Dark Debt (8 page)

Adrien Reed stalked down the stairs, fury radiating
in his expression, his eyes on us, then the men on the floor.

Reed leaned down, ripped the mask off the vampire Ethan had bested. He was pale, with blond hair so light it was nearly white, and watery blue eyes. I didn’t recognize him, and from Ethan’s flat expression, he didn’t, either.

Reed looked up at us. When we shook our heads, he moved to the second vampire, ripped the mask away,
revealing familiar curly blond hair.

Oh shit,
was my first thought.

Why
? was my second.

As I’d suspected during the fight, I knew him. It was Will. The captain of the Navarre House guards.

*   *   *

I’d seen men angry before. Powerful men, supernatural men, whose anger seemed to rage like fire.

I’d never seen a man whose anger was as cold as Adrien Reed’s.

The vampires
sat on the floor of Reed’s office beneath the point of our blades, and the barrels of handguns held by more of Reed’s bodyguards.

We hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to the vampires, so we were still in the dark about why, precisely, they’d come to Reed’s house to attack Sanford King. I had found my purse and taken a moment
to update Brody and my grandfather, asked him to ensure that an ambulance
for the bodyguard was en route, and to pass word to Morgan, the Master of Navarre House. He’d have to deal with this one way or the other.

Reed hadn’t spoken a word. Instead he watched with silent condemnation. His body was rigid, his eyes like frozen granite, hands in his pockets, lording his power over them.

“Mr. Reed,” said a man in a dark suit over a dark shirt, his voice as prim and
proper, his stance slightly subservient. A butler, I guessed. “The police have arrived.”

Ethan and I exchanged a glance. It wasn’t surprising the CPD had been called—God knew there’d been plenty of humans to make that call—but it promised the incident wasn’t over.

Reed nodded, then crouched down in front of the intruders. “Who sent you?”

Both of them looked away, like schoolboys with
secrets.

But Reed wasn’t accustomed to anyone defying him. He took Will’s chin roughly between two fingers. “I asked you a question. Who . . . sent . . . you . . . here?”

The tone, equally frigid and furious, lifted goose bumps on my arms.

Will was either brave or stupid. Or worse, and more likely, a deadly combination of both. He jerked his face away, Reed’s grip leaving red marks
across pale skin. “Sanford King is a monster.”

So they’re vigilantes?
I wondered.
They believe they’re on some sort of mission?

If so,
Ethan asked,
why fight us? We’re not the enemies. And why here, putting so many humans at risk? That doesn’t fit with the notion they’re punishing King for transgressions against humans.

He had a point. This was clearly a targeted attack—an attempt
to get to Sanford King—and an oddly planned one.

The office doors opened, revealing my grandfather, in khaki pants and a button-up plaid shirt. He moved quickly with the help of a cane it didn’t seem he’d need much longer.

In addition to several uniforms, my grandfather was followed by Arthur Jacobs, a CPD detective and good friend to supernaturals. Relief sang through me. Vampires attempting
to kill an unarmed human was horrific, and having detectives unfamiliar with the city’s vampires wouldn’t have helped the aftermath.

Ethan pulled off his tuxedo jacket, draped it over my shoulders.

So as not to shock and awe your grandfather,
he said as I pushed my arms into the sleeves and pulled the front panels together. I thought my bodice would hold, but I was essentially naked beneath,
so there was no point in tempting fate.

My father, who’d only recently learned of my grandfather’s position and hadn’t been thrilled about it, certainly didn’t look excited to see him now. He should have. My grandfather was the only thing currently standing between humans, vampires, and full-on panic.

“Mr. Reed,” my grandfather said. “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.”

Reed’s expression didn’t change. “I’m interested in answers. Not excuses.”

“And you’ll get them,” Jacobs said, stepping forward and introducing himself.

He and my grandfather looked at us, nodded. My grandfather’s eyes widened at the sight of my dress beneath the jacket, and the gash on Ethan’s arm.

