Chicagoland Vampires - Friday Night Bites Part 23

"Mehw, mehw, mehw," Olivia gleefully sang, hands clapping as I took her in my arms. I was pretty sureshe was singing my name. Olivia, having missed out on the dark-haired Merit gene, was as blond as her father, Major Corkburger, with a halo of curls around her angelic face and bright blue eyes. She was wearing her party best, a sleeveless pale blue dress the same color as Charlotte's, with a wide blue satin ribbon around the waist.

And by the way, yes. My brother-in-law's given name really was Major Corkburger. But for the fact that he was a blond-haired, blue-eyed former college quarterback, I'd have a.s.sumed he got the c.r.a.p beat out of him in high school on a daily basis for that one. Nevertheless, I rarely failed to remind him that he was, in fact, a major Corkburger. I don't think he thought that was funny.

"Why are you going to swear at me?" I asked Charlotte, once I'd arranged Olivia and placed the cloth prophylactically on my shoulder.

"First things first," she said, eyes on Ethan. "We haven't been introduced."

"Oh. Mom, Charlotte, this is Ethan Sullivan."

"Mrs. Merit," Ethan said, kissing my mother's hand. "Mrs. Corkburger." He did the same to my sister, who nibbled the edge of her lip, one eyebrow arched in obvious pleasure.

"It is just . . .lovely to meet you," Charlotte intoned, then crossed her arms. "And how have you been treating my little sister?"

Ethan snuck a glance my way.

Don't look at me, I silently told him, a.s.suming he could hear me.This was your idea. You got yourself into it, so you can get yourself out . I couldn't hold back a grin.

Ethan rolled his eyes, but seemed amused. "Merit is a very unique vampire. She has a certain . . ."

We all leaned forward a little, eager to catch the verdict.

". . . star quality."

He looked at me when he said it, a hint of pride in his emerald green eyes.

I was stunned enough that I couldn't quite manage to get out a thank-you, but there must have been sufficient shock in my eyes that he couldn't have missed it.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Merit," Ethan lied to my mother. She thanked him, and the conversation about the benefits and disadvantages of living in an architectural masterpiece began. I figured that gave me at least ten or fifteen minutes to catch up with Charlotte.

Charlotte looked at him with approval, then smiled smartly at me. "He is delish. Tell me you've hit that."

"Ugh. I have not 'hit that.' Nor do I plan to. He's trouble in a very pretty package."

Head tilted, she gave Ethan's body a complete scan. "Very pretty package indeed. I'm thinking he might be worth the trouble, little sister." She looked back at me, then frowned. "Now, what's going on with you and Daddy? You're fighting, and then you're a vampire, and then you're still fighting, and now, all of a sudden, you're here. At a party. In adress ."

"It's complicated," was my admittedly weak retort.

"You two need to sit down and hash some things out."

"I'm here, aren't I?" She didn't need to know exactly how much I'd dreaded it. "And as for the fighting, he's threatened to disinherit me twice in the last month."

"He threatens to disinherit everyone. You know how he is. You've known for twenty-eight years."

"He hasn't threatened Robert," I pointed out, my voice sounding every bit the petulant little sister.

"Well, obviously not Robert," Charlotte dryly agreed, reaching out to straighten the hem of Olivia's dress. "Dearest Robert can do no wrong. And speaking of family drama, did I get a phone call to tell me my baby sister was a vampire? No. I had to find out from Daddy." She flicked the tip of my ear with her thumb and index finger.

I guess that explained why she wanted to swear at me. "Hey!" I said, covering an ear with my non-baby-cradling hand. "That wasn't funny when I was twelve, and it's not funny now."

"Act your age, and I'll act mine," she said.

"I am acting my age."

"All evidence to the contrary," she muttered. "Just do me a favor, okay?"

"What?"

"Just try, for me? For better or worse, he's the only father you've got. And you're the only immortalMerit, as far as I'm aware anyway. I don't think Dearest Robert has acquired immortality yet, but that might only require a few dollars pressed into the right hands."

I smiled and relaxed a little. Charlotte and I weren't close, but I could appreciate her hands-on approach to sarcasm. And, of course, we shared a heady dose of sibling rivalry with Robert.

"About that immortality thing," she said. "Maybe now is the time for you and Daddy to mend some fences."

My eyes widened at the sudden seriousness in her voice.

