know, and I really don’t like that idea. But I do know Chuck won’t be pleased at the possibility that we’re a figurehead group, an office Tate keeps open to make sups think he gives a shit—”
“While he’s keeping important information from us,” Jeff finished.
“On the other hand,” Catcher thoughtfully said, “it wouldn’t be our job to investigate.
That’s the role of CPD detectives. But he’d normally give us a heads-up so we could make contact with the Houses or the Rogues.” He shook his head. “We always thought Tate was a little cagey. I guess this proves you have to keep one ear to the ground even when you’re supposedly in the loop.”
“And speaking of keeping an ear to the ground, what’s the word on raves? Anything new in the ether?”
He frowned. “I assumed you’ve talked to Malik or Ethan and you know about the three we tracked?”
“I’ve heard,” I growled out.
With a nod, Catcher rose and went to a whiteboard newly installed on one end of the office, uncapped a green marker, and began writing. Accompanied by the squeak of the pen, he started by drawing what looked like an angled, limp fish.
“What’s that?”
“Chicago,” he said without turning around.
“Seriously? That’s how you represent the city you work for? As a fish?”
“It really does look like a fish,” Jeff said excitedly. “Oh, maybe it’s an Asian carp. Are you making a metaphor about raves and invasive species?”
“Clever,” I said with a smile for Jeff.
He leaned back in his chair, smiling proudly.
“That’s what the ladies say.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Catcher, who was glaring at both of us above his Buddy Holly glasses. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing aloud.
“As I was saying,” he continued, before placing stars on the map in different locations, “we know about three new raves in the last two months.”
“Intel from the secret vampire?” I wondered aloud.
“Two of them,” Catcher admitted. “The third from Malik. All were second- or thirdhand reports.”
Okay, so that pretty much blew my Malik-is-the-secret-source theory.
“There’s also the rave we visited along the lakeshore,” Catcher added, placing another star on the board.
We didn’t find out about that one until after the rave was over and the vamps had closed up shop. As a result, we only walked away with a guess about the number of attendees and a clue as to who’d also investigated —the Red Guard and a shifter we later learned had been our blackmailer.
“There are also the raves we knew about before we visited that rave. And the one Tate identified. It was in West Town.”
Catcher nodded, grabbed a blue marker, and filled in those stars.
I squinted at Catcher’s “drawing,” but still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Except that it still looked like a fish. “Could you at least show us where Navy Pier is?” I asked him. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
Catcher grumbled, but obliged, and drew a tiny rectangle poking out from one side of the fish.
Jeff chuckled. “Is that Navy Pier, or is Chicago just happy to see me?”
I laughed so hard I snorted a little, at least until Catcher pounded a fist on the top of the closest table.
“Hey,” I objected, pointing at him, “my Master might be in Cook County lockup by the end of the week, and that won’t exactly be good for me. Sarcasm is my way of relieving stress, as you know, since you’ve seen me and Mallory at it.”
Ironically, saying the jail bit aloud again made my stomach crumple with nerves. But Catcher’s expression softened. He glanced back at the board, a smile at one corner of his mouth. “I guess it does look kind of ridiculous.”
“And since you’ve acknowledged that, you may continue,” I magnanimously offered.
“So the raves,” he said without delay, “are sprinkled across the city. No apparent pattern.
No apparent locus of activity.”
“That’s telling in itself,” I said, sitting up.
“That says there’s no rave headquarters, not where the parties are held, anyway, and that the vamps are smart enough to move the party around.”
“So no humans or Masters—if these are Housed vamps—get suspicious,” Jeff added.
“Exactly,” Catcher said.
“What about the size?” I asked. “The scale?
Mr. Jackson was convinced there were dozens of vamps there, and that the entire thing was
“Just like the site we visited, our current intel says raves are a handful of vamps and a few humans. Small, intimate. Focused on the act of giving and accepting blood. To continue the movie analogy, this isn’t
“More like
Catcher rolled his eyes again. “So this new incident we’re talking about is something unprecedented in terms of size and violence, without matching missing persons reports, and no actual evidence of a crime.” He shrugged. “That suggests Mr. Jackson wasn’t entirely honest.
Problem is, we haven’t talked to any vampires who were actually there. That would be the real coup—getting someone in from the beginning.
On the ground floor. Figuring out who’s there, how the information is being passed, who’s participating, and whether they’re participating willingly.”
“Can you pull in data from the CPD?” I asked.
“See what their files have to say?”
“Done and done,” Jeff said, sitting forward and beginning to tap on his keyboard. “I might have to dig a little to find it—their IT architecture is for shit—but I’ll let you know.”
Of course, just because the Ombud’s office didn’t have information didn’t mean there wasn’t information to be had. It was probably time to tap my next source. . . .
“Thanks,” I told both of them. “Can you give me a call if you hear anything else?”
“Of course. I assume Sullivan’s going to send you out on some sort of crazy psycho-vampire-hunting field trip?”
“The forecast is strong.”
“Call me if you need backup,” Catcher said.
“Of course,” I agreed, but I actually had an idea about that, as well. After all, Jonah had been offered up as a partner.
“And if you do go,” Catcher added, “look for identifying information, listen for any word about how they’re contacting vamps or identifying humans.”
“Will do.”
“You want me to find Chuck before you leave?” Jeff asked.
I waved him off. “No worries. He’s busy. Let him handle his open house.”
“I’m pretty sure I can manage a job and family both,” said a gravelly voice at the door. I glanced back and smiled as my grandfather walked into the office. He was dressed up tonight, having traded in the long-sleeved plaid shirt for a corduroy blazer. But he’d stuck with the khaki pants and thick-soled grandpa shoes.
He walked over to where I sat at the edge of the desk and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“How’s my favorite vampire?”
I put an arm around his waist and gave him a half hug. “Are there any others in the running?”
“Now that you mention it, no. They tend to be rather high maintenance.”
“Amen,” Catcher and Jeff simultaneously said.
I gave them a snarky look.
“What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
