Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [87]
Kowalczyk started up again. “I am, however, very happy to announce that by the end of the evening, supernatural registration will be law. By the end of the night, we’ll have the authority to track the location of supernaturals across the city, and they will no longer be able to surprise citizens on the street.”
With a sickened expression, Malik reached over and flipped off the radio.
“That woman is a piece of goddamned work,” Luc spat out. “Who does she think she is, and how stupid is she that she believes McKetrick?” He blew out a breath and linked his hands atop his head. “She’s a fascist with an ache to be president, and she isn’t going to stop.”
“Not while there are headlines to be made,” Malik agreed. He looked at me. “Kelley told me what actually went down, that you arranged for Catcher to pick him up. I’m hopeful he at least got some useful information before the release?”
“I’m going back to visit Tate. Catcher should be there, and I’ll ask for the details.”
“You’re thinking Tate is in play?” Luc asked.
“I think, at a minimum, he knows what’s going on.” I told them about the old magic Claudia had mentioned and the scents of lemon and sugar that Catcher hadn’t been convinced were meaningful.
But that didn’t seem to faze Malik. “You stand Sentinel of this House for a reason, Merit. He trusted you. I trust you. Luc trusts you. Your instincts are good. Follow them where they lead, and we will support you whatever the result.”
He may have taken the reigns of the House in regrettable circumstances, but there was no doubt he was a Master.
The second verse of getting to Tate was pretty much the same as the first, except for the part about carefully skirting the men with large guns who stood in front of the House. The members of the National Guard looked more than capable of keeping the screaming protestors at bay. Problem was, if McKetrick had convinced the mayor of the third biggest city in the country that vampires were evil, could they be convinced, as well?
I drove toward the lake and met Catcher at the factory gate. He looked exhausted, and I wasn’t sure if the problems in the city or his sorceress were responsible for the bloodshot eyes.
“I hear McKetrick’s back on the street.”
“I heard the broadcast,” he grumbled. “We didn’t have a secure facility for interrogation. We called Jacobs, who hauled him in. He questioned him through the night, let us sit in.” That explained the exhaustion, I thought. “At least until the mayor called and Jacobs had to let him go. I assume he trotted down to her office and they concocted the story.”
“Did you get anything out of him?”
“Not much—but I’m not sure he has much to hide. McKetrick’s pretty clear about his position on vampires. Genocide’s a harsh word, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Let’s hope Kowalczyk is smart enough not to buy in. I don’t suppose he gave up the location of his facility?”
“He did not. But he did give up his fingerprints and a little DNA, and we got another set from the gun you brought in. That gives us something to work with if he starts making trouble.”
“I suppose that’s something,” I conceded, but wondered if that data had been worth the risk. McKetrick was going to be pissed, and the episode was only going to tie McKetrick and Kowalczyk closer together. She’d rescued him, and that wasn’t going to be something either one of them forgot.
He pulled to a stop in front of the building, and I realized uniformed CPD guards, not fairies, were guarding it.
“This is a bad idea,” I quietly said, surveying the officers, who all looked like rookies just out of training—and undoubtedly had no defenses against whatever magic Tate wielded.
“They’re the reason we were able to get in at all,” Catcher said. “Chuck served with one of their grandfathers, and he called in a favor. The boys in blue are loyal to each other.