#Review - Cold Curses by Chloe Neill #Fantasy #Paranormal

Series: Heirs of Chicagoland (#5)
Format: Paperback, 384 pages
Release Date: November 14, 2023
Publisher: Berkley
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Paranormal

It’s all magical hands on deck for vampire Elisa Sullivan and her allies as they fight to save the Windy City from a supernatural onslaught, in the newest installment of the USA Today bestselling Heirs of Chicagoland series.

Elisa, the only vampire ever born, is hoping all can remain quiet in the City of Chicago in the wake of a destructive attack by an ancient demon who broke the city’s defensive magic. Still, she and her friends, including shifter Connor Keene, know they need to be ready for anything.
 
Everyone is working as hard as they can to repair the city’s wards, but unwelcome creatures are slipping through and Elisa soon finds herself caught in the middle of a magical turf war with roots that go back generations. She knows she will have to take a stand, but retaliating threatens to reveal her deepest secret...

Cold Cases, by Chloe Neill, is the 5th installment in the authors Heirs of Chicagoland series. It also appears to be the swan song for the series as well which is unfortunate. Elisa Sullivan, daughter of Merit and Ethan Sullivan of Cadogan House, is the only vampire ever born. She’s engaged to shifter Connor Keene, the son of the local pack leader Gabriel Keene, who has been forced to fight for the right to become the next Apex of the North American Central Pack.  

Elisa, who is also Chicago's associate Ombudsman along with Roger, Petra, and Theo, with help from Gwen Robinson of the Chicago P.D., fight to protect their city from an avalanche of demons who were released in the previous book when wards were broken by an ancient evil. Elisa, Connor, her best friend Lulu Bell and Alexei Breckenridge, who have apparently moved to another level with their relationship, have several fights on their hand on more than one front, while Lulu's parents, Mallory and Catcher Bell, are working to repair Chicago’s wards.

IF you didn't know before, you know now that Elisa has a second consciousness within that she battles for control. A remnant of the spell that bound a supernatural creature into Merit's beloved Katana 20 years ago that also bound Elisa to Merit to give birth to the first ever born vampire. Only Connor and a few others know Elisa's secret and now it appears that Monster desperately wants to unite once again with Merit's blade. Meanwhile, for the first time in 20 years, Merit and Ethan are once again ready to put their house in harms way to defeat the evil that is taking over the city. 

Working with the Chicago PD, and well as other organizations, Houses, and the Pack, as well as a visitor from another pack, Elisa and company end up putting out literal fires and stopping more destruction from the hell raisers all the city. It also seems someone they know, and once saved Elisa's life, has decided to be take all the available magical power and become the top dog in the supernatural fight. It's all hands on deck in this series finale that doesn't disappoint in action, romance, sarcasm, and family dynamics.

*Thoughts* Elisa is very goal-oriented, dedicated, and puts others first. Kind of like Merit. She also tends to use sarcasm against fear. Connor is dedicated to protecting his pack, but tends to put Elisa in front of his own battles to become Apex. Their relationship has always been fun to read about since they are both strong willed and will do anything to protect family. The interesting part of this story is the strong involvement of Merit, Ethan, Paige, Mallory, and Catcher defeating the villain, as well as watching Lulu finally come out of the shadow of her mother to stand on her own.

ONE

Aclaw swept across my face, and I felt the hot breath of hell. The monster had arrived.

I shook myself awake and stared into the eyes of my One True Enemy, who sat on my chest like a succubus. Sleek and black and glaring at me with unabashed loathing.

"Rawr," she said.

"What?" I asked, trying to make sense of my surroundings. "And why?"

"That, Elisa, is a cat," said the wickedly gorgeous shapeshifter currently in human form beside me. Connor Keene's hair was dark and wavy, his body toned and muscles taut. One strong arm was slung over his eyes, and a smile curved his very kissable mouth. "I'm surprised you didn't know that."

He might have been my future husband, but I gave him a look nearly as gnarly as the one I'd given the cat. "Why," I began again, with admirable patience, "is it this cat and why is it in this house?"

"Nothing to do with me," he said. And gave Eleanor of Aquitaine an arch look. "Cat, why are you here?"

Eleanor of Aquitaine (not Eleanor or Elle, unless you wanted scratching) belonged to, or owned, Lulu Bell, my roommate and sorcerer. But we weren't in the loft Lulu and I shared; we were in Connor's town house. Only Connor "lived" in the town house, but we'd all taken up at least temporary residence there recently. Me, because he was my future husband. Lulu, because she was my bestie and I wanted her safe. Alexei Breckenridge, because he was Connor's best friend and Lulu's (boyfriend? friend? friend with benefits?) something or other. He'd stayed over at the town house during Chicago's most recent supernatural disturbance and hadn't yet left.

And now, apparently, we'd added the damned cat.

At my apparently rude question, said cat jumped off the bed and slunk into the bathroom.

"Demon visitation complete," I said. At least until she made it into the closet and began running through our clothes like they were a joint car wash and scratching pad.

I glanced at Connor. "How are you feeling?"

He rolled his shoulder, testing. "A little sore, but I'll manage." Connor was the son of the North American Central Pack's current Apex, Gabriel Keene. Connor had already taken down three challengers in his effort to ascend to Apex when his dad retired. And they kept coming.

"Nothing tonight, right?"

"Nothing tonight," he said. "You?"

"Depends on the actual demons," I said.

I was a vampire born into Chicago's Cadogan House and an associate Ombudsman, one of Chicago's human-supernatural liaisons. Less than a week ago, we'd sealed away Andaras (aka Rose, aka Eglantine, aka "Rosantine"), the first demon to enter Chicago in two hundred years. While she was no longer a problem, she'd triggered two of the wards in the city's Victorian-era magical defense system. We were still trying to get the apparently single-use wards online again, and keep the city from being overrun by demons walking through the literal gap in our defenses. A few demons had made it through already; we were battling them as we found them now and sprinkling copious amounts of salt-a new addition to the Ombud operating procedure-across Chicago. We hadn't had a night off since we'd brought the House back, and we were basically on call until the problem was resolved.

In addition to their penchant for troublemaking and violence, Rosantine had temporarily sent Cadogan House and its inhabitants-including my, Lulu's, and Connor's parents-into another dimension. Did not enjoy; did not wish to repeat.

Connor pulled me against him, enveloped me in warmth and magic and . . . him. "Just give me one minute," he said. "And then you can yell at the cat."

I snorted. "One minute," I said, and smoothed a hand over his chest. He made a satisfied sigh and closed his eyes. There were shadows beneath them-faint, dark crescents brought on by too much magic and too much physical exertion.

"I know you don't want to stop until you've claimed the throne," I said. "But if you need to stop before you can do that, it's fine. We will find a different way to be."

He was quiet for a moment, then smoothed a hand over my long, wavy hair. "A different way?"

"Well, we could join the circus. You could be the strong man in those little glittery shorts. I'll do the trapeze. We'll live out of an RV and eat take-out Chinese."

"That's quite a plan."

"Maybe better as a backup situation. In the meantime, continue kicking their asses."

"That's the plan," he said, and kissed my forehead.

The bedroom door, already cracked, was pushed open fully by the sorceress who stepped into the doorway. Her gaze searched the room, but she ignored us-entwined as we were.

"Your minute is up," I said.

"Her Highness is in the bathroom," Connor announced. "Elisa scared her off."

"Lulu," I said-a question, a declaration, and a curse in two syllables.

"She was getting lonely," Lulu said, moving into the room. There was a lot of feisty spirit in that petite frame, and an apparent skill at old magic-the bloody, potentially evil kind. But the paint-spattered white coveralls, rolled up at arms and ankles, mitigated the effect. She was an artist first, a sorceress second. And until a week ago, a completely nonpracticing one. Demons had changed everything.

Lulu was currently working on a mural in Hyde Park, not far from Cadogan House.

I narrowed my gaze as she strode to the bathroom, where something made a clunking sound. "What did she destroy?" I called out.