“The EMTs are downstairs with your bodyguard,” Jacobs said
to Reed. “Let’s take
the rest of this one step at a time. Your guests are excited and nervous, and we’ll need to interview the vampires before we book them. Why don’t you speak to your guests while we do that? Then Chuck can get your statement. That seems most efficient, and we won’t want to make tonight any more difficult than it’s already been.”

Arthur Jacobs was a good man and a good detective. He’d never been
particularly argumentative, but I’d also never seen him quite as ingratiating as this. Reed, I guessed, had friends in very high places. I wondered how much that was going to cost us.

“Very well,” Reed said. He walked toward the door but stopped when he reached my father, whispered something fierce that had my father putting a hand on Reed’s arm, attempting to soothe.

When Reed disappeared,
his butler behind him, my father looked at me and Ethan, and there was nothing pleasant in his accusatory gaze or his tone. “Is this your doing?”

Beside me, my grandfather sighed. “Joshua, really.”

“It’s all right, Chuck,” Ethan said, smiling politely before sliding his gaze to my father. His smile narrowed to something much more predatory.

“If he believes even asking that question
is appropriate considering that his daughter and I just battled these men in front of several hundred witnesses, he’s savvier than I’ve given him credit for.”

My father’s eyes flashed hot, and he pointed at Ethan with obvious fury. “Now, you wait—”

“No, I will not wait,” Ethan said, voice as calm as my father’s was angry. “We came here to repay a favor to you, and we resolved a problem
on the verge of turning very, very ugly. That problem clearly had nothing to do with us, except that the perpetrators
were vampires. And instead of offering thanks, you blame us? You have the nerve to ask if we planned it? You go too far.”

I had never loved Ethan more than at that moment. My father’s feeling, given the look on his face, was quite the opposite.

Jacobs sidestepped the heat
and magic, walked toward the vampires. And any sense of graciousness or patience disappeared. “We know you’re Will, Navarre’s guard captain,” he said, then glanced at the other vampire. “And your name?”

He didn’t answer.

“Two hundred witnesses,” Jacobs said slowly. “Your best option is to come clean and tell us the truth. Why you came to be here, and why you’ve done what you’ve done.”

The vampire kept his lips pressed together.

Ethan rolled his eyes, peppering the air with irritated magic. “May I?”

Jacobs nodded. “Please.”

“Name and House?” Ethan said.

When the vampire didn’t answer, Ethan took a step closer. Where Reed’s anger had been frosty, Ethan’s was red-hot.

“I am speaking to you, Novitiate,” Ethan said, bending toward the vampire, his tone low
and dangerous, an inferno only temporarily banked. “For several reasons, including my rank and yours, you do not want to ignore me. Name and goddamned House!”

“Zane,”
Will finally threw out, answering for him. “Of House Navarre.”

“And do you, Will and Zane, have any excuse for what you’ve done here tonight? For attempted murder? For treachery? For acting precisely like the monsters humans
believe us to be?”

“Humans attack each other all the time,” Zane said, not realizing it was in his best interest to keep his damn mouth shut.

“We do not set our behavior by the lowest common denominator,” Ethan said, magic flaring around him with a rush of searing heat. “We aspire to more, and we are held to a higher standard. We will be excoriated for this. I hope you and your Master
are prepared for the punishments you have earned tonight. And where, dare I ask, is your Master?”

Ethan already had doubts about Morgan Greer’s ability to hold Navarre House. This wasn’t going to help.

“He doesn’t know we’re here,” Will said quickly, with a warning look at Zane. “He doesn’t know anything about this.”

Ethan straightened, clearly dubious. “We’ll see about that. Rest
assured, Will and Zane. Regardless the punishments meted out by King, Reed, the CPD, and the people of this city, the AAM will have things to say about this trespass, this violence, this violation against all of us.” Chest heaving with fury, Ethan stepped back, pushed a hand through his hair as he struggled to control his anger.

Jacobs took up the thread. “Why Sanford King?”

Neither answered.

“We’ll find out. Whether you tell us tonight, or we find out from others.” Ethan settled his gaze on Will. “You know Merit, and you know the Ombudsman. You know how skilled they are at resolving supernatural dramatics.”

