House Rules (2 page)

To Jeremy, Baxter, and Scout, with love and squares, and to Krista, for her incredible
patience, hard work, and amazing memory.

Death waits for no vampire.

—Ethan Sullivan

I like bacon.

—Merit

CHAPTER ONE

BOXER REBELLION

Mid-December

Chicago, Illinois

I
t was like a scene from a divorce: belongings divided into piles; books labeled with
one owner’s name or the other; and everyone emotionally exhausted.

But in this case, there was no breakup. Not of the human variety, anyway. This was
more of a secession. A declaration of independence.

It was a rebellion, and the golden-haired vampire next to me was leading the charge.
Ethan Sullivan, the unofficial co-Master of Chicago’s Cadogan House, and my boyfriend.

That was still a strange thing to say.

Ethan, looking exceptionally handsome in black pants, a button-down, and a black tie,
examined a slim, leather-bound book.

“This one belongs to the GP,” he said, glancing at the spine. “
The Metamorphosis of Man
,” he read. “
From Opposable Thumbs to Descending Fangs.
”

“That’s an awful title,” I said.

“It’s their awful title now.” Ethan’s words were humorous, but the tone in his voice
wasn’t. The entire House was nervous, the building fogged with magical tension as
we waited for the final countdown: Seventy-two hours remained until our official split
from the Greenwich Presidium, the European council that ruled American vampire Houses,
and the pendulum swung over our heads like Damocles’ sword. The GP’s members were
traveling to Chicago for the sole purpose of formally expelling the House—of breaking
up with us in public.

Our preparations had been largely uneventful. We’d been separating and packing up
the GP’s goods and readying our finances, which seemed to be in order. The GP had
been unusually quiet since we’d announced our intention to leave, communicating with
the House only about the details of the ceremony and their travel arrangements to
Chicago.

Ethan found that silence very suspicious. He’d gone so far as to appoint a “transition
team” comprised of vampires and other supernaturals from whom he’d sought advice about
the split.

Ethan leaned back and glanced at the bookshelves that lined a long wall in his large
office. “This is going to take a while.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but our other option is letting Darius do it himself. And I don’t
think we want that.”

Darius West was head of the GP. He was very proper, very British, and very much not
a fan of our House.

“We don’t want that,” Ethan agreed. He handed his book to me, our fingers grazing
as he passed it over.

My blood warmed instantly, my cheeks flushing at the intensity of his emerald gaze.
Ethan and I had been officially a couple for only a few weeks, and the honeymoon period
wasn’t over. I may have been fierce with a katana—the samurai sword that vampires,
including myself, carried for protection—but my heart still fluttered when he looked
at me.

But we had many books to get through, so I pulled away and placed this one into the
old-fashioned, brass-hinged steamer trunk on the floor.

“Work now, play later,” I reminded him.

“I find mixing business with pleasure makes both more interesting.”

“I find I’d rather spend my off-hours not packing away dusty books.”

“Being a vampire isn’t always about getting what you want, Sentinel. Although I’ll
concede I can imagine more enjoyable ways of spending our time.” Sentinel was my title,
a kind of House protector. Ethan used it when he was aggravated with me, or when he
was trying to make a point.

“Then you probably shouldn’t have irritated the GP so much they kicked you out.”

He gave me a flat look. “They didn’t kick us out.”

“I know. We voted to break up with them before they could break up with us.”

This time his flat look was accompanied by an arched eyebrow, Ethan’s signature move.
He wore the expression—much like everything else—very well.

“Are you purposely riling me up?” he asked.

“I am. Is it working?”

He growled, but there was a smile on his face as he did it.

I turned back to the books. “Can’t we just randomly grab half the books and throw
them into the trunk? Will Darius really know the difference?”

“He might not, but I would. And so would the librarian.” He looked at me askance.
“I’m surprised at you, Sentinel. You’re usually the bookish type.”

I had a master’s degree and then some, so I agreed I was the bookish type, and I was
proud of it. But his statement wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. I narrowed my
eyes. “I’m not sure you mean that as a compliment.”

“I’m not sure, either,” he said with a wink, and handed me another book. “But your
point is well taken.” As I added the book to the trunk, Ethan stepped back and scanned
the shelves.

