“Me, neither,” Ethan said.

But he might, I thought, look familiar to someone else. I pulled out my phone. “I’m going to see if Jeff can check security cams in the area. Maybe we can get at least a partial still of his face.”

“Good,” Luc said, and wrote Need photograph on the board. “We can send that to Scott and Morgan, see if he’s familiar to them.”

“I’ll also send it to Noah,” I said. Noah Beck was the unofficial leader of the city’s Rogue vampires. He’d hooked me up with the Red Guard, a secret vampire corps, and was a member himself, but I hadn’t seen him in a while.

“And the alchemy?” Luc asked, after adding Noah’s name to the board.

“There were a lot of symbols,” I said. “Jeff and Catcher took pictures, and they’re working on an analysis. Mallory and Catcher think it’s some kind of equation based on the way it’s written—neat rows and columns—but they’ve got to translate in order to know what kind.”

Luc glanced at Ethan. “Paige?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Ethan said with a nod. “When we receive the photographs, will you see if she can help? Mallory will assist, but there’s a lot to translate in order to figure out what was written there.”

“And that’s our biggest question,” Luc said, writing ALCHEMY in all caps across the board with a bright green marker even stinkier than the first.

“This reminds me that I knew an alchemist once upon a time,” Ethan said, his gaze on the board. “Or a man who called himself an alchemist, at any rate. He was in Munich in the employ of a baron who wanted more wealth. He was convinced turning lead into gold was possible.”

“When was this?” I asked. Ethan had nearly four hundred years under his belt, after all.

He frowned. “Mid–seventeen hundreds, I believe. Alchemy had its run, but as far as I’m aware, it hasn’t been popular in magical circles in a very long time.”

“I assume the purported alchemist wasn’t successful?” Malik asked.

“He was not. He supposedly had success using a meteorite discovered in the Carpathian Mountains, but, to no one’s surprise, he wasn’t able to repeat the results for an audience.” Ethan lifted a shoulder. “He was a charlatan. He lived off the baron for nine or ten years before the baron grew tired of tricks.”

“What did he do?” I asked.

“Put the alchemist’s head on a pike to warn away anyone else who might have hoped to deceive him.”

Juliet glanced back at me. “Any chance this alchemy was practice, scribbles, the ravings of a madman, anything like that?”

“It was awfully precise to be scribbles,” Ethan said, glancing at me. “There were, what, a few hundred symbols there?”

I nodded. “At least that.”

“Someone has magic planned,” Malik said, and a heaviness fell over the room.

Luc tapped the plastic marker against the board. “Let’s talk through what that magic might be.”

“It was close to Wrigley Field,” I said, and all eyes turned to me. “Maybe the geography matters. Maybe they plan to hit it.”

“On the night of a game,” Juliet said, and I nodded, anger bristling beneath my skin. Supernaturals being violent toward one another was one thing. But targeting humans—those who didn’t have their strength, their power, their immortality—was something else entirely. It was a breach of the rules, whatever that game might have been.

Luc blew out a breath, wrote the idea on the board. “What else?”

“The El,” Ethan said. “The symbols were written on the trestle. Perhaps the magic was intended to disrupt service, to knock out a pedestal and derail the cars.”

“Like an explosion,” Luc said, and added that possibility to the list. He glanced back at me. “Only the one pedestal?”

“Yeah. We don’t know if he or she only meant to prep one and got interrupted, or only needed one in the first place.”

Luc uncapped the marker, drew three enormous question marks in the middle of the board. “So we need intel there. Translating the equation, hopefully, will fill in some of it.”

“We can also check the chatter,” Juliet said. “If it’s a big operation, there’s a chance someone is talking about it on the Web.”

“Good,” Luc said, adding the strategy to the board. “And how do the shifter and vampire fit into this?”

“If they’re friends with the sorcerer,” Juliet said, “they could have been entourage, buddy, bodyguard. Maybe a disagreement broke out.”

“Or, if not friends,” Lindsey said, glancing at Juliet, “maybe a rival or personal disagreement. Maybe the shifter was trying to interrupt the sorcerer.”

Lindsey nodded. “Doesn’t like what the sorcerer’s doing, doesn’t like how he’s doing it, so the vampire takes him out.”

“Or maybe the vampire was the antagonist,” Luc said. “Shifter and sorcerer are working together, vampire shows up, tries to head off the magic. Takes out the shifter, but the sorcerer gets away.”

“If that’s true,” I said, “and the vampire’s trying to avoid some big alchemical whatsit, why would he run away from us?”

“Maybe he’s on our side, relatively speaking, but didn’t want to be identified.” Luc glanced at Ethan. “Could have been a Red Guard member.” Luc was one of the few Cadogan vampires who knew I was involved in activities outside the House; he didn’t know that activity was the Red Guard or that Jonah, the Guard captain of Grey House, was my partner.