I didn’t like thinking about what might be worrying my oldest friend and talented sorceress—and the woman who’d outmagicked Sorcha Reed. But I also knew that she probably wanted the break and release of a party as much as the rest of us. So I decided I’d bide my time—and interrogate her later.

The hostess returned with a large silver tray of mints, fruit, and cheese.

“Please, sir,” I said, hand over my stomach, “I do not want some more.”

“With you,” Mallory said, waving off the tray when it was offered to her. “That mousse-cake square did me in.”

“It wasn’t the half dozen before it?” Margot asked dryly, chocolate hangover clear on her face.

“I didn’t eat six mousse-cake squares.”

“I think you had eight,” Lindsey said, licking chocolate off her thumb.

Mallory looked a little horrified, and a little nauseous.

“It’s all good,” I said, patting Mallory’s hand. “Special occasion.”

“Says you. I can actually gain weight, vampire girl. Still, though . . .” This time, when she looked at the empty plates in front of most of the women at the table, there was pride in her eyes. “We did damn good work here tonight.”

“To us,” Margot said, and lifted her glass. “And to Merit, and Darth Sullivan.”

“Hear, hear!” Mallory said. And then she burped. Which seemed appropriate.

• • •

Still a little chocolate drunk, we were whisked back into the limo and shuttled to our next stop, which I hoped was a place for quiet contemplation of my bellyful of seventy-five-percent bittersweet.

“My turn!” Lindsey said. “And be warned—I am hopped up on sugar and chocolate.”

“Oh good,” I said. “Because you’re usually so quiet and reserved.”

That got the chuckle it deserved.

“What’s next?” I asked.

“We’re going to do the party a little more Cadogan style,” she said.

By Cadogan style, she’d meant at Temple Bar, Cadogan’s official watering hole. It was located in Wrigleyville, a neighborhood north of the Gold Coast and also home, as the name hinted, to Wrigley Field.

We pulled up in front, Sean holding open the door and his brother and fellow Irishman, Colin, ringing the brass bell behind the bar.

“Merit is on the premises!” he yelled out, to the applause of a crowd of vampires. There were plenty in the packed bar I didn’t recognize, but all of them were women.

Our table was near the front of a make-do stage at one end of the long, narrow bar. Maybe I was getting a stripper tonight, although I couldn’t imagine wanting to see anyone naked as much as I did Ethan. His long, lean form was pretty much a continuous delight.

The vampires dispersed among the crowd to chat with the others in the room. Lindsey grabbed drinks from the bar, gin and tonics all around, while Mallory sat beside me, checking her phone with a worried expression. Even when Lindsey brought an armful of sparkling gin and tonics for us, she didn’t seem to perk up.

“I’ll be right back,” Lindsey said, kissing the top of my head. “Just need to check on something.” She disappeared into the back of the bar.

“Everything okay?” I asked Mallory when we were alone.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, for starters, you’re in a bar full of vampires, which a year ago you’d have been crazily happy about. You’re practically famous after Towerline, and every Comic-Con in the country wants you as a guest sorceress, which is apparently a thing now. But you don’t look very happy about it.”

She put a hand over mine. “I am happy.”

“For me,” I said. “And I appreciate that. But there’s more to it. What’s going on?”

Mallory shook her head as if to clear it. “Nothing. This is your bachelorette party, and we are not going to worry about me.”

I used the same look I’d given Helen, stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Mallory Delancey Carmichael Bell.”

“Nothing, Merit.”

“Mallory.”

She tipped back her head, let out a frustrated sound. “It’s just—I feel weird.”

“Weird? What’s wrong? Are you sick? Are you sleeping? You look tired.”

“I’m not sick, and I’m not pregnant, since that seems to be the other frequently asked question.” She shook her head. “I have . . . a malaise?”

I frowned. “About the wedding?”

“Oh Lord, no. You and Ethan were made for each other, even if he did have to wait four centuries to find you. Which, if you ask me, is probably good for him.” She winked. “Makes him more grateful.”

“Then what kind of bad feeling?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just this vague magical feeling. A kind of unease, I guess?”

“From what? From where?”

“I have no idea. There’s nothing specific in it. Not even a speck of what I could call a thing, or a threat, or a looming damn cloud.” Her words picked up speed with the rise of her frustration. “Just unease. Catcher’s being supportive, but I know he doesn’t feel it. And that makes me feel like I’m being paranoid.”

“So, let’s assume you aren’t being paranoid. What could be bothering you? Not You Know Who.” That was as much as I wanted to mention the woman who’d tried to control us.

“No,” she said. “It’s been four months, there’s been no sign of her, and the city’s warded even if she did come back. Other than that, I don’t know.”

Mallory looked at me, and the concern in her eyes was even deeper than I’d thought. Whatever this was, she wasn’t done with it.

“What if I can’t do happy, Merit? I mean, I’m married, and you’re getting married, and with the exception of the world’s most idiotic ghost hunters, no supernatural drama. No River nymph infighting. We haven’t been thrown to the wolves by the mayor or anyone else looking to use us for political fodder. I should be freaking thrilled. Instead . . .” She sighed, shrugged.

I took her hand, squeezed it. “Mal, you are the happiest person I know. The brightest person—except when you were evil.”

“Except for that.”

“And even then, you crawled out of it. So if you tell me something’s off, I believe you. Have you talked to the Order about it? I thought you guys were on better terms.”

“They already think I’m crazy.”

“Well, what about Gabriel? Maybe the Pack’s felt something similar.” Although I hoped Chicago’s resident shifter alpha would have come to us if he’d believed something was wrong.

“I don’t even know what I could tell him. ‘Gabe, I know you’re busy being hot and wolfy and all, but all this peace and prosperity is making me antsy’?”

“Then I’m officially out of ideas.”

“So you think I’m crazy, too?” She must have heard the rising panic in her voice, as she held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m sorry. This is just wearing on me.”

I put an arm around her, squeezed. “We’re going to be fine, Mallory. Everything is going to be fine. I’m going to get married, and Ethan and I are going to have a wonderful week in Paris.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” She shook out her hands, her shoulders, obviously trying to loosen up. “What’s going to happen is going to happen, and there’s no point in worrying about it now. Let’s just have fun.”

“Let’s just have fun,” I agreed, and clinked my glass against hers.

Because, paranoid or not, the other shoe was bound to drop. It always did.

• • •

“All right, ladies!” Lindsey said, standing on a chair in her bare feet, ringing her glass with a spoon. When the crowd quieted, she glanced around the room. “We’ve reached the, ahem, climax of tonight’s Bachelorettetravaganza!”

“How many names does this thing have?” I whispered to Mallory.

“I think seven? We threw out ‘Merit Does Chicago’ and ‘Sullivan Two: The Resullivaning.’”