{"id":8995,"date":"2022-06-21T19:26:59","date_gmt":"2022-06-22T00:26:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=8995"},"modified":"2022-08-27T20:09:41","modified_gmt":"2022-08-28T01:09:41","slug":"devouring-darkness-chapter-one","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=8995","title":{"rendered":"Devouring Darkness – Chapter One"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

CHAPTER ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Immortality required expecting the unexpected. And occasionally, heels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes the unexpected was a mercenary fairy with a very sharp sword, or a shapeshifting monster, or a detachment of angry vampires at the door. And sometimes it was a pizza box taped to an art gallery wall . . . with a five-thousand-dollar price tag. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cReflections on Post-Consumerism<\/em>,\u201d the woman beside me said, reading aloud the tag beside the box. \u201cA very interesting choice of mediums, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lulu Bell, nonpracticing sorcerer and my best friend since childhood, her chin-length dark hair falling across her face, was doing her best to look serious and Very Intellectual. She was an artist, and I was here to support her and offer up some much-needed bestie time, which had been hard to come by lately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was Elisa Sullivan\u2014vampire and newest staff member of Chicago\u2019s supernatural Ombudsman\u2019s office. Chicago had always been a hot spot for supernatural surprises, and that was especially true lately, with the detachment of vampires and mercenary fairies. The increase in activity hadn\u2019t been conducive to quality time with friends. So we were in this small white-walled gallery on a Saturday night, mingling with a crowd that was mostly human, who\u2019d come to appreciate the art and sample tiny cheese cubes and music that was part ocean wave, part jazz.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think pizza is best mid-consumption,\u201d I said, with as much gravity as I could muster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman gave me a withering look before stalking off, apparently unimpressed by my critique.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lulu snorted. \u201cThe pizza box is nonsense, but some of the other pieces are pretty good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wasn\u2019t wrong. There was a portrait of a former president rendered in neon lights. Rainbow streamers of plastic letters hung from the ceiling and made different words depending on your position. A hyperrealistic panorama of a Chicago traffic jam\u2014uncomfortable content but remarkably detailed execution.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe wine is excellent,\u201d I said, holding up the plastic cup of silver-gold liquid. \u201cAnd the people watching is even better.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The opening of an independent gallery in a neighborhood of warehouses and up-and-coming shops attracted all kinds. They ran the gamut from matrons with designer heels and pink-tipped hair to probable artists who were younger than us and had the hunger in their eyes. They wanted their own openings and sold stickers, and the validation that came with both.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t an artist\u2014not by a long shot\u2014but I had tried to look appropriately cool. I paired a flowy green top with black leggings and my favorite black boots. The green was a shade darker than my eyes, and I\u2019d left my long, wavy blond hair down. I\u2019d left my sheathed katana, a vampire\u2019s favorite weapon, in the vehicle I\u2019d borrowed for the night. And while I didn\u2019t think there was much threat from this crowd, I still felt vulnerable without it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like this,\u201d I decided, and glanced at Lulu. \u201cThanks for inviting me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her smile was warm. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome, Lis. Thanks for coming with me.\u201d She knocked her cup against mine. \u201cTo girls\u2019 nights.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d toast anything that put that kind of light in her eyes. A light I hadn\u2019t seen in a while.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A human approached us\u2014dark skin and dapper suit, trimly fit around a strong body. He smiled tentatively at me, then Lulu. \u201cLulu Bell?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s me,\u201d Lulu said. \u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m Clint Howard,\u201d the man said, offering her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my god, sure!\u201d Lulu said brightly, shaking and then gesturing to me. \u201cElisa, this is Clint. He owns the gallery.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNice to meet you,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019ve got a lovely space here. And . . . an eclectic collection.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His grin was wide and a little sly. \u201cWe\u2019re a space for emerging artists. And speaking of which, I saw your piece on Halsted. I\u2019d love to talk to you about an installation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lulu\u2019s eyes went wide. She was a muralist and specialized in outdoor projects; her brightly colored creations covered at least a dozen brick walls in Chicago. We were here, in part, because she wanted to improve her connection to Chicago\u2019s art community. Mission accomplished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d love to. I love the installation you organized at Garfield Park.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clint\u2019s smile was wide and bright. \u201cThank you. That was nearly a year in the planning. Bureaucrats,\u201d he added with an eye roll.