But avoider though I might have been, I wasn’t so immature that I didn’t take my beeper; I also put my dagger and sword in the car. Even if I was on investigatory hiatus, it wasn’t impossible Paulie had passed along my message to “Marie,” who planned on paying me an unscripted visit. On that front, better to be prepared.
The drive was pretty quick by Chicago standards—a surprisingly speedy jaunt along Lake Shore Drive—but it did give me a few minutes to reflect and gain a little perspective.
Not that I was going to find a lot of resolution in a fifteen-minute drive or even a few hours away from the House, but the space was necessary. I needed to recharge around people who knew me only as Merit . . . not as Sentinel.
I’d apparently burned through my parking luck; a new bar had opened across the street from Catcher’s gym, so the neighborhood was full of long-legged girls and overcologned boys ready to head into the bar for flirtations and overpriced appletinis. I found a space three blocks away and walked back to the gym, then headed inside.
The interior of the building was shaped like a giant T, and the gym—the place where Catcher had taught me to use a sword—was down the central hallway. I felt the electric sizzle in the air as soon as I reached the doorway. Rubbing the uncomfortable prickle along my arms, I peeked inside.
Catcher wore his fancy new glasses, track pants, and a T-shirt; Mallory wore yoga pants and a sports bra, which was actually more clothing than he’d let me train in. The lucky duck.
That said, her training was a different duck altogether. I’d known Catcher was amazing with a sword, and I’d known sorcerers—in addition to bending the universe to their wills—could throw balls of what looked like magical fire. But I’d never seen anything like this.
It was a like a game of magical handball. The two of them stood at opposite ends of the room, throwing and dodging brilliantly colored orbs at each other. Catcher would heft a ball of magic toward Mallory, and Mallory would avoid it or toss out her own shot. Sometimes the shots would hit each other and burst into a fall of sparks; sometimes they’d miss and explode against the walls with a crackle of sound.
That explained the tingle in the air—each time a ball exploded, it sent a cloud of magic pulsing through the room. I guess that was the risk of watching sorcerers practice.
Mallory looked over and offered a quick wave before lobbing a ball of blue fire back at Catcher.
“Hey, you!”
I glanced over. Jeff sat in a plastic chair on the other side of the door, a bowl of popcorn in his lap.
“Cop a squat,” he said, patting the seat behind him. “I was actually going to call you.”
“No need to call now,” I said, taking a seat and grabbing some kernels of corn. It was kettle corn, which I adored. A little bit salty, a little bit sweet, and probably plenty better for me than a box of Mallocakes.
“So, I did a little more digging into the criminal record of our friend Paulie Cermak.”
“I thought you said his file was sealed.”
Jeff threw up a piece of popcorn, then caught it in his teeth. “Oh, I did. But ‘sealed’ and ‘no longer in the system’ are two different things.”
“Is this the appropriate time for a lecture on computer hacking?”
“Not if you want me to give you the information I found.”
I was becoming less of a stickler for the rules.
“Lay it on me.”
“So, to put it in layman’s terms, while the file has officially been sealed for court purposes, an image of the file’s contents was cached before it was sealed, so all the data’s still out there. Now, as it turns out, there was only one item on the guy’s record—he got a citation for punching someone in the face. A simple assault kind of deal.”
I tried to play back my memory. I thought I’d seen Paulie Cermak before. Had it been on television? A report of the assault on the evening news? But I couldn’t remember anything specific. “Who was the victim?”
“No clue. The guy never pressed charges, and his name was redacted from the file before it was scanned.”
I sighed. “So Paulie Cermak punches a guy.
The cops get called, but the vic doesn’t press charges, and the file gets sealed anyway.”
“That sums it up.”
“That’s weird. Why seal his file if no one pressed charges?”
Jeff shrugged and tossed another piece of popcorn in the air. This one bounced off his lip and hit the floor—or would have hit the floor, had it not bounced just as a pulse of magic moved through the room. It hovered for a moment a few inches above the floor, and then exploded into tiny popcorn shards.
Jeff and I both ducked, then looked up at Catcher. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring us down. “Popcorn? Really?”
“What?” Jeff said slyly. “This is like the best tennis match ever. We needed a snack.”
Catcher’s lip curled, and he lobbed a shot of blue that had us both dropping in our chairs. It hit the wall behind us and burst into a shower of sparks. I sat up, frantically brushing sparks from my hair.
“Hello! I’m here to be supportive. Let’s ix-nay on the hitting me with agic-may.”
“Yeah, Catch,” Mallory said. “She’s trying to be supportive.” She threw a ball of magic that had him jumping to avoid the sparks and letting out a string of curses.
“Good times,” I said, giving Mallory a thumbs-up.
“So, before we were so rudely interrupted,” Jeff said, “I was going to say that it’s not exactly a common thing to do—to seal a record when there’s no charges pressed or whatever—but there could be lots of reasons. Most likely, Paulie Cermak had friends in high places.” He chuckled.
I made a sarcastic sound. “Paulie doesn’t exactly seem like someone who hangs with suits.
Maybe Celina had him rough someone up.”
“It’s an idea. I’ll keep digging.”
“You’re doing a great job,” I told him, bumping him with my shoulder. “I appreciate the hard work.”
Jeff blushed little. “Even Catcher said I was doing some pretty good investigation on this one.”
“Well, Catcher never met a topic he didn’t have an opinion on. Speaking of which, any developments on the V? I assume the CPD does testing and such.”
“Yeah—they do, and did. Turns out, V’s chemical structure is similar to adrenaline.”
“That explains why it gets vamps so hyped up.”
Jeff nodded. “Exactly. But that’s not even the most interesting part. Catcher did a little magical sniffing of his own, and he thinks there’s another component to the drug beyond the chemistry —magic.”
I frowned. “Who else could have added the magic?”
“That’s what’s got him worried.”
It had me worried, too. Even if we could pin V on Paulie and Celina, we now had an unknown source who was throwing gratuitous magic around. And speaking of unknowns: “Did you ever glean any more information about the assault Mr. Jackson saw?”
“Only the info you already knew. There haven’t been any developments as far as I’m aware. Case is going cold.”
I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than bodies having been located. That question in mind, my phone buzzed, so I pulled it from my pocket, expecting a question from Ethan:
“Sentinel, where are you?” or the like.
I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway. “This is Merit.”
“Kid, I got something I think you’ll be interested in.”
The New York accent was unmistakable.
“Paulie. What do you want?”
“A certain someone wants to meet with you.”
“A certain someone?”
“Marie,” he said. “You asked her for a meeting, and it turns out she’s amenable.”
Of course she was. We knew Celina wouldn’t pass up the chance, and even if this “Marie” wasn’t Celina, a