Lulu emerged, the cat sitting queenlike in her arms. "Here, or there?" she asked with a smile.

My stare didn't change. "What did she pee on at the loft?"

"Let's just say, if pee was gold, we'd both be rich. And I hope you didn't like those pink sneakers."

"You're both very entertaining," Connor said, rolling over to reveal the smooth curves of muscle across his back. "But maybe you could entertain somewhere else?"

With impeccable timing, Alexei stepped into the room, bagel in hand. Silently, he looked at us, then at Lulu and the cat, then chewed. Like Connor, Alexei was tall and strong, with pale skin and dark blond hair. Alexei didn't talk much; he was a man of quiet loyalty who said much with his piercing hazel eyes. And knew how to back up a friend.

"And you brought her here why?" I asked.

"We can't leave her alone at the loft forever," Lulu said. "And with the demons out there, who knows how long we'll be camped out here."

"I'll deal with the demons," I said. "And your parents are working on repairing the broken wards." Lulu's parents were powerful sorcerers.

"I know. I was just saying. Nobody expects it to be immediate. Freaking demons."

"Freaking demons," Connor and Alexei muttered in unison.

Lulu stroked Eleanor of Aquitaine, who purred beneath her paint-stained fingers. While that cat wanted nothing to do with me, she plainly loved Lulu. And it wasn't my style to break up a family.

Resigned, I sighed and looked at Connor. "Your house, your rules."

"I don't have a problem with it," he said, voice muffled from the pillow. "She actually likes me."

And that stung a little. "She can stay," I told Lulu. "Just keep her out of this room. And any other room in which I might make an appearance."

"That's most of the house." Lulu's voice was flat.

"Is it?" I asked as innocently as I could manage.

My screen buzzed, and I plucked the thin rectangle of glass from the side table.

"Work," I said, and even the cat went silent. Work rarely delivered good news an hour before I made it into the office.

"Elisa," I answered. "And you're on speaker with a demon cat and the sups who enable it." This was not the time for video.

"Roger" was the caller's response. Roger Yuen was the Ombudsman and my boss. "I'm on with Petra and Theo." They were my coworkers. Petra, an aeromancer and light conspiracy theory enthusiast, and Theo, a human former cop and my partner.

"How is Eleanor of Aquitaine?" Petra asked, and the cat actually rowr'd a response.

"Good girl," Petra added.

"What's happened?" I asked, trying to steer my evening away from the resident demon.

"We aren't sure," Roger said. "A burst of magic was reported during the day. Looks like around three o'clock in the afternoon."

"Reported by whom?" I asked.

"We've gotten calls from nymphs who called it a 'magicky bass drop' and from a representative of the river trolls who called it a 'big loud.'"

"Checks out," Connor murmured.

"How did you get 'burst of magic' out of that?" Lulu asked, moving closer to the screen.

"ComEd," Roger said. That was Chicago's power supplier. "They recorded a power surge at the same time. There are also complaints about satellite and telecom services going down. None of it lasted for more than a few seconds. Most of the complaints went to the mayor's office, and they were routed back to us."

Connor had grabbed his screen, and I guessed he was sending a message to the Pack to see if they'd experienced anything.

"Was it a demon?" I asked, my heart beating a little faster.

"Not that we've found. The guards didn't see any activity at the wards. And there were no reports of anyone actually seeing anything. Just feeling it or its effects."

"Well, there was the UFO sighting," Petra said. "But we're pretty confident a UFO did not land on Soldier Field in order to steal children." She paused. "Because aliens are more interested in tech than bio, really."

"Hmm," I said noncommittally. "What about the fairies? They're magically powerful. They'd almost certainly have felt it." And maybe their bristly queen, Claudia, would have some insight about what it was.

"Haven't heard from them," Roger said. "But that's not unusual."

"A few Pack members-those who were awake-felt it," Connor said, reading his screen. "No one can say what it was or where it originated. They just felt a sudden burst of energy."

"Something with the ley lines?" I wondered. Three of the world-spanning lines of magical power ran through Chicago. The city's demon wards were powered by cornerstones-big bespelled stones that got their energy from the ley lines and, in turn, helped regulate them.

"What could have affected them?" Theo asked.

"I don't know. Demons? Sorcerers?" I asked, looking at Lulu.

"You're asking if they could affect the ley lines? I mean, I'm not an expert, but I don't know how they could. Ley lines are pure power. I don't think sorcerers could sway them much. And if they'd done something, some kind of spell, I think we'd have felt it."

"So what should we do?" I asked Roger.

"Maybe it's nothing," Roger said. "Just a hitch in the lines because the demon wards were recently triggered. But if it's something more, I don't want it getting worse. I'm thinking patrols around the city. Maybe we won't find anything, but at least we'll have done our due diligence. Wait-you have that dinner tonight, don't you?"

Connor and I were scheduled to have dinner with his parents to celebrate our engagement.

He'd apparently asked for my father's permission despite his seemingly casual proposal, and we'd shared the news with my parents just after he'd proposed. Neither my mom or dad had been surprised, but they had been supportive and thrilled to welcome a shifter into the family.

"We can be late," Connor said.

I looked at him. "You're sure?"

He nodded. "Dinner won't matter much if demons overrun the city."

"I mean, we'll still have to eat," I murmured, but took his point.

"We can be late," he said again, this time with a smile that had me melting a little.

"Connor and I can start here," I said. "We'll talk to the fairies." I'd also need to send a message to my informant. Jonathan Black was half-elf, half-sorcerer, and an attorney with mysterious clients, at least some of whom were criminals. He'd tried to kill me; he'd also saved my life. He was an enigma.

"Petra and I will start here," Theo said, "although my arm would probably not be hella effective against arrows right now."

"Hella deflective, anyway," Alexei offered, chewing.

The first demon had triggered the ward that had broken Theo's arm, but a fairy had put an arrow through his leg. He was human, but as brave as they come.

"Sounds good," I said. "Want me to check with the Houses? They won't have been awake, but they may know something."

Chicago, with its three ley lines, collected sups like kids collected comics. It was home to four vampire Houses.

"You take Cadogan and Washington," Theo said. "We'll take Navarre and Grey."

"Got it. And we'll let you know if we find anything on our end. Stay safe out there."

"Same," Theo said. "But immortality probably gives you an advantage there."

He wasn't wrong.



The breakfast party was disbanded. Alexei took the last bite of his bagel downstairs; Lulu followed him. While Connor showered, I checked in with my parents at Cadogan House and Uncle Malik at Washington House. He wasn’t my actual uncle, but my dad’s former Second at Cadogan House, and I’d grown up with him and his wife.

Neither House, unfortunately, had anything to offer regarding the magical burst. They'd been unconscious during the day (being vampires), and the human guards who watched over their Houses hadn't felt or reported anything. I also sent a message to Black and didn't get an immediate response, which wasn't especially surprising. He operated on his own schedule.

Then it was my turn in the shower and dressing for a night of who knew what. Connor opted for his preferred jeans, T-shirt, and boots combo; I went for jeans, boots with a stiletto thin enough to double as a weapon, and a couple of thin, layered shirts to combat the coming fall chill. I pulled my long, wavy blond hair into a topknot-the better to fight with-and offered my attention to the second consciousness inside me.

There were two of us in here. In addition to me, my body housed a remnant of the spell that had bound a supernatural creature into my mother's katana two decades ago-and that had bound me to my mother, allowing her to give birth to the world's first vampire child. Lulu's mother, Mallory, had created that spell. The creature, called the Egregore, had been created by a sorcerer named Sorcha Reed. She'd been killed by her creation.

I called the remnant "monster," and its presence was a secret that only Connor knew the full truth about, as I hadn't wanted anyone else-particularly not Aunt Mallory and my parents-to know that I'd been contaminated by Sorcha's magic. Or feel guilty about any of it.

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#Review/Excerpt - Devouring Darkness by Chloe Neill #Fantasy #Paranormal

Series: Heirs of Chicagoland (#4)
Format: Paperback, 336 pages
Release Date: September 20, 2022
Publisher: Berkley Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Urban Fantasy

In the fourth installment of the USA Today bestselling Heirs of Chicagoland series, Elisa Sullivan unearths an ancient grudge, with potentially devastating consequences.

