Chicagoland Vampires - Friday Night Bites Part 4

Silence. Then, "We did." Ethan's answer was as clipped as his tone. Although he apparently wasn't too proud to beg for information, and despite the fact that he and Catcher were friends (of their peculiar sort), Ethan wasn't a big fan of the Ombud's office. He thought they were tied a little too closely to Mayor Tate, whose position regarding "the vampire problem" was less than clear. Tate had all but refused to talk to the House Masters even after we became public, despite the fact that the city administration had known about our existence for decades.

The Celina fiasco hadn't helped Cadogan-Ombud relations. The Greenwich Presidium didn't recognize Chicago's authority over Celina, no matter how heinous her acts. Since she was a member of the GP, the GP believed she was ent.i.tled to certain accommodations, including not serving an eternal sentence in the Cook County jail. It had taken no little diplomacy on my grandfather's part to secure the administration's support for her extradition to Europe. That meant my grandfather, who'd made his own oath to serve and protect Chicago, had been forced to release the vampire who'd tried to have his granddaughter killed. Needless to say, he felt a little conflicted. Ethan, on the other hand, was bound by his loyalties to the GP. Awkwardness, thy name is vampire.

"Whatever the source, Sentinel, we have the information now. Let's use it, shall we?"

I bit back a grin, amused that I'd reverted back to "Sentinel." I was "Merit" when Ethan needed something, "Sentinel" when he was responding to my snark. Admittedly, that was frequently.

"They're going to be suspicious that Merit wants back in," Luc pointed out. "Which means she's going to need a cover story."

"And not just a cover story," Ethan said, "but a cover story that can make it past her father."

We pondered that one silently. As head of Merit Properties, one of the city's biggest real estate management companies, my father was enough of a salesman to know when he was being conned.

"How about a little familial gloating?" Luc finally asked.

Ethan and I both looked at him. "Explain," Ethan ordered.

Luc frowned, scratched absently at his cheek, and relaxed back into the sofa. "Well, I think you laid it out earlier. She's a member of a key Chicago family, and now Sentinel of one of the oldest American Houses. So she plays the youngest daughter making her triumphant return to the society that once scorned her. You start with her father-approach him first. She plays cool, confident, standoffish, like she's finally come into that famed Merit att.i.tude." He clapped, apparently for emphasis. "Boom. The patriarch welcomes her back into the fold."

Ethan opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "That's an interesting a.n.a.lysis.""Dynastyreruns have been rolling nonstop on cable," Luc said.

Huh.

That was an interesting bit of information about our guard captain.

Ethan stared at him for a moment before offering, "Pop culture notwithstanding, your plan would require some considerable acting on Merit's part." He slid me an appraising (and none too flattering) glance.

"I'm not sure she's equipped."

"Hey." With a chuckle, and without thinking of who he was or the authority he held over me, I punched Ethan lightly on the arm. Fortunately he didn't jump out of his seat and pound me, although he did stare at the spot on his tidy black suit jacket where I'd made contact.

"Look, I know acting isn't exactly my background, but I'm pretty sure I can fake being pretentious." I did have one h.e.l.l of a teacher. "But I actually have a better idea."

Ethan arched his eyebrows. "We're all ears, Sentinel."

"Robert," I said. "He's our cover story."

Despite our ongoing estrangement, or maybe because of it, my father had approached me a few weeks ago, on the evening of my twenty-eighth birthday no less, to ask that I help my brother Robert, who was poised to take over Merit Properties, make inroads with the city's supernaturally endowed population.

I'd declined for a number of reasons, the speed with which Ethan would punish what he imagined to be my pro-human treachery first among them. My dislike for my father, though, ran a real close second.

I'd corrected my father's a.s.sumptions about what I "owed" my family in strong enough terms that he would wonder why I was coming back. But if he thought I was willing to help Robert make connections with sups, my guess was that he'd bypa.s.s wondering and move right into gloating.

"That's not bad," Ethan said. "And when you secure an audience with your father, which you can work on this evening, you'll be delivering him one h.e.l.l of a connection."

It was my turn to lift sardonic brows. "And that would be?"

"Me, of course."

Yeah. That was exactly the pretension I was referring to earlier.

