"Should we talk about it?"
Mallory nodded, and without being asked, walked toward the red leather door that led to the back room.
"A moment, Kitten," Gabriel said, readjusting Connor and following her.
While I waited, I took the opportunity to call Ethan.
"Sentinel? You made it out okay?"
"We're at Little Red. The Volvo took some damage, and Mallory used her magic, but we're fine otherwise."
"Did she?" Ethan asked.
"She did. We were surrounded by rioters, and she knocked out a streetlight to distract them and give us time to get into the car."
"Clever," Ethan said.
"Very," I said, glancing over at the red leather door. "Gabe and Mallory are talking. I doubt he'll be thrilled."
"He's not opposed to the controlled use of magic," Ethan said. "Whether her use tonight qualifies will be up to him. At any rate, I'm glad you're okay."
"Me, too. The rioters were still out there when we left, but we saw a couple more CPD units heading in."
"Most reports say the riot's been contained to an area, but not entirely quelled. The fire at the distribution center's been extinguished."
"How bad's the damage?"
"I haven't yet heard, but Scott and Morgan are preparing for shortages."
Cadogan House was one of the few American Houses that actually allowed its vampires to drink from people or vampires. Most other Houses used bagged blood in the hopes that tamping down on their biting instincts would help them assimilate with humans. A shortage of bagged blood might change that analysis.
"Speaking of rioters," I said, "their mantra was 'Clean Chicago.' I don't know if that's the name of the group or just a slogan, but Luc might want to start the opp research."
Opposition research was one of our key tactics. If you couldn't beat 'em, at least learn as much about 'em as you could.
"I'll advise him. Is the Volvo drivable? Will you be able to get home before the sun rises?"
"It will be a cold ride, but yeah. I should be home shortly."
"Be careful, Sentinel."
"Promise," I said, and hung up the phone.
With Mallory and Gabriel still ensconced in the back, I headed over to the bar that lined one side of the room.
Berna leaned over the bar, reading a book, her chin propped on her hand.
"Off-season for shifters?" I wondered aloud, taking a seat.
"Is cold," she said in her thick eastern European accent, not looking up from her book. "Is hibernate."
"Shifters hibernate?" I asked. Gabriel certainly seemed awake, and I'd spoken with Jeff only a few nights ago.
"Not in cave. But we feel the cold." She made a fake shiver that set her impressive bosom swinging. "We stay home. We cook. We have oatmeal and bubbles baths. Thick socks for feet."
"Bubbles baths, eh? The Keenes don't seem much like the bubble-bath type." Although I could pretty easily imagine Gabriel soaking in a tub. Bare chested. Maybe a few damp curls. Truth be told, it wasn't a miserable image.
Berna narrowed her eyes at me, and for a moment I was afraid she'd caught the lascivious direction of my thoughts. Sure, I was taken, but that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate a fine - and happily married - shifter.