Some Girls Bite (40 page)

He grinned unapologetically, shrugged. “So I wanted witnesses.”

“You wanted to mark your territory.”

Morgan walked through the garage, squeezed between the narrow wall and the driver’s side, and before I could scramble away, trapped me in the angle between the car and the open door, hands braced to bar my exit. He leaned in. “You’re right. I wanted to mark my territory.”

Ego deflation time. “You don’t have a chance.”

“I disagree. You danced with me. You fed me. You didn’t slit my throat when given the opportunity.” He grinned, bright and wicked. “You may be conflicted, but you’re interested. Admit it.”

I gave him a withering look that didn’t succeed in flattening his smile or discouraging the Come Hither look it evolved into. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Liar. If Ethan ordered you to go out with me, you’d go.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, that’s the salve your ego needs—you’re only dating the Sentinel of Cadogan House because her Liege and Master forced her to meet you at a Wendy’s.”

He shook his head with mock solemnity. “Not Wendy’s. Bennigans, at least.”

I quirked up an eyebrow. “Bennigans? Big spender.”

“The Windy City is at your disposal, Merit.”

For a moment, we were quiet, just staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. I considered kicking him out, reneging on my promise to let him court me, but discarded that choice as politically irresponsible. I considered saying yes while explaining that I agreed only because I was duty-bound. And then I considered the other option—saying yes, because I wanted to go. Because he was sexy and funny, because we seemed to get along, because, even if he did have some kind of weird Celina baggage, he’d tried to protect her and stepped back when he realized his method wasn’t working. I could respect that, even if I didn’t understand the loyalty she commanded.

I took a calming breath, looked up at him. “One date.”

He smiled a smile of masculine satisfaction. “Done,” he said, then leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. “No reneging.”

“I don’t reneg,” I said against his mouth.

“Hmmph.” He sounded unconvinced, but kept kissing me anyway, and for some unknown reason, I let him.

Oh—he wasn’t Ethan.

Callous? Maybe. But for now, that was reason enough.

 

Some minutes later, surprisingly pleasant minutes, I was in the car, making my way south. But before I headed to Cadogan House, I wanted to drop by my grandfather’s office. I needed a sympathetic ear, and had no doubt that Grandpa’s vampire informant had already filled him in on last night’s rally. I drove with the radio off, the windows down, listening to the city on the quiet spring evening, preferring the sounds of rushing vehicles to song lyrics about emotions I couldn’t trust.

The neighborhood was, as usual, quiet. But there was an addition—Ethan’s sleek black Mercedes parked outside. Only his car—no black SUV in sight.

More important, there was no sign at all of a security detail.

That was off. Ethan never traveled without guards, usually in the SUV that tailed his convertible; it was against protocol. I parked a little down the street, turned off the car, and grabbed my cell phone, punching in Luc’s number. He answered before the second ring.

“Luc.”

“It’s Merit. Have you lost a Master vampire?”

He grumbled, cursed. “Where?”

“Ombud’s office. The Mercedes is out front. I’m assuming there’s no guard in there with him?”

“We don’t force guards on him,” Luc testily responded, and I heard the snapping of papers through the phone. “Normally, I can trust him not to behave like an idiot and go off alone when there’s a psychopath on the loose, Rogues up in arms.”

Speaking of which, I sheepishly asked, “Any additional progress made last night?”

Luc sighed, and I imagined him settling into a slouch, crossing his booted ankles on the Ops Room table. “Morgan was damn near chipper when he finally left, but that’s probably your doing. I’m not sure how productive it was. Nobody’s got answers, the clues point everywhere. No evidence at the murder scenes except for the trinkets someone’s leaving. But they know Ethan wouldn’t do it, certainly wouldn’t condone it. It’s not the way he operates.”

I understood that. If Ethan wanted something done, taken care of, he’d make damn sure you knew it was coming from him.