As the only vampire ever born, not made, and the daughter of two very powerful Chicago vampires, Elisa Sullivan always knew her life was going to be…unusual. But she always wanted to make her own way in the world, likely away from her famous family. Then supernatural politics—and perhaps a bit of destiny—intervened, and Elisa had to steady her nerves and sharpen her steel to fight for the city of Chicago. Luckily, Connor Keene, son of the North American Central Pack leader, is right by her side.
 
Elisa and some of the paranormal Ombudsmen she works with agree to escort a troubled sorcerer to Chicago for training, but they inadvertently set in motion a scheme of long-awaited magical vengeance. The city may pay an arcane price it can’t afford unless Elisa and her team rise to the challenge.

Devouring Darkness is the Fourth installment in author Chloe Neill's Heirs of Chicagoland series. Elisa Sullivan, the only born, not made vampire, has become part of Chicago's Supernatural Ombudsman office. After a request from Roger Yuen, the Ombudsman himself, Elisa and Theo Martin agree to escort a source named Rose, who can manipulate emotions, from Edenton, Illinois to Chicago. Rose has been a sort of undercover, giving Roger heads up to problems that may arise.

 

With the demon loose, Chicago is under siege with chaos wreaking havoc. The stakes are high, as Elisa and her allies, Lulu, Alexei, Theo, Petra, Ariel Shaw, and Detective Gwen Robinson of the Chicago PD, try to find the demon, and stop her from destroying Chicago. When the demon targets Cadogan House, Elisa and her allies have only a few days to find a way to defeat the demon before the House is gone forever. 

 

Elisa, as you may know, also has been fighting with an internal monster that she has come to accept as being part of her. She's also become very independent from her own parents Ethan Sullivan and Merit and Cadogan House which she has not pledged loyalty to. Elisa has her best friend Lulu Bell who is trying to make something of herself as an artist. I will say this non spoiler-y, pay attention to Lulu in this story. I will also say that Lulu's parents, Mallory and Catcher Bell, are brought back to the city because of a dangerous demon who puts everyone in dangerous. 

 

I will also hint that there are things going on with the North American Central Pack which will affect Connor Keene going forward. As the title of this series says, he is the heir of the pack and it's only a matter of time before his father decides to retire. I will also say this, prepare for anything. There are literally two endings to this book, and one of them is a cliffhanger. No spoilers. I will say that it has been sometime since this villain has had conflicts with Elisa, and now it appears that the villain has done something that will change things for the worse.

 

ONE

Immortality required expecting the unexpected. And occasionally, heels.

Sometimes the unexpected was a mercenary fairy with a very sharp sword, or a shapeshifting monster, or a detachment of angry vampires at the door. And sometimes it was a pizza box taped to an art gallery wall . . . with a five-thousand-dollar price tag.

"Reflections on Post-Consumerism," the woman beside me said, reading aloud the tag beside the box. "A very interesting choice of media, don't you think?"

Lulu Bell, nonpracticing sorcerer and my best friend since childhood, her chin-length dark hair falling across her face, was doing her best to look serious and Very Intellectual. She was an artist, and I was here to support her and offer up some much-needed bestie time, which had been hard to come by lately.

I was Elisa Sullivan-vampire and newest staff member of Chicago's supernatural Ombudsman's office. Chicago had always been a hot spot for supernatural surprises, and that was especially true lately, with the detachment of vampires and mercenary fairies. The increase in activity hadn't been conducive to quality time with friends. So we were in this small white-walled gallery on a Saturday night, mingling with a crowd that was mostly human, who'd come to appreciate the art and sample tiny cheese cubes and listen to music that was part ocean wave, part jazz.

"I think pizza is best mid-consumption," I said, with as much gravity as I could muster.

The woman gave me a withering look before stalking off, apparently unimpressed by my critique.

Lulu snorted. "The pizza box is nonsense, but some of the other pieces are pretty good."

She wasn't wrong. There was a portrait of a former president rendered in neon lights. Rainbow streamers of plastic letters hung from the ceiling and made different words depending on your position. A hyperrealistic panorama of a Chicago traffic jam-uncomfortable content but remarkably detailed execution.

"The wine is excellent," I said, holding up the plastic cup of silver-gold liquid. "And the people watching is even better."

The opening of an independent gallery in a neighborhood of warehouses and up-and-coming shops attracted all kinds. They ran the gamut from matrons with designer heels and pink-tipped hair to probable artists who were younger than us and had the hunger in their eyes. They wanted their own openings and sold stickers, and the validation that came with both.

I wasn't an artist-not by a long shot-but I had tried to look appropriately cool. I paired a flowy green top with black leggings and my favorite black boots. The green was a shade darker than my eyes, and I'd left my long, wavy blond hair down. I'd left my sheathed katana, a vampire's favorite weapon, in the vehicle I'd borrowed for the night. And while I didn't think there was much threat from this crowd, I still felt vulnerable without it.

"I like this," I decided, and glanced at Lulu. "Thanks for inviting me."

Her smile was warm. "You're welcome, Lis. Thanks for coming with me." She knocked her cup against mine. "To girls' nights."

I'd toast anything that put that kind of light in her eyes. A light I hadn't seen in a while.

A human approached us-dark skin and dapper suit, trimly fit around a strong body. He smiled tentatively at me, then Lulu. "Lulu Bell?"

"That's me," Lulu said. "Hi."

"I'm Clint Howard," the man said, offering her a hand.

"Oh my god, sure!" Lulu said brightly, shaking and then gesturing to me. "Elisa, this is Clint. He owns the gallery."

"Nice to meet you," I said. "You've got a lovely space here. And . . . an eclectic collection."

His grin was wide and a little sly. "We're a space for emerging artists. And speaking of which, I saw your piece on Halsted. I'd love to talk to you about an installation."

Lulu's eyes went wide. She was a muralist and specialized in outdoor projects; her brightly colored creations covered at least a dozen brick walls in Chicago. We were here, in part, because she wanted to improve her connection to Chicago's art community. Mission accomplished.

"I'd love to. I love the installation you organized at Garfield Park."

Clint's smile was wide and bright. "Thank you. That was nearly a year in the planning. Bureaucrats," he added with an eye roll.

"Sups have them, too," Lulu said. "Anyway, it's gorgeous."

He nodded. "We're looking next at a spot in Hyde Park. Not far from Cadogan House, actually," he said, offering me a smile.

Hyde Park, a Chicago neighborhood on the city's South Side, was home to Cadogan House, one of the city's four vampire houses. My dad, Ethan Sullivan, was the House's Master, and my mother, Merit, was its Sentinel. I'd been born and raised there, although I rarely spent time at the House now.

Someone across the room called Clint's name. He lifted a hand. "Right there," he said, then smiled at Lulu. "I'll call you," he said, then nodded at me and moved across the room.

"Merry Christmas," I said, grinning back at Lulu. "You got your present early."

"Oh my freaking god," she said, the words a single roller coaster of sound. "That was Clint freaking Howard."

"So I heard. You're amazing, and he recognized it." I gave her a poke. "You're going places, kid."

"I'd like to go to that spot in Hyde Park," she said, then narrowed her gaze at me. "You don't think your mom had anything to do with this, do you?"

"Arranging murals? No. She loves you like her own kid, but that's not really her style."

But my father? Entirely possible. Vampires loved making deals, although I had no idea what an art gallery owner would want from the Master of a House of vampires. And besides, "You have the talent. You don't need anyone making calls for you."

"Thank you," she said, and before I could respond, she'd wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you," she repeated.

"You're welcome."


Two more hours of chatting, of deciphering paintings, of reading artist statements . . . and I was done and ready to be somewhere else. This wasnÕt my scene.