I did, too, looking for anything obviously out of place. The
Presidium Guide to Alienating the American Houses
or the like. But before I found anything remotely appropriate, Ethan sidled next
to me, a hand propped on the shelf.

“Come here often?” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I see you’re here in this”—he gestured at the shelves—“library all alone. You must
be a student here?” He traced a fingertip down the hollow of my throat, lifting goose
bumps on my arms.

Since my mind hardly worked when he did things like that, it took a moment for his
words to register. Was he initiating a bout of role-playing . . . about a library?

“Ethan Sullivan,” I marveled. “You have a library fantasy.”

He smiled slyly. “I have a doctoral-student-turned-vampire fantasy.”

Before I could respond, he whipped a hand around my waist and yanked my body toward
him like a pirate on a romance novel cover. I nearly laughed at the move, until I
met his gaze. His eyes smoldered, deep green warring with silver.

Ethan leaned down, his lips at my ear. “You aren’t laughing now.”

“No,” I hoarsely said. “I definitely am not.”

“
Ahem
,” said a loud voice in the doorway.

We looked over. Luc, former captain of Cadogan’s guards, now tied for the position
of House Second, stood in the doorway. As House Sentinel, I was an unofficial member
of the guards, which made Luc my pseudoboss.

“Sentinel,” he said, “the guests are going to be here in an hour, and we’re nearly
done setting up outside. Since this is your party, perhaps you’d like to join us at
some point?”

He was right about the party; I was the House’s social chair, an appointment Ethan
had given me as both a punishment and an incentive to get to know my fellow Cadogan
vampires. But he was wrong that I’d been avoiding my party-prep duties. I’d cleared
my being here with the boss, or at least the one currently wearing a suit.

I slid Ethan a suspicious glance, but kept our conversation private, activating the
telepathic link between us.
I thought you told Luc you needed my help getting this done before the party?

He shrugged lightly.
I thought we’d finish this particular job with plenty of time to spare.

We might have, if his flirtations hadn’t kept slowing us down. But what was done was
done. I had arrangements to make, and he had guests to greet.

“Apologies, Luc,” I said. “Miscommunication on my end.” I’d let myself be distracted,
after all. I could take responsibility.

Suddenly nervous, I straightened the hem of the fitted leather jacket I’d paired with
slim jeans and a flowy tank, a look I managed because the weather had been unseasonably
warm the last few weeks. “I truly hope this was a good idea.”

Ethan grabbed his tailored suit jacket from his desk chair while I walked to the doorway.

“Inviting every Rogue vampire in Chicago into our backyard?” Ethan asked. “However
could that go wrong?”

Most of the country’s vampires lived in twelve Houses scattered from coast to coast:
Navarre, McDonald, Cabot, Cadogan, Taylor, Lincoln, Washington, Heart, Lassiter, Grey,
Murphy, and Sheridan. Three of those—Navarre, Cadogan, and Grey—were located in Chicago.

All twelve Houses fell under the authority of the Greenwich Presidium—at least until
seventy-two hours from now, when that number would drop to eleven. Now that we were
defecting, we were joining the Rogue vampires who didn’t live in Houses. They managed
on their own or banded together into unofficial tribes. Either way, they didn’t believe
the GP had the right to rule them from across the pond.

Rogues were, in their way, America’s vampiric colonies.

Pretty soon we’d be Rogues as well, which made it perfectly reasonable that I’d arranged
a meet-and-greet for Rogues and Cadogan vamps on the expansive grounds that surrounded
Cadogan House.

Yes, we were
finally
having a mixer.

The party would provide an opportunity to ease Cadogan vampires’ concerns about the
Rogues—who they were and what we were about to become—and let the Rogues get to know
us, too.

Luc offered a sarcastic laugh. “It’s Cadogan House, and Merit is our social chair.
I’m thinking this is a recipe for disaster.” Luc, much like Ethan, enjoyed riling
me up.

“Har, har,” I flatly said, waiting while Ethan slipped into his suit jacket. “If it
is, serves Ethan right for making me social chair.”

“You did attack him for changing you into a vampire,” Luc pointed out.

“Only because he didn’t do it very well.”

“I reject the notion I am capable of doing anything ‘not well,’” Ethan offered.

“So modest, our Liege,” Luc said.

