by Neill, Chloe
He strode to me, took my chin in hand, forced my gaze to his.
“That woman’s personal failures are not your responsibility. Nor would the death of Harold Monmonth by your hand have changed anything. Except that it would be you heading to prison, rather than me.”
“My father could have kept me out.”
Ethan’s eyes cooled. “Perhaps. Perhaps he would have. Perhaps he’d have bribed Kowalcyzk to keep you out. And if he had? And assuming she’d actually accept it, he’d consider the bribe a loan, and he’d exact payback, come hell or high water. You’ve owed a favor to a very powerful individual, Merit. You know how oppressive that feels.”
He was right, but that only made it worse. There was no knight in shining armor who could rescue him, no trick of Chicago politics—and there were a lot of tricks in that particular bag—that would keep him out of prison. We’d already used the chit in our possession, the fact that Detective Jacobs didn’t blindly follow the mayor’s dictates, and the reprieve had been only temporary.
I nodded. “I know you’re right. I just want things to be different.”
He put his forehead against mine. “We cannot change the world, Merit. We do what we can in our small corner, and we act with honor. We rise to the occasion, and we do our best.”
He kissed me. “That is what we will do for now. Our best. Get dressed. Message Catcher and make sure he knows what’s going on. Message Jonah and let him know we’re coming back. I’ll talk to Gabriel. This is going to require some finessing.”
I nodded. “I’ll pack, get our stuff together.”
He looked at me, considered. “Actually, I think I’d prefer you go with me. You are his kitten, after all.”
I humphed. I was nobody’s kitten.
• • •
We found him in the kitchen with Tanya and Connor, who sat in a high chair with bright orange goo smeared across his face. He gargled happily when we walked in.
“Vampires,” Gabe said, offering Connor another spoonful of orange goo. “What brings you by?”
“Are you hungry?” Tanya asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. “The staff’s asleep, but we could find you something.”
“We’re good, thank you. We actually wanted to talk to you about leaving. Things have come to a head in Chicago—and we believe the carnival is headed there anyway. We’d like to return, as well.”
“A head?” Gabe asked.
“The mayor had roughed up Scott Grey. Tonight, they raided Navarre House.”
“She’s not playing around to get you back.”
“No, she is not. And others have taken the brunt of this particular experiment long enough.”
Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah, running isn’t really your style.” He smiled at Connor, who mawed the mouthful of goo with bright and happy eyes. “Kid loves carrots. Craziest thing. Tanya and I both hate them.”
He used the rubber edge of the spoon to clean up Connor’s mouth, then passed the utensil to Tanya and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel.
“The Pack is gone,” he said. “You upheld your deal to investigate while they were here. And when the elves were attacked in daylight, they knew it wasn’t your doing. The Brecks haven’t left, obviously, but solving a mystery isn’t going to change their minds about you.”
“No,” Ethan said. “I imagine it will not.”
“And you still have the elves to sate,” Gabriel said. “You owe them Niera, or we’ll all have hell to pay.”
I imagined Chicago overrun with androgynous bow-and-arrow-wielding elves. Considering the state of their technology, couldn’t the military handle them easily?
Ethan looked at me. “I know what you’re thinking, Sentinel. That they’d be no match for black helicopters. But locusts do not need weapons to constitute a plague. They only have to be themselves.”
A potent metaphor.
“Safe travels and good luck,” Gabriel said, standing and offering each of us a hand. “You do your species proud.”
“Call me the next time you’re in the city,” Ethan said, then slid his gaze to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss.”
Gabriel smiled wolfishly. “So we do, Sullivan. So we do.”
• • •
I let Ethan drive back to Chicago. Considering his looming incarceration, it seemed only fair.
I also let him select the channel, and he found a station playing hard-driving Chicago- and Delta-style blues. The songs were grim, their lyrics telling tales of love and love lost, of heartache and adversity. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his gaze on the road, but he seemed buoyed by the music, by the reminders that hard times were universal, but time always marched on. Usually in twelve bars.
Ethan pulled directly into the House garage and parked the car in the spot he’d given me—but solely for the protection of Moneypenny. Ethan keyed us into the House but paused before ascending the stairway to the first floor, clearly contemplating what he was about to do.
“Maybe we should take the back stairway,” I suggested. “We can put down our bags, and you can have a few minutes to collect yourself.”
He looked back at me, smiled. I caught a brief flicker of gratitude in his eyes, as if he’d had the same thought but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without appearing cowardly.
We walked to the other end of the basement and the service stairway, climbed to the third floor, and then walked down the hallway to our apartments. The House smelled faintly like cinnamon and flowers, and none of the faint animal tang that permeated the Brecks’.
We found the apartments just as we’d left them. Cool, dark, beautifully appointed. The furniture was European, the ceilings high, the walls painted in warm colors. A vase of hothouse peonies sat on a side table, filling the room with the smell of flowers and the spring that would soon be approaching.
