Friday Night Bites (8 page)

“Oh, my God.” I knew my eyes had gone silver, maybe with anger, maybe with fear, maybe with the adrenaline that was beginning to rush my limbs. “How—when? When did this happen?”

“Three days ago. Darius just called. I spoke briefly with Luc; he’ll update the dailies and inform RDI and the other Chicago Houses.” In Cadogan speak, that meant Luc would update our security reports, inform the mercenary fairies (yup—fairies) who worked for RDI, the company that oversaw security at the House during daylight hours and who stood guard at the front gate, and call Morgan and Scott Grey.

“He
just
called?” I repeated. “You only talked to him a few hours ago. He didn’t mention then that they were releasing crazy into the world?”

“He didn’t know. He wasn’t there when the vote was taken, probably by design. The Presidium is a majoritarian body, and she’s in the majority, as this should demonstrate. The Presidium”—he paused and shook his head—“they’re vampires,
Merit. Predators, who were born at a time when that meant more than it does today. When it wasn’t flash, but substance. When humans were . . .”

I could tell that my being newly and somewhat controver sially changed, he was looking for a polite way to explain something that could be easily summed up in a single word. “Food,” I finished for him. “They were food.”

“And little else. The politics of it aside”—was it disturbing that the perception that humans were upright cattle was mere “politics” to Ethan?—“the other members could have been glamoured, and yet be completely unaware of it. She’s that powerful.”

Having felt the slow sink of her glamour, her ability to pour herself into your psyche and manipulate it at will, I understood. I’d been able to resist it, but that was a personal skill, apparently. Some weird quirk of my makeup.

“As we’ve discussed, I expected that Celina would be confined for her crimes. That was the agreement your grandfather negotiated between Tate, the district attorney, and the GP. The Presidium has a short memory for Clearings. Although I didn’t doubt that she would receive four-star treatment, I expected she would lose her House, which she did, and would remain confined in London.” He shook his head, then closed his eyes in apparent exhaustion. “At least humans aren’t aware of her release
. Yet.
”

Whether humans found out or not, Celina’s release still threatened to make a liar out of Mayor Tate and everyone else in Chicago who had attested to the justness of her extradition, including Ethan and my grandfather.

Jeez. And I’d thought relations with the Ombud’s office were awkward
before
.

“How could they do something so politically stupid?” I wondered aloud.

Ethan leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together over his chest.

“GP members tend to be polarized on issues like this,” he said. “Many credit their longevity to staying under the radar, living as humans, assimilating. They’re happy to stay that way. Others feel they’ve spent centuries in hiding, and they hold no little bitterness about that. They want out, and Celina offers them an option. She has given them life among humans. She offers them a new kind of leadership. Besides—their strength aside, you’ve seen Celina, Merit. You know she has certain . . . charms.”

I nodded. Her dark-haired beauty was undeniable.
Still
. Since when was hotness an excuse for irrational decision making? “Okay, but we’re talking the
Presidium
here. The strongest vampires. The best. The deciders. Hot or not, how could they not have known what she was doing?”

“They’re strong, but not necessarily the strongest. Amit Patel is, by all accounts, the strongest vampire in the world, and he avoids politics altogether. He has successfully avoided membership on the Sabha for many, many years.”

There was a change of tone in his voice, from fear to noticeable admiration, something Ethan wasn’t generous with. His voice held that same note of reverence that human men used when talking about Michael Jordan or Joe Namath.

“You have a man crush on Amit Patel,” I said, mouth lifting into a smile. “A bromance. That’s almost charming.” And humanizing, I thought, but didn’t say it aloud, knowing he wouldn’t consider that a compliment.

Ethan rolled his eyes disdainfully. “You are much too young to be as strong as you are.” I took that not to be a reference to chronology, but some Ethan-sense of vampire maturity.

I hmphed, but frowned back at him for a different reason. “She’ll come to Chicago,” I predicted. She’d tried to have me
killed as part of her plan to take Chicago’s Houses, and she’d been thwarted in killing Ethan by a stake I’d thrown. Whatever her other motivations, her other reasons, she would come to Chicago to find me . . . assuming she wasn’t here already.

