Wild Things

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 vampires 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.

There were sparks of excitement in the hallway.

“We’d hoped our provision of these medals would be in a slightly more formal occasion,” Ethan said. “But it is the symbol that matters, not the pomp and circumstance.”

Ethan leaned forward, and Malik clasped the first pendant around Ethan’s neck, which shined like a droplet of silver blood at the base of his throat. There was something nearly sensuous about the curve of it and the way it settled perfectly there.

Helen, the House’s den mother, appeared at Ethan’s side in her typical tweed suit, a basket of small crimson jewelry boxes on her arm. She began handing out the boxes to the Novitiates in the foyer.

“Be strong,” Ethan said, glancing across the room and meeting my gaze with a short and decisive nod. “I’ll be back soon enough.” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed, disappearing from view.

Fear tightened my chest.

Lindsey stepped beside me, put an arm around my waist. Luc took point at my other side.

“He’ll come through this,” Luc assured me. “He’s a soldier. He is trained and can endure much.”

“I don’t want him to endure anything. I don’t want his life, his well-being, to be fodder for someone else’s political career.” Keep him safe, I thought, pleading to the universe and whatever gods inhabited it. Please keep him safe.

“We know you don’t,” Luc said, patting my back tenderly and a little awkwardly. “But he is Master of this House, and he does what he must to protect it. It’s the life he chose to lead.”

“Because he can handle it,” Lindsey said.

“He definitely can. There are stories I could tell you.”

“Your stories are always disgusting,” Lindsey said, reaching around me to poke him in the shoulder. “And they usually involve bordellos. I don’t think that’s really going to help Merit.”

It actually did help Merit, and I chuckled a little in spite of myself. “Bordellos? Really?”

“Chicago had its share once upon a time,” Luc said with a shit-eating grin that earned an eye roll from Lindsey. “There was this one, Ruby Red’s. Every single girl was a redhead, natural or otherwise.”

I held up a hand. “I don’t need the specifics. I just want Ethan to be okay.”

Luc looked earnestly at me. “Merit, of all the vampires in the world, who else is stubborn and pretentious enough to stand up to a self-righteous prig like Diane Kowalcyzk?”

He had a point there.

• • •

Since there was no use in spending the hours of Ethan’s incarceration staring at the door like loyal hounds waiting for him to return, we received our House medals, clasped them on, and walked back downstairs to the basement, where the Ops Room was located. Much like the Brecks’, Cadogan’s Ops Room was where Luc and his guards held court and monitored security. It was also, appropriately enough, where we planned operations against House enemies, and it was home to the whiteboard we used to work through our investigations.

Like the ops room in the Breck house, it was all about tech. A conference room where we could plan, a large screen on the back wall for videos, monitoring, considering evidence. Computer stations lined the walls, where vampires could keep an eye on the House’s security cameras or do research.

I walked to the conference table, prepared to take a seat, but stopped, trying to make sense of what I saw on the tabletop.

A bag of kettle-style salt-and-vinegar potato chips had been slit down the middle and lay in the middle of the table. The chips had been pushed to one side, and the other bore a puddle of ketchup. I had, as I assumed did most people, a love-hate relationship with salt-and-vinegar potato chips. But the ketchup was new. And, frankly, a blasphemy.

“What’s this?” I asked, swirling a finger in the air above what I assumed was intended to be a “snack.”

“That,” Luc said, “is a bit of a miracle. Brody introduced us. Say hi, Brody.”

Brody, blond, thin, and as tall as a skyscraper, sat at one of the computer stations that lined the room. He was one of the Novitiates Luc had temporarily hired to help with House security since we were down a couple of full-time guards. He’d been a member of Cadogan House for fourteen years, a Yale graduate and former Olympic swimmer whose athletic career had been ended by a drunk driver. He’d applied for House membership in the hopes of finding a new kind of team.

Brody turned and waved with a charming smile. “’S’up.”

“We’re thinking about bringing him on board full-time,” Luc said, gesturing toward the snacks. “He shared this little nugget in his interview.”

“It’s pretty good,” Brody said. He stood up—I nearly winced at the possibility he’d knock his head on the ceiling—then walked over and dipped two chips in the ketchup, popped the concoction in his mouth. “You’re missing out.”

I was an adventurous eater, but pairing potato chips and ketchup was going to require a paradigm shift I wasn’t currently prepared to entertain.

I sat down at the conference table, put my hands flat on the tabletop. “Let’s talk about the carnival.”

Luc and Lindsey joined me. Luc dipped a chip into the ketchup, ate it with a grin while I looked on. “Mmm,” he said, earning an elbow from Lindsey.

“Maybe you’ll want to skip the noshing and ask the rest of the gang to join us?”

