you beyond measure, beyond fear, and want to protect you. Their suggestion is practical, but it requires a certain . . . dishonesty to self.”
Relief had my shoulders slumping. “Thank you for saying that. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one who got it.”
He nodded. “I care greatly for your parents, and for you, and for Cadogan House. I owe much of who I am now to the life I led there. But I do not have the same allegiance to it that your parents do. I’m simply not built that way. It served me, and I’m grateful. But when the opportunity arose to do something different—” He gestured at the room to finish the thought.
“You said goodbye to that chapter,” Connor said quietly.
Uncle Malik looked at him, nodded. “You’ve grown quite a bit since your, shall we say, oat-sowing.”
“We shall say,” Connor said. His grin, I thought, still held some of his wicked teenage spirit, but his eyes were more solemn. They’d seen darker things now.
“I agree with you that they—this Clive and his people—won’t stop until they are stopped. And, in the event it needs to be said, you have an open invitation to Commendation in Washington House. We don’t do things exactly like Cadogan. We are more collaborative. We make good works the central mission of our immortality. But I believe you’d find a comfortable place here.”
“Thank you,” I said and hoped he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “But I have to decline.” This was, notably, the only offer I’d received tonight. Word of Blake’s death, and my suspicion in it, must have traveled. I’d become vampira non grata.
He nodded, smiled a little. “I expected you’d say that, and take no insult from the declination, but wanted to be clear that the offer was open.” He crossed his arms. “To my way of thinking, you have two options other than joining a House. You confront them with arms, or you confront them with brains.”
“Fight them or outwit them?”
“Exactly. Offer to fight them head-on, or make them stop by other means—because the AAM calls them back, or because you make your case in the press.”
“Is there a possibility the AAM would call them back?” Connor asked, looking between us.
“Not now,” I predicted. “Not until they’re satisfied I didn’t kill Blake.” And even if they believed me, they might still see me as the symbol of wanton Chicago . . . and they were eager to exact punishment.
“We need to think,” Connor said, reaching out across the space between our chairs to squeeze my hand. “Come up with a strategy to outwit them.”
“Grown quite a bit,” Malik said approvingly, then glanced at me. “You’ve chosen wisely.”
I glanced at Connor, watched his grin spread, but couldn’t disagree. “I know,” I said, then looked back at him. “And I appreciate your advice. I know you love them, and it’s probably not easy to give me advice you know they’ll disagree with.”
“They’ll disagree for now,” Uncle Malik said. “That’s the fear. But understanding has a way of beating back that fear. It’s one of the strongest weapons we have. They believe in you, and they trust you; they just need time.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“As much as I’ve enjoyed having you here,” Malik said, “the AAM will likely realize soon enough that this was your destination. You’re welcome to stay, of course, but I know that’s not what you want. So you should go now while your exit is easy.”
I nodded my agreement, rose, and gave him a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Lis. Be careful. But be yourself.”
* * *
* * *
I had no idea when I’d last eaten. Since the AAM hadn’t followed us from Washington House, I requested food before we turned in for the night—wherever that turned out to be.
Connor called an Auto, requested an address in what I guessed was the Humboldt Park neighborhood. I didn’t know the place, but since I was too hungry to make a suggestion, I had to trust him.
The building was low-slung and stubby, with a gravel lot filled with cars. The few windows had neon beer signs, and above the door was a blinking neon sign in brilliant pink and blue. Of a hot dog trying to jump out of a taco.
“Why is there a hot dog in the taco?”
“No one knows,” Connor said. “Looks like they beat us here.”
Lulu stood outside the building, sketching in a tiny notebook. Alexei sat on the