“It’s not unlikely,” Ethan agreed. He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused, seemed to think better of it. Then, with a frown that pulled down both eyebrows, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I expect that any information you gather from other Houses regarding Celina will be passed on to me.”

It wasn’t a question, or an “expectation,” regardless of his phrasing. It was an order. And since there was only one House source from whom I even could arguably gather information, it was a pretty obnoxious order. Avoiding conversations like this at four in the morning was
exactly
why I hadn’t wanted to move into the House.

“I’m not spying on Morgan,” I told him. While I wasn’t sure how far I wanted my relationship with Morgan to go, I was pretty damn sure “far” didn’t include espionage. Besides, I’d already gone too far in mixing the personal and the professional by agreeing to help Ethan with the rave issue. I was, at least symbolically, bringing Ethan home; that was as far as I was willing to go.

Predictably, given my challenge to his sovereign authority, he tensed, his shoulders squaring. “You will report the information that you are instructed to report.” His voice was crisp, chill.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a reaction to the spill of magic that vampires leaked as our emotions rose—magic that was currently spilling into the room as our discussion heated. Vampires weren’t able to perform magic, but we were magical beings, magical predators. Add that dust of magic to the silvering eyes and the fangs, and you had a pretty good survey of vampire defense mechanisms—defense mechanisms that were beginning to fire up.

I clenched my hands into fists and tried to slow my breathing. I assumed my eyes had silvered, but I was trying to keep my fangs from descending.
She
wanted something else, though . . .

I’d noticed over the last couple of months that when I was stressed or afraid, when the fight-or-flight instinct was triggered and my fangs dropped down, I could feel the vampire inside me, something
separate
inside me, like we hadn’t quite fused together. My three-day genetic change was supposed to turn me—fully and completely—into a vampire, fangs and silvering eyes and all. I didn’t understand it, how I could be vampire—the craving for blood, the nocturnal schedule, the fangs and heightened senses—and still feel the separateness of the vampire, a ghost in my machine. But that’s what it felt like.

I’d mentioned it to Catcher once; his lack of recognition, of reassurance, had shaken me. If he didn’t know what was going on, how was I supposed to know? How was I supposed to deal with it?

More important, what was I supposed to be?

A part of me wondered, whispered, something I could hardly stand to acknowledge—that this wasn’t normal. That as a vampire, I was broken.

I could feel her now, a tiger beginning to pace. I could feel her moving, shifting beneath my bones, my muscles beginning to vibrate with it. She wanted my eyes fully silver, my fangs fully descended, my magic spilling through the room. She wanted to take Ethan’s words and throw them back, to challenge him with steel.

Or she wanted to throw him down and have her way with him.

Either act would have been violent, primal, incredibly satisfying. And a truly bad idea.

I gripped the handle of the katana, pressing my nails into the cording around the grip to maintain my control. After my failed
attempt at warning Catcher, I’d decided to keep the problem to myself. That meant Ethan didn’t know, and I wasn’t about to announce to a Master vampire who already had trust issues that I thought I was broken.

That she was waiting.

It took seconds for me to push her down, to breathe through her again, seconds during which the magic rose in eddies through the room.

Welcome to Cadogan House, I thought, and with some burst of strength, I willed her back down, lifted my chin and stared back at him. His eyes were wide crystal pools of green.

“I am Sentinel of this House,” I said, my voice sultrier than usual, “and I recognize as well as you the responsibility that entails. I have agreed to get you into the places where you need access. I have agreed to help you investigate the raves, and you’ll be the first person on my contact list if I learn that Celina is in town. But my love life is off limits.”

“Remember who you’re talking to, Sentinel.”

“I never forget, Sullivan.”

Nearly a minute passed, during which neither of us moved, even as the weight of our collective stubbornness thickened the air.

But then, miracle of miracles, he relented. The tension and magic diffused. A single stiff nod was all he gave me, but I relished it, savored it, resolved to commit the moment to memory—the moment he’d tapped out. I managed not to scream, “I won!” but couldn’t help the grin that lifted a corner of my mouth.

