Biting Cold - By Chloe Neill Page 0,2

wasn’t afraid of him. Too much knowledge, too little common sense. If he’s still a member, Baumgartner still has some authority.”

“Tough position to be in,” Ethan mused. “Any thoughts on our strategy?”

“First step is to get closer,” he said. “You’ll want to head toward Elliott, Nebraska. It’s about five miles northwest of Omaha. The Order’s archivist lives in a farmhouse outside the silo. I’ll send directions.”

“The archivist?” I asked.

“The recorder of Order history.”

“And will he be the only sorcerer guarding the book?” Ethan asked.

“Her name is Paige Martin. She’s the only sorcerer at the farmstead; she’s also the only sorceress in Nebraska. The Maleficium isn’t always kept there. Since it travels, there’s no need for a full contingent. I’ve asked them to reconsider letting me go,” Catcher quietly added. “I want to be there if things go bad. If worse comes to worst. But they’re afraid I can’t be objective.”

We were all quiet for a moment, probably all imagining just how bad things might go, and the possibilities that we couldn’t save Mallory…or that she wouldn’t want to be saved.

“But they’ll allow this archivist to be there?” Ethan asked.

“She doesn’t know Mallory,” Catcher said, “and she’s part of the Order. They think she can handle herself.”

And they probably thought they could handle her, too. Just like they could handle Simon, Mallory, and Catcher, before he was kicked out. The Order had an awful track record for managing its employees.

“You’d think they could spare one or two more soldiers to stop a problem they created in the first place,” Ethan mused.

“Unfortunately,” Catcher said, “this isn’t the world’s only magical crisis, and there aren’t many sorcerers to go around. They’re assigned as they’re available.”

I’d been taught as Sentinel to make do with what I had, but that didn’t mean I had to like a bad set of odds, or the thought of similar crises around the world.

“We’ll chart a course for Elliott,” Ethan said. “Mallory got a head start, so it seems unlikely we’ll reach the book before she does. You might warn the archivist, if you haven’t already.”

“She knows. And there’s something else.” Catcher cleared his throat nervously. At the sound, Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“It’s possible you and Mallory aren’t the only ones on the road. Seth Tate was released this morning.”

I swore under my breath. Seth Tate was the former mayor of Chicago, deposed after we’d discovered he’d been running a drug ring.

Tate was also a supernatural with an old, unfamiliar magic, one that had lifted the hairs on my neck more than once. Unfortunately, we knew nothing else about his powers.

“ ‘This morning’ was hours ago,” Ethan said. “Why are we just learning this?”

“Because we’re just learning it. We aren’t employees anymore, so Kowalcyzk didn’t feel the urge to fill us in. Our new mayor has decided Tate was framed, in part because one of the individuals allegedly killed at his residence was spotted outside Cadogan House earlier tonight.”

“That would be you,” I whispered to Ethan.

“And no thanks to Tate,” Ethan said. “Do we think he’s looking for the Maleficium, too?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Catcher said. “He was pardoned by Kowalcyzk, so the CPD didn’t feel they had the authority to follow him, even if they had the resources. And we’re short staffed today.”

“Short staffed?” I wondered. There were three unofficial Ombuddies, as I liked to call them, in addition to my grandfather: Catcher; computer wizard Jeff Christopher; and the admin, Marjorie. None seemed like the type to miss work.

“Jeff called in today. Said he had some things to take care of. Which is only fair since he’s not an employee and isn’t actually paid to be here.”

Logical, sure, but it still seemed weird. Jeff was uncommonly reliable, and he was usually planted in front of his very large computer. Of course, if he’d needed our help, he wouldn’t have been shy about asking for it.

“We can’t be sure he’s looking for the book,” I said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised to find him in the middle of the action. After all, he was the one who told me about the Maleficium.” He’d been clearly intrigued by the magic, and it wasn’t hard to imagine he’d cash in on an opportunity to grab it. It was too bad I hadn’t brought along my worry wood, a token of magic from my grandfather that gave me protection from Tate’s more subtle forms of magic.

“No argument there,” Catcher said.

“In the unlikely event Tate causes problems in Chicago, you