Biting Cold - By Chloe Neill Page 0,35

the House leases a jet on occasion. And I’d say this is an appropriate occasion.”

“Were you going to mention we had a jet before we spent eight hours driving to Nebraska and destroyed your Mercedes in the process?”

He looked up and arched an eyebrow at me. “If I’d done that, we wouldn’t have had all those hours together, Sentinel.”

That might have been an unintended benefit, but he wouldn’t have delayed us with a car ride if a faster alternative had been so easily available. “Couldn’t find a pilot on such short notice?” I asked.

“Perhaps. But don’t ruin the illusion.”

I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll get her settled and introduce her to the rules,” Gabriel said, “and then you can say hello. It’ll give you a chance to check out her situation. Although I’m fairly certain you’ll approve; you’ve already met the caretaker I have in mind.”

I didn’t have a good reason to object to that offer, so I nodded. “By the way, there’s a strip along I-29 that’s probably going to require a detour.”

Gabriel frowned. “It was clear on the way down.”

“That was pre-Tate.”

Gabriel sighed, and I looked at Ethan. “By all means,” I said, “let’s take the jet.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

HOME IS WHERE THE SHOWER IS

I took the passenger seat, and Paige drove us in a beat-up extended-cab pickup truck with FARM TRUCK license plates to a private hangar at Omaha’s airport. Ethan was in the backseat with our swords and Paige’s pile of cherished books.

To call the mood somber was an understatement. Mallory had proven again that she was willing to hurt others to rid herself of pain. It wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration. But at least the Maleficium was gone.

We were mostly silent, probably all ruminating on what we’d seen—and what was to come. I was especially worried about Ethan. He was connected to Mallory in a way that was causing him physical pain. If a new sorceress could bring a four-centuries-old vampire to his knees because she was feeling agitated, what else could she do? It wasn’t a question I was comfortable considering, and Ethan couldn’t have felt any better about it.

Paige broke the ominous silence. “And I suggested she was a novice. The gnomes came because I asked them to, because I promised them she was all smoke and mirrors and very little skill. They were hurt because of me in a fight they didn’t want to wage in the first place.”

The regret on her face was clear. I didn’t relish the fact that she’d been wrong, or that the gnomes had suffered because of it, but at least she was willing to reconsider her choices. Mallory still hadn’t come around to that point yet.

“Because of Mallory,” I clarified.

“Does it matter?” Paige asked. I’m not sure she meant me to answer it, so I changed the subject.

“Todd said they’d go back to ground,” I said.

She nodded. “They live in underground networks. They’re incredibly industrious, and the tunnels keep the soil aerated. You ever wondered why the midwestern states are so big on agriculture? It’s not the dirt,” she said. “It’s who’s under the dirt.”

Ethan rubbed his temples. That small action was enough to make the panic flare in my chest.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is she free again?”

“Just a headache,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I think she’s still unconscious. She’s certainly still drained, and I can feel it. But it’s lessening since we’re headed in opposite directions, at least until we get to the airport.”

“You can sense her?” Paige asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“They have some kind of connection,” I explained. “It started after she brought him back, but destroying the Maleficium apparently didn’t stop it.”

I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We’d better,” he said.

His link to Mallory was a liability, not just for his safety, but for Cadogan. Until that link was severed, he’d never regain control of the House. I’d hoped finishing Mallory’s work with the Maleficium might do the trick. Since it hadn’t, I might have to rely on her for answers. That idea didn’t thrill me.

“It’s not surprising she’s tired given the amount of magic she threw out tonight,” Paige said. “Controlling the universe is generally a subtle thing. Powerful, but subtle. Her magic is definitely not subtle. It’s very disco magic. Flashy, but expensive to the aura.”

It was expensive in every possible way: her livelihood, her friends, her family, her karma. No one trusted her, and for pretty good reason.

“You know what I need?” I asked.

“A chocolate fountain?”