Page 93 of Cold Curses
“How pissed is the mayor?” I wondered.
“Honestly, she seemed more angry she missed the chance to actually see Ambrosia for herself. She’s talking about a theme park.”
“No,” I said flatly. Business development could go only so far.
We passed a panel van hand-painted with conspiracy theories about demons: They were fake, and the siege was a ruse to get humans out of Chicago. Or they were real and created by government labs. We were invited to visit the driver’s “demon truths” social media pages.
“People will believe any damn thing,” Theo murmured. “And back to the point, the mayor seems to realize this is really the Guardians’ fault, if anyone’s. So, the sorcerers are in the clear.”
“She also heard about your bath,” Gwen said, and nudged Theo. “Show her.”
“Show me what?”
“Nothing,” Theo said. “It’s nothing.”
It took only ten seconds of Gwen’s stony silence to have him reaching for his screen. He found what he was looking for, held it up to the glass between us.
It was a picture of me fresh out of the Chicago River, hair and clothes wet and plastered. “River-dragged Goth” was not a good look for me.
“Who took that?” I demanded. “And where would they like to be bitten first?”
“Hey, the mayor’s pity is very handy in these times,” Theo said, putting his screen away again.
“Were you just not going to show me that?”
“I was kind of hoping Connor would do it first. And I’m glad you’re behind that glass,” he said, giving it a friendly tap.
“Changing the subject,” I said, “I assume we don’t have an update on the wards?”
“Not yet,” Theo said. “But a message from Catcher sounded optimistic. He said, and I quote, ‘Maybe something tonight.’ ”
“For him, that is optimistic.” I’d known him my entire life, and I’d probably seen him smile three times. And that might’ve been generous.
Gwen pulled up to the condo building where CPD cruisers were already parked. Paige stood outside, talking to the officers in one of them.
“Magical backup,” Theo said. “Just in case.”
We walked toward the building, my body giving a post-traumatic shudder at the idea of going in again. Or maybe that was monster. My mind wasn’t thrilled either, but maybe Paige could help if the demon magic got heavy.
“He in there?” Gwen asked when we reached the cops; they hadn’t bothered to hide themselves.
“Don’t think so,” said a cop I knew from such supernatural hijinks as “Fairies attempt to take Chicago.”
“Hey, Hammett,” I said.
He was the leader of a SWAT unit. I gave him a nod, and he smiled back. He was a little shorter than me, but all muscle, and wore dark fatigues like the rest of his team.
“How’s it going, Sullivan? You look drier today.”
I growled. “Did everybody see the picture?”
His grin was wide and unabashed. “It spread like wildfire. Anyway, we watched him leave about ten minutes ago. The fieldteam says he’s headed downtown. They haven’t reported a final destination yet.”
I tried and failed to be disappointed Dante wasn’t here. At this point, I had to face the likelihood that I couldn’t beat him physically, not with his level of magic, so that wasn’t going to be the route to unenchanting Lulu. It was going to take evidence and leverage. And getting that would be easier if he wasn’t here.
“Then let’s get in and get out,” Gwen said. “And keep an eye out.”
“Of course,” Hammett said, then gave me a wink. “Stay away from pools and fountains.”
