“Did the faerie council send you?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Obviously the witches’ council couldn’t care less about my welfare. They’d probably kill me themselves, ’cept they don’t want to get their holier-than-thou hands dirty.” I pushed the plate away from me as I suddenly lost my appetite.

“You’re not bein’ fair to them.”

“Why should I? They weren’t fair to me,” I countered. “I got cast out for self-defense. Self-defense. Most people get off with a warning, ’specially for a first offense. It’s crazy.”

“I know…” He trailed off, and for a moment it looked as though he was struggling to say something, but then he sighed, shaking his head. “Look, Cat. I don’t want to work with Dorian, and I’m sure you can understand that. You’ll make a good Titania. It’s in everyone’s best interest that you stay alive long enough to become it. That’s why I’m here.”

“I didn’t think guardians got to choose sides.”

“We don’t, in general. These are unique circumstances. No one wants to see the vampires get a foothold in Faerie, and I do mean no one,” he said, a dire note hidden beneath the Southern drawl. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair as I pondered his words. As the magic police, guardians ultimately answer to only one power. A higher power.

“Huh. Right then.”

Aside from a bit of chit-chat about the weather and other benign topics, the meal was a quiet one. I had no idea what to say to him, and as usual he seemed content with silence-Lex’d always been a man of few words. While I cleaned up dishes and the mess I’d made while cooking, Lex disappeared to take a shower and start on whatever phone calls he needed to make. I wondered who he would talk to, and my mind filled with detective-movie images of a nervous, weaselly snitch whispering secrets into the phone, his voice nearly drowned out with an ominous soundtrack that hinted at impending doom. Probably wasn’t far from the truth-I can’t imagine any wholesome people being willingly involved with vampires and necromancers-and I bet the vamps bumped off informants as readily as the mob. After all, this is Chicago.

When I’d run out of things to busy myself with in the kitchen, I wandered into my living room and discovered Lex seated on the couch. He’d changed into a new set of clothes, and the old bloodstained ones peeked out from the top of the open gym bag at his feet. This time he’d gone with a pair of blue jeans and a simple, short-sleeved, black button-down shirt. There was a lot of black in that man’s wardrobe. I knew, I’d seen his closet. Then again most of the men I knew seemed to prefer black instead of color. It’s a magician thing. With the stubble gone and his light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail again, Lex almost looked respectable. Almost.

Frowning into his cell phone, he was arguing with someone in French. I raised an eyebrow. I speak a decent amount of Spanish, because I studied it in high school and college. Both languages have their roots in Latin, which I also have a decent understanding of, so I can get a rough gist of what’s being said-only if it’s spoken slowly enough, and Lex’s heated conversation didn’t qualify. Annoyed, he snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him.

“Problem?” I asked. He looked up at me with temper in his eyes, and I shrank back slightly into the safety of the doorway.

“A few. Looks like we’re going to have to take a drive.”

“Where to?”

“O’Hare. Can I borrow your printer?” he asked, nodding at my computer.

“Sure, knock yourself out. Why O’Hare? Are we flying somewhere?” I’d never been to O’Hare airport, considering Midway is so much closer to where I live and easier to get in and out of.

Lex settled in at my desk. “Not really. Just need to talk to someone there, and we’ll need boarding passes to get into the terminal. You’ll want to travel light. Don’t bring anything that’ll scare security.”

Well, that pretty much ruled out the majority of my magical trinket arsenal. Deciding my attire was appropriate for the airport, all I needed to do was empty anything questionable out of my purse and I was ready to go. Dumping the contents of my bag onto the coffee table, I separated out all my magical tools-a few suspicious-looking crystals, some sinister vials of essential oils (Look out, she’s armed with patchouli!), and four or five books of matches. This left me with a wallet and keys.

“Here.” Lex handed me a piece of printer paper. I scanned it, frowning in disappointment.

“Boise? Who wants to go to Boise?”

“Nobody, that’s why they had seats open.”

“Oh.” Made sense.

Lex drove, since I am distinctly lacking in possession of an automobile. Once we got on the expressway I noticed the roll of dark clouds approaching in the distance, preparing to ruin the bright, sunshiny day. It was probably a good thing. With any luck the rain would break the stifling heat and give us a few days of decent temperatures. Traffic wasn’t too awful, so we made decent time getting out to O’Hare. The first drops of rain began to fall as we arrived.

The airport was enormous. I thought I was prepared for it, considering Midway wasn’t exactly a shoebox, but the place was gigantic. O’Hare dwarfed the other airport, and I was immediately glad I didn’t have to try to navigate the place by myself. Lex maneuvered us through it, quick and efficient, like he had magical radar that alerted him to the lines with the shortest wait. He must be invaluable at amusement parks.

The crowd seemed to be made up of mostly business travelers, with a scattering of families headed out for their summer vacation mixed in. People clutched their carry-ons as though they expected the bomb squad to swarm them if they made the mistake of setting their bag down for a moment. It made me feel very naked-all I had was a near-empty purse. Lex drew to a halt in a small food court, scanned the area, and then turned to me.

“You want some coffee?” He nodded in the direction of a nearby Starbucks.

“Uh, I guess so.” Coffee? We’d come all the way out here for Starbucks? Surely not.

“All right. Go find us a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Without another word he walked away, and I watched him in a state of fuzzy confusion. Deciding to play along and do as I was told, I picked out an empty table and grabbed a seat. I settled back and continued to watch the crowd. The place felt like a mall with businessmen instead of teenagers. It was very odd. Most of the tables around me were taken up by people in suits sipping coffee while staring intently at their laptop computers-lord forbid they go anywhere without a wi-fi connection, might miss an email while waiting for their flight. A mother and her three children were seated a few tables away, and one of the kids began bawling because her brother stole one of her fries. Another fine example of why I prefer cats to children. I don’t have to haul my furry babies around and suffer through feline temper tantrums in public. Not that I’m morally opposed to children, I just didn’t foresee any in my future.

“Here you go,” Lex said, interrupting my train of thought. He handed me a small cardboard cup of steaming coffee and I sipped it. Vanilla latte, my standard gourmet coffee drink. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he remembered, but for some reason just that simple detail made my throat tighten with emotion. Seating himself across from me, he sipped at his own cup.

“Why are we here?” I asked, my voice slightly strained.

“Waiting for someone.”

“Okay. Pilot? Flight attendant? Business traveler?” I guessed, and he shook his head.

“Nope. Give it a few minutes, you’ll see.”

“Great.” I leaned back in my chair and decided that questioning him further was going to get me jack in the way of information, so I changed the subject. “Still have those season Cubs tickets?”