“You’re no fun, Sentinel,” he said, but pushed the dials on the phone and conferenced them in.

“This is Luc in the Cadogan Ops Room,” he said with faux gravity, “dialing you in to discuss the carnival investigation by direct order from the Sentinel of Cadogan House.”

I glanced mildly at Lindsey. “Did you spike his blood with caffeine?”

“Die Hard marathon was on TV last night,” she said. “He’s been weaponized since then.”

Jeff, Catcher, and Paige offered their hellos through the conference phone.

“No librarian?” Jeff asked, when he didn’t say hello.

“He’s back in the stacks looking through newspapers,” Paige said with amusement. “And not to be disturbed.”

“You’re a better woman than I am, Paige,” Luc said, earning curious glances from all of us. Thankfully, he moved on. “Let’s talk carnival, folks.”

As if optimism and preparation would be enough to make developments happen, I moved to the whiteboard, marker in hand.

“We’ve identified not so much a pattern, but a path,” Paige said. “The carnival basically treks back and forth across the upper Midwest once a season. They go out as far as Montana, then come back as far east as Ohio. They ignore the seasons—hold carnivals year-round.”

“I suppose the hunt for supernaturals doesn’t have a season,” Luc grimly said.

“That’s what it looks like,” Paige agreed.

“What about Chicago?” I asked.

“They hit it once every season, and it’s always after Loring Park.”

“Good,” Luc said. “Good find. Where do they go?”

“We’ve identified four possible spots so far. Two of them don’t exist anymore. They were parking lots, but they’ve been built over. They also camped near Prospect Park and the grounds of St. Athenogenus—it’s a Catholic school in West Town. Arthur’s looking for any additional stops in Chicago. But since they aren’t online, he has to go through the actual papers and microfiche.”

I held up a hand. “I’m sorry—Arthur?”

There was silence for a moment as we all leaned eagerly toward the phone, awaiting confirmation that the librarian actually had a name.

“Oh, crap,” Paige said, and I could imagine her wince through the phone. “I was not supposed to say that. He prefers to go by his title, for the respect, you know. He’s ‘the librarian.’ But I’ve gotten so used to calling him Arthur.”

“We’ll stick with ‘librarian,’” Luc said, smiling at the rest of us. We’d all heard the name; there’d be no unringing that particular bell.

I added Prospect Park and St. Athenogenus to the whiteboard. “We need to get folks out there right now to check those locations,” I said.

“Don’t need people,” Jeff said. “Got satellites.” The familiar clack of keys echoed through the receiver. He must have been back with his computers, although it occurred to me I wasn’t exactly sure where that was. The Frankensteinian computer he’d used at my grandfather’s house had been torched in the fire.

“Where are you working?” I asked.

“Home,” Jeff said. “My own equipment. Which makes for a change. Differently tactile than the Brecks’ stuff.”

It occurred to me that I had no idea where Jeff actually lived. “And where is home?”

He cleared his throat. “I have a condo in the Loop.”

“Oh?” I asked. “Where?”

“Um, it’s in the Fortified Steel building.”

He said it so quietly the words were garbled, and it took my brain a moment to unscramble them. Fortified Steel was one of Chicago’s most historic buildings, built when the city was a commodities powerhouse. It sat beside the Chicago River, a tall, square column of symmetrical windows with a famous copper dome on top. It was one of the many prestigious addresses in the Loop.

I’d had no idea Jeff had those kinds of resources. And since he’d barely mumbled the address, he apparently didn’t want to discuss it.

“All right,” he said, changing the subject. “I’m pulling satellite images for those locations, popping them up to you.”

The screen behind us turned on with a glow and hum, and two photographs filled it. One was a parking lot, the other a park field still covered in snow. Neither held a hint of a carnival.

“Crap,” Luc said. “That’s a strikeout.”

“Could be they haven’t set up yet,” Brody said. “They only left Loring Park a few hours ago.”

“Good thought from the new guy,” Luc agreed, scanning the photos. “But the equipment has to go somewhere, even if they aren’t open to the public yet. Jeff, can you zoom out? Maybe there are semis parked in a lot nearby.”

Jeff zoomed out both images, giving me an odd sense of vertigo. And it didn’t help substantively, either. Neither image showed anything more than we’d seen before.

“They could be at a different location, or they broke pattern,” Luc said. “Maybe they realized they’d been tagged, decided to go somewhere else. Or maybe they’re lying low for a few days until the heat’s off.”

“Or maybe they’re lying low for a few days because they’re planning the next kidnapping,” I said.

“We’ll keep looking,” Paige said. “And let you know if we find anything.”

“That brings us to the next point,” Luc said. “Catcher, have you had a chance to talk to sups?”

Silence.

“Catcher?”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m here. I was being bugged by a sorceress.”