I should have known the celebration was premature.

“Regardless, you’ll check in with me if you bring Morgan to Cadogan House,” Ethan said, his tone self-satisfied enough to deflate my smile.

Of course he wanted me to tell him. He wanted to savor the victory of my delivering the new head of Navarre House—and
the possibility of a Cadogan-Navarre alliance—to his doorstep. Given his previous doubts about my loyalties—spurred by my controversial change from human to vampire—what better way for Ethan to ensure that I wasn’t leaking information in the halls of Navarre House than to keep me safe and secure in Cadogan, Morgan in tow?

I wasn’t sure how much I cared about Morgan. It was early; the relationship was young. But in comparison with the man Mallory had aptly nicknamed “Darth Sullivan,” Morgan was Prince Charming in Diesel jeans. I took the comment, inflammatory as it was, as my cue to exit. There was no point in pretending we were going to just laugh this off, and the longer I stayed in the room with him, the more I risked my vampire surfacing. And if she gained control, God only knew what she’d do. That was a risk I couldn’t take—not without risking my own death by aspen stake. So, without meeting the glare I could feel boring into my skin, I rose from my chair and moved toward the door, reaching for the handle.

“And lest you forget,” he added, “my interest in your personal life is wholly Cadogan-motivated.”

Oh, right in the numbers with that one.

“My concern is about alliances,” he said, “about the potential of putting Navarre alliance insignia over our door. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

“I wouldn’t dare make that mistake, Sullivan.” Hard to mistake it when he’d admitted that he was attracted to me, but only begrudgingly. When he’d practically handed me to Morgan. Of course, that was right after he’d offered to make me his newest consort. His live-in, go-to girl. (Needless to say, I’d declined.)

But here he was, raising the issue. Maybe Ethan Sullivan, despite his crystalline facade of control, didn’t really know what he wanted after all.

“Watch your tone,” he said.

“Watch your implication.” I was toeing the line of insubordination, but couldn’t let him get in the last word. Not on this.

His jaw clenched. “Just do your job.”

I nearly growled at him. I’d done my job. I’d done my job when there were a million reasons why I shouldn’t risk my life to defend his. I’d done my job, despite his lack of faith, despite my better judgment, because there’d been nothing else to do but to do my job. I’d accepted my life as a vampire, I’d defended him before Morgan, and I’d defended him before Celina.

My frustration rose again, and with it the threat of her breaking through. I could have let her loose, could have allowed her to test her mettle against Ethan . . . but I’d sworn two oaths to him, one to defend him against all enemies, dead or alive.

My vampire probably counted as one or the other.

So instead, calling up the willpower of a saint, I forced my lips into a smile and gazed at him beneath half-hooded lashes. “Liege
,
” I said crisply, an allowance of his authority, and a reminder of exactly what our respective positions were. If he could put me in my place, I could remind him of his.

Ethan watched me for a moment, nostrils flaring, but if he was angry, he resisted the urge to push back. Instead he bobbed his head and looked down at the spread of papers on his desk. I walked out and, with a decisive
click
, shut the door behind me.

 

It’s not like I hadn’t known it was coming, that he’d work that “I’m the boss” tone and attempt to meddle in my social life. Moving into the House was necessary to quickly respond as Sentinel, to help out my fellow guards, standing by their side instead of cruising down from Wicker Park at the whim of Chicago traffic.

But there was a cost. Being near Ethan was just . . . incendiary. Part animosity, part ridiculous chemistry, neither conducive to a peaceful home environment. And this was only my first night under his thumb. Not a good sign of things to come.

I returned to my room and worried the end of my ponytail as I looked around. Although the sun’s rising would knock me out pretty quickly, I had an hour yet to go before dawn, and my encounter with Ethan had done a pretty good job of winding me up. I figured I could head down to the gym in the Cadogan basement, maybe put a few miles on the treadmill, or check out the Cadogan cafeteria’s pre-sunrise offerings. I wasn’t going to go that one alone—I was still the new girl, after all. So I took the stairs to the third floor and set about finding Lindsey.