“Listen,” I said, “while we’re on the phone.” I paused, had to brace myself for the apology. “I’m sorry I bailed last night. After the thing with Morgan—”

“Forgiven,” Luc quickly answered. “You handled yourself, you stepped in when you needed to, and you gave Morgan a peaceful out. You did your job. I’m fine with that. That said, the fucking look on your face when he went down on one knee.” He burst into raucous laughter. “Oh, sweet Jesus, Merit,” he said, hiccup-ping with laughter. “It was priceless. Deer in headlights.”

I made a face he couldn’t see, double-checked the office door to look for movement, of which there was none. “I’m glad I can be a source of amusement for you, Luc.”

“Consider it your hazing ritual. Your other one, anyway.”

I chuckled. “Commendation, you mean? That was more of a hazing for Ethan than for me, unfortunately.”

“No—your change.”

I froze in the process of flipping up the visor, my hand still on it, and frowned at the phone. “The Change? How does that count as hazing?”

His voice changed to something graver. “What do you mean, how does that count?”

“I mean, I don’t remember much of it. Pain, cold, I guess.”

He was quiet so long I called his name, and even then it took a moment for him to come back. “I remember every second,” he finally said. “Three days of pain, of cold, of heat, of cramps. Sweating through blankets, shivering so hard I thought my heart would stop, drinking blood before I was psychologically ready to accept it. How do you not remember that?”

I played back the memory in my mind, trying to cup my hands around the fleeting images that ghosted at the edges of my vision, tried to replay the mental video of it. I got nothing more than those select memories, until the ride home, the dizziness I’d felt when I’d stepped from the car, the sluggishness, the fuzziness.

Drugs?

Had I been drugged? Spared the experience of some portion of the Change?

I was saved offering that theory to Luc, a little disconcerted by the questions it raised—who’d drugged me? and why was I spared the misery?—by Ethan emerging from the front door, the light spilling in a trapezoid on the sidewalk in front of him. Catcher stepped out behind him. “Luc, he’s out.”

“Keep an eye on him.”

I promised I would and snapped shut the phone, then waited until Ethan and Catcher had shaken hands. Ethan walked to the Mercedes, cast a glance down the darkened street, then unlocked the door and slipped inside. Catcher stayed on the sidewalk, watched as Ethan’s car pulled away. When he was a block down the road, I turned the ignition and drove forward to where Catcher stood. Motioning me to follow Ethan, Catcher raised his cell phone, then flipped it open. My phone rang almost immediately.

“What’s he up to?”

“He’s going to Lincoln Park,” Catcher said, frustration in his voice.

“Lincoln Park? Why?”

“He got a note, same paper, same handwriting, as the ones left for you and Celina. It asked to meet him there, promised information about the murders. He had to agree to go alone.”

“They won’t know I’m there,” I promised.

“Stay a few cars behind him. It’ll help that it’s night, but your car sticks out like a sore thumb.”

“He doesn’t know what I drive.”

“I doubt that’s true, but do it all the same.” He explained where Ethan expected to meet his source—near the small pagoda on the west side of North Pond—which at least gave me a chance to be surreptitious. I could take another route, get there without having to keep too close a tail on the Master vampire in front of me.

“You have your sword?”

“Yes, oh captain, my captain, I have my sword. I have learned to follow orders.”

“Do your job, then,” he said, and the line went dead.

 

If Ethan knew I was tailing him, he didn’t act like it. I stayed three cars behind, grateful there was enough traffic in the early evening to keep a shield between his car and mine. Ethan drove methodically, carefully, slowly. That shouldn’t surprise me—it was in keeping with the way he lived his life, orchestrated his other moves. But in the Mercedes, it disappointed me. Cars like that should be
driven
.

I found the Mercedes parked on Stockton, the only car in the vicinity. I drove past it, parked, then got out of the car, belted the katana, and in a moment of uncharacteristic forethought, grabbed an aspen stake from the bag Jeff had given me, still stuffed behind the front seat. I stuck the needle-sharp stake in my belt, quietly closed the door, and began to hike back. I crept through the grass, between the trees, until I was close enough to see him, tall and lean, standing just outside the pagoda. His hands were in his pockets, his expression alert, his body relaxed.

I stopped, stared at him. Why, in God’s name, would he have come here alone? Why would he have agreed to meet a source in the middle of an empty park, after dark, without a guard?