Luc looked at me. "You'll want to call the family as soon as you have a chance. Let them know you want to return to the fold. Ask them if there's anything on the social calendar that looks interesting."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Well, now that we've arranged a strategy," Ethan said, slapping his knees and rising from his seat, "you're dismissed. Luc, make the arrangements we discussed."

The arrangements they'ddiscussed ? As in, past tense?

"Wait a minute," I said, lifting a finger as Ethan walked back to his desk. "How much of this little plan had you two already decided on before I walked in?"

He offered Luc a thoughtful look. "What, Lucas, all of it?"

"Pretty much," Luc said, nodding.

"Never underestimate the power of staff buy-in," Ethan said, glowing with Gordon Gecko-worthy smugness. I humphed.

Luc, the traitor, grabbed a celery stick from our spread, then rose from the couch, patting my shoulder as he walked past, a gesture that was equal parts camaraderie and condescension. "But thanks for coming to the party, Sentinel. We appreciate you sparing us some of your time."

Ethan's chair squeaking, he situated himself behind his desk, then ran hands through his hair and squinted at his computer monitor.

"If we're done," I said, "I'm going back upstairs."

Luc settled into the chair in front of Ethan's desk while Ethan attended to his e-mail, or whatever business electronically preoccupied him. He poised his fingers above the keyboard, and like a pianist's, they flew across the keys. "Do that, Sentinel. Do that."

Luc munched the end of his celery stick, then waved the stalk of it at me. "Have a great evening, Sunshine."

I left them to their gloating.CHAPTER FIVE TALKIN' 'BOUT FREEDOM.

I'd never been much for chatting on the phone. I'd been obsessed with books and ballet growing up and wasn't the kind of teenager who spent an evening at home, cordless pressed to my ear. That meant I'd never really gotten used to it. Sure, I occasionally called my older brother and sister, Robert and Charlotte, to check in, and when I was still in school, I called Mallory to arrange lunch dates in the Loop, but chatting up Joshua and Meredith Merit was a bird of an altogether different feather. Of course, it was nearly midnight, so there was at least a chance that my parents were asleep, prepping for another day in the upper echelon of Chicago society.

That debate-were they asleep, or weren't they-was why I spent the first hour after returning to my room with a granola bar and book in hand. It was only when I didn't think I could put it off any longer that I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at the phone in my hand, cursing the loyalty oaths I'd sworn to one Ethan Sullivan.

I took a breath, steeled myself, dialed my parents' number, and was pleasantly surprised to get a crisp and carefully scripted answering machine message.

"You have reached the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Merit," my mother said. "I'm afraid we're unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a message following the tone."

There was a digital beep. I closed my eyes and faked the nonchalant self-confidence that Ethan, Luc, and I had discussed. "h.e.l.lo, it's Merit. I wanted to talk to you both. In short, now that things have . . .

changed, now thatI've changed, I think it's a good idea that I rebuild some relationships." I cringed, and continued. "That I start spending time with theright kinds of people-"

I was interrupted by a clicking sound-the sound of a phone receiver being picked up. I silently cursed.

I'd beenso close.

"Well, darling," my mother said, apparently awake regardless of the time, "your call couldn't be more timely. The Breckenridges are hosting an event Friday night-c.o.c.ktails for the Harvest Coalition-in Loring Park." The Breckenridge estate was located in Loring Park, a suburb in the Illinois countryside. "I won't be there," she continued. "I have an auxiliary meeting. But your father will. And, of course, the Breckenridges. You should come, say h.e.l.lo to the Breck boys."

The Harvest Coalition was a Chicago food bank. And while the cause was obviously laudable, I wasn't thrilled about being in the same house with my father. On the other hand, my first gala out the door and I was headed right into the Breckenridges' backyard. Or maybe more accurately, right into the Breckenridge henhouse, a vampire in tow. G.o.d forgive me.

"That sounds great, Mom."

"Wonderful. Black tie, c.o.c.ktails at eight o'clock," she said, repeating the stats of the rich and famous.

"I'll have Pennebaker"-that was my parents' fusty butler-"call the Breckenridges and messenger over an invitation. You're still living with that Carmichael girl, I take it?"

If only. "Actually, Mom, I moved into Cadogan House today. With the rest of the vampires," I added, in case that wasn't obvious.

