal, after all.”
“And we prefer to keep it that way,” Ethan said. “The weapons looked custom.”
“Anti-vamp rounds?” Gabriel asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. McKetrick seemed like the type.”
“And my sword is at the House,” I pointed out to Gabe. “You give me thirty-two inches of folded steel, and I’ll take on anyone you want.”
He rolled his eyes, then revved his bike and glanced over at Ethan. “You’re headed to Creeley Creek?”
“We are.”
“Then we’re your escorts. Hop in the car and we’ll get you there.”
“We owe you one.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Consider it one more notch off the tab I owe Merit.”
He’d mentioned that debt before. I still had no idea what he thought he owed me, but I nodded anyway and jogged back to the Mercedes.
I slid inside the car. “You said the fairies detested humans. Right now, I feel like ‘detest’ is hardly a strong enough word. And it looks like we can add one more problem to the punch list.”
“That would appear to be the case,” he said, turning on the engine.
“At least we’re still friends with the shifters,” I said as we zoomed through the stop sign ahead of us, the shifters making a shieldlike V of bikes around the car.
“And officially enemies with humans again.
Some of them, anyway.”
As we moved down the street and finally began to gain speed, our escort of shape-shifters beside us, I turned back to the road and sighed.
“Let the good times roll.”
Creeley Creek was a Prairie-style building—low and horizontal, with lots of long windows, overhanging eaves, and bare, honeyed wood. It was bigger than the average Prairie-style home, built at the turn of the twentieth century by an architect with a renowned ego. When the original owner died, his estate donated the house to the city of Chicago, which deemed it the official residence of the mayor. It was to Chicago what Gracie Mansion was to New York City.
Currently living there was the politician Chicago had always wanted. Handsome. Popular.
A master orator with friends on both sides of the aisle. Whether or not you liked the slant of his politics, he was very, very good at his job.
The gate opened when we arrived, the guard who stood inside the glass box at the edge of the street waving us onto the grounds. Ethan circled the Mercedes around the drive and pulled into a small parking area beside the house.
“From a House of vampires to a house of politicians,” he muttered as we walked to the front door.
“Said the most political of vampires,” I reminded him, and got a growl in response. But I stood my ground. He was the one who’d traded a relationship with me for political considerations.