I stayed in the shadows. I could leap out if necessary, come to his rescue (again), but if his goal was to glean information from whoever had asked him to meet, I wasn’t about to ruin that.

The scritch of footsteps on the path broke the silence. A tall form appeared. A woman. Red hair.

Amber.

Wait. Amber?

I saw the jolt of recognition in Ethan’s face, the shock, the sudden wash of humiliation. I sympathized, felt the flash of it in the pit of my stomach.

He approached her, head snapping as he looked around him, and reached out an arm, taking hers just above the elbow. “What are you doing here?”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, blinked up at him, then pulled his fingers away. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Frankly, I’ve no idea, Amber. But I’ve got business—”

“Ethan, really.” Her voice was flat.

He stopped, stared at her, understanding dawning, and offered the conclusion I’d reached seconds before. I knew I didn’t like the little tramp. Voice defeated, he said, “You took the medals. You were in my apartments, and you took the medals.”

She shrugged standoffishly.

He took her arm again, this time his grip fierce enough to make her grimace. “You took House property from my apartments. You took from
me
. Did you”—he spit out a curse—“did you kill those girls?”

Amber grunted, yanked her arm away, and took a couple of steps, put space between them. She rubbed her arm, where the red marks of his fingers—even in the dark—were obvious.

“You’re—” Ethan shook his head, fisted his hands on his hips, and whipped aside his jacket in the process. “How could you do this? You had everything. I gave you
everything
.”

Amber shrugged. “We’re tacky, Ethan. Clichéd. Among the sups, not authentic enough. Among the vampires, a little too authentic. Cadogan House is old news.” Amber looked up, and her eyes gleamed with something—hope, maybe? “We need change. Direction. She can give us that.”

Ethan froze, scanned her face. “She?”

Amber shrugged and, when a car door slammed shut, popped up her head. “That’s my cue to go. You should listen, love.” She leaned in, brushed a kiss against his cheek, and whispered something I couldn’t hear. And then she was off, and he let her go, let her walk away. Not the decision I would have made, but traipsing after her, giving her the beat down she deserved, would have given away my position. And if the car door was any indication, the fun was only just beginning.

It took only seconds for her to reach him, to walk—lithe and catlike—toward Ethan. Her black hair was up in a snug knot at the crown of her head, held by long silver pins. She was dressed like a dominatrix masquerading as a secretary—impossibly tight pencil skirt, black stockings with a back stitch that ran the length of her legs, patent black stiletto heels with ankle straps, and a tucked-in snug white blouse. I half expected a riding crop, but didn’t see one. Left it in the car, maybe.

Celina walked toward Ethan, and stopped four feet in front of him, one hand on a cocked hip. And then she spoke, her voice smoky and fluid like old Scotch.

“Darling, you’re out here all alone. It’s dangerous at night.”

Ethan didn’t move. They faced each other silently for a moment, magic swirling and flaring between them, spilling its tendrils through the trees. I ignored it, had to resist the urge to brush the wispy breeze of it away with a hand.

But I used the cover of their distraction, slipped the cell phone from my pocket, and texted a phrase to Catcher and Luc:
CELINA EVIL.
God willing, they’d send out the troops.

“You look surprised to see me,” she said, then chuckled. “And certainly surprised to see Amber. All women, human or vampire, are looking for something more, Ethan. Something better. It was naive of you to have forgotten that.”

Wow. Nothing like a little sexism to cap off the night.

Celina sighed her disappointment, then began to circle his body. Ethan’s head turned slowly, his gaze following her as she moved. She stopped next to him, her back to me.

“Chicago is at a crossroads,” she said. “We are the first city with a visible vampire population. And we were the first to announce our existence. Why take the risk? Because as long as we stayed quiet, we were destined to remain in shadow, to be subservient to the human world. It was time for us to step forward. It is time for us to flourish. We can’t erase history”—she paused, gazed at him solemnly—“but we can
make
it.”

Celina began to move again, circling his body until she stood on his other side.. The sound of her voice was muffled, but I caught enough.