But because Lulu deserved my support, I put on a smile when she came toward me, the light in her eyes still as bright as it had been when we'd walked through the door. It was the happiest I'd seen her since I'd returned to Chicago a few months ago. Maybe she'd finally found her place-a place where she belonged. That possibility lifted a weight I hadn't known I'd been carrying.

"Hey," she said, and gestured to a group of people behind her. "So Clint asked if I want to go get drinks with him and a few of the others." There was hope in her eyes. "I don't want to bail on you, but . . ."

"Go," I said. "Absolutely go."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. But take an Auto home."

"Oh, of course." She leaned in. "He wants us to talk about art and installations and-oh my god, Lis. What if this is my moment?"

I squeezed her into a hug. "There will be a million moments, Lulu. But yeah, this could be one of them." I let her go and grinned as she blew out a breath and tried not to look too eager. Then she joined the others, leaving me alone beneath a pinpoint light.

My screen beeped, and I pulled the slender and signaling rectangle of glass from my pocket and checked the display. It was a call from Roger Yuen, Chicago's supernatural Ombudsman and my boss. I was an associate Ombud, and new to the team, so I answered it quickly.

"Hey, Elisa," he said. "I know it's your night off, and I'm really sorry for the interruption, but we have an emergency."

"Just a minute," I told him. "Let me get somewhere quiet." I walked outside as Lulu's group began discussing where to find the city's best craft cocktails.

When I reached a small grassy area a dozen feet away, where metal sculptures made from old tractor parts hulked in the grass, I lifted up the screen.

"Okay," I said. "What's going on?"

"I need you to rescue someone."

TWO

Adrenaline, prompted by those words, was like a comfy sweater. "Who needs rescuing?"

"One of my informants. She's in trouble. I'm going to keep it brief because we need to hurry. And I'll apologize for dumping this on you and Theo; I'm on childcare duty tonight and don't have time to arrange for a sitter."

"I understand. No worries. You've talked to Theo?"

"The timing there is . . . sensitive," he said. "But I sent him a message. He should be on his way to you. Shit-I assume you're still at the gallery with Lulu, right?"

I had no idea what "sensitive timing" involved my partner tonight, but I'd find out soon enough. "Yeah, I'm outside. Give me the basics."

"I'll send you some docs," he said, "but her name's Rose Doerman. She's a sympath. She can manipulate others' emotions. It's like vampire glamour but dialed in, and usually less powerful. She lives in Edentown, Illinois."

Edentown was southeast of Chicago, a town perched at the edge of the Illinois-Indiana border. It was a 1960s development built for commuters to Chicago who wanted plenty of space between themselves and their day jobs.

"She's been feeding me information here and there for the last three years. Usually small-time stuff: Sups grifting humans. Human gangsters dipping into magic and spellselling, that kind of thing. Someone figured out she's been helping us. They cornered her outside her place, jumped her. She managed to get away, but not without injuries."

"Where is she now?"

"I only know she made her way to a spot she considers safe. She's going to give it a little time, make sure she wasn't followed. When she's sure she's clear, she'll go to a bus stop in the old downtown-corner of Main and Third," he said. "It's usually empty at night. White female, five foot six, medium build, thirty years old. Blond hair and blue eyes. Although it probably won't be hard to miss her given the injuries."

"Where are we taking her?"

"The safe house in Back of the Yards."

That was a neighborhood on Chicago's South Side. I hadn't seen the house, but I knew its location.

"We'll make it work," I promised him. "We'll get her back."


Ten minutes later, a sleek black convertible pulled to the curb in front of the gallery. Theo climbed out, stylish in a gray-checked button-down, dark slacks, and black Oxford-style shoes. His skin was dark brown and his hair was black and short. His somber eyes were wide beneath a strong brow.

At the moment, those eyes looked flat. Presumably, I guessed, because of the woman at the wheel. Detective Gwen Robinson was the Chicago Police Department's supernatural liaison and generally worked with Ombuds on matters that required more firepower. She was out of uniform tonight, looking gorgeous in an ivory pantsuit that gleamed against her medium brown skin. Tonight her hair was shoulder-length and curly, and pulled back at the sides with small rose-gold clips.

It was pretty obvious they'd been on a date. And since I'd heard nothing about it, probably a first date. Which explained the "sensitive timing."

"Detective Robinson," I said, giving her a nod. "Great night for a drive."

"It was," she said with a thin smile, then lifted her dark eyes to Theo. "Although it turned out to be a very short drive."

"I'll make it up to you," Theo promised. "After we rescue Rose."

Concern shadowed her face. "You sure you don't want backup?"

"I think we need to keep this low key," he said, and glanced at me.

I nodded. "If there's any chance to save her cover, we need a small team, quick-moving. But we'll call the locals if it gets to that."

We looked at each other awkwardly for a minute, until I realized they were waiting for me to give them a private moment. So I turned back, took a sudden interest in the posters and flyers that nearly covered one wall. Lot of missing cats in this neighborhood.

"Good night, Elisa," I heard Gwen say.

Figuring it was safe, I turned back to see the car speed away again.

"You've got the Pack's SUV?" Theo asked.

I'd borrowed the vehicle from my boyfriend, the son of North American Central Pack's Apex.

"I do. It's parked down there," I said, and pointed down the block. "I had wine, so you're driving."

"We didn't get to wine," he said grouchily as I offered him the key fob.

"What did you get to?" I asked as we climbed into the car.

"Very little. We were planning on Italian food and some very good Merlot. Instead, I'm driving to Edentown. Which nobody wants to do."

"Other than the people who live there," I said. "Since when are you two an item?"

"Would have been forty minutes, although we spent most of it in the car. This was our first date. And it took a month to get her to agree." He gave me a sour look.

"Blame the assholes in Edentown," I said.


IÕd have loved a coffee, but there was no time. So while Theo drove, I reviewed the dossier Roger had provided.

"Do you know this woman?" I asked, scanning through the materials on my screen.

"No. I mean, I know Roger had informants who only wanted to report to him, but he doesn't share them. Anything interesting in the background?" Theo asked.

"Nothing that stands out," I said, scanning the materials on my screen. "Parents dead. Looks like there was some drug activity there. She came into her magic at thirteen. She figured out she could use her magic for the grift and fell in with the human crowd her parents ran with-mostly bangers, miscreants, and assholes. Larceny and forgery are also favorites. Nothing violent, which is probably why Roger agreed to work with her."

"But she could use the juju on us?"

"From what Roger said, her power isn't strong enough to manipulate the unwilling. And she doesn't have much incentive since we're the ones trying to help her. But I'll let you know if I feel anything unusual."

Theo laid on the horn when a taxi nearly sideswiped us, then glared at the driver as we passed him. "And what happened tonight?"

"Someone in her crew figured out she's been feeding us information and beat the crap out of her. Roger said she managed to get away, but I don't think he had many details. I'm hoping she's at the rendezvous spot, alone, and we can get her to the safe house without incident."

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#Review - A Swift and Savage Tide by Chloe Neill #Fantasy #Historical

Series: Captain Kit Brightling # 2
Format: Paperback, 368 pages
Release Date: November 30, 2021
Publisher: Berkley
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Historical

Chloe Neill’s bold, seafaring heroine Captain Kit Brightling is back for another adventure in this swashbuckling fantasy series.

Captain Kit Brightling is Aligned to the magic of the sea, which makes her an invaluable asset to the Saxon Isles and its monarch, Queen Charlotte. The Isles and its allies will need every advantage they can get: Gerard Rousseau, the former Gallic emperor and scourge of the Continent, has escaped his island prison to renew his quest for control of the Continent.

Gerard has no qualms about using dangerous magic to support his ambitions, so Kit and the crew of the Diana are the natural choice to find him—and help stop him. Sparks fly when Kit’s path unexpectedly crosses with that of the dashing and handsome Rian Grant, Viscount Queenscliffe, who’s working undercover on the Continent in his own efforts to stop Gerard. But he’s not the only person Kit is surprised to see. An old enemy has arisen, and the power he’ll yield on Gerard’s behalf is beautiful and terrible. Sparks will fly and sails will flutter as Kit and crew are cast onto the seas of adventure to fight for queen and country.