"Well," my mother said, intrigue in her voice. "Isn't that quite the development? I'll be sure to pa.s.s that along to your father." I had no doubt she would, my father being a dealer of information-and the connections that this specific information would signal.

"Thank you, Mom."

"Of course, dear."

That's when I had a brainstorm. I might not have my grandfather's secret source, but I had a Meredith Merit. "Mom, one thing before you go. I hear Jamie's working now. Maybe at a newspaper?"

"Newspaper, newspaper," she absently repeated. "No, I don't recall anything about a newspaper.

Everyone knows Nick is the journalist in the Breck family, anyway. Unless you've heard something different?" Her voice had dropped an octave; she'd moved directly into gossip mode and was waiting forme to pa.s.s along some juicy detail. But my job was to investigate, not fan the flames.

"Nope," I said. "Just thought I remembered hearing something."

"Oh, well. G.o.d willing, he'll find a place of his own at some point. Something to keep him occupied."

She paused, then asked, a little too loudly, "What, dear?" Silence again, then, "Darling, your father's calling me. I'll arrange for an invitation. You enjoy your Cadogan House."

"Sure, Mom. Thanks."

I pressed the END CALL b.u.t.ton and snapped the phone shut in my palm.

"d.a.m.n," I muttered. I'd made headway on Ethan's a.s.signment, and I'd gotten us an in at the Breckenridge estate. My ego swollen by my minor suggest, however questionable (I had just signed to hang out with my father), I decided to attend to my remaining House business for the evening-filling Ethan in on the phone call.

I rebelted my katana, then made my way down to his office. When I reached the first floor, I pa.s.sed Malik, Ethan's vice president, as he walked away from Ethan's office. Malik's expression was grave, and he made no move to acknowledge me as we pa.s.sed.

That did not bode well.

This time, Ethan's door was open. That was strange, but worse was the fact that he stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, gaze on the floor, that line of worry between his eyes. And he'd changed clothes, too-his tidy black suit jacket was gone. He was in shirtsleeves, no tie, only the glint of the gold Cadogan medal around his neck breaking the expanse of pristine white shirt that hugged his torso. He'd even changed his hair; it was now pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. The kind of move a girl might make when she had to get down to business.

My stomach knotted uncomfortably. In the time that I'd gone up to my room and returned to the first floor again, something had happened.

I rapped my knuckles against the threshold.

Ethan glanced up. "I was about to page you," he said. "Come in and shut the door."

I did as ordered, then figured I might as well get the good news out first. "I called my mother. There's a charity c.o.c.ktail thing at the Breckenridge estate Friday night. She's going to messenger over an invitation."

Ethan lifted approving brows. "Well done. Two birds with one stone, and all that."

"FYI, she also said she hasn't heard about Jamie being involved in any kind of journalism work. I didn't tell her anything," I added, when Ethan's gaze snapped up. "I just asked a very vague question. If he was working, especially in Nick's field, she'd have heard. Mrs. Breck would have been thrilled. She wouldn't have kept that kind of thing from my mom."

He paused, looking perplexed. "Hmm. Well, be that as it may," he said, walking around his desk and taking a seat, "given the nature of the damage a story could cause, we're going to err on the side of caution on this one. There's undoubtedly some kernel of truth to the information we've received, specific as it is." He gazed down at his desktop for a moment before lifting clouded eyes to me. "Have a seat, Merit."

There was concern in his tone. My heart thumped disconcertingly, but I did as directed, holding my katana aside and slipping into one of the chairs in front of Ethan's desk.

"The Presidium has released Celina."

"Oh, my G.o.d." I knew my eyes had gone silver, maybe with anger, maybe with fear, maybe with the adrenaline that was beginning to rush my limbs. "How-when? When did this happen?"

"Three days ago. Darius just called. I spoke briefly with Luc; he'll update the dailies and inform RDI and the other Chicago Houses." In Cadogan speak, that meant Luc would update our security reports, inform the mercenary fairies (yup-fairies) who worked for RDI, the company that oversaw security at the House during daylight hours and who stood guard at the front gate, and call Morgan and Scott Grey.

"Hejust called?" I repeated. "You only talked to him a few hours ago. He didn't mention then that they were releasing crazy into the world?"

