Dark Debt_ A Chicagoland Vampire - Chloe Neill Page 0,45
Ethan. “He’ll probably have things to say to both of us, separately, about how disappointed he is, about how the slate isn’t clean.”
“Ah, Joshua,” Mallory said. “Such a charmer.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“I actually wanted to see if you’d eaten, wanted to grab a bite.”
Ethan gestured to the cart. “Margot brought in a tray, and I believe she included bread, meats for sandwiches.”
“That actually sounds great,” Mallory said. “I didn’t go into the cafeteria; I wasn’t really sure how everyone would handle me being there, and I’m starving.”
“I told her to go anyway,” Catcher said. “She didn’t listen.”
“I rarely do,” Mallory said, moving toward the cart. “Can I help myself?”
“Please,” Ethan said. Mallory walked over and removed a dome from a tray, revealing a spread of cheeses and meats.
Most were standard, with a few odd bits thrown in. One of the meats was pinkish purple and looked as though it had been jabbed through with olives; there was also a blue cheese so heavy on the blue that it leaned toward indigo.
“So I’ll stick to cheddar,” I said, nabbing a small square of yellow-white cheese, relieved to find, when I bit in, that I’d picked the correct one.
“Why don’t we all grab a plate?” Ethan suggested. “I could use something substantial to eat.”
I bit back a smile as I piled cheese and meat onto some sort of multigrain bread, smiled as Ethan held up a small bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. “I believe Margot left these for you.”
“Offensively delicious,” Mallory and I said simultaneously, remembering one of our long-ago-agreed-upon conclusions. We grinned at each other, and since our hands were full, we bumped hips in a kind of high five.
And frankly, it felt amazing to share that connection with her, that sense of history and solidarity. We were the living memories of our friendship, and being friends again seemed to make those memories more real, bring them into sharper focus. She smiled at me, nodded just a bit, and I knew she’d had the same thought.
Chapter Eleven
SACRED AND PROFANE
We fixed plates, ended up at the end of the conference table, Ethan and me on one side, Mallory and Catcher on the other. Just like two couples on a double date, if a double date could be said to involve sandwiches around the conference table in the office of a Master vampire. But when times were troubled, as they so often were, you took your breaks when you could find them.
“How’s SWOB?” I asked Mallory, thinking it would be nice to grab a bit of someone else’s drama for a change.
“Good,” she said, nodding, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she chewed. “We’ve got a Web site, T-shirts, business cards.”
“Everything but sorcerers,” Catcher said, crunching a chip.
“There aren’t tons of them out there,” Mallory said, elbowing him. “That’s exactly why we need resources like this—so they don’t feel any more alone than they already are. But I have touched base with a girl in Indiana and a guy in Iowa who were pretty freaked out when they accidentally did some magic. So we’re hooking them up with the Order, making sure they get the support they need, not just handed off to a tutor with a fare-thee-well.” Her tone darkened at the end, since that was precisely what had happened to her.
“I think that’s awesome,” I said. “Better to be overprepared than under-.” The city had burned, after all, the last time we were underprepared.
“And speaking of underprepared, how’s the mayor?” Ethan asked.
Catcher took a swig of beer. “I’m guessing she’ll have some comments for Chuck given Balthasar’s latest display. But he’s communicating pretty regularly with her staff, and she’s done a decent job the last few weeks of asking about supernatural situations instead of making accusations. Doesn’t hurt that two human unions are on strike—gives her someone else to blame.”
“She does like to play the blame game,” Ethan said, a slice of tomato splurting out the side of his sandwich.
“You’re not the sandwich architect I’d have figured you for,” I said.
“I am, apparently, Darth Sullivan,” he said, lifting a corner of bread to stuff the tomato back in. “I understand that building things, Death Stars or otherwise, isn’t my particular strength.”
My heart melted a little. “Did you just make a Star Wars reference? And a joke? At the same time?”
“Oh my God, that is so cute,” Mallory said with a grin. “He makes jokes just like a human.”