Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [28]
Since the lake was still dark and unmoving, I wasn’t excited about the report I’d have to give Kelley back at the House. But at least we had a plan, and if anyone in Chicago could corral a helicopter, my grandfather could.
When I pulled up to the House, the protestors were louder and larger in number, their signs promising even more hellfire and damnation than usual. “Apocalypse” and “Armageddon” were sprinkled among the hand-painted posters, just as we’d feared. And to be frank, I couldn’t completely blame them. Even I wasn’t sure why the lake had turned black and started leeching magic, so I guess the end of the world was on the list of possibilities. It was at the bottom of the list, but it was still on the list.
The protestors weren’t the only ones out in force. We’d been the subject of picture- (and money-) hungry paparazzi for a while now; a corps of photographers was usually camped out on a corner near the House. Tonight, though, news trucks lined the street, reporters waiting to see vampire shenanigans. Anything that went wrong in this city and was remotely paranormal in nature led them straight to our door. It was an argument for outing the rest of Chicago’s sups, if only to take some of the heat off us.
The reporters, familiar with me through the Ponytailed Avenger story and my patrols of the Cadogan grounds, called me to a stop.
I didn’t want to support their efforts at sensational journalism, but I figured their theories would only get worse if I ignored them. So I walked over to a knot of reporters and offered a muted acknowledgment.
“Tough night out there, isn’t it?”
Some chuckled; others began shouting out questions.
“Did vampires poison the lake?”
“Is this the beginning of the end for the city of Chicago?”
“Is this the first plague?”
I had to work to keep my expression neutral and not roll my eyes at the questions. That I had no idea made that a little easier.
“I was hoping you’d tell me!” I said, offering a light smile. “We’re trying to figure that out ourselves.”
“This wasn’t something created by vampires? A magic spell?”
“Vampires don’t do spells.” I scanned the media badge of the man in front of me. “Maybe it was Matthew here who turned the water black.”
The crowd laughed but the questions kept coming. “Believe me,” I said, raising my hands, “we want the lake back to normal as quickly as you do, and we’re trying to figure it out just like everyone else in Chicago. Problem is, we didn’t do it, so we’re having trouble figuring out where to start.”
“Merit, is this the start of the apocalypse?” piped up a reporter in the back.
“I certainly hope not. But if I’m going down, let it be in Chicago with a red hot in hand. Am I right?”
Sure, it was sycophantic, and I’m sure some of the press guys picked up on that. But what else could I do? If I didn’t keep the focus off vampires, things were going to get very nasty very quickly. With questions peppering the air behind me, I waved good-bye and walked into the House, sharing a sympathetic eye roll with the fairies at the gate when I passed them.
I felt a pang as I wondered what Ethan, a PR master strategist if there ever was one, would have said to them. I wasn’t him, but I hoped I’d done enough to keep things calm for a little while longer.
I headed immediately to the Ops Room; Kelley and Juliet were the only guards there. Both looked up when I entered, but their expressions fell after seeing my face.
“No luck?” Kelley asked.
“Not much,” I said, taking a seat at the conference table beside Kelley. “The River nymphs are grieving, and by all accounts had nothing to do with the water. They’ve pointed their little manicured fingers at Lorelei, the lake siren. She lives on an island in the middle of the lake. The Ombud’s office is arranging for transportation, but not until tomorrow. I hope it’s a solid lead.”
Kelley frowned and nodded. In the way of all managers, I imagine she wanted a crisis addressed and solved so she could move on to the next matter at hand—whether dealing with a shortage of guards or a receiver in the House.
“If that