"He didn't know. He wasn't there when the vote was taken, probably by design. The Presidium is a majoritarian body, and she's in the majority, as this should demonstrate. The Presidium"-he paused andshook his head-"they're vampires, Merit. Predators, who were born at a time when that meant more than it does today. When it wasn't flash, but substance. When humans were . . ."

I could tell that my being newly and somewhat controver sially changed, he was looking for a polite way to explain something that could be easily summed up in a single word. "Food," I finished for him. "They were food."

"And little else. The politics of it aside"-was it disturbing that the perception that humans were upright cattle was mere "politics" to Ethan?-"the other members could have been glamoured, and yet be completely unaware of it. She's that powerful."

Having felt the slow sink of her glamour, her ability to pour herself into your psyche and manipulate it at will, I understood. I'd been able to resist it, but that was a personal skill, apparently. Some weird quirk of my makeup.

"As we've discussed, I expected that Celina would be confined for her crimes. That was the agreement your grandfather negotiated between Tate, the district attorney, and the GP. The Presidium has a short memory for Clearings. Although I didn't doubt that she would receive four-star treatment, I expected she would lose her House, which she did, and would remain confined in London." He shook his head, then closed his eyes in apparent exhaustion. "At least humans aren't aware of her release. Yet."

Whether humans found out or not, Celina's release still threatened to make a liar out of Mayor Tate and everyone else in Chicago who had attested to the justness of her extradition, including Ethan and my grandfather.

Jeez. And I'd thought relations with the Ombud's office were awkwardbefore .

"How could they do something so politically stupid?" I wondered aloud.

Ethan leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together over his chest.

"GP members tend to be polarized on issues like this," he said. "Many credit their longevity to staying under the radar, living as humans, a.s.similating. They're happy to stay that way. Others feel they've spent centuries in hiding, and they hold no little bitterness about that. They want out, and Celina offers them an option. She has given them life among humans. She offers them a new kind of leadership. Besides-their strength aside, you've seen Celina, Merit. You know she has certain . . . charms."

I nodded. Her dark-haired beauty was undeniable.Still . Since when was hotness an excuse for irrational decision making? "Okay, but we're talking thePresidium here. The strongest vampires. The best. The deciders. Hot or not, how could they not have known what she was doing?"

"They're strong, but not necessarily the strongest. Amit Patel is, by all accounts, the strongest vampire in the world, and he avoids politics altogether. He has successfully avoided membership on the Sabha for many, many years."

There was a change of tone in his voice, from fear to noticeable admiration, something Ethan wasn't generous with. His voice held that same note of reverence that human men used when talking about Michael Jordan or Joe Namath.

"You have a man crush on Amit Patel," I said, mouth lifting into a smile. "A bromance. That's almost charming." And humanizing, I thought, but didn't say it aloud, knowing he wouldn't consider that a compliment.

Ethan rolled his eyes disdainfully. "You are much too young to be as strong as you are." I took that not to be a reference to chronology, but some Ethan-sense of vampire maturity.

I hmphed, but frowned back at him for a different reason. "She'll come to Chicago," I predicted. She'd tried to have me killed as part of her plan to take Chicago's Houses, and she'd been thwarted in killing Ethan by a stake I'd thrown. Whatever her other motivations, her other reasons, she would come to Chicago to find me . . . a.s.suming she wasn't here already.

"It's not unlikely," Ethan agreed. He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused, seemed to think better of it. Then, with a frown that pulled down both eyebrows, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I expect that any information you gather from other Houses regarding Celina will be pa.s.sed on to me."

It wasn't a question, or an "expectation," regardless of his phrasing. It was an order. And since there was only one House source from whom I even could arguably gather information, it was a pretty obnoxious order. Avoiding conversations like this at four in the morning was.e.xactly why I hadn't wanted to moveinto the House.

"I'm not spying on Morgan," I told him. While I wasn't sure how far I wanted my relationship with Morgan to go, I was pretty d.a.m.n sure "far" didn't include espionage. Besides, I'd already gone too far in mixing the personal and the professional by agreeing to help Ethan with the rave issue. I was, at least symbolically, bringing Ethan home; that was as far as I was willing to go.