by Хлоя Нейл
“I know she’s going to be good,” I agreed. “It scares me on a daily basis. Who’s the Golden Child?”
“Lacey Sheridan.”
I’d heard that name but couldn’t place it. “Who’s Lacey Sheridan?”
“The Master Ethan nominated. Master of Sheridan House.”
“Ah,” I said, understanding dawning. I remembered seeing the House name in the Canon. There were twelve vampire Houses in the United States. Sheridan was the newest.
“Lacey was in Cadogan for twenty-five years before Ethan nominated her for Testing. She passed, and Ethan Apprenticed her before she took the Rites. Then she moved to San Diego, opened Sheridan House. They were close, he and Lacey.”
“Business partner close or . . . ?”
“Touchy-feely close,” Lindsey said. “And that was unfortunate.”
I didn’t disagree. Something twinged in my chest at the thought of Ethan being touchy-feely with anyone, and that was despite the fact that I’d been a firsthand witness to the act. Nevertheless, I asked, “Why unfortunate?”
Linds frowned, seemed to consider the question as she stirred her oatmeal.
“Because Lacey Sheridan was picture-perfect,” she finally said. “Tall, thin, blond hair, blue eyes. Always respectful, always acquiescent. ‘Yes, Liege,’ ‘No, Liege.’ She always wore the right thing, looked like she’d stepped out of an Ann Taylor catalog. Always said the right thing. It was unnatural. She was probably barely human even when she was one.”
“Ethan must have been crazy about her,” I said, thinking she was the kind of woman he’d prefer to prefer. Elegant. Classy. And, I thought, as I nipped the end of a strip of bacon, acquiescent.
Lindsey nodded. “ ‘Crazy’ is the word for it. He loved her, I think. In his way.”
I looked up at her, bacon halfway toward its vampiric end. “You’re serious?”
I couldn’t imagine Ethan in love, Ethan letting his guard down. I wouldn’t have figured him capable of trusting someone enough to let the man inside him peek through.
Well, except for those weird few moments with me, and he never seemed happy about those.
“Aspen-stake serious,” Lindsey said. “When he realized how strong she was—she’s rated a Very Strong Psych—he took her under his wing. After that, they were constantly together.” She ate another spoonful of oatmeal. “They were like . . . arctic bookends, like some Nordic fairy couple. They were beautiful together, but”—Lindsey shook her head—“she was all wrong for him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Ethan needs someone different than that. He needs a girl who’ll stand up to him, who’ll challenge him. Someone to make him better, more. Not someone who’ll kiss his ass twenty-four/seven and bow to every little suggestion he makes.”
She eyed me speculatively.
I caught the glimmer in her eyes, shook my head. “Don’t even think it. He hates me, I hate him, and acknowledging that’s the only way we stand to work together.”
Lindsey snorted and grabbed a strip of my bacon. “If you hate him, I’ll eat my napkin. And he may hate you, but that’s only skin-deep. That’s only the surface.” She took a bite, shook her head, and waved at me with the rest of it. “No. There’s more to him than meets the eye, Merit. I know it. There’s heat beneath the chill. He just needs . . . reforming.”
I made an impatient gesture. “So tell me more about Lacey.”
“She had friends here, still does, but I thought she was cold. Arrogant. She’s a Weak Physical, but a Very Strong Strat. She’s political through and through. Maneuvering. She always came off as vaguely friendly, but like she was a politician on a campaign stop, like she was going through the motions.” Lindsey paused, looked contemplative, and her voice softened. “She wasn’t kind, Merit. The guards hated her.”
“Because of her attitude?”
“Well, yeah, in part. Look, Ethan rules the House, so he’s kind of . . . separate from the rest of us. And honestly, I’d say the same thing about you. Folks are suspicious about how you made the Sentinel short list, about your family. You’re completely naïve about vamps, and yet you’ve got this historically important position, and although you’re kind of a guard, you’re closer to him than the rest of Luc’s corps.”
I grumbled at that, downed the bacon.
“It’s not like I think you two are doing it,” she said, but she paused, apparently waiting for confirmation.
“We are not ‘doing it,’ ” I said dryly and jammed the little plastic straw into my chocolate milk box. It bore the brunt of the aggression that question always aroused. Tasty, though.