A Swift and Savage Tide is the second installment in author Chloe Neill's Captain Kit Brightling series. Kit Brightling sails through treacherous waters and magical mayhem in this seafaring historical adventure reminiscent of the Napoleon conflicts. Captain Kit Brightling is a member of the Queen’s Own Guards and with Colonel Rian Grant, Viscount of Queenscliffe, a new inductee into the Order of Saint James. Previously, Kit and Grant uncovered a plot by Gerard Rousseau to employ a magical warship and regain his power he lost when he was dethroned.  

Kit is Aligned to the sea. She can feel the particular magic that flowed through the waters surrounding the Saxon Isles. The magic that crisscrossed the earth, through soil and stone and underwater, deep and powerful currents that humans were trying to harness, sometimes with disastrous results. As the Captain of the Diana, she is capable of using her connection to the sea to make her ship fly faster, and avoid being captured by enemy ships aligned with Gerard.

The story begins in earnest when the Queen orders Kit and her crew to find Gerard Rousseau, the self-proclaimed emperor (think Napoleon) who’d waged war against the entire Continent. He escaped his “prison” via fishing schooner. And, they’d come to learn, had rendezvoused with the Gallic flagship the Continental powers had allowed him to keep-the Fidelity. Meanwhile, Grant has been ordered to the Continent and hasn't seen Kit in 2 weeks trying to do what he does best; Observe the comings and goings of those aligned with Gerard which include Alan Doucette.

"La Boucher" is a powerful man who is using powerful magic that hasn't been seen since Gerard was defeated in Contra Costa. Doucette tried to bring the current of magic to the surface as a weapon. He created an inferno that killed thousands of people. Kit knows that Gerard’s loyalists had built a new kind of warship at Forstadt, on the shore of the Northern Sea, and in doing so they’d nearly destroyed the Northern Sea’s current. Kit's journey's include a visit to Auevilla, a meeting with an old nemesis who just happens to be a Pirate King, as well a Rian Grant.

There is a whole lot to discuss in this story, but spoilers could run the story for future readers. Let's just say that there is plenty of action, lots of romance, and plenty of surprises. There are sea dragons which can be good luck or bad depending on your point of view. Kit faces off against Doucette. Her heart is torn is many directions, and it doesn't help when a mysterious woman appears in the middle of battle that may change the course of this entire series. 

Who is this mystery woman, and could she be even more dangerous than Doucette? Without any spoilers, Kit was raised as a Brightling and has no clue who her parents were or why they abandoned her. None of her sisters appear in this story except through letters. There's another character named Mathilda who is very much of a surprise as well as possible source of answers for Kit. We shall see how that pans out. As Kit learns more and more about her powers, and how much more she can handle, it will be interesting to see what part Mathilda plans in her continued education. 

One

She despised aristocrats, save one: the damned viscount.

Colonel Rian Grant, Viscount Queenscliffe, looked more soldier than member of New London’s Beau Monde and was as honorable a man as she’d ever met.

She was no simpering miss herself, of course. Captain Kit Brightling was a member of the Queen’s Own Guards and-with Grant-a new inductee into the Order of Saint James. Joining the order was both honor-appreciation for their work on behalf of their home, the Saxon Isles-and obligation-assignment to the council of the queen’s closest advisers.

She and Grant had had one adventure together, uncovering a plot by Gerard to employ a magical warship. That adventure had featured one very good, and very dangerous, kiss. She hadn’t expected to see him again, which was fine. Kit had no need of a viscount.

But then she’d seen his face across the palace’s ballroom-just after they’d been inducted into the order-and her heart had stuttered like she’d put a hand directly into a current of magic. Broad shoulders, immaculate beneath his black tailcoat, and gleaming Hessians. He looked not unlike the roguish heroes in the penny novels she loved-the straight nose, the strong brow over eyes the color of a southern sea.

He’d strode toward her, the crowd parting around him like the sea, and offered his hand. He was taller than her, forcing her to lift her gaze. “Captain.”

She thought she’d worn her uniform but, when she glanced down, found she was wearing long white gloves and a dress of pale blue-gray taffeta dotted with ivory, the sleeves capped and waist-high, as was the style. “Are we to dance?”

On cue, the players began their tune, and a waltz streamed through the ballroom.

“Only if you’re brave enough,” Grant said with a grin.

“I’m no coward,” Kit said, and put her hand atop Grant’s, even as her heart pounded. His other hand went to her waist, hers to his shoulder, and they began to move. One-two-three. One-two-three. His steps were strong and precise, his body warming the mere whisper of space between them. The fingers that skimmed her hip were hot enough to brand, as if they might sear the memory, or the connection, into her.

They couldn’t have been the only ones dancing, but Kit kept her gaze on his face, on the promise in his eyes, the determination in the set of his jaw.

“You waltz tolerably,” Grant said, amusement lighting his eyes.

“I waltz magnificently,” she said. “A ship at sea has the same rhythm.” But the sea’s music was different-a thrum she felt in her bones. Kit was Aligned to it, could feel the particular magic that flowed through the waters surrounding the Saxon Isles. The magic that crisscrossed the earth, through soil and stone and underwater, deep and powerful currents that humans were trying to harness, sometimes with disastrous results.

“I wasn’t sure you’d agree to a dance,” Grant said as they turned a corner, Kit’s skirts rustling with the motion.

She shouldn’t have. She had no interest in members of the Beau Monde, with their haughtiness and pretentions. But then she’d kissed him, and that kiss had been potent as any current of magic, and it had pulled at her like the tide.

A bell struck, the sound golden and insistent.

“Is that a ship’s bell?” Kit asked, as the sound-and what it signified-clawed at her attention.

“I don’t hear anything,” Grant said, but his voice sounded far away now, and his hands felt less substantial.

“The bell is ringing,” she said, raising her voice, but the words barely audible over the din. “I need to check on the crew!”

But the floor undulated beneath her like the deck of a swaying ship. Water had begun to seep beneath the ballroom’s closed doors, flowing toward them across the wooden floors.

“I think I should…” she began to say, and looked back at Grant. But he’d begun to disappear, his image beside her fading as water lapped at their feet, staining her satin slippers.

“Obligations…” he began, but his voice diminished to a whisper. “You must…”

Then the trickle was a swell, cold and dark, and covered them both.

She jolted awake, chest heaving and damp with sweat, and braced a hand on the swaying hull of the ship.

She wasn’t in New London, nor in the palace. She was on her ship, the Diana. On the water, somewhere in the Narrow Sea.

“Bloody hell,” she said, and pushed her short, dark hair from her face.

She actually had seen Grant across the ballroom after the induction ceremony. But she hadn’t danced with him. The queen had called them both into her anteroom, where she and her spymaster, Chandler, had delivered the news: Gerard Rousseau, the self-proclaimed emperor who’d waged war against the entire Continent, had escaped his “prison” via fishing schooner. And, they’d come to learn, had rendezvoused with the Gallic flagship the Continental powers had allowed him to keep-the Fidelity.

No one doubted Gerard would return to Gallia, make his way across the country to its capital of Saint-Denis, and attempt to retake his throne. Otherwise, why leave Montgraf, the island to which he’d been exiled, and the comforts he’d been afforded there? It might have been a smaller kingdom than he was accustomed to, but it was still a kingdom.

“Search the waters for him,” the queen had ordered Kit, “for the Fidelity and the magic he may be using. Find him before he breaks the world again. We are clever fools, Captain, and Gerard has played us all. The tide is turning, and it will turn swift and savage. We must stand before him and turn back his charge. The world depends on it.”

The queen had ordered Grant to the Continent, to resume his prior work as an observation officer, and the Diana had been provisioned. That had been two weeks ago, and she hadn’t seen New London-or Grant-since.

At twenty-four, Kit understood the ways of romance, and she wasn’t one to pine over a man. Certainly not a viscount. But the fire ignited by seeing him across the ballroom-the unexpected shock of it, the exhilaration of it, and the discovery that she needed to see him again-hadn’t diminished in the intervening weeks. It had left her feeling hollow in some deep inner corner of her heart that had never been opened before.

