Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [52]
“And they’ll tell you the same thing that I have. It’s time we prioritize, Mr. Merit. This is how I’m starting that process. You have twenty-four hours to clean out your offices—and you might recommend your constituents plan on getting their registration papers in order. Good night.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked outside again, her bodyguards behind her.
“I don’t use this word lightly,” Marjorie said, “but that woman is a stone-cold bitch.”
My grandfather wouldn’t be outdone by Marjorie’s swear. He let loose a string of curses the likes of which I’d never heard before. There were words in there I couldn’t believe he’d ever heard before.
“If she thinks,” he finally said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to take this lying down, she has another think coming. I am not going to destroy all the forward progress we’ve made for the sups of this city for the sake of her presidential campaign.”
“She can’t do this,” Jeff said. “Not unilaterally. It’s not right.”
“That woman couldn’t differentiate ‘right’ from a hole in the ground,” my grandfather said. “But I will be damned if that’s the end of us.”
The five of us stood in silence in the hallway.
“You know,” Catcher finally said, “there may be a bright side to this.”
“What’s that?” my grandfather asked.
Catcher looked at my grandfather with a gleam in his eyes.
“Every decision you’ve made in the last four years you’ve made with the mayor in mind. We were beholden to the position, which means anyone who relied on the office was beholden. We may not have governmental sponsorship anymore—but we also don’t have government repression,” Catcher said. “We’ve started from less. Four years ago, we had no contacts, no friends, and no legitimacy. Sups were afraid of us. She might be able to take away our funding, but she can’t turn back time.”
My grandfather smiled, just a little. “Mr. Bell, you may have a point there.”
I walked back to my car, leaving Jeff, Catcher, Marjorie, and my grandfather to pack their boxes and consider their options. Given the gleam in my grandfather’s eye, I had no doubt he’d find another solution. The four of them—and their secret vampire employee—would probably have a new office set up before the sun rose again. I wondered if Grandpa would make them meatloaf to celebrate? He made a fantastic meatloaf.
Meatloaf on my mind, I pulled out my phone. I called Kelley and advised her my grandfather was going to look further into the lake’s darkening. I had also promised Jonah a debriefing. And yes, I’d let my grandfather do the heavy lifting about the lake problem, but I wasn’t going to ignore the situation, especially now.
“Are you done with your project?” I asked when Jonah answered my call.
“I am. Let’s get together and debrief. Where are you?”
“South side. Just leaving my grandfather’s office. Where are you?”
“Grey House. I don’t want to meet here, obviously, and I’m not going anywhere near Cadogan. Too many protestors.” He was quiet for a moment. “How about the Midway? We’ll have some privacy there.”
Midway Plaisance Park was a mile-long strip of green space that ran east-west across the city near the U of C campus. It had been carved out for the 1893 Columbian Exposition, the World’s Fair that made Chicago the “White City.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“See you then.”
I hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger seat, then stared at it for a moment. It was times like these I’d normally have called Ethan to debrief. Even if he didn’t know precisely what to do, he’d have some kind of suggestion. He had hundreds of years of experience as a vampire and a ridiculously keen grasp of politics and strategy—even if that got him into trouble sometimes.
I’m sure Jonah would have valuable advice, as well; I wouldn’t have agreed to the meeting otherwise. But Ethan and I had a camaraderie. A style. We’d learned how to work together. Ethan and I had an intimacy born of shared experiences; Jonah and I simply didn’t. Maybe, if in some strange new world I accepted the RG’s offer and he became