"You'll be here longer than the rest of us," she said. "You'll be alive long after we're gone. After I'm gone. You'll watch my children and my grandchildren grow up. You'll watch them, and you'll watch over them. And that's your responsibility, Merit. I know you have duties to your House; I've learned enough in the last two months to understand that. But you're also a Merit, for better or for worse. You have the ability-you're the only one of us who does-to keep them safe."

She let out a haggard sigh, a motherly sigh, and settled serious eyes on her daughter, tugging again at her dress. I wasn't sure if it was a nervous movement, something to do with her hands, or just the simple comforting act of touching her child.

"There are crazy people in the world," she continued. "Being made a vampire certainly doesn't inoculate against crazy. They say-what was her name?"

No need to ask who she meant. "Celina."

"Celina. They say she's been confined, but how would we know that?"

She turned her gaze back on me, and I saw a mother's concern, and a mother's suspicion, in her eyes.

She may have wondered if Celina had been released, but she didn't know. My father, apparently, had kept his word, and hadn't revealed what Ethan had told him.

I could have spilled the beans to Charlotte, told her things that would frighten her further, things that would impress upon her the need to keep her family close, to keep them safe.

Instead, I kept the burden in my hands. "It's taken care of," I said simply.

It wasn't, of course, taken care of. Celina was out there somewhere. She knew where I was, and she probably wasn't above going after my family to show how irritated she was with me. I a.s.sumed that's what I was to her-an irritation. An unfinished project.

But if I could swear two oaths to a stranger-in front of a House full of strangers-I could swear a silent one to Charlotte that I would watch over Olivia and her older brothers and sister, and if I stayed alive long enough, over their children. I could promise that I would stand Sentinel for the family that had given me my name, just as I would for the family I'd given a name for.

"It's taken care of," I repeated, meaning it, instilling my voice with the sincerity of belief that I'd take a stake myself before I'd let anything happen to Olivia.

She looked at me for a long, quiet time, then nodded, our understanding reached, the deal done. "P.S., that dress is foul."

Startled by both the abrupt change in conversation and the comment, I shifted Olivia's weight to the side to look down at my dress.

Charlotte shook her head. "Not yours. Lucy Cabot's." She pointed into the crowd at a woman draped in a polka-dotted tent of organza. "Horrendous. No, yours is lovely. I saw it at Fashion Week, can't remember who designed it. Badgley? I forget. Regardless, your stylist did good." She cast a sly glance back at Ethan, who was chatting up my mother. "And your accessories are fabulous."

"He's not my accessory," I reminded her. "He's my boss."

"He's fine, is what he is. He could s.e.xually hara.s.s me any day."

I glanced down at the youngest Corkburger, who blinked wide blue eyes at me as she gnawed the end of her burp cloth. "Earm.u.f.fs, much?"

"Murf," Olivia said. I wasn't sure if that was gas or an attempt to mimic my words. I bet the latter. Olivia adored me.

"Honey," Charlotte said, "it's the twenty-first century. Vampires are chic, the Cubs have a pennant, and it's perfectly acceptable for a woman to find a man attractive. These are all things my daughter needs to know about.""Especially the Cubs part," I said, waving the burp cloth at Olivia to her joyful cheers. She clapped her hands with the slow awkwardness and simple glee of a child.

"If you could live at Wright and Addison, you would," Charlotte predicted.

"That is true. I do love my Cubbies."

"And so often for naught." She smirked, then clapped her hands and held them out to Olivia, who bounced in my arms and leaned toward her mother, holding out her own hands. "It's been lovely catching up, sister, but I need to get this one home and into bed. Major's home with the rest of the troops. I just wanted to have a chance to say hi and let you visit your favorite niece."

"I love all your children equally," I protested, pa.s.sing back the heavy, warm bundle of baby.

Charlotte snickered and balanced Olivia on her hip. "I'm going to be a good mommy and pretend that's true, whether it is or not. As long as you love my children more than Robert's, we're good." She leaned in, pressed a kiss against my cheek. "Night, little sister. And by the way, if you have the chance with Blondie, take it. Please. For me."

The lascivious look she cast in Ethan's direction when she pulled back left little doubt about what "chance" she meant me to take.

"Good night, Char. My love to Major. Good night, Livie."