Luc called Ethan “Liege” even though Ethan wasn’t technically Master of the House
anymore. That honor fell to Malik, the vampire who’d taken over during Ethan’s brief
demise. Now that Ethan was back, even though we hadn’t made any official changes,
everybody acted like the old guard was in charge again—Ethan as Master, Malik as Second,
Luc as Guard Captain. It was simply easier than treating twice as many vampires as
senior staff members, or figuring out what to call them. Ethan certainly didn’t object
to playing Master, and the others didn’t seem to mind giving up their promotions.

“In any event,” Luc said, “sorry to interrupt.”

“No, you weren’t,” I challenged.

“No, I wasn’t.” He patted my back collegially. “It’s entertaining to see you flustered.
So very human. Reminders like that keep a girl grounded.”

“She’s plenty grounded,” Ethan said, joining us in the doorway. “And not just because
I knock her off her feet every time we train.”

“Only in your dreams, Sullivan.” Ethan had undertaken to help me with my training
as Sentinel. With four hundred years of experience under his belt, he usually bested
me.
But not always
, I thought with a grin. I’d surprised him a time or two, and those victories were
particularly sweet.

“My dreams are much more interesting than that, Sentinel.”

Luc swept an arm toward the hallway. “Your guests are arriving soon, and I am plenty
disturbed and have no desire to learn more about those dreams, so let’s be on our
way, shall we?”

Ethan made a sarcastic noise. “Lucas, I rue the day I promoted you.”

“Probably so, boss. Probably so. You do wonders for his sense of humor,” Luc said
to me.

“Funny, I wasn’t aware he had one.”

“And now it’s two against one,” Ethan said. “God willing, our guests are more generous.”

Luc chuckled. “As much barbecue as we’re piling up outside, they should be.”

It didn’t surprise either of them that I hoofed it down the hallway at the mention
of barbecue. But this time, I wasn’t just hurrying because of the smoked meats.

It was the supplier I was looking for.

* * *

The House’s main hallway led through the first floor to the cafeteria and the door
to the backyard.

We stepped outside. The lawn—an expanse of grass that had long since yellowed—swarmed
with Cadogan vampires adjusting decor and arranging chairs and tables, all of them
sending excited magic into the air. The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” echoed through
outdoor speakers, the result of a special permit we’d managed to acquire from the
city and the playlist Lindsey, my closest friend in the House, and I had put together
for the party. Social chair duties, I figured.

Luc trotted into the yard, waving his arms at a reporter attempting to climb the fence
around the House for a shot of the party. Paparazzi loved vampires and parties. The
two together, I imagined, were irresistible.

But before Luc reached him, the reporter squeaked and disappeared back behind the
hedge.

He’d undoubtedly been found by our hired security, Chicago’s mercenary fairies. They
detested humans, and wouldn’t take kindly to the reporter’s attempt to breach the
shield around the House.

That mild drama addressed, preparations for the
invited
guests were well under way. I felt a jolt of guilt about having been distracted by
Ethan. On the other hand, we’d been through plenty as a couple, and we took our moments
together when we could find them.

Normally, stepping outside in Chicago in winter was a chilling venture, which made
the lawn a questionable location for a social event. But we were taking full advantage
of the unusually warm weather, and stand-up heaters handled any residual chill in
the air. Giant white balloons floated lazily in the mild breeze, and a white, open-sided
tent offered tables and a small parquet dance floor, its roof a dome of stretched
fabric and arched iron, like something you might have seen in Beaux Arts Paris. There
were hundreds of unaffiliated vampires in this city, and we aimed to impress them,
at least with our stylishness and good taste.

And, of course, there was the food. You couldn’t have much of a party without it,
and it certainly wouldn’t have been gracious to invite the Rogues into our domain
and refuse to feed them. Vampires craved blood and needed it for nutritional purposes,
but that didn’t diminish our desire for human food. If anything, our faster metabolisms
made the hunger worse.

I had planned appropriately, ensuring our tables were filled with roasted meats of
the most popular barnyard persuasions—pork, beef, and chicken—and all the appropriate
sides. Chicago had once thrived as a cattle town, and that legacy lived on today.
It wasn’t difficult to find the choicest or homeliest cuts of meat, depending on your
preference.