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSups have them, too,\u201d Lulu said. \u201cAnyway, it\u2019s gorgeous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded. \u201cWe\u2019re looking next at a spot in Hyde Park. Not far from Cadogan House, actually,\u201d he said, offering me a smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hyde Park, a Chicago neighborhood on the city\u2019s South Side, was home to Cadogan House, one of the city\u2019s four vampire houses. My dad, Ethan Sullivan, was the House\u2019s master, and my mother, Merit, was its Sentinel. I\u2019d been born and raised there, although I rarely spent time at the House now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Someone across the room called Clint\u2019s name. He lifted a hand. \u201cRight there,\u201d he said, then smiled at Lulu. \u201cI\u2019ll call you,\u201d he said, then nodded at me and moved across the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMerry Christmas,\u201d I said, grinning back at Lulu. \u201cYou got your present early.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my freaking god,\u201d she said, the words a single roller coaster of sound. \u201cThat was Clint freaking Howard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo I heard. You\u2019re amazing, and he recognized it.\u201d I gave her a poke. \u201cYou\u2019re going places, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d like to go to that spot in Hyde Park,\u201d she said, then narrowed her gaze at me. \u201cYou don\u2019t think your mom had anything to do with this, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cArranging murals? No. She loves you like her own kid, but that\u2019s not really her style.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But my father? Entirely possible. Vampires loved making deals, although I had no idea what an art gallery owner would want from the Master of a House of vampires. And besides, \u201cYou have the talent. You don\u2019t need anyone making calls for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d she said, and before I could respond, she\u2019d wrapped her arms around me. \u201cThank you,\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re welcome.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two more hours of chatting, of deciphering paintings, of reading artist statements . . . and I was done and ready to be somewhere else. This wasn\u2019t my scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But because Lulu deserved my support, I put on a smile when she came toward me, the light in her eyes still as bright as it had been when we\u2019d walked through the door. It was the happiest I\u2019d seen her since I\u2019d returned to Chicago a few months ago. Maybe she\u2019d finally found her place\u2014a place where she belonged. That possibility lifted a weight I hadn\u2019t known I\u2019d been carrying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey,\u201d she said, and gestured to a group of people behind her. \u201cSo Clint asked if I want to go get drinks with him and a few of the others.\u201d There was hope in her eyes. \u201cI don\u2019t want to bail on you, but . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo,\u201d I said. \u201cAbsolutely go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re sure you don\u2019t mind?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot at all. But take an Auto home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, of course.\u201d She leaned in. \u201cHe wants us to talk about art and installations and\u2014oh my god, Lis. What if this is my moment?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I squeezed her into a hug. \u201cThere will be a million moments, Lulu. But yeah, this could be one of them.\u201d I let her go and grinned as she blew out a breath and tried not to look too eager. Then she joined the others, leaving me alone beneath a pinpoint light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My screen beeped, and I pulled the slender and signaling rectangle of glass from my pocket and checked the display. It was a call from Roger Yuen, Chicago\u2019s supernatural Ombudsman and my boss. I was an associate Ombud, and new to the team, so I answered it quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, Elisa,\u201d he said quickly. \u201cI know it\u2019s your night off, and I\u2019m really sorry for the interruption, but we have an emergency.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust a minute,\u201d I told him. \u201cLet me get somewhere quiet.\u201d I walked outside as Lulu\u2019s group began discussing where to find the city\u2019s best craft cocktails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I reached a small grassy area a dozen feet away, where metal sculptures made from old tractor parts hulked in the grass, I lifted up the screen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay, I said. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI need you to rescue someone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

# # #<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Adrenaline, prompted by those words, was like a comfy sweater. \u201cWho needs rescuing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOne of my informants. She\u2019s in trouble. I\u2019m going to keep it brief because we need to hurry. And I\u2019ll apologize for dumping this on you and Theo; I\u2019m on childcare duty tonight and don\u2019t have time to arrange for a sitter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI understand. No worries. You\u2019ve talked to Theo?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe timing there is . . . sensitive,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I sent him a message. He should be on his way to you. Shit\u2014I assume you\u2019re still at the gallery with Lulu, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had no idea what \u201csensitive timing\u201d involved my partner tonight, but I\u2019d find out soon enough. \u201cYeah, I\u2019m outside. Give me the basics.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll send you some docs,\u201d he said, \u201cbut her name\u2019s Rose Doerman. She\u2019s a sympath. She can manipulate someone else\u2019s emotions. It\u2019s like vampire glamour but dialed in, and usually less powerful. She lives in Edentown, Illinois.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Edentown was southeast of Chicago, a town perched at the edge of the Illinois-Indiana border. It was a 1960s development built for commuters to Chicago who wanted plenty of space between themselves and their day jobs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019s been feeding me information here and there for the last three years. Usually small-time stuff: Sups grifting humans. Human gangsters dipping into magic and spellselling, that kind of thing. Someone figured out she\u2019s been helping us. They cornered her outside her place, jumped her. She managed to get away, but not without injuries.