“We could give you a perimeter of guards around the festival,” Ethan suggested.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s too risky for the House. If Darius finds out I was there, you can say I acted alone, went off on a whim. And I do have a plan in mind.”
I’d called on Jonah before; if Cadogan House was barred from acting, maybe Noah would be willing to plant a few Red Guards into the crowd.
“Anything you can share?”
I glanced up at Ethan. There was curiosity in his eyes, but no rebuke. He wanted to know what I had in mind, but he’d leave the decision to me.
“Plausible deniability,” I reminded him. “You master the House from here. Let me protect us out there.”
Ethan sighed, then put a hand on my cheek. “I don’t tell you this enough, but I am incredibly proud of the vampire you’ve become. I want you to know that.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cottony scent of his cologne. “Be careful.”
“I will. I promise.” I pulled back and saw the flash of guilt in his eyes, but I shook my head.
“You’re doing your job,” I assured him. “Now let me do mine.”
I offered a little prayer that I had the chance to do it right this time.
It was unrealistic to think I’d find parking near Street Fest, and I didn’t have time to wait for the El. While I gave Luc the five-minute précis, Lindsey called a cab and promised to move my car. They’d all heard about Darius’s ban on my activities; they’d all agreed to help me carry them out regardless. There were times when the work needed to be done, the consequences be damned. This was one of those times, and they were all on board.
Once in the car, I messaged Noah and asked him for backup. Noah agreed almost instantaneously and told me the crew of guards would be recognizable by their clothing: they’d be wearing faux-retro MIDNIGHT HIGH SCHOOL T-shirts.
Clever boy.
I’d considered calling Jonah, but this was a public event. That risked outing his RG membership and putting him in the same position as me—bearing the wrath of Darius West. No, thank you.
The cabdriver didn’t stop glancing back at me, his brown eyes popping up in the rearview mirror every few seconds as if he was waiting for me to breach the plastic wall between the seats and chomp on his neck.
I’ll admit, the idea of taunting him occurred to me. But I wasn’t Celina. I had a conscience and a job to do, and fang-teasing the cabdriver wasn’t part of that job.
“This is fine,” I told him, sliding cash into the small door in the plastic when he reached the southern edge of Grant Park. I slipped out of the cab, waving the driver off when he continued to stare at me through the window.
“Humans,” I muttered, and set off toward the tents and crowds. This part of the park was empty, which gave me the chance to prepare . . . and get panicky.
I was well trained enough to put on a brave front to Ethan, Luc, and Malik. But let’s face it—I was scared. Celina was more powerful than me, and I’d agreed to meet her in a place and at a time she’d selected. This was her game, and there was a good possibility that I wasn’t going to win .
. . or make it out in one piece.
I walked through the trees, dagger in my boot, my stomach churning with nerves, even as the smells of food drew nearer.
I reached an orange vinyl fence that surrounded the festival. I hopped it, then mingled into a group of drunken bachelorette partygoers as they made their way toward the main thoroughfare. That gave me my first view of the battleground. Columbus Drive was lined with white tents. People walked in the wide lane between them, food and drinks in hand. The air was thick with the smells of batter and beer and people and sweat and trash, and the sound of a thousand conversations and sizzling food and the country band on the make-do stage was nearly enough to overwhelm my senses.
I maneuvered out of the lane of traffic and stopped beside a booth, closing my eyes until the world settled back down to a dull roar.
“Coupons?”
I opened one eye.
A woman balancing a wailing, pink-cheeked toddler on one hip held out a stack of food coupons. “We have extra, and it’s getting late, and Kyle is just freaking out, so we need to go.”
She smiled sheepishly. “Would you want to buy them by any chance? They’re still good.”
“Sorry,” I kindly said. “I don’t need anything.”
Obviously disappointed, she sighed heavily and lumbered awkwardly away, the baby now beginning to squall.
“Good luck,” I called out, but she was already looking for someone else to tempt.
I didn’t always get to play the hero.
I walked around the tent and back into the flow of people, and I was nearly overdone again.
My stomach growled at the smells; there was only so much blocking that a vampire could do. I silently promised myself a deep-fried candy bar and a paper tray of bacon-wrapped Tater Tots if I made it through the night unscathed. Not a good nutritional combo, but I figured the odds were low anyway.
I walked to a sign that identified the tents’ locations, found the Town booth, and checked my watch. It was about ten minutes until eleven.
Ten minutes until showtime.
A hand suddenly gripped my arm. I jerked, expecting to see Celina. For better or worse, I got a different kind of surprise.
“Hello, there,” said the man at my side.
It was McKetrick, having traded in his fatigues for jeans and a snug black T-shirt. The better to blend in with the humans, I assumed. He smiled grandly at me. He might have been handsome, but the effect was still creepy.
I pulled back my arm. “If you’re smart, you’ll walk away right now and go about your business.”
“Merit, you are my business. You’re a vampire, and I’d be willing to bet you’re carrying a weapon here in this public place. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go on about your merry way, don’t you think?”
It would save me a lot of trouble, I thought, because there was no way I could explain why I needed him to leave me alone. He’d go ballistic if he knew I was here to entertain Celina. And speaking of, time was ticking down, and I needed to get to the Town tent.
“If you’re smart,” I told him, “you’ll be on your own merry way.”
He tilted his head. “You seem a little preoccupied. You aren’t planning to start trouble, are you? That would be most unfortunate.”
“I never start trouble,” I assured him. It just usually seemed to pop up in my vicinity. Case in point: “Since I was minding my own business before you grabbed me, you’re the one causing trouble.”
“If you minded your own business,” McKetrick retorted, “you’d be home among your own kind.”
I was saved the trouble of responding to his prejudiced idiocy by the sound of an argument moving toward us. I looked up. A man and woman bickered as they walked, each clearly irritated by the other.
“Really, Bob? Really?” asked the woman.
“You think the best course of action is to spend an entire week’s salary on food tickets? That’s what you think? Because you want to eat gyros and fried cheesecake for the rest of the week?