Etchings of Gerard’s warship had been shown to the crew as the Diana flew across the Narrow Sea between Gallia and the Saxon Isles, a predator seeking its prey. They’d skimmed the coast within the blockade set by larger Isles ships, searching for Gerard…and waiting for war to begin.

The dreams, stark and disturbing, had begun when they’d sailed into the Narrow Sea, which separated the Saxon Isles from the Continent. Its magic-which had once flowed steady and true-now fluctuated, as if the current of power was whipping about in the depths of the water.

Kit thought she knew why: Gerard’s loyalists had built a new kind of warship at Forstadt, on the shore of the Northern Sea, and in doing so they’d nearly destroyed the Northern Sea’s current. The Diana hadn’t sailed so far north this time, so either the Narrow Sea’s magic was seeping north to fill the void, or Gerard’s people had done more damage to the current in the interim. Kit didn’t know. But there was little doubt now that human activity was behind it.

Whatever the reason, the twisted magic-and the dreams wrought by it-had wrapped around her apparent desire for Grant like the tentacles of a kraken. They’d become a leviathan that stalked her sleep.

The bell stopped ringing, but a fist on the door of her cabin replaced the cacophony of noise.

“A moment!” she called out, willing herself awake to face gods knew what awaited her outside.

Kit closed her eyes-shutting out the sight of her cabin and the sea beyond-and reached down for the current. Past dark, cold water, the glimmer of light fading as she felt, deeper yet, for the silver cord of magic that surged through the water.

Some called the currents ley lines; others believed they were remnants of the old gods, spots where they’d touched the earth and left behind the fingerprints of their great and terrible power. Whatever their origin, they were tributaries of power, spread unevenly across the world and ever moving, ever swaying, like anemones in the tide.

The current may have been thin here, less a cord of magic than a shadow of it. But it was, at least, a connection to the sea, to her magic, to whatever in her birth had linked her soul to this place. That comforted her, gave her energy enough to throw her legs over the side of her bunk, pull on her thin night rail, and stride across wooden planks to the door.

She opened it, had to lift her gaze to the dark eyes of the tall, lean man who looked down at her with humor. Jin Takamura was her second-in-command. An officer by commission, but a thief by aptitude. Behind him, sailors scurried through the passageway. The watch bell had signaled the change of shift.

Jin’s expression was mild; it wasn’t the first time he had woken her. “Captain.”

“Commander. What’s happened?”

He cocked his head at her, a smile in his eyes. “What will happen if I suggest you look like you’ve been dragged by sea dragons for a few hundred fathoms?”

That he’d asked the question signaled there was no immediate threat to her crew, so she let herself breathe.

Kit grunted, pulled the thin night rail tighter. The briny air that blew down the companionway from the deck was bracingly chilly. “I will suggest you are perilously close to insubordination.”

“Fortunately, I can walk a very narrow line.” As if to prove his point, he lifted a foot and balanced on a single plank of decking.

“Hilarity.” She paused. “I had another dream.”

His brow furrowed. “The rising sea?”

Kit nodded. The plot of the dreams varied, but that was a common theme. “Report, please.”

“It pains me to say this,” he began, looking slightly mortified, “but we believe we’ve spotted the Fidelity in port.”

“Port?” Kit asked. “Where are we?”

“Four miles offshore from Auevilla, to the west of the Touques and the docks.”

Kit lifted her brows at the speed. The Diana didn’t stop sailing-and the crew didn’t stop working-just because she slept. She was sailed without pause, through changing shifts of sailors and officers. But she hadn’t expected them to make such progress along the Gallic coast overnight.

“Steady wind,” Jin offered, apparently reading her surprise. “And your very good crew, of course.”

“Of course,” Kit said, and recalled what she knew of the landscape here. The Touques flowed to the Narrow Sea just east of Auevilla, and the village’s docks were located in that conjunction.

“What would Gerard be doing in Auevilla?” she asked. It was a Gallic town of gambling, turf races, fine cuisine, and seaside strolling-not military offices or barracks. The Beau Monde had adored it before the war and had returned when the conflict was over. “I’d enjoy a stroll in Auevilla,” she muttered.

“So say we all. And we don’t know if he’s still there, only that there’s a ship.”

“Who found it?”

Now Jin paused. “Mr. Wells.”

Kit rolled her eyes. “This is the eighth time he’s spotted the Fidelity since we left New London. The last two weren’t even ships.”

“In fairness,” Jin said with a smile, “one was a ship-shaped island. And, if I was the type to speak freely, I’d suggest the captain ought not have offered a piece of gold for the sailor who finds it. It tends to encourage…hopefulness.”

Kit just looked at him. “But you’d never speak freely to your captain without leave.”

There was a damned twinkle in his eye. “Of course not. I have a wife and children at home, and they’d prefer I not be forced to walk into the sea.”

Kit sighed again. “I’d rather be bothered with an error than miss the ship. I’ll dress. Hold us steady.”

“Always,” Jin said, and she closed the door again.

Two

Kit cleaned and dressed herself as well as she could in the watery light of dawn. Her uniform nearly matched Jin’s: fitted navy tailcoat over buff trousers; dark and gleaming boots; and the sabre. But there were epaulets on her shoulders, and the fading bit of ribbon pinned inside her coat. It was a pale blue silk with gold embroidery, and the only physical memento that existed of her foundling past, before Hetta Brightling had brought her into the Brightling House for Foundlings and given her a family.

She’d considered adding the small diamond pin of the Order of Saint James but thought the diamonds a bit much for the Diana.

She pulled a brush through her chin-length hair, pinched her pale cheeks to add color against her gray eyes. She wasn’t vain, or no more than an average woman of four-and-twenty, but she had her own role to play. The deck was her stage, and better that she didn’t look like she’d been dragged unwillingly from a dream.

When she opened the door again, she nearly ran into Cook-name and occupation-who stood outside it with a delicate cup and saucer and a dour expression.

“To break your fast, sir,” he said, and made a very poor curtsy.

“Early in the morning for sass, is it not?” But she was comforted by Cook’s reliability-and the tea. Hetta had instilled ten Principles of Self-Sufficiency into her adopted daughters. Number Six was, perhaps, the most important: There is always time for tea. It wasn’t really about the tea, of course-although every self-respecting Islesian appreciated a good cup-but the ritual.

So she took the cup and saucer with a smile and climbed the narrow stairs that led to the deck. The remaining wisps of her mental fog were cleared by the crisp breeze and pink glow of sunrise.

Kit looked up into the forest of lines, wood, and rigging that made up the Diana’s engines. She was a topsail schooner: 129 feet of oak and tar, with square sails on the foremost of her two masts. Everything looked trim and tidy.

Jin waited at the helm beside the ship’s large wheel with the Diana’s navigator, Simon Pettigrew. The latter, who had dark brown skin and shorn dark hair, wiped a smudge from his round spectacles with an immaculate handkerchief. They were forever getting spotted by seawater.

“Mr. Pettigrew,” Kit said, and sipped her tea. It was perfect, which was one of the primary reasons she allowed Cook, with his expansive use of sass, to continue to feed the Diana. That, and his liberal use of spices and herbs. The food she’d grown up with, while nutritious, hadn’t been nearly as flavorful. The Brightlings’ housekeeper, Mrs. Eaves, “didn’t take with flavor.”

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#Review - Shadowed Steel by Chloe Neill #Fantasy #Paranormal

Series: Heirs of Chicagoland Novel (#3)
Format: Paperback, 336 pages
Release Date: May 4, 2021
Publisher: Berkley Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Paranormal / Urban 

In the third installment in the USA Today bestselling Heirs of Chicagoland series, the vampires in Elisa Sullivan’s world are out for blood.

Elisa Sullivan is the only vampire ever born, and she bears a heavy legacy. After a sojourn with the North American Central Pack of shifters in the wilderness—where she turned a young woman into a vampire to save her life—Elisa returns to Chicago.