Ethan put his bag on the bed and walked to one of the windows, then pulled back the lush silk and velvet drapes that covered it. I dropped my bag and followed him, let him gather me into his arms as he stared out into the night. Unlike at the Brecks’ estate, there was light aplenty in Chicago. We were in the middle of a residential neighborhood, with the lights of downtown in the distance. Snow still covered the grounds that surrounded the House, giving it an ethereal glow.
Ethan sighed, embraced me tighter.
“She can’t hold you forever. There’s no evidence.”
“She shouldn’t,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t try. Especially if she’s squawking about domestic terrorism and ignoring the city’s other problems in the meantime.”
“As long as she doesn’t mess up your pretty face.”
Ethan leaned back and peered at me. “My pretty face?”
“I’m dating you because you make good arm candy.”
He made a dubious sound, squeezed me one more time, and then let me go. “We have the city’s best lawyers,” he said. “We’ll hope that will be enough.”
I hoped he was right, but hope wasn’t going to bring him home again.
Chapter Fifteen
PARTING IS SUCH (BITTER)SWEET SORROW
Ethan changed from his jeans and shirt into a button-down shirt, black pants, and a suit jacket with modern lines and a fashionably snug fit. He pulled back his hair, then glanced at me.
“You’re incredibly handsome for a felon and terrorist,” I told him, hoping to get a smile. I got an arched eyebrow, which was good enough.
We descended the stairs together, fingers linked. The foyer was full of vampires, and I had a sudden sympathy for the wives of discredited politicians who’d made similar appearances, trying to maintain a pleasant smile while lawyers and vampires mingled at the bottom of the stairs like sharks preparing to feed.
The magic in the air was frazzled and nervous, flitting about the room like stinging bolts of lightning. Ethan’s vam
pires were nervous, and understandably so.
“Andrew,” Ethan said, extending a hand to the man in the very well-cut black suit who stood beside Malik and Luc. He had dark skin, short hair, and a French-cut goatee that joined the moustache above his lip. His eyes were dark and set beneath a dark brow. His expression was serious.
“Ethan,” he said, and they shook hands heartily. “You’re ready?”
Ethan nodded, put a hand at the small of my back. “Andrew, my significant other. Merit. She stands Sentinel for the House. Merit, this is Andrew Bailey of Fitzhugh and Meyers.”
Andrew and I shook hands as he gave me an efficient appraisal. “A pleasure to meet you, although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
“Same here,” I said.
He glanced at Ethan. “Why don’t we talk for a few minutes? I’d like to explain how this will proceed.”
“My office,” Ethan said, then glanced back at the other vampires in the foyer, who’d gathered a second time in just a few days to ensure his safety and see him off.
“I won’t leave without saying good-bye,” Ethan said with a smile, which made them chuckle in relief. “We’ll discuss the details and be back shortly.”
Ethan shined in times of crisis. He knew when others needed him to be strong, and he filled that role with aplomb.
I followed Ethan, Andrew, Luc, and Malik to the office, squeezing Lindsey’s hand as we passed her on the way.
“Glad you got home safely,” she whispered, and I nodded.
The décor in Ethan’s office matched the rest of the House. European furniture, careful accessories, built-in shelves of beautiful wood, and vases of flowers. His desk filled the front right side of the room, a conversation area the left. There was a conference table across the back.
Luc headed directly for the bar tucked into the built-in bookshelves on the far side and poured amber liquor into a short glass. He downed it immediately.
“Rough week, Lucas?” Ethan asked with a smirk.
“Yes,” Luc said, drinking another finger of Scotch before putting the bottle away again.
“Navarre’s status?” Ethan asked.
“The vampires are back in the House, but they’re basically under House arrest. Grey took in six vampires—folks who were away when the raid happened and didn’t want to go back.”
Ethan looked at Andrew. “They’ll release Navarre House if I go in? And please take a seat, or have a drink if you’d like. The bar is open.”
“I’m fine, and I’d rather stand if you don’t mind.”
Ethan nodded, and we all stayed standing. This didn’t seem like the time to get comfy on the couch. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to relax.
“To your question, yes: Kowalcyzk’s representatives have advised the units will have no further interest in Navarre if you go in.”
I guess that confirmed Kowalcyzk’s extortion.
“We’re communicating with Navarre’s lawyers, so we can ensure she actually keeps her promise. They’re relieved that you’re here.”
“Understandable,” Ethan said. “And when I go in?”
“You’ll be interviewed about the death of Harold Monmonth,” Andrew said. “But not by the CPD. They still have a warrant for your arrest, but the mayor is using her domestic terrorism task force to conduct these interviews. That takes them outside the purview of the CPD, which is unfortunate, as I understand you have allies there.”
“Some,” Ethan said. “Although likely enemies as well.”
Andrew nodded. “The firm has contacts in Homeland Security, and I’ve contacted them, requested they make contact with the mayor’s office, provide some oversight. I don’t know how far that will go, but I prefer to have the protections in place rather than leaving an ambitious politician with no evidence and less foresight in charge.”
“Our opinions align,” Ethan said.
