Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [61]
“That was a really shitty thing to say,” I added, as the irritation grew.
Silence.
“He was a pain in the ass,” Catcher said. “But I’d gotten used to him, you know?”
The hurt softened a bit. “I know.”
It was another minute before he spoke again. “Have I ever told you how Sullivan and I met?”
I shook my head.
“The Order was convinced there shouldn’t be sorcerers in Chicago. But I knew—we all knew—that supernatural issues were going to come to a head here before anywhere else. I’d always thought the Order just didn’t want to get their hands dirty. Now I think they were afraid. At any rate, I’d had a prophecy, and I’d told them about it. I told them we needed sorcerers here. That it was imperative that we have sorcerers here.”
“They didn’t believe you?”
“Or were in denial. And when I came to Chicago anyway, they saw that as a breach of the chain of command and they kicked me out. They left me without a sponsor, and they accused me of being arrogant, of trying to usurp the authority of the union. As an act of courtesy, I called the Houses and let them know I was coming. I didn’t want my arrival to ruffle any feathers. Scott wouldn’t talk to me; he didn’t want to get involved in Order issues. Celina offered me a meeting, but that was largely an exercise in self-absorption.”
“Not entirely surprising.”
He made a sound of agreement. “I called Ethan, gave him a heads-up. He invited me over. We talked about Chicago, the Order, the Houses. We talked for hours. And at the end of that conversation, he offered to let me stay in Cadogan House until I got situated in Chicago.”
Catcher was silent for a moment, maybe letting that sink in. Except that it didn’t really surprise me. Ethan was strategic, and he was also loyal. He’d have rewarded Catcher for following the etiquette, and he’d have had the grace to offer him the House afterward.
“That was years ago,” he finally said. “Years before you became a vampire, years before you met Mallory. Years before you moved back to Chicago. Years before the city turned against its own.”
“Years before we lost Ethan. But we did lose him.”
“I know,” Catcher said. “I know he’s gone, and I know your relationship was rocky right up to the end. But deep down, he was good people.”
“I know he was.”
Catcher nodded, and silence reigned for a moment.
But before I could speak, my cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the screen. It was Jonah.
“Hello?”
“Have you looked outside recently?”
“Not in a couple of hours. Why?”
“Go and look.”
“Is this a joke?” I asked him. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“It’s aspen serious. Go look outside. Check the sky and the moon.”
“I’ll call you back,” I told him. I tucked the phone away and glanced back at Catcher. “Excuse me for a moment,” I said, opening the door and peering outside.
I froze. “Oh, my God,” I muttered, and heard Catcher rustling behind me.
The sky was ruby red. Not sunrise or sunset pink, but red. A dark, rich red of cherry cola or well-worn mahogany. A glowing bloodred moon hung low in the sky, and brilliant white forks of lightning crossed it with alarming frequency.
Mallory had made a prophecy about a red moon once, something about the fall of “White City kings.” Once upon a time, parts of Chicago had been called the “White City.” Was this the moon she meant? If so, who were the “kings” that were supposed to fall?
My stomach churned in warning. I’d dreamed about a moon, but that had to be coincidence. Because if it wasn’t, and the rest of the dream hadn’t been coincidence either . . .
I shook my head. That was grief-driven wishful thinking and a ridiculous waste of time that was only going to make me feel worse—or stupid—in the long run.
“Jesus Christ,” Catcher muttered, stepping beside me at the door. “What in God’s name happened?”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” I said, pulling out my phone to call Jonah back. “Our second crisis for the week.”
Dead lake. Red sky.
At least there was only one crisis