But no good deed goes unpunished. The ruling body of vampires, the Assembly of American Masters, is furious that Elisa turned someone without their permission, and they want her punished. When an AAM vampire is found dead, Elisa is the prime suspect. Someone else is stalking Chicago—and Elisa. She’ll need to keep a clear head, and a sharp blade, to survive all the supernatural strife.

Shadowed Steel is the third installment in author Chloe Neill's Heirs of Shadowland series. Because of an incident that happened in Wicked Hour, Elissa Sullivan, the only vampire to ever be born, not made, faces the Vampire ruling body known as the American Assembly of Masters. The Compliance Bureau arm of the AAM accuses Elissa of breaking their laws against turning a human into a vampire unless permission is given by a Master, or the AAM. They demand that Elissa join a House or face the consequences which include testing and/or facing a kind of imprisonment until she complies. Testing is not something she will agree to.

 

When Blake, one of the vampires from the Compliance Bureau, is found dead, Elissa is pulled in for questioning by the Ombudsman Office where she has been working. She's put on administrative leave while the investigation goes on which makes her very determined to find out who killed Blake. Elissa has also attracted the attention of a mentally unhinged stalker who sends her creepy notes which talk about their non-existent relationship. Elissa has no idea who's sending the messages but she's concerned that the stalker seems to be targeting her friends including Connor because he's not a vampire.

 

To make matters even more twisted, a monster lives inside Elissa thanks to magic that allowed Merit to conceive the first born vampire. The only people who know about this is Connor Keene, heir apparent to the North American Central Pack, and Lulu Bell, her best friend and roommate. For reasons that boggle the mind, Elissa hasn't told her parents (Ethan or Merit) about her monster half and how hard she's been struggling to keep the monster from taking control. There are literally two consciousnesses in a single body. Her struggle with the monster has been an ongoing conversation since this new series began. Let's hope it resolves itself. 

 

Then, of course, comes Connor's own pack who aren't exactly jumping for joy knowing that he is mixed up with Elissa. Even though Elissa basically saved their skins in Wicked Hour, the hatred is so thick that you could cut it with a knife. This book brings back Merit and Ethan in more ways than the previous two installments didn't. They are fully invested in not seeing their daughter be used as a tool by machinations of a few bad seeds. However, I absolutely do not like that Elissa is keeping secrets from her parents. I agree that she should be able to live her own life outside of Cadogan House.

 

The relationship between Connor and Elissa has grown leaps and bounds even with their playful banter. One could say that they've taken it a whole new level. It's actually nice to remember that these two grew up with each other and were often trying to one up the other when it came to causing melee for their parents. I like that Elissa has a core group of trusted friends including Lulu, Alexei Breckenridge, Theo, and Petra along with her boss Roger Yeun.

 

I made a comment about not being sad if this was the last installment. I highly doubt that is the case. There is a whole lot more to be unraveled and whether or not Elissa will be able to deal with the monster or if she will ever tell her parents about her true struggles. 

ONE

An ill wind moves through Chicago,“ Lulu said, sniffing the air.

”It’s not an ill wind,“ I said. But I stared down at the malformed lump of sickly gray dough currently spreading across the sheet pan and admitted to myself I didn’t have much room to argue.

”It worked in Paris,“ I muttered, frowning as I mentally retraced my steps. Measure the ingredients. Add the sourdough starter. Knead, rise, shape, proof.

Lulu Bell, the thoroughly anti-magic daughter of two sorcerers and my best friend, moved into the kitchen area of the Near North loft she was letting me share, and looked down at the lump.

”But not in Chicago.“ She patted my shoulder. ”Maybe you could try something else.“

By ”something else,“ she meant hobbies-fun, stress-relieving activities meant to give me an outlet other than coffee, katanas, and, since I’d returned to Chicago from my stint in France, supernatural politics. The latter was partly the fault of my temp job at the city’s supernatural Ombudsman’s office, the OMB, and partly because I was a vampire. We were dramatic sorts.

And maybe because of that, the Great Hobby Search had not been a success. Baking bread was only my latest and not-greatest attempt. We had a half dozen succulents on the window ledge that had gone either mushy or crispy, a pyramid of tangled yarn, and an array of glass vials and jars, sellers of which had promised me the best coffee experience of my life. Lulu now used them to store paintbrushes, and I continued to buy cups from Leo’s, which slung the best coffee in Chicago.

”We have an hour before everyone gets here. We can call someone and ask them to pick up bread. Maybe Connor can bring something from NAC.“

Connor Keene was the crown prince of the North American Central Pack of shapeshifters, which had a lucrative restaurant business.

”The only NAC goods Connor will bring is Alexei. And I’m not begging at the Pack’s table.“

Lulu ignored my mentioning Alexei Breckenridge. She found Connor’s Packmate irritating; he had a crush on her, which made for interesting watching. ”I’ll bet it’s not the first time you’ve begged a member of the Pack,“ she said with a wily grin.

In addition to being my occasional supplier of barbecue, Connor was also my boyfriend. Tall, built, with dark hair and blue eyes that usually carried a wolfish gleam. I’d seen him as a human and as a wolf. Both were impressive.

”Why do you need bread anyway?“

I walked to the trash can, dumped the bowl’s contents inside. ”I’m making sourdough crostini with burrata, arugula, and tomato jam. Or I was.“

She just looked at me.

”What?“ I put the bowl in the sink. ”A potluck was your idea. ’Let’s have people over,’ you said. ’Just make your favorite food,’ you said.“

Lulu rolled her eyes. She opened the refrigerator, pointed to the shelves inside the door, where bottles of blood and caff mocha were chilling. (In separate containers. Because mocha-flavored blood was a crime against vampirity.) ”Your favorite food is not crostini or burrata or arugula or tomato jam. It’s coffee and blood, in that order.“

”I like other things,“ I protested. ”And your favorite food is not deviled eggs, but that doesn’t explain why there are three dozen percolating in the refrigerator.“ I wrinkled my nose in disgust. The person who’d decided the best way to eat boiled eggs was to mix the innards with relish and mayo should be drawn and quartered.

She plucked one from the tray before closing the door again. ”They’re just an experiment,“ she said, then looked at it with narrowed eyes, as if inspecting it.

I didn’t believe her. But I watched her for a full minute, and she didn’t so much as twitch. Fortunately, I only had to wait a little for the truth. ”When the party starts, all will be revealed,“ I predicted, spreading my hands in a rainbow for dramatic effect.

”And speaking of deviled things,“ I murmured, as Eleanor of Aquitaine, Lulu’s cat of sleek black fur and prickly attitude, sauntered toward us. She looked up at Lulu with tolerance, and at me with unconcealed disdain.

”Hello, devil cat.“

”If you call her things like that, she’ll pee in your shoes.“

”Again.“

”Again,“ Lulu acknowledged.

I’d tried being nice to her. I bought her catnip, made salmon for her dinner, read from a book of poetry I’d brought home from Paris, showed her the only legitimate version of Pride and Prejudice that Lulu and I acknowledged. (Sure, fans loved Harry Styles as Darcy, but that was just for the novelty. Colin Firth was the One and Only, thank you very much.) But she would have none of it. I was the third wheel. Maybe cats didn’t like vampires. Or maybe she’d seen what so many others hadn’t. That I wasn’t just a vampire, or just the only vampire born instead of made.

Whatever the reason, she’d decided we were enemies.

I leaned down to look her in the eyes, smiled. ”I’m going to dress you up like a cowgirl while you sleep. Then I’m going to take pictures and send them to the Tribune.“

If her dirty looks were stakes, I’d have been deceased. But she hissed and ran away, conceding the ground. I called that a win.

”Peeing in your shoes will only be the beginning,“ Lulu said and popped the deviled egg into her mouth.

Boxed brownies substituted when bread failed. While they cooled on the stove, I pulled my wavy blond hair into a low braid and paired a flowy black sleeveless tank with dark, shimmery leggings and boots. I added dark mascara over green eyes and brilliant crimson lipstick to shine against my pale skin.

