• Home
  • Directory
  • Popular
  • Authors
  • Series
  • Home > Chloe Neill > Chicagoland Vampires Series > Blade Bound (Chapter 81)      Page
  • Blade Bound(Chicagoland Vampires #13)(81) by Chloe Neill
  • “We’re all in one piece,” Catcher said. “I’m not suggesting you’re cowards if you don’t try again, but . . .”

    “But you’re subtly implying it,” Ethan said.

    Catcher grinned. “This is magic, friends. It’s a dangerous game. Maybe vampires can’t hack it.”

    Ethan’s eyes blazed silver. “Is that a dare?”

    “If that’s what it takes.” Catcher looked at me. “We have to try something. This is currently the only thing we know to try.”

    I couldn’t argue with that logic, so I looked at Mallory. She’d pulled a small kraft-paper notebook from her bag, was thumbing through it. “Just give me a minute.”

    I narrowed my gaze at Catcher. “Beer and pizza after this, and you’re paying.”

    His lips curved into a smirk. “You’re a cheap date.”

    “That is one of her finer qualities,” said my husband.

    I elbowed him, and we settled back into our positions.

    “It’s getting colder,” Catcher said. “We should probably move this along while we can still function.”

    I made a sarcastic noise. “Go swimming in the river and then talk to me about cold.”

    “My little mermaid,” Ethan murmured, as Mallory positioned a hand over the orb again.

    This time, a single tap. “We’re here to listen,” she said, “not to harm you.”

    We sat in the cold darkness, ears perked for any response. But there was none.

    Mallory shook her head, wet her lips, and hit the orb again. “If you talk to us, we can try to help you.”

    She nearly squealed when the orb pulsed with light, and jumped backward.

    It started as a whisper, a faint and faraway call. And with each percussion the sound lengthened, heightened, grew.





    The voice was masculine. It was one sound and many, a singular cry and a million voices. That was probably the “depth” Winston had mentioned.

    “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot,” Mallory murmured, as we stared at the thrumming orb.


    The volume was huge, as if the sound was a room that had suddenly enclosed us, sucking out the air and leaving behind only the fear, the terror. It wasn’t just a cry, but a demand for attention. Not just a plea, but an order.

    This was panic and anger and frustration and grief, a cocktail of hopelessness. And it wasn’t the kind of emotion that dulled the senses but the kind that heightened them. The kind that made every noise seem a timpani drum, every caress a blinding burn. Irritation began to itch under my skin, the emotion weighted with despair.

    This had to be what the delusional had been hearing. Little wonder they’d been terrified, Winston and the others. Little wonder they’d begged for help, and had considered death to stop the pain.

    “They weren’t delusional,” Catcher quietly whispered. “Not even close.”

    “Hello,” Mallory said to the orb. “We are here in Chicago with you. Where are you? How can we help?”

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire