House Rules (4 page)

I gave him a sardonic look. “Did you just telepathically direct them to start playing
that?”

“What’s the point of being telepathic if you can’t use the connection for a wee bit
of wickedness, Sentinel?”

I heard the yearning sigh of a female vampire to my right, and caught the dreamy-eyed
gaze of a male vampire to my left. Ethan was an equal-opportunity crush.

He wiggled his fingers. “Merit?”

With the audience’s eyes on me, it would have been difficult to say no to Ethan even
if I hadn’t had feelings for him. That I did made it virtually impossible.

“Of course,” I said, putting my hand in his and letting him lead me to the makeshift
dance floor.

Oh, my God, could he move.

Ethan whipped a hand around my waist like he’d trained with the cast of a televised
dance competition. With moves that were a mix of swing and tango, he led me around
the floor like a dance master, all the while keeping those ridiculously green eyes
focused on me. Fortunately, I’d been a ballerina in my former (human) life, so I managed
to keep up with him. I even tried to put on a good show—or at least as good a show
as pants and a fitted leather jacket would allow—to the surprise of Rogue and Cadogan
vampires.

The song ended, and Ethan dropped me into a dip, his smile mischievous and his eyes
twinkling. The rest of the world came rushing back in a roar of sound as the vampires
on the margins of the dance floor burst into applause.

Ethan brought me back to my feet, my ponytail bobbing over a shoulder. “And that,
Sentinel, is how you impress a crowd.”

My cheeks warmed as I waved a little at said crowd, acknowledging their applause.

But when I caught sight of Noah surrounded by the same black-clad vampires he’d been
speaking to earlier, I realized my fun would be short-lived. There was no mistaking
the distress in Noah’s expression, or the fact that his companions kept sneaking anxious
looks in our direction.

Delicately, I put a hand on Ethan’s arm and leaned toward him, my lips just brushing
his ear. It was a move the crowd would mistake for a show of affection, which was
a perfect bit of sleight of hand.

“Something’s up,” I whispered. “Noah’s surrounded by Rogues, and they look worried.
They’re at your eight o’clock.”

In the guise of pressing a light kiss to my cheek, Ethan glanced over his shoulder.
“So I see,” he said, turning back to me again. “Can you get the gist of it?”

As predators, vampires had uniquely strong senses—hearing, sight, smell. But there
were too many vampires in the crowd, and too much magical energy, for me to tell what
trouble was brewing.

“I cannot,” I said. “Perhaps an invitation to your office?”

“That seems wise,” he agreed. He took my hand and, with smiles and waves to the crowd,
stepped out of the spotlight.

“Keep the guests busy,” he whispered to Luc, who nodded obediently and stepped into
the middle of the dance floor.

“It’s a party!” Luc said, clapping his hands together as a jaunty David Bowie tune
filled the air. “Let’s all dance.”

With Luc’s encouragement, vampires spilled onto the dance floor.

We slipped through the tent to reach Noah and the worried Rogues. Fear marked their
expressions, and they radiated tense magic that made my skin feel tight from the contact.

“Is everything all right?” Ethan asked.

Noah glanced among his Rogues, meeting the gaze of a female vampire with cropped hair
and small silver spikes above both eyebrows. Her look was edgy, but her tearstained
eyes belied her appearance. She nodded at Noah, giving him approval for something.
Rogue democracy at work.

Noah paused, as if weighing a decision. “Perhaps we could speak privately?” he asked.
“We have a concern, and we’d appreciate your thoughts.”

“Of course,” Ethan said, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go to my office. We can
speak there.” He glanced across the group of Noah’s friends. “You’re all welcome to
join us.”

But they edged away like feral kittens nervous about being led indoors.

“I’ll be back,” Noah said to the rest of the Rogues, then supportively squeezed the
hand of the spiked girl. Both of them followed us into the House.

* * *

We walked silently down the hallway, and Ethan closed the office door when we were
all inside. Noah immediately headed toward the conversation area and took a seat in
one of the leather club chairs there; the female vampire followed him. I took a seat
on the opposite couch, and Ethan did the same.

“What’s on your mind?” Ethan asked when all were settled.

“Two of my vampires have disappeared, and we’re afraid they might be in trouble.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry to hear that. Start at the beginning, if you would.”

Noah nodded. “Last night we had a gathering—a meeting—that we hold monthly for Rogues
in the city. Nothing formal, nothing official, just a chance for us to get together
and chat. Some Rogues aren’t interested in attending; some are. On average, we get
thirty to forty vampires. Most of them are regulars, including a couple of kids named
Oliver and Eve. They came up from Kansas City when the GP consolidated the Rogues
down there into Murphy House. Living in a House wasn’t their bag, so they moved up
here. But they didn’t show up at the meeting.”

“Is that so unusual?” Ethan asked.

“Unusual enough,” Noah said. “I can’t recall a meeting they’ve missed since they came
to Chicago.”

“They broke pattern,” Ethan said, and Noah nodded.

“Precisely. And that’s gotten a few of our Rogues worried.”

“Understandable,” Ethan said.

“I’m going to be honest with you—I’m not convinced there’s anything to this. Oliver
and Eve are generally quiet kids, and I don’t tend to ask a lot of personal questions.
It’s not impossible they had business to take care of that they simply didn’t want
to tell us about. Kansas City vampires tend to be reserved like that.”

“If they didn’t attend the meeting, when were they last seen?” Ethan asked.

Noah’s expression darkened. “A place we all have to go sooner or later.”

That cryptic response sent my imagination on a tear. To what places did vampires have
to go? Fang orthodontists? Plasma centers? Vampiric couturieres?

“A vampire registration center?” Ethan flatly guessed.

Chicago’s politicos had decided, in a fit of ethnocentrism, that forcing vampires
to register with the city would somehow make Chicago safer. The conclusion might have
been correct, but for the wrong reason. Registration scared and angered vampires,
precisely the emotions humans wanted to avoid. There were a handful of registration
offices across town, their existence funded by the fees vampires paid to register.

Noah nodded. “Exactly. Two nights ago, Eve took a picture on her phone when she and
Oliver were in the registration line. She sent the pic to a few of her friends, including
Rose.” He gestured at the vampire beside him.

“Given what you’ve told us about them so far, and their reason for moving to Chicago,
I’m surprised they decided to register at all,” Ethan said.

Noah nodded. “So was I. Most of us haven’t registered. Many Rogues feel that if registration
of vampires is the first step, internment is the second. They don’t even align themselves
with Houses of their own kind; they certainly aren’t going to set themselves up for
de facto incarceration by humans.”

I could understand his concerns, even if I couldn’t evade them. My father was a real
estate mogul, and my picture had been in the paper. I was too well known to avoid
registration even if I’d wanted to, which was why my laminated registration card was
safe and snug in my wallet, even as much as it offended me.

“If they were last seen two nights ago,” Ethan said, “what’s made you nervous tonight?”

“Rose got a call from Oliver’s phone earlier this evening. She didn’t actually talk
to Oliver; no one was speaking on the other end. But she thinks she heard something
in the background.”

I glanced at her. “What did you hear?”

Her voice was soft. “I don’t know. I thought he’d called me accidentally—like a misdial.
Nobody was speaking, but I thought I heard something loud, and then voices, but they
were muffled. I’m not really sure. . . .”

She glanced at Noah, and seemed hesitant about offering more, so I gently nudged.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“I thought I heard . . . maybe a scuffle? Or a fight? Like furniture moving or people
falling down? That kind of fleshy sound?”

Ethan nodded, then returned his gaze to Noah. “Have you advised the police Oliver
and Eve may be missing?”

Noah shook his head. “I haven’t, and I don’t plan to. We aren’t fans of the city’s
police establishment. Their history with vampires leaves something to be desired.”

Noah linked his hands together, elbows on his knees, and leaned forward. “Look, maybe
this is something; maybe it’s not. Oliver and Eve have left a vampire community before.
This could be the same situation. And we aren’t crazy about involving others. Bringing
you into this is . . . challenging for us. But it’s unusual enough that we think it’s
worth checking into. I apologize for the timing; we certainly hadn’t planned to bring
trouble to your door tonight.”

Ethan shook his head, dismissing the worry. “You’re troubled, and we’re colleagues.
We’re happy to listen.”

Nicely subtle bit of politicking there
, I thought.

Noah nodded. “At the risk of ungraciously putting you on the spot, perhaps you could
make some inquiries? You have certain connections. Your grandfather, for one,” he
said to me. “Chuck Merit’s a good man. I’d appreciate any help he could offer.”

I nodded in agreement. My grandfather was unquestionably a good man. One of the best,
in my opinion. He’d been the city’s supernatural Ombudsman, at least until Mayor Kowalcyzk
did away with the position. But my grandfather wasn’t dissuaded from his mission;
he set up shop in his own house.

They both went quiet for a moment. Ethan, I suspected, was considering whether we
had the resources to take on someone else’s problem, especially when it wasn’t entirely
clear there was a problem at all.

“I know you have a lot on your plate right now,” Noah added. “But you’re the House
that listens.”

Ethan looked at me.
Are you willing to discuss this with your grandfather?
he silently asked.
As Noah notes, I do have a bit on my plate.

Of course
, I said.
And besides—if we don’t help, who will?
The new mayor wouldn’t much care, and the other Houses avoided politics and controversy
at all cost.

There was a flash of pride in Ethan’s eyes. He was glad that I hadn’t shrunk back
from the problem, that I was willing to face it head-on. I was glad of the same from
him—that he wasn’t letting appearances and political considerations sway him from
a course we needed to chart. Of course, now that we were leaving the GP, those considerations
were even more flexible.

“We’re on board,” Ethan said. “Perhaps we could review the photograph Eve took outside
the registration center?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Noah said. “I’ll escort you to the spot.”

* * *

Ethan advised Malik and Luc of our plans and ensured the party was well tended. Rose
went back to her group of Rogue friends, and we met Noah in the House’s foyer. We
were all dressed severely in black, and we looked displaced among the House’s holiday
decorations.

“Do you need a ride?” Ethan said, but Noah shook his head.

“I have things to take care of when we’re done. I’ll meet you there?”

Ethan nodded; Noah had already given us the address of the registration center, a
spot in Chicago’s Little Italy neighborhood near the University of Illinois at Chicago.
“We’ll be right behind you.”

Ethan, being a senior House staff member, had a coveted parking spot in the House’s
basement. He wouldn’t have to dig his car out of a Chicago snowstorm, have someone
hold a spot on the street as he neared the House, or attempt to parallel-park between
gigantic cars and a mountain of snow that cemented into a secondary curb.

We took the main staircase to the basement, and he keyed his way into the garage.
I stopped short in the doorway.

In Ethan’s parking spot, which an Aston Martin had temporarily filled, sat a shiny
two-door coupe with a deep red finish and grinning grille.

“What is that?” I asked.

Ethan
beeped
the security system and walked to the driver’s side. “This, Merit, is a Bentley Continental
GT.”

“It looks brand-new.”

“It is.”

I glanced around the parking area; his Aston Martin was nowhere to be found. “Did
something happen to the Aston Martin?”

“No,” he said, frowning. He opened the door. “The Aston just didn’t do it for me.”

Ethan had lost his former car, a sleek Mercedes convertible, in an unfortunate run-in
with the Tate twins before their separation. Tate had thrown the car off the road—with
us inside—and the Mercedes hadn’t survived the fall.

I understood well the bond between car and driver. I was still driving the boxy orange
Volvo I’d had for years. It wasn’t much, but it was paid for, and it got me where
I needed to go.

Still. He’d had an Aston Martin. A brand-new, right-off-the-lot Aston Martin delivered
to him by a very pleased salesman.

“All due respect, a brand-new Aston Martin ‘didn’t do it’ for you? That’s James Bond’s
car.”

“I’m no James Bond,” he cannily said. “I loved the Mercedes. It fit me perfectly.
The Aston just . . .
didn’t
.”

“So you traded up?” I asked, walking toward the car and opening the door. “Do you
treat your relationships in the same way?”

“Yes,” Ethan gravely said. “And I spent four hundred years shopping before I met you.”

It was comments like that that kept me around, even when Ethan was being otherwise
insufferable. He popped them into conversation just often enough to make my heart
melt.