"MEWH!" she cried, bouncing on her mother's hip. But the night had apparently taken its toll, and her blond head drooped to Charlotte's shoulder, her eyelids slowly closing. She fought it, I could tell, tried to keep her eyes open and her gaze on the dresses and partygoers around her. But when she popped a thumb into her mouth, I knew she was done. Her lids fell shut and this time stayed there.

Charlotte said her goodbyes to Ethan, managing not to wrap manicured fingers around his a.s.s, and my mother excused herself to see to the rest of her guests.

"You're wearing a very serious expression," Ethan said, reaching my side again.

"I was reminded that I owe certain obligations to my family. That there are services I can provide."

"Because of your immortality?"

I nodded.

"It does impose a sense of obligation to one's family and friends," he agreed. "Just be careful that you don't give in to the guilt of it. That you have been given a gift, even if others cannot share in it, does not diminish its value. Live your life, Merit, the many years of it, and be grateful."

"Has that att.i.tude worked for you?"

"Some days better than others," he admitted, then glanced at me. "I a.s.sume you'll need feeding soon?"

"I'm a girl, not a pet. But, realistically, yes. I pretty much always do." I pressed a hand to the thin black silk above my stomach. "Are you always hungry? I amalways hungry."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"I had part of a granola bar before training."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "That might explain something," he said, but beckoned a waitress in our direction.

The young woman, who couldn't have been more than eighteen, was dressed, like all the waiters, in head-to-toe black. She was pale, and a flow of straight red hair spilled across her shoulders. When she reached us, she extended a square ceramic tray loaded with hors d'oeuvres toward Ethan.

"What have we got?" I asked, eyes scanning the platter. "I hope there's something with bacon. Or prosciutto. I'd take anything cured or smoked."

"You're Ethan, right?"

I lifted my gaze from what looked like prosciutto-wrapped asparagus (score!) and found the waitress-her bright blue eyes big as saucers-gazing dreamily at Ethan.

"I am, yes," he answered.

"That's just . . . that's just . . .great ," she said, her cheeks mottled with crimson. "Are you-you're like a Master vampire, right? The head of Cadogan House?"

"Um, yes. I am."

"That's just-wow."

We stood there for a moment, the waitress, lips parted, blinking doe eyes at Ethan, and Ethan, much to my amus.e.m.e.nt, shifting his feet uncomfortably."How about we'll just take that," he finally said, pulling the tray carefully from her outstretched hands.

"And thank you for bringing it."

"Oh, no, thank you," she said, grinning dopily at him. "You're just . . . that's just . . . great," she said again, then turned to skip away through the crowd.

"I believe you have a fan," I told him, biting back a snicker.

He gave me a sardonic look, offered his tray. "Dinner?"

"Seriously. You have a fangirl. How bizarre. And, yes, thank you." I looked over the offerings, hand poised above the tray, and settled on a wooden-toothpick-staked cube of beef accompanied by a greenish sauce. As a vampire, I didn't care for the staked-meat a.n.a.logy, but I wasn't going to turn down what was probably a choice cut.

"I'm not sure if your shock about my having a human fan is insulting or not."

"Much like everything else about me, it's endearing." I popped the beef into my mouth. It was delicious, so I scanned the tray, prepared for a second dive, and nabbed a pastry cup full of a spinach concoction.

It was also delicious. Say what you wanted about my father-and I mean that literally: be my guest-but the man had good taste in caterers. You'd find no whipped sh.e.l.lfish at a Joshua Merit party.

"Would you like me to give you a few minutes with the tray?"

I glanced up at Ethan, my fingers poised over another beef cube, and grinned. "Could you, just? We'd really like to be alone right now."

"I think that means you've had enough," he said, turning away and setting the tray on a nearby side table.

"Did you just cut me off?"

"Come with me."

I arched a brow at him. "You can't order me around in my own house, Sullivan."

Ethan's gaze dropped to the medal at my neck. "This is hardly your house any longer, Sentinel."

I made a sound of disagreement, but when he turned and walked away, I followed. He strolled across the room like he owned it, like there was nothing unusual about a Master vampire sauntering through a crowd of Windy City bigwigs. Maybe, in this day and age, there wasn't. With those cheekbones, that sleek tux and the unmistakable air of power and ent.i.tlement, he looked like he belonged.

We reached a gap in the crowd, and Ethan stopped, turned, and held out a hand.

I stared at it blankly, then lifted my gaze to his. "Oh, no. This is not part of my a.s.signment."