“We did the right thing,” Zane said.

Ethan arched a responsive eyebrow. “How, precisely, was trespassing and attempting to kill a human who, I suspect, you’ve never
met until tonight the ‘right thing’?”

Will kept his lips pressed tightly together, but Zane clearly didn’t mind talking. “Sanford King is a criminal.”

“As are you,” I pointed out. “And I seriously doubt Sanford King, whatever his transgressions, ever crashed a party at sword point and called someone out.”

Neither one of them had an answer to that.

Ethan let the silence hang heavy
in the air for a moment before looking at Jacobs. “Do with them what you will.”

“Call Morgan,” Will said as the uniforms pulled him to his feet, began to read them their rights.

“Morgan has been called,” my grandfather assured him. “And we’ll be having a very long talk.”

SOMETHING IS ROTTEN IN THE STATE OF ILLINOIS

R
eed sent his guests home, and Jacobs and two uniformed officers accompanied the vampires to the station. My father, grandfather, Ethan, and I stayed in Reed’s office, waiting for him to return.

My father stood across the room beside the globe,
occasionally spinning it to watch its rotation. I sat beside my grandfather on a tufted leather couch of stiff burgundy leather, the type that had probably looked much more comfortable in the catalogue. Ethan stood beside me on his phone, updating the House.

Tensions, obviously, were high.

“It can’t be a coincidence the attack was here,” Ethan said to my grandfather, putting away his phone
and breaking the silence. “I’m sure there would have been easier places to get to King, take him out.”

“Undoubtedly,” Chuck said. “We’ll see what Reed has to say, supplement with our own background.”

“You’ll find nothing,” my father said, putting a hand on the
globe to stop its motion. “Reed holds himself to the highest ethical standards. That’s why he refused King’s business offer earlier
this evening.”

My grandfather didn’t miss the implication. “He and King had words before the attack?”

My father rolled his eyes. “King made overtures, and Reed rejected them. He’s a thug, and everyone knows he threatened the jury that acquitted him.”

My grandfather just looked at him. “Our job is to consider all angles, tie off all loose ends, before reaching a firm conclusion. That’s
the nature of an investigation.”

“You’ve talked to Morgan?” I asked, and my grandfather nodded.

“Catcher called him. I understand he was less surprised than he should have been.”

You could practically hear Ethan’s hackles rise. He wasn’t a fan of Morgan or his leadership style, such as it was. Frankly, he was probably looking forward to berating him for his Novitiates’ raging stupidity.

The door opened and Reed walked back in, Sorcha behind him. Without a word, she walked to Reed’s desk, picked up a lighter and a cigarette case, disappeared onto the terrace again.

Reed walked to a bar of cut crystal decanters, poured a finger of Scotch, downed it. “They’ve been arrested?” he asked, without turning around.

“They’re in custody,” my grandfather explained. “They’ll be
booked and questioned, and the responding officers will consult with the prosecutor regarding the charges against them.”

He took a small, spiral notebook from his shirt pocket, pulled an old-fashioned red and white ballpoint pen from the spiral, clicked the nib into place.

“Are you aware of anyone who would want to harm your reputation?” my grandfather asked, pen poised over paper.

Reed walked past us to his desk, took a seat in the leather chair behind it, rocked with an audible creak. “I’m a very wealthy man, Mr. Merit. Wealth attracts attention, and men who shape their own worlds are not infrequently the targets of crime.”

“Any specific, credible threats against you lately?”

“Not that I’m aware of. If there’d been something credible, my staff would have told me.”

My grandfather nodded. “What about Sanford King? Can you describe your relationship with him?”

“Perfunctory,” Reed said, turning the chair to face the room and steepling his fingers over his chest. “We’re acquainted, and that’s nearly overstating it. He’s a member of the charity’s board of directors. His invitation was pro forma.”

“So no business dealings?”

“None.”

“I understand
he presented you with a business opportunity earlier tonight.”

Reed’s expression flattened. “I don’t hold with gossip. And I declined the offer. As I said, no business dealings.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” my grandfather summed, making a note in his book. “Sanford King likely has enemies.”

