Biting Cold - By Chloe Neill Page 0,87

silvery white hair. He wore a thick green Packers jacket, jeans, and shiny white tennis shoes with thick soles. Grandpa-style tennis shoes.

They all turned to look at me.

I waved a little, suddenly self-conscious, the uninvited vampire. “Hi.”

Catcher waved me in.

“Merit, this is Al Baumgartner, head of the Order.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

This guy was Al Baumgartner? This guy who looked like someone my grandfather bowled with was in charge of all the sorcerers in North America? I’d expected someone a little more Darius, maybe. A little more polished. A little more professional. A little slicker.

Al Baumgartner smiled politely, then stretched out a hand. “Merit, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

“We appreciate your help in getting all this sorted out,” he said. “It’s good to know who your friends are.”

I didn’t say it aloud, but we weren’t friends, and Mallory wasn’t a problem to be “sorted out,” like he’d simply forgotten to pay the electric bill on time.

But from what I’d heard from Catcher and Paige, there was no point in arguing with him.

“We did what needed to be done,” I said politely. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all. I’m just here to check in. The world is changing, and we’re just trying to keep up.”

I slid Catcher a surreptitious glance and enjoyed his dramatic eye roll.

“I see,” I said, although there was no doubt he was telling us only part of the story.

“Well,” Baumgartner said, “I should probably be off. I’ve got some things to attend to while I’m in town.” He looked at Mallory, and his features changed. From grandfather caricature to magical overlord. That expression looked a bit more honest on his face, I thought.

“We’ll talk” was all he said to her, then smiled politely at me, zipped up his Packers coat, and walked out the door.

I waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs before I spoke. “Why is he really here?”

“Punishment,” Catcher said.

It didn’t say a lot that the answer didn’t surprise me—because the Order rarely seemed to pay that much attention. “What’s he proposing?”

“Nothing yet,” Catcher said. “Could be rendition—a mix of isolation and indoctrination. Could be nullification.”

“What’s nullification?”

Mallory uncrossed her legs. “That’s where they take away my magic for a specified period of time.”

“That doesn’t sound as bad as rendition.”

“It’s not,” Catcher said, “but it’s worse than it sounds. She’s had the magic for a long time, even before she was aware of it. It’s integrated into her body, which makes nullification akin to a magical lobotomy.”

Put that way, it sounded pretty horrible. “And when will they make a decision?”

Catcher shrugged. “They’re mulling things over.”

It was clear the “mulling” was getting to Mallory. Even though she looked better, she picked nervously at the edge of the blanket.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Mallory.

“Like I’m trying to quit smoking again. If the smoking killed everybody else but me, turned me into a she-bitch, and made me screw over all of my friends.”

That about said it.

“It takes time,” Catcher said.

“I know,” she said, then squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I know this is an addiction and I know it will take time to really feel better, and I am trying my damndest not to fuck up my life any more than I already have. But in the meantime, it sucks. I feel like crap.” She laughed hoarsely. “And it doesn’t help that I have a Packers fan deciding my fate. I mean, seriously? You’re going to wear that jacket in Chicago?”

The words were sarcastic, but I could tell she was walking a knife’s edge of fear and anger. That would certainly explain Ethan’s irritability.

“What brings you by?” Catcher asked.

I gave them the same overview I’d given Jeff, and I wasn’t thrilled when they looked as surprised as he’d sounded. I was hoping for a little more familiarity with the problem—and through that, a solution.

“How did they end up together?” Catcher asked.

“That’s the part we aren’t sure about. I was hoping you might have an idea.”

Mallory shook her head. “It doesn’t ring any bells for me. You, Catcher?”

It saddened me that Mallory was back to calling him Catcher. She had a million nicknames for him and used them more often than not. But they were on a break that Catcher deserved, so there wasn’t much I could do about it.

“I don’t know,” Catcher said. “I can ask Jeff.”

“He’s already on it, as are Seth and Paige. I’m sure someone will come up with something.”

Catcher nodded, then