I walked down the hall, but when I opened the Ops Room door, Lindsey shook her head.
“Nope, nope,” she said, moving to bar the door with arms outstretched. “You have company upstairs.”
I frowned at her. “Company? Who?”
“A very pissed-off sorceress.”
Damn. “Paige? Because of the alchemy?”
“Paige is in the library. It’s Mallory.”
“Mallory?” I checked my watch. It was late, and I didn’t have any idea why Mallory might be pissed off.
“And before you ask,” Lindsey said, “no, I don’t know what she wants, even with my wicked psychic powers.” She released one of her arms, used it to shoo me. “Go upstairs, talk to her, and get her to knock off the bad juju. She’s magically funking up the joint.”
I wanted to argue but decided the fastest way to figure out what was up with Mallory was to actually go upstairs and ask her. Still, I felt a low sense of dread. I didn’t know anything I’d done to piss her off, which raised other issues—did it have something to do with the shifters? My grandfather? Dark magic?
I hustled up the stairs, glanced around the foyer, saw no one but the supplicants in the foyer and a vampire at the desk.
The assault came from behind me. She popped out of the woodwork like a pixie, began slapping at me with fluttering, butterfly hands.
“Ow! What the hell, Mallory?” For a petite woman with plenty of magic at her disposal, she slapped pretty hard.
“Biggest thing to happen in either of our damn lives and you didn’t even tell me!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Gabriel’s prophecy,” she said in a fierce, growling whisper.
I stopped, stared at her.
There weren’t many who knew about it, and I hadn’t told anyone other than Ethan, for obvious reasons, and Lindsey, and because she’d mostly guessed it.
“How did you—”
She crossed her arms. “Gabriel’s angry at Ethan. I guess he let it slip to Jeff, and Jeff told me.”
Supernaturals could not keep secrets to save their lives. “Does my grandfather know?”
“No. Jeff didn’t even mean to tell me, and he swore me to secrecy.”
I rubbed my temples, which were beginning to ache from the weight of too much drama. Or Mallory’s psychic funk.
“Let’s go for a walk outside,” I said.
But Mallory just kept staring at me, and her eyes began to fill. “You didn’t tell me.”
Crap, I thought, and took her arm much more gently than she’d have taken mine.
“Let’s go outside,” I said, heading off another round of bruises, “and I’ll tell you everything.”
• • •
I walked her through the House and the cafeteria, which was filled with chattering vampires and the scents of meat and chilies. It was Tex-Mex night, a House favorite. Thankfully, the food kept their attention as we walked past.
I led Mallory outside to the House’s enormous pool, a beautiful rectangle of sparkling water. I sat down on the concrete that surrounded it. Mallory sat in front of me, cross-legged.
She put a hand on her chest. “Is it because of the magic? Because you don’t trust me? Because you don’t want me to know that you’re trying to get pregnant?”
The fear in her eyes was obvious.
“No,” I said, and when she looked at me, I said it again. “No. Big no, little no, no. We’re not trying to get pregnant, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you or trust. It doesn’t have anything to do with anything, really. It’s just—it may not ever happen. It’s all very fuzzy and up in the air.”
She frowned, then cast a quick and wary gaze at my crotch before lifting her gaze to mine again. “You’re going to need to explain that. Jeff was vague on the details, and I’m not really sure I understand how pregnancy could be fuzzy or up in the air.”
“Because it’s a prophecy, not a pregnancy test. Gabriel thinks we’ll have a child—me and Ethan. But that would basically be a miracle among miracles.”
“Why?”
“Because no vampire child has ever been born.”
She leaned back in surprise. “Ever?”
“Forever ever. Three known vampire conceptions in the entire history of the world. None made it to term.”
Her expression fell. “Damn, Merit. Those are pretty shitty odds.”
“They are. Which makes Gabriel’s prediction that much more awesome, and that much more questionable. And, to add insult to injury, we have to go through some kind of test before it happens.”
She frowned. “What kind of test?”
“I don’t know. Something bad that we have to endure.”
She snorted lightly. “Hasn’t there already been plenty of that?”
“I had the same question. I don’t know what it will be, or when, or if it’s sitting out there around the corner just waiting for us.”
Or were we already in the middle of it—this nightmare with Reed? Was this the nastiness we had to survive, individually and together?
“What?” she asked.
I shook my head, not wanting to talk about Ethan, but she thumped me on the shin. “Ow. You are violent tonight.”
She grinned. “It’s very effective. And if you don’t spill, I’ll do it again.” To prove her point, she made a circle of her thumb and index finger, held them near my shinbone.