Free Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) by Chloe Neill

and wounded. They were real.”
    “They were
tangible
,” Catcher said. “But they weren’t real. Not real harpies, anyway,” he added at my questioning look. “They were magic—power shaped and molded into something three-dimensional and solid.”
    Ethan glanced warily at the kitchen staff, then leaned forward. “That’s how you thought to use magic to destroy them at the end.”
    Catcher nodded, glancing at Mallory. “She figured it out. They fought like real animals, fiercely, drawing blood, killing when they could. But their magical signature was wrong. The look in their eyes was wrong.”
    “Blank,” I offered.
    Mallory looked at me and nodded. “Exactly. More automaton than actual monster. So we unwound them.”
    “You unwound them?” I asked. “What does that mean? And use nongeeky, layman’s terms.”
    “There’s a formulaic element to magic,” Catcher said. “It can be a chant. A charm. A spell. Some start with that but deepen it. They layer it. Charms atop charms atop charms.” He glanced at me. “We took those layers, unfolded them, stripped them back to their elemental magic, and dispersed them. That spell wouldn’t have worked if they’d been real.”
    “But this wasn’t just a monster,” Ethan said. “It was dozens of harpies, acting individually. Not just a walk and slap, but something with the look of a coordinated attack, and on shifter territory.”
    “Walk and slap?” Mallory asked.
    “An old European custom,” Ethan said. “Before the houses existed, certain feuding vampire covens engaged in petty slights, back and forth, to air their grievances.”
    “Aristocratic vampire slap fights? With period costumes?” Mallory asked, looking at me with obvious delight. “I am all over that and the graphic novel it inspires.”
    “Coordinated attacks,” Catcher said, returning to the point. “The magical layering is doable, but it would have required someone powerful and very talented.”
    Ethan looked at Catcher for a minute. “You could have done it.”
    Catcher’s jaw twitched at the insinuation. “With enough time, yes. Mallory, too.”
    “There’s Paige, Simon, and Baumgartner,” Ethan said. “Could they do it?”
    Paige was a magician formerly stationed in Nebraska and now in Chicago. She didn’t live in Cadogan House, but she was dating the House librarian, which was close enough. Baumgartner was head of the sorcerers’ union, which Catcher had been kicked out of, and Simon was Mallory’s former and utterly incompetent magical tutor.
    Catcher drummed his fingers on the countertop, considering the question.
    “Baumgartner has the magical capacity, but he wouldn’t have a reason to do it. It would upset his apple cart. Simon doesn’t have the mojo.”
    “Paige?” Ethan asked.
    “Maybe, but she doesn’t seem like the type. She’s interested in the mathematics of magic, the history. Not so much the execution, and certainly not wholesale destruction.”
    Ethan sat back, drawing the attention of the kitchen staff, whose eyes narrowed suspiciously. Did they think he was plotting a revolt right here in the Brecks’ kitchen? I considered flashing my fangs but guessed it wouldn’t be easy to intimidate the staff of a shape-shifting family.
    After a moment of silence, he glanced at Catcher. “If we’re going to tell the Pack we think this was a magical attack, we’re going to have to prove it, one way or the other. Talk to the sorcerers, confirm their whereabouts. If they are, as we suspect, not involved, find out who they think might have done it.”
    “We aren’t errand boys,” Catcher testily said, lip curled.
    But Ethan wasn’t fazed. “No, you aren’t. But we’re in Pack territory, surrounded by shifters who are angry and grieving. And they have us separated and under guard. Until we prove otherwise, we’re their suspects.” He glanced at Mallory, and my stomach curled. “And I imagine Mallory is suspect number one.”
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    We