“Just checking,” Lindsey said, hands raised in détente. “And if it helps, they’ll get over it once they get to know you.” She grinned at me, winged up her eyebrows. “I did. Of course, I have excellent taste in friends, but whatever. Not the point. The point is, Lacey was different. Not like us. She was the classic teacher’s pet—wanted to be near Luc, near Ethan, near Malik, constantly near the source of authority. She didn’t hang with us, didn’t work well with us. But,” she said, bobbing her head, “even if she was fake, she was really, really good. Always analyzing. Strategizing. She was a guard, and while she couldn’t have fought off a wet cat, she had the mind for it. Planning. Long-term ramifications. Future steps.”
My next question probably belied my feigned lack of interest. “Why did they break up?”
“He and Lacey? They stopped seeing each other after Testing, when she came back to Cadogan to Apprentice, to get ready for her own House. Word was, it was important to him that they stay professional while she trained. Too much at stake, ha ha, to spend time gazing into each other’s eyes.”
“He wouldn’t care for the emotional interruption,” I agreed.
“I’ve heard he flies out to San Diego occasionally to, what, copulate?” She nodded, grinned. “Yeah. I bet he’d put it like that. Very formal. He and Lacey probably mapped out a contract, probably negotiated terms.”
“Hmm.” I spared myself the embarrassment of considering, exactly, the terms they’d negotiated.
I glanced up, noticed that Malik had walked into the cafeteria. He nodded at me, then made for the buffet line.
Malik—tall, caramel-skinned, handsome, and quiet—was a mystery. In the two months I’d been a member of Cadogan House, I’d had approximately three conversations with him. As Ethan’s Second they shared the bond of House leadership, but they rarely ventured off campus together in order to protect the line of succession should someone make an attempt on Ethan’s life. I had the sense he played the part of CEO and understudy, learning how the House worked, how to manage it, administering the details while Ethan played Chairman of the Board. But I still hadn’t gotten a feel for Malik as a vampire. As a man. The vamps who were obviously well-intentioned—Luc and Lindsey came to mind—were easy to spot, as were the overtly strategic ones—Ethan and Celina. But Malik was so reserved that I wasn’t sure where he fit in. Where his allegiances lay.
Of course, he and Ethan did have one thing in common—excellent taste in Armani. Malik wore a suit as crisp and pristine as Ethan’s usually were.
I watched him move through the line, but his eyes were on the vampires around him. He was all business around Ethan—at least when I’d seen them together—but he was downright friendly with the other Cadogan vamps. They approached him as he selected his breakfast, said hello, chatted. Interestingly, while the other Cadogan vamps tended to give Ethan a kind of respectful distance, they went to Malik. Talked to him, joked with him, shared a camaraderie they didn’t afford their Master.
“How long has Malik been Second?” I asked Lindsey.
She swallowed bacon, then lifted her gaze to where he stood in line, chatting with a vampire I didn’t know. “Malik? Right after the House was moved to Chicago. ’83.”
That’s 1883, not 1983, for those of you following along at home.
“Ethan picked Chicago, you know. Once Peter Cadogan died, he wanted the House out
of Wales, out of Europe. Malik lived in Chicago. He was an orphan.”
“He lost his parents?” I asked. “How awful.”
“Wrong kind of orphan. He was a Rogue. Houseless. A vampire orphan. His Master wasn’t strong enough to keep her House together, and she was ix-nayed by a rival.” Lindsey held her fist to her chest, mimicking a staking. “Then he and Ethan met, and the rest is history.”
“Do you know him? Well, I mean?”
“Malik? Sure. Malik’s great.” Lindsey checked her watch, then finished a glass of water before rising and picking up her tray. “So, there’s three hundred and nineteen other vampires affiliated with Cadogan House. Suggestion?”
I looked up at her, nodded.
“Consider the possibility that they’d like to get to know you if you gave them a chance.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said, and followed her out.
CHAPTER 6
THE RETURN OF THE PRINCE
I woke bright and early—or maybe more accurately, dark and late—the next night. It was my turn on guard duty, patrolling the blocks-wide grounds around Cadogan House, keeping an eye out for breaches of the ten-foot-high wrought-iron fence that kept intruders out and vampires in.