“I wasn’t bugging anyone,” Mallory, the aforementioned sorceress, said in the background. “I just want you to keep your damn feet off the coffee table. And I don’t care that I don’t sleep here right now. That’s not an excuse.”

“Ah, supernatural love,” Luc said, giving Lindsey a baleful look, which made her roll her eyes. But she still smiled a little.

“Sups,” Catcher said. “Talked to Grey House, asked Jonah to get a message to Navarre, considering. Called the nymphs, River trolls. They haven’t been invited by anyone to a carnival. They didn’t even know one would be going on, especially in February. They’re also on the lookout for unusual magic. They know to call us if anything happens.”

“What about Regan?” I asked. “Jeff, any luck there?”

“I haven’t found anything else,” Jeff said. “Not even a couple of levels down. She’s completely off the radar, or at least under her current name.”

“I might have something,” Catcher said. “Baumgartner recognized the photograph. He didn’t have a name, but he thought she looked like a woman who’d come to the Order four or five years ago looking for membership. Said she had magic, wanted to join up. He did some initial testing, determined she wasn’t a sorceress, and rejected her.”

Luc whistled. “And that, my friends, is what we call a motive. She gets rejected by the Order, decides to start targeting sups.”

“Not all of the people rejected by the Order become serial kidnappers,” Catcher dryly said.

“You weren’t rejected,” Luc said. “You got kicked out for bad behavior.”

“So she’s definitely not a sorceress.” I’d half hoped the sulfuric smell of her had been a coincidence, or malfunctioning HVAC at the grocery story. I guess that was not to be. “That means we have to consider the possibility she’s connected to the Messengers.” And given her skills, the presumptive ringleader of these particular shenanigans.

“That’s impossible,” Mallory said.

“Only in the traditional sense,” Luc said. “Maybe she’s not one of them per se. But she could be a student, a pretender—a kid with magic who wants us to believe that magic is ancient and prestigious. Hell, as little as we know, she could be Seth Tate’s kid, for Christ’s sake.”

Catcher snorted. “In this day and age, any kid of Seth Tate’s would have announced it to the world already.”

“And he’d have told us,” I said. “Maybe not pre-Maleficium, but after it, certainly. If he’d known he had a kid—or a fourth cousin—who could cause trouble for us, he’d have told us.”

Or so I hoped.

Still, I added the possibilities to the whiteboard. “We have to find her,” I said. “Or both of them—Regan and the carnival—before she targets someone else.” And we needed to do that while finding a way to get Ethan out of lockdown before Mayor Kowalcyzk decided to make an example of him.

Luc checked his watch. “We’ll need to do that,” he agreed. “But we’re nearing sunrise, so it’s not going to happen tonight. Let’s pack it in for now, touch base at sunset. Paige, let us know if the librarian finds anything else.”

“Roger that,” she said, and there was a click as she dropped from the call.

We said good-bye to the others, and they dropped off the call as well. Luc’s personal phone rang almost immediately.

“Luc,” he said, lifting it to his ear.

He nodded, listened, spoke quietly with the caller, and after a moment, hung up the phone and looked at us. “That was Will, the guard captain at Navarre. The terrorism squad is packing up at Navarre House.”

That meant Ethan was officially in interview, or in custody, depending on how the mayor’s office was spinning it.

“That’s good news,” Lindsey earnestly said, catching my gaze. “It means she’s sticking to her word. That’s exactly what we want.”

I nodded, but the clenched ball of worry in my stomach didn’t unknot much.

“Why don’t you take some personal time tomorrow at sunset?” Luc said. “You haven’t had a chance to see your grandfather yet. Take an hour—go say hello.”

It was a good idea. I hadn’t had a chance to visit the hospital since he’d been admitted. We’d gotten home too late tonight, but if I went after sunset tomorrow, I could probably catch him during visiting hours. Still, we were in the middle of an investigation.

“Is that a good idea right now? Considering?”

“You need a break,” he said. “And you need to visit your grandfather. Run the carnival bit past him. See if he has any ideas.”

I nodded.

“How about a movie tonight?” Lindsey asked. “We don’t have time for a full run before sunup, but we could fit in half a show, maybe some snacks?”

I thought about the offer. While I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of going back to the apartments alone and spending the entire evening obsessing about Ethan, I also wasn’t up for another night of entertainment. A bottle of Blood4You, roaring fire, and good book seemed like a much better option.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I’ve been surrounded by sups for a few days now. I need a little quiet time.”

Luc chuckled, fingered the new pendant around his neck. “Sentinel, you live in a literal house of vampires. You’re going to be surrounded by sups regardless.”

For better or worse.

• • •

I added what we’d discovered to the whiteboard, said my good nights, and headed upstairs to the first floor. I heard sounds coming from the front parlor and walked toward it.