“As I indicated, we all have enemies.”

“And would there have been any reason for the perpetrators
to believe you and Sanford had a closer relationship?”

“What are you asking?”

“I’m asking if you’re aware of any particular reason they decided to attack him here and at this particular time.”

“I assume they wanted to punish King as publicly as possible,” Reed said impatiently. “Otherwise what’s the point of
attempting an execution at a gala? Why not just take him out on the street?”

“Was there anything unusual about his agreement to attend the party, or his interest in it?”

“I didn’t organize the party or send the invitations. I have a staff. I allowed the charity the use of my house, made a substantial in-kind contribution with respect to food and alcohol.”

My grandfather nodded. “There was considerable press coverage about the party, your involvement. You’ll
get even more publicity after tonight.”

My father stiffened, apparently shocked by the insinuation. But my grandfather wasn’t there to help my father kiss Reed’s ass. He was there to probe, investigate, untangle.

“As I’m certain you’re well aware, I don’t need publicity. And I don’t appreciate the tenor of the question.”

My grandfather smiled his blandly polite cop smile. “I just want
to make sure I understand the facts.”

“The fact is, two vampires entered my house apparently with the purpose of killing Sanford King. If you want the cause, ask
them
.”

“We have done so, and will continue to investigate their involvement,” my grandfather assured him.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll talk to my lawyers, decide how we’d like to move forward. I’ll be in touch.”

And just like that, Adrien Reed dismissed my grandfather.

*   *   *

We walked him back through the gallery and ballroom. The room was still decorated, but the guests were gone, adding a grim sense of abandonment.

No one spoke until we exited the house, stood together on the sidewalk.

“Jeff’s in the van if you’d like to say hello,” my grandfather said. “Or good-bye, since it
looks like we’re wrapping up here.”

The van, clearly marked as Ombudsman property, sat just up the block. It was a mobile office and response center, fully equipped with computers and gadgets that only Jeff likely knew how to operate.

Brody had squeezed the Range Rover in front of it, and he and Jeff chatted quietly until we approached. Brody nodded at Ethan, who held up a hand, signaling
him to wait.

Jeff had, as per usual, paired his floppy brown hair and smiling blue eyes with khakis and a blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up. His eyes widened as he looked me over.

“You took some damage.”

I grimaced at the tatters of dress. “Actually, I did a lot of it myself. It’s hard to kick in a sheath dress.”

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Ethan said, but there was no mistaking
the pride in his eyes.

“Sure you can. But next time, get me a gown with legroom.”

“Or maybe just no random Navarre attacks,” Jeff said grimly, glancing back at the House. “Sounds like a pretty bizarre situation.”

“Very,” Ethan agreed. “Have you heard anything about Navarre Novitiates being out of hand?”

“I don’t hear much about Navarre at all,” Jeff said. “What happens in Navarre
House stays in Navarre House. Or so I assume.” He tucked hair behind his ear. “I’m not sure if that’s Morgan, or Celina’s leftover crazy, or what. What about you?”

Celina Desaulniers was the former Navarre Master; she’d been forced out of the position after an attack on Ethan.

“Out of the blue,” Ethan agreed, “even for Navarre House, which is saying something. But the severity here strikes
me as something that must have festered or percolated for a while.”

“What about supernatural vigilante groups?” I wondered.

“Nothing like that, either,” Jeff said, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“What about Balthasar?” my grandfather asked. “Any further activity there?”

“He’s in a condo on Michigan Avenue,” Ethan said. “We’ve got eyes on him. It seems best for all involved
to know what he’s up to.”

“No argument there,” my grandfather said.

“Luc has the details about his location if you’d like it, or want to do any monitoring of your own.”

My grandfather nodded. “We won’t monitor per se, but I would like to stay apprised. Do you think he’s looking for access?”

“If he is, he’ll be sorely disappointed by what he finds.”

“He can’t think you owe him,”
Jeff said. “Not after what happened, all the time that’s passed.”