In a city of supernatural weirdos, one had to stay alert.
I got up and showered in the tiny bathroom, completed the few girly tasks in my repertoire, then climbed into my Cadogan suit, complete with belted katana and my own Cadogan medal, given to me by Ethan during my Commendation into the House. I brushed my long, dark hair until it shone, pulled it into a high ponytail and combed through my bangs. Vampirism added a new glow to my complexion, so I added only a little blush and lip gloss for shine.
Once I was prettied up and well armed, I headed for my door, then glanced down as colors caught my eye.
Mail lay in a pile in front of the door. Figuring it had been delivered while I was in the shower, I leaned down to pick up a J.Crew catalog forwarded from Mallory’s and an envelope of thick linen paper. The stock was heavy and nubby, and undoubtedly expensive. I slipped open the flap and peeked inside. It was the promised invite to the Brecks’, probably messengered by my mom while the sun was still above the horizon.
I guessed the Breckenridge gala was a done deal, unfortunately. I dropped the catalog on the bed, pocketed the invite, and was about to head downstairs when my cell phone rang. I slipped it from my pocket, then glanced at the screen. Morgan.
“Good evening,” he said, when I flipped open the phone.
Cell at my ear, I headed into the hallway, then closed the door behind me. “Good evening back,” I replied. “What’s new in Navarre House?”
“In Navarre, not much yet. Still early. We try not to start the dramatics until closer to midnight.”
“I see,” I said with a chuckle, as I took the hallway to the main stairs.
“The thing is, I’m not actually at Navarre House. I took a field trip south. I’m actually a little more in the vicinity of Cadogan House.”
I stopped at the staircase, hand on the railing. “How much in the vicinity of Cadogan House?”
“Come outside,” he said, voice playful. Invitational. Curiosity piqued, I closed the phone and slipped it into my pocket, then took the stairs at a trot. The first floor was still quiet, vamps not quite up from their midday naps. I headed for the front door, then opened it and stepped outside onto the small stone portico.
He stood on the sidewalk, halfway between the front door and the gate. He was dressed in his typical style—runway rebel. Designer jeans, square-toed shoes, a short-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his lean form, and a wide leather watch on his left wrist.
I always seemed to forget the soul-stealing grin and those baleful bedroom eyes when I was away from Morgan, my mind usually preoccupied with other vampire antics. My heart tripped at the remembrance of exactly how pretty he was.
And in his hand, a vase of flowers. The vase was slender, a milky-colored glass. The flowers were puffs of color, peonies or ranunculus or some other explosion of petals on slender green stems. They were beautiful. And a little unexpected.
“Hi,” he said when I went to him, smiling slyly. “I’m not sure I’ve seen you in your Cadogan black.” He tugged at the lapel of my coat, then wet his lips in obvious appreciation. “You look very . . . official.”
I rolled my eyes at the flirtation, but could feel the heat rise on my cheeks. “Thank you,” I said, then bobbed my head toward the flowers. “I assume those aren’t for Ethan?”
“You would be correct. I know I didn’t call, and I have to get going—I’ve got a meeting—but wanted to bring you something.” He looked down at them, his grin a bit sheepish. A little goofy. A little heartrending. “I decided you needed a housewarming gift.”
I grinned back at him. “You mean other than the life-sized poster of you that you already gave me?”
“Well, not that that wasn’t a fantastic present, but I had something a little more . . . feminine in mind.” With that, he handed over the vase, then leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek. “Welcome to the life of vampires, Merit.” When he leaned back again, the smile on his face made it clear he meant the welcome sincerely. Morgan was a vampire’s vampire, a believer. By moving into the House, I’d made a new commitment to the fraternal order of vampires, and that obviously meant something to him.
“Thank you,” I said, the vase warm beneath my fingers, the heat of his touch—and the slightest tingle of magic—still lingering there.
He gazed at me for a moment, heartfelt emotion in his eyes, then shook it off as his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his jeans pocket, then glanced at the screen. “Gotta take this,” he said, “and gotta run.” He leaned forward and—ever so softly—pressed his lips to mine. “Goodbye, Merit,” he said, then turned and trotted back down the sidewalk and disappeared through the gate.
