Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [50]
Jeff looked taken aback. “That’s a new one.”
“Is that even possible?” my grandfather asked. “That the number of sups would create spontaneous magic?”
Jeff frowned and scratched absently at his head. “I guess it’s theoretically possible there’d be some lambent magic spillage, but you’d expect to see a positive increase in magic—not something that’s sucking the magic out of the city.”
“Unless it’s like the effect of a tsunami,” Catcher suggested. “Is it possible the shifters being together in one place pulled out so much magic the lake began to pull it back in?”
Jeff shook his head. “If that were true, we’d shift ocean currents every time we met in Aurora or anywhere else.” He glanced at me. “I’m not aware of any instance of a magical vacuum being created because too many shifters got together. This would be a first.”
His tone was polite, but his expression made clear he didn’t buy Lorelei’s theory.
“I didn’t really buy it either,” I said. “Although I like even less the fact that we have no explanation for something this powerful.”
“We may not have an explanation,” my grandfather said, “but at least we have a reprieve. I know times are not easy at the House. Let us do the heavy lifting on the rest of the investigation.”
My lip curled at the implicit mention of Frank. “I can’t schedule my work based on what the GP might say. They’re going to criticize me regardless, so I have to do the right thing by the House and by the city. And if worse comes to worst . . .”
“Merit,” Jeff quietly said, “you don’t want to be cast out of the House.”
“No, I don’t,” I agreed. “But I’m not going to act like there’s nothing going on when, clearly, something is brewing. I can’t let the city go to hell because the receiver has his head up his ass. Sorry, Grandpa,” I added about the language.
He patted my back. “We’ll carry the burden,” he said. “You keep your head down and do your job. I know how hard it’s been for you lately. How hard it must be without Ethan. He was a good man—a good Master for his people. But tough times don’t last forever, and Malik will need you when he’s free and clear of the receiver.”
It was great advice; it was just going to be hard to follow. Ethan hadn’t exactly trained me to sit on the sidelines and watch a problem unfold. He’d taught me to strategize and investigate. To soldier. And what soldier bowed out because the pressure was too high? Sure, following orders was important, but a soldier still had to rely on her own conscience, right?
Marjorie peeked into the office and knocked on the open door, worry in her expression. “Chuck,” she said. “I think you’d better come out here.”
Frowning, my grandfather stood up and walked to the door. After exchanging a glance, Catcher, Jeff, and I followed. We stood at the door, each of our heads poking around the door frame at various heights, like kids in a slapstick comedy.
My grandfather stood in the hallway, Marjorie beside him, their gazes on the front door. A nondescript black SUV was parked outside. It was the kind of SUV that moved in the dark of night, that you didn’t know was coming until the passengers were already out of the car with guns . . . or worse.
“McKetrick?” I wondered.
“I wish,” Marjorie spit out. “At least then I’d see some action.”
We all stared at her.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said with a thick Chicagoan accent, the word sounding more like “sarry” than “sorry.”
“Pushing paper on sups just gets a little dull around here sometimes, ya know? But, no. It’s not McKetrick, who I understand is a very bad person. Horrible.” She crossed herself. “God bless us all. It’s the mayor.”
“Turn off the alarm,” my grandfather said, and Catcher stepped into the hallway, moved to the keypad and uncoded the lock.
“Did you know she was coming?” I quietly asked.
My grandfather shook his head. “It’s a surprise