were locked in the town house for the duration of the epoch.”
We both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m telling you about this ahead of time,” I reminded him. “Involving you in the decision-making. We’re running out of time; we’re going to have to do some uncomfortable things.”
“Such as it is,” he said, but sighed. “Fine. Dan, if he’s free and emotionally recuperated, will be armed. He’s a very good shot. He’ll keep me on the line, and you’ll contact me when you arrive, and when you’re back in the vehicle.”
He tipped up my chin, looked into my eyes. “But if Jonathan Black lays a finger on you, he answers to me.”
EIGHTEEN
Petra was able to give me Jonathan’s address—he worked out of his home—and Dan drove me to his house on Prairie Avenue, one in a line of historic mansions built by Chicago’s richest denizens during the Gilded Age. The house was pale stone with a green mansard roof, the lines ornate, and stood at the edge of a large lot big enough to be a park of its own.
I climbed out, belted on my sword. No point in being unprepared, especially if Black had powerful and magical friends.
“Any trouble,” Dan said, “and send me a message. Via screen, rapid flip of the lights, his bloody corpse thrown through the front door.”
“That would definitely send a message,” I agreed. “But I’ll probably go for something a little more subtle.”
“Must be that Midwestern nice I hear so much about.”
I snorted, closed the door.
The house was dark when I climbed the front steps, although thick curtains made it difficult to tell if the lights were on or off. I didn’t know if he worked for humans and Sups, or if he kept human or Sup hours.
I knocked. Waited and listened. And knocked again.
Five more minutes, and the door opened. Jonathan Black stood in the doorway, naked but for the towel slung around his hips, blond hair damp, and a very sultry smile on his face.
“Elisa Sullivan. What are you doing here?”
“I had a question,” I said, and I forced up a little blush.
“I was in the shower,” he said and opened the door. “Come in and make yourself at home. I’ll just go . . .” He looked down at himself. “Grab a robe, would be a good start. Five minutes,” he said and trotted to the stairs.
It was possible he was going to try to sneak out the back, but he didn’t seem concerned I was there. Or he was a very good actor. Vampires weren’t the only ones who could use glamour.
I glanced around the house, found the front room mostly empty. Large and beautifully maintained for a house as old as this one, but empty. The space was at least thirty feet long. There was a sofa beside a gleaming malachite fireplace. An old-fashioned secretary, the top closed and locked. Boxes marked with room names, still taped. A lamp, its cord wrapped around the base. The few items were dwarfed by the remaining emptiness.
Two minutes later, there were footsteps on the stairs, the house creaking as if each step was a note, and then behind me.
I glanced back. Jonathan wore trousers and a V-neck sweater in a thin, dark fabric that looked very expensive. His feet were bare. A vulnerability. One he offered on purpose to show me he was relaxed?
“You just moved in?” I asked casually.
“Three weeks ago, actually.” He walked in, ran a hand down the fluted molding that framed the door. “This house had been on the market for an hour when I learned it was available. I’d planned to rent until I was settled, but couldn’t pass it up.”
“It’s not hard to see why. It’s a beautiful space.”
“It is. Extravagant for one person, but beautiful all the same.” He walked toward me, and I made a show of finishing my circle of the room, gaze on the ceiling. I didn’t trust him, and certainly not enough to put myself in a corner without an exit.
In fairness, the ceiling was gorgeous—large tiles of pressed silver metal that reflected the light of a delicate raindrop chandelier.
I made it to the room’s threshold, leaned against it, and looked back at him. He stood in front of the fireplace, hands in his pockets, his expression a mask of cool reserve.
Time to make a play. “Can we skip the chitchat and posturing and get to the point? I’m sure you know why I’m here.”