A dozen Cadogan vampires stood around the television mounted above the fireplace. The TV was tuned to a news station and the coverage of Ethan’s arrival at the Daley Center.

Ethan climbed out of a town car and then walked, Andrew at his side and four officers surrounding him, into what looked like an underground entrance. Reporters who’d staked out the door yelled questions and accusations, wondering why Ethan had killed Harold Monmonth, where he’d been for the last three days, and why he’d finally come back to Chicago. He kept his eyes clear and stared straight ahead, ignoring the questions. But the line between his eyes tightened with each new volley, and it was clear he had plenty of things to say to them.

After a moment, Andrew directed him to stop and faced the camera. With his broad shoulders and intense expression, Andrew looked more like a soldier or bodyguard than a lawyer. But either way, and whatever the reason, he commanded their attention. They quieted immediately.

“Ethan Sullivan is innocent of the various accusations—political, criminal, and otherwise—that have been leveled against him. He is being targeted because he is a vampire, and the mayor’s office, respectfully, is targeting him because she’s looking for a scapegoat. The citizens of Chicago know better, and I’ll be glad when we can put this entire matter to rest.”

The tension in my chest eased just a little. Thinking I’d seen as much as I needed to, I turned to walk away, but the sudden gasps behind me had my heart pounding, and I turned back to look.

“Altercation at Daley Center,” read the screen now, and the footage showed Ethan being escorted into a small room, a table and chairs visible through the door. But there was a bright bruise blooming across his left cheekbone.

Sometime between his arrival at the building and his reaching the interview room, he’d been assaulted. Punishment, maybe, for his refusal to come in earlier, to acquiesce to Kowalcyzk’s request that he sacrifice himself for her political agenda. And if they were knocking him around before he even got into the room, what more did they have planned?

Fear bubbled and spilled over, and I strode from the room before the tears tracked down my face. I made it as far as the stairway, stopping to knuckle away the tears, hoping no one had seen my quick exit or the reason for it. The last thing they needed was to see their Sentinel bawling in fear. There was a place for tears; it wasn’t here, when the House needed its officers to be strong.

An arm wrapped around my shoulder. I looked up, surprised, into Malik’s eyes.

“Are you all right?”

He was so quiet, so reserved, I wouldn’t have expected him to offer physical solace, which made the fact that he had offered it even more meaningful. I had, over the last year, gathered up an assemblage of weird and wonderful friendships. They all had their ups and down, and some of the downs were pretty miserable. But sometimes, times like this, I could just be grateful.

“I’m fine,” I said with a half smile, still swiping at tears. “Long night.”

“No argument there,” he said, but his eyes continued to track my face, as if he wasn’t quite sure I was telling him the entire truth.

“How are you?” I asked. “This can’t be easy, this back-and-forth Masterdom.”

He chuckled, his green eyes crinkled with amusement. “Musical chairs aren’t my preferred method of serving this House.”

“At least you get to keep your rooms,” I said. “And don’t have to move in and out of the Master’s suite.”

“That is some consolation,” he agreed. “Although you have better closets.”

I hadn’t actually seen Malik’s closet, but as Ethan’s was the size of a room in itself and outfitted with lush wood and thick carpet, he was probably right.

“Ethan would be lost without his suits.”

“He would,” Malik agreed, and patted my arm. “He would be lost without many things, including you. Go upstairs. Get a good day’s sleep. This will be over tomorrow, and you and Ethan can enjoy a reunion.”

I thanked him, walked upstairs, and hoped he was right. But I feared in my heart of hearts that we were all underestimating the depth of Kowalcyzk’s ignorance.

• • •

I kept to the plan I’d laid out for Lindsey, snagging a bottle of blood from the tray Margot had left in the apartments and both of the cellophane-wrapped Mallocakes, my favorite processed snack. Chocolate and blood didn’t sound appealing, but it might have been the pinnacle of vampire comfort foods.

I changed into pajamas, nabbing one of Ethan’s button-up shirts, the trace of his cologne lingering even after a wash, and buttoning it on. I turned on the fire in the onyx fireplace with the flick of a switch, and sat down on the rug in front of it, the bottle in hand.

My phone beeped, and I snatched it up greedily, hoping for good news about Ethan. It was Lakshmi, with another favor to ask.

KEEP HIM SAFE, she messaged.

I wanted to call her back, rail at her for standing by while Ethan bore the blame for acts by her colleagues. But vitriol would do no better now than tears. I put the phone aside, but the sting of her words stayed with me.

Wasn’t I trying to keep him safe?

I stared at the fire until the sun rose, watching the forks and tendrils rise and shift and move, letting it blank my mind and send me to sleep.