Friday Night Bites (10 page)

“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.

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 must 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!”

That, I could do.

Although the House had been all but empty a few minutes ago, the first floor was now sprinkled with vampires in Cadogan black, some with gadgets in their hands, all looking busy and supernaturally attractive, preparing for evenings among the humans or, like me, evenings in service to the House and its Master.

Some looked up as I passed, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright disdain. I hadn’t made the best impression on my fellow Novitiates, having challenged Ethan only a few days after my change. The near havoc I wreaked at their Commendation ceremony, in which I’d accidentally ignored Ethan’s orders, didn’t help. Ethan made me Sentinel at Commendation,
giving me the historic duty of defending Cadogan House. But Lindsey was right—the position set me apart from the other vampires. My fellow guards had been supportive, but I knew the rest of the House still wondered—Was she loyal? Was she strong? Was she sleeping with Ethan?

(I know. That last one was disturbing to me, too. Seriously.)

I exited the gigantic stone-clad House through the front door, then took the sidewalk to the front gate, nodding at the two black-clad fairies who stood point. They were tall and lean, with long, straight hair pulled back tightly from their handsome, if angular, faces. Their uniforms were black shirts, cargo pants tucked neatly into black boots, and black-scabbarded swords. They had fraternally similar faces, so much so that I couldn’t tell them apart. I didn’t know if they were brothers, or twins, or even related. I didn’t even know their names, and my polling the other Cadogan guards for information hadn’t been successful. It seemed the RDI staff preferred to interact with vampires on a purely professional basis, if at all.

Lindsey had taken to calling the guards the “Twins.” I’d settled on Rob and Steve. I wasn’t entirely sure which Rob and Steve were guarding the House tonight, but they nodded back at me, and I found the act, if cold, comfortingly familiar. The little I’d learned about the supernatural in the last two months made me glad these sword-wearing warriors were on our side . . . at least as long as we paid them to be.

“Press?” I asked them. One of them looked down at me, an angular eyebrow raised from his six feet plus. Even at five foot nine, I suddenly felt very, very short.

“Corner,” he said, then turned his gaze back to the street before him. Having apparently lost his attention, I glanced down the street.

Sure enough, there they were. Given the size of the knot of them, I guessed a baker’s dozen. Since paparazzi weren’t rumored
to be the most manageable of critters, the guards had done an impressive job of rounding them up. On the other hand, who wouldn’t obey more than twelve collective feet of sullen, sword-bearing sups?

I headed down the sidewalk in their direction, planning to make a survey of the perimeter before moving back in for a sweep of the grounds. I wasn’t sure I had the innate moxie to stare down a group of paparazzi, but I figured now was as good a time as any to test the confidence Ethan expected me to show Friday night. I kept my smile vaguely pleasant as I sauntered toward them, gazing at them beneath my long, straight bangs.

As I moved closer, the confidence got a little easier to fake. Although they wore the expressions of men hell-bent on getting the Next Great Shot, the smell of fear tingled the air. Maybe their proximity to the RDI guards, maybe their proximity to vampires. Ironic, wasn’t it, that they were afraid of the people (
ahem
) that they were obsessively trying to capture on film?

When I was younger, and still well integrated into the Merit clan, I’d been photographed with my family at charity gatherings, sporting events, the razing or raising of important Chicago buildings. But the reporters were different this time around, and so was my role. I was the main dish, not just the cute kid being dragged around Chicago by social-climbing parents. As I neared them, they began calling my name, clamoring for my attention, for the perfect head shot.