“The interview will take place at the Daley Center,” Andrew continued. That building held the city and county offices. “I won’t be in the interview room with you—no right to a lawyer as a suspected domestic terrorist—but I’ve arranged for the room to have two-way glass. I’ll be outside. They’ll keep you there until they’re satisfied they’ve gotten the answers they want, even if it means the sun’s in the sky.”
“They have a dark room?” Malik asked.
“They do. They understand you’re essentially unconscious, not by choice, when the sun comes up. They’ve arranged for a room without windows so you can bed down. And the interview room doesn’t have windows, either, just in case they decide to get creative around sunrise.”
We were capable of being conscious during the day, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I’d been kept forcibly awake once and preferred not to repeat it.
I started to speak, found my voice trembled, and started again. “And if they assault Ethan?”
Andrew leveled dark eyes at me. “Then we take the city for everything they’re worth, and we have evidence to expose Chicago for the tragedy that’s occurring here.”
We looked at each other for a moment. He was giving me, I realized, time to consider him, to evaluate him, to trust that he would care for Ethan as I did. I wasn’t eager to give Ethan up to anyone, but I was immediately glad he had this man in his corner.
I nodded, breaking the spell and offering my trust. “How long will they hold him?”
“Under current law, until they’re satisfied he isn’t a threat. There’s an obvious self-defense argument here, especially considering Monmonth’s violence against the humans before he even got inside the gate. And we have the security video of all the above, although Kowalcyzk’s office has rejected it.” The flat tone of his voice left little doubt about how much he respected that particular decision.
“We’ll push to get him released after twenty-four hours,” he said. “And the entire firm is on call, so if the House needs anything, wants an update, they can contact us. I think that’s everything for now, unless you have other questions?”
Ethan blew out a breath, shook his head, stiffened his shoulders. “I believe that’s it.” He looked at Malik. “Lakshmi?”
“Still standing by,” Malik said. “Considering her willingness to delay presenting the GP’s demands, I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve actually made any.”
I worked studiously to avoid looking at Ethan, afraid my expression would give something away. I hadn’t actually told him that Lakshmi was the vampire to whom I’d owed a favor, or the one who supported him, but it probably wouldn’t be difficult for him to ferret that out. Especially if he could read it in my face.
“I’ve no doubt she has her own agenda,” Ethan said. “But there seems little doubt she’s also here as an envoy. If they hadn’t sent her, they’d have sent someone else.” He frowned, scratched his temple absently, glanced at Malik.
“If she gets impatient, meet with her. Better to give her a meeting of some type than have her declaring war.”
“Of course.”
“Anything else?” Ethan asked, glancing around, but no one said anything. “In that case, Malik, you have the House,” he said. As often happened, something quiet passed between them, a ceremonial transfer of power, or perhaps a quick, silent prayer for the safety of themselves, the House, and the Novitiates who dwelled within it.
Ethan buttoned his suit jacket, adjusted his pocket square. “I believe we’re ready.”
Ethan emerged from the room as he had three days ago, to nervous looks of vampires waiting outside his office. Last time he was running from the very thing he’d committed to do tonight.
He took my hand in his, and together we walked down the hallway, Cadogan’s vampires sharing their support.
“We love you, Liege,” they said as we passed.
“You’ll get through this.”
“The House will get through this,
Liege.”
They patted his back, touched his arm. Two offered embraces, then quickly stepped back into line. They’d lost him a few months ago and had miraculously gotten him back. They weren’t eager to give him up again.
When we reached the foyer, the crowd thinned to give him access to the front door. He squeezed my hand, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that filled my eyes.
“You’re ready?” Andrew asked, opening the door to escort him out.
“A moment,” Ethan said.
And there in the foyer, with half the House’s vampires looking on, he put his hands on my face, and he kissed me. The kiss was soft but insistent. Ethan Sullivan did not hesitate to demonstrate to the House exactly how he felt about me.
The magic in the room transmuted, became less about fear than hope. Somehow, because they’d seen Ethan kiss me, they calmed. Perhaps because of the reminder that he had every incentive to come back healthy and whole.
After a moment he pulled back, his hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking my jaw.
Be careful, Sentinel, he silently said. The kiss had been for the House; the words were just for us. Guard Malik, the House, yourself.
You be careful, too.
I’ve every intention of it, he said with a smile. He pressed another kiss to my lips—softer, sweeter—before releasing me and walking toward the door.
There, with his hand on the frame, he turned back and faced his vampires.
“What happens outside these doors is not relevant,” he said. “It is how you respond to them, how you move forward, that reveals your character.
“You are Cadogan vampires. You are honorable, brave . . . and more stylish than most.” He got the chuckle he’d undoubtedly wanted. “To that end, and to remind you who you are, we have something to share.”
Malik walked forward with a box in hand, one that I recognized from our apartments. He opened it, pulled out a silver pendant on a chain, which gleamed like quicksilver beneath the foyer chandelier. Our previous House medals, circular disks inscribed with our positions and the House’s GP registration number, were outdated since we’d ditched the GP. These pendants, silver droplets with the House’s name and our positions etched into the back, would be the new reminders of our vampiric family.