An hour later, the loft was full of chatter and humans and the bowls, pans, and bags of food brought by guests. Eleanor of Aquitaine lounged under the dining room table, hoping for scraps. Connor hadn’t yet made an appearance, but the apparent winner of the deviled eggs sat on the ledge that fronted the wall of windows, each covered with plastic in a different color so they made a rainbow of light.

Mateo, Lulu’s newish beau, was a glassblower who worked on big, expensive art pieces. He was muscled in the lean way of a person who rarely stopped moving, and had a tan complexion and a shorn head. His eyes were dark and deeply set beneath heavy brows, his lips generous, his jaw square. He chatted with some of his artsy friends-they were all angular clothes and hair-and Petra, another OMB friend. She was petite, with tan skin and dark hair and eyes, and was an aeromancer in her own right.

”Your glassblower seems cool,“ I said. Lulu and Mateo had been seeing each other for a few weeks, since we’d returned from a short trip to Minnesota. She’d traveled in an RV with my OMB colleagues to help deal with a Pack crisis. I wasn’t sure if it was the trip, the company, or the magic, but she’d seemed sadder after returning, at least until she’d connected with Mateo.

”Yeah. He is. His friends are cool, too. Very…edgy.“

”I haven’t talked to them yet. But if you like them, I like them.“

And since they were all human, I could break them like a twig if they hurt her. So that was a nice benefit.

The conversation in the loft quieted, and I instinctively glanced up to find the source of the change.

The source was a shifter. My shifter.

He’d emerged from the long hallway that led to the loft door, his body tough and strong. He wore jeans and a heathered NAC Industries henley that hugged muscle, and he carried a bottle of wine. His dark hair waved around a chiseled face punctuated by brilliant blue eyes and a mouth that was usually arranged into a self-assured grin. He had the bearing of a prince, the body of a god, and the ego to match both, all of it matched by his integrity, wit, and concern for his Pack.

And his eyes were fixed on me.

His mouth curved, and more than one human around me made little sounds of appreciation and lust. The prince, allowing the commoners to take a look.

”People look at him like he’s a properly made baguette,“ Lulu whispered. ”Ready to be devoured.“

They did, and I couldn’t blame them, given that my thoughts ran along the same lines. Minus the implicit insult to my bread-making skills.

”And then he looks at you,“ she continued, ”like he’s the big, bad wolf and you’re the grandmother.“

”That is a very disturbing analogy.“

She held up her hands. ”You’re right. It was, and I take it back. I tried something out, it wasn’t the right direction. I made a mistake.“

Connor’s best friend, Alexei, stepped in behind him. Alexei was just as tall and built, with dark blond hair and hazel eyes that scanned the room with suspicion. Alexei was the quiet and loyal sort. Unless he was harassing Lulu.

”Oh, good,“ Lulu said. ”Alexei’s here.“ There was conviction in the sarcasm, but joined by a spark in her eyes that I was glad to see.

I liked Alexei, and not just because he was loyal to Connor and the Pack. He and Lulu bickered like children, and he was pretty creative with the teasing. Never, I thought, crossing the line into inappropriate-not when she seemed to enjoy their sparring as much as he did. Still.

”You want me to tell him to knock it off?“ I knew she could take care of herself, and usually had no qualms about telling off bullies. But, again, still…

”Please,“ she said and waved me off. ”I can handle one puppy.“

”He’s not a wolf,“ I said. ”He’s a very big cat.“

She just stared at me. ”What?“

”The Breckenridges aren’t wolves. They’re panthers.“ I cocked my head at her. ”I thought you knew that.“

”I did not.“

”Does it matter?“

”I don’t know.“

”Good evening,“ Connor said when they reached us, kissing me softly. Just a brush of his lips against mine. A hint and a promise. ”Sorry we’re late.“

”You’re right on time.“

Literally and figuratively, I thought, still marveling that this boy I’d thought was conceited and obnoxious had grown into…well, still conceited. But much less obnoxious. As if he understood the line of my thoughts, he smiled widely. ”We were both right on time.“

Maybe a little obnoxious. But in the best possible way.

”Lulu,“ Connor said with a smile. ”Thanks for having us over.“ He offered up the wine. ”Hostess gift.“

”Thank you,“ she said, taking it.

”A friend of mine has a vineyard near the Wisconsin border. It’s supposed to be pretty good.“

”How does it pair with deviled eggs?“

He blinked. ”I have no idea and don’t want one.“

Lulu turned her gaze to Alexei. ”I see you brought the tabby.“

She’d made that switch quickly enough. Alexei just looked at her, and the challenge in his eyes was clear. I’ll take you on. In every possible way.

Pink rose on her cheeks. ”Go climb a tree.“

”Go suck on a paintbrush.“

”Weak,“ Lulu said, then strode off toward Mateo. He smiled as she approached, waved her closer, then added her to the conversation with Petra.

”Suck on a paintbrush?“ I asked, looking back at Alexei with obvious pity.

”I haven’t been able to come up with many artist-specific insults.“ And he was considerate enough not to use her magic-or decision not to practice it-against her. ”Who’s the human?“

”Date,“ I said.

Alexei snorted dubiously and wandered off toward the food. With, I belatedly realized, a bottle of vodka in hand. His hostess gift, I assumed.

”Was that disdain for Mateo, or the idea of her dating him?“ I wondered.

”I think it was for the concept of her dating, generally. He knows she’s not interested, but I think that’s actually made it worse. The thrill of the chase, and all.“

I gave him a speculative look. ”Maybe I should have made you chase me harder. Or further.“

His smile went feral, and I could actually hear girls sighing on the other side of the room. ”Try it,“ he said, a dare in his brilliantly blue eyes.

”You think you could catch me?“

This time, the kiss was possessive and consuming, and as arrogant as the dare had been.

”Elisa Sullivan,“ he said, smiling against my lips. ”I’ll always catch you.“

A throat was cleared. We turned our gazes, found Theo smiling at us, raising a crusty loaf of bread in a paper envelope in greeting. ”I’m interrupting,“ he said with amused and unapologetic eyes.

Theo was a former cop who’d become my partner at the OMB. He had dark brown skin and dark hair in short whirls, and hazel eyes above a generous mouth.

”It’s a party,“ Connor said. ”Interruption is impossible.“

But I narrowed my gaze at him. ”Why did you bring bread?“

Theo blinked. ”Because I like bread? And it’s a party? And Lulu said to bring something?“

”But did she specifically say to bring bread?“

Theo looked at Connor for help, but Connor just shrugged.

”I got nothing, man.“ He put an arm around my waist, kissed my temple. ”Why are you interrogating your partner over bread?“

I grunted. ”It’s a long story.“ A long, smelly story.

”Is it related to deviled eggs?“ Connor asked.

”I feel like I’ve stepped into some kind of alternate universe,“ Theo said. ”Are ’bread’ and ’deviled eggs’ code words for state enemies or secret missions or anything else that would actually make sense?“

”They are not,“ Connor said. ”I think we’re literally talking about bread and deviled eggs. And it looks like those aren’t the only two options, so I’m going to take the bread“-he plucked it from Theo’s hand-”and put it with the rest of the food, and grab myself something to eat, and you can discuss important Ombudsman things.“

I’d taken the night off yesterday to help Lulu clean and prep the loft, so it was possible I’d missed drama. ”Do you have any important Ombudsman things to discuss?“

He frowned, considered. ”River nymphs fighting over the Chicago River boardwalk again.“

”Old news,“ I said. ”Pass.“

He smirked. ”Bank robbery by two of Claudia’s fairies?“

Claudia was the queen of Chicago’s band of rather mercenary fairies, including those who’d tried to magically shift Chicago into a facsimile of their green homeland.

”Getting warmer,“ I said. ”How much did they take?“

”They tried for about two hundred pounds of gold bullion because, you know, they like the shiny. But with the weight, they didn’t make it very far.“

”Arrogant of them,“ I said. ”What did Claudia have to say?"

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