“A rational mind would expect not,” Ethan said. “But he has rarely ever been rational. His needs are paramount, and damn anyone who stands in his way.”

“I fear there is a lot of that going around,” my grandfather said, and sighed heavily before trying a light smile. “I’d wax nostalgic about the good ol’ days, but with age
comes wisdom and sight, and the realization that every day is as good or as bad as the next. The difference is only in the margins.”

Ethan nodded. “Very well said. And with that, we should probably get back to the House and begin planning our next play.”

The cards would be dealt one way or the other.

*   *   *

“This is going to be a pain in the ass,” Ethan said when we slid into
the backseat of the Range Rover again.

The car shook a bit as Brody climbed into the passenger seat. “Home, Sire?”

“Please.”

“And we thought this was going to be a networking event,” I said.

Ethan laughed, a knot of mirthless sound. “The best-laid plans of vampires.” He rubbed a finger across his forehead. “We must deal with this, but Balthasar will not wait long. I suspect this
will be a long night.”

“I suspect you’re right.” I glanced out the window at the lights of homes and businesses, wondered at the drama that unfolded there.

“Oh, Morgan,” I said on a sigh.

Ethan slid me a glance. “Did you just say ‘oh, Morgan’?”

“I did. In exhaustion, not desire. I’m not looking forward to dealing with him.” Morgan and I had dated briefly, and he still harbored
bitterness about the end of our relationship. Not, I think, because he’d truly loved me, but because he didn’t like having been passed over for Ethan.

“I’m afraid we will not be able to avoid it. Not this time.”

“I know. What did you think about Reed?”

“I didn’t interact with him much, all things considered,” Ethan said, skimming his fingers over my hand before entwining our fingers.
“Likes material wealth, likes to show it off. Imagines himself very much the king of his castle.”

“His gaudy castle.”

“Just so. He has body men, which is relatively unusual for a businessman in Chicago. Is not used to people disobeying his orders. Certainly isn’t used to those who dare breach the castle walls, interrupt his feast.”

“I can’t get a read on Sorcha. She’s either really
smart and very socially awkward, or really, really dumb.”

“And she must be twenty years his junior,” Ethan said, clearly not a compliment to either of them.

I just looked at him. “What?”

“Sorcha. She’s at least twenty years younger than Reed.”

It literally took me a minute to respond. “Of all the things we’ve seen tonight,
that’s
what offends you? That he’s in a May-December romance?
Need I point out you’re nearly
four hundred
years older than me?”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because I don’t look a day over thirty.”

The lack of logic was staggering. “That’s got to be some kind of penis logic.”

“Excuse me?” Ethan asked as Brody snickered in the front seat.

“One of your heads is significantly smarter than the other. She was pretty, though.
I’ll give you that.”

Ethan sighed. “It has nothing to do with pretty.”

“Not according to your brain,” I agreed. “But once again—”

Ethan held up a hand. “No need to repeat the point.”

“When I’m four hundred, do I get to date a twenty-five-year-old?”

Ethan narrowed his gaze. “If you date anyone other than me at any point in your hopefully long and fruitful life, there will be
trouble for both of us.”

“That’s definitely penis logic,” Brody said helpfully. I didn’t disagree with him.

*   *   *

By the time we arrived at the paparazzi’d House, it was two o’clock. We were both tired and grouchy, and hadn’t eaten in hours.

The jacket I’d returned draped over one arm, Ethan offered a hand to help me out of the car. When I joined him on the sidewalk, I put
my hands on his face, stretched on tiptoes to reach him, and pressed my lips to his. “Thank you for standing up to my father.”

Ethan wrapped an arm around my waist as shutters began to snap around us, capturing the moment, paparazzi yelling at us to look their way, make eye contact, increase the marketability of their particular photographs.

“Sentinel,” he said quietly, the words only
for me, “I will stand for you as long as I am able.” And then he kissed me well and thoroughly. The words had been for me, but the kiss was for the audience.

“You two are making out every time I see you.”

Ethan pulled away, glanced back at Catcher, who’d moved to stand beside us. “That speaks more to your interruptions than our affection.”