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere is she now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI only know she made her way to a spot she considers safe. She\u2019s going to give it a little time, make sure she wasn\u2019t followed. When she\u2019s sure she\u2019s clear, she\u2019ll go to a bus stop in the old downtown\u2014corners of Main and Third,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s usually empty at night. White female, five foot six, medium build, thirty years old. Blond hair and blue eyes. Although it probably won\u2019t be hard to miss her given the injuries.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere are we taking her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe safe house in Back of the Yards.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was a neighborhood on Chicago\u2019s South Side. I hadn\u2019t seen the house, but I knew its location.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll make it work,\u201d I promised him. \u201cWe\u2019ll get her back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten minutes later, a sleek, black convertible pulled to the curb in front of the gallery. Theo climbed out, stylish in a gray checked button-down, dark slacks, and black Oxford-style shoes. His skin was dark brown and his hair was black and short. His somber eyes were wide over a strong brow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the moment, those eyes looked flat. Presumably, I guessed, because of the woman at the wheel. Detective Gwen Robinson was the Chicago Police Department\u2019s supernatural liaison and generally worked with Ombuds in matters that required more firepower. She was out of uniform tonight, looking gorgeous in an ivory pantsuit that gleamed against her medium brown skin. Tonight her hair was shoulder-length and curly, and pulled back at the sides with small rose-gold clips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was pretty obvious they\u2019d been on a date. And since I\u2019d heard nothing about it, probably a first date. Which explained the \u201csensitive timing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDetective Robinson,\u201d I said, giving her a nod. \u201cGreat night for a drive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was,\u201d she said with a thin smile, then lifted her dark eyes to Theo. \u201cAlthough it turned out to be a very short drive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll make it up to you,\u201d Theo promised. \u201cAfter we rescue Rose.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Concern shadowed her face. \u201cYou sure you don\u2019t want backup?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think we need to keep this low key,\u201d he said, and glanced at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I nodded. \u201cIf there\u2019s any chance to save her cover, we need a small team, quick-moving. But we\u2019ll call the locals if it gets to that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We looked at each other awkwardly for a minute, until I realized they were waiting for me to give them a private moment. So I turned back, took a sudden interest in the posters and flyers that nearly covered one wall. Lot of missing cats in this neighborhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGoodnight, Elisa,\u201d I heard Gwen say. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Figuring it was safe, I turned back to see the car speed away again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got the Pack\u2019s SUV?\u201d Theo asked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d borrowed the vehicle from my boyfriend, the son of North American Central Pack\u2019s Apex. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do. It\u2019s parked down there,\u201d I said, and pointed down the block. \u201cI had wine, so you\u2019re driving.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t get to wine,\u201d he said grouchily as I offered him the key fob.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did you get to?\u201d I asked as we climbed into the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery little. Were planning on Italian food and some very good wine. Instead, I\u2019m driving to Edentown. Which nobody wants to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOther than the people who live there,\u201d I said. \u201cSince when are you two an item?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould have been forty minutes, although we spent most of it in the car. This was our first date. And it took a month to get her to agree.\u201d He gave me a sour look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBlame the assholes in Edentown,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

DEVOURING DARKNESS will be released on September 20, 2022. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Need more Elisa? Preorder DEVOURING DARKNESS from your favorite retailer: <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/a><\/b>Amazon<\/a> | <\/b>Audible<\/a> | Barnes & Noble<\/a> | Kobo<\/a> | Books-A-Million<\/a> | Apple Books<\/a> | Indiebound<\/a> | Powells<\/a> | Target<\/a> | Walmart<\/a><\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

CHAPTER ONE Immortality required expecting the unexpected. And occasionally, heels. Sometimes the unexpected was a mercenary fairy with a very sharp sword, or a shapeshifting monster, or a detachment of angry vampires at the door. And sometimes it was a pizza box taped to an art gallery wall . . . with a five-thousand-dollar price tag. \u201cReflections on[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-8995","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8995","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8995"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8995\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9032,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8995\/revisions\/9032"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8995"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}