I stood there for a moment, playing emotional catch-up. He drove down from Navarre House just to surprise me with flowers. Flowers. And not, It’s-Valentine’s-Day-and-I-feel-obligated flowers. These were just-because flowers.
I had to give him props—the boy was good.
Interestingly, as Morgan walked out, Kelley walked in in full Cadogan attire, katana in one hand, a slender clutch purse in the other. It was interesting because Kelley, like the rest of the guards, lived in Cadogan House. Since the sun had fallen beneath the horizon only an hour ago, I had to wonder where—or with whom—she’d spent the daylight hours.
“Nice flowers,” she said as she reached me on the sidewalk. “A gift from the new Master of Navarre?”
“Apparently so,” I said, turning to follow her into the House.
Those few words were all I got, as she immediately pulled out her own cell phone and slid open the keyboard, keys clicking as she walked. Kelley wasn’t much for chatting.
“Good day?” I asked her, as we took the stairs to the basement.
She paused as we reached the landing between the floors and tilted her head thoughtfully, inky dark hair falling over her shoulder as she moved. “You’d be amazed,” she said throatily, then continued her trot to the basement.
I stood on the stairs for a moment, watching her descend, curiosity killing my cat, then made myself get to work. Even though it was only just past dawn, the Ops Room was already abuzz with activity. Lindsey and Juliet were already at their respective stations, Juliet perusing the Web, probably doing research. Lindsey was on environs duty, staring intently at a bank of closed-circuit monitors while speaking quietly but steadily into the earpiece-and-microphone duo that curled around her ear.
I put the flowers on the conference table, then went to the hanging wall of folders that held instructions, announcements, dossiers, and anything else Luc felt we needed to know. Inside was a single sheet of daffodil-colored paper. It bore two simple, ominous sentences: “Celina Desaulniers released. Expect Chicago infiltration.”
I glanced at the rest of the folders; each held the same yellow sheet. Ethan m
ust have spread the news. The word was out, and so was the warning. Celina was probably on her way . . . if she wasn’t here already.
With that motivation in mind, I decided it was time to do my Sentinel duty. I started with my homework, handing the Breck invitation to Luc. “For Ethan,” I told him. “Friday night with the Breckenridges.”
He peeked inside the envelope, then nodded. “Fast work, Sentinel.”
“I’m a goddess among vampires, Boss.” That bit done, I grabbed a slim earpiece-and-microphone set from a rack, slipped it over my ponytail, and walked to Lindsey’s monitor.
“Hot shit on duty,” Lindsey said, and my earpiece crackled to life.
“Sentinel,” acknowledged a gravelly voice from the earpiece. That gravelly voice belonged to one of the RDI fairies at the Cadogan gate. They kept watch on the grounds while we slept (or not, in Kelley’s case) and stood point at the gate twenty-four/seven. The earpieces kept us all in contact in the event of a supernatural catastrophe. As I’d once told Mallory, you never knew when giant winged nasties were going to swoop down from the sky and snatch up a vampire.
Did I have a great job, or what?
Sucking in a breath, I adjusted my earpiece, tweaked Lindsey’s blond ponytail, and headed for the door. “I’m on my way up,” I said into the tiny jaw mic. “Be there in two.”
“Pack your lipstick,” Luc threw out.
Like Lindsey, Juliet, and Kelley, I looked back at him. “Lipstick?”
“Paparazzi,” he said. “RDI herded them together, but they’re standing at the corner.” He half smiled. “And they’ve got cameras.”
Kelley glanced back from her computer monitor. “I saw them on the way in. Maybe a dozen.” She turned back to her computer. “All eager for images of Chicago’s new favorites,” she grumbled.
I stood in the doorway for a minute, hoping for a little more direction from Luc—what the hell was I supposed to do with paparazzi?—but got nothing until he shooed me toward the door.
“You’ve read your talking points, I hope,” he said. “Go forth and . . . Sentinelize.” It wasn’t until I was out of the room and on my way toward the stairs, when I heard words yelled behind me. “And no ass pictures, Sentinel!”