House Rules (14 page)

Ethan reached up and touched the gold medal around his neck. “Tomorrow,” he said,
“we will return our medals to the GP.”

There was a cacophony of noise, of fearful shouts and angered outbursts. No one wanted
to give up their medals, including myself. The golden disks were our dog tags, our
identification, our badges of honor. They marked us as vampires, as Cadogan vampires,
as Novitiates of a proud and noble House. They also marked us as members of the NAVR,
which was precisely Ethan’s point.

“Novitiates!” Ethan yelled out, and the crowd quieted. “We have no choice; nor would
I give us any. It is the right and honorable thing to return the badge of the GP’s
authority over us. But I will be the first.” He reached up and unclasped the medal
from his neck. He held it in his fist for a moment before dropping it into a box on
the dais beside him.

“If we are to do it,” he said, “let us do it in solidarity.”

Luc was next, then Malik. Then Kelley and Juliet and Helen. One by one, every vampire
assembled in the ballroom walked to the podium, pulled the medal from his or her neck,
and dropped it into the box at Ethan’s feet.

I did the same, sharing a glance with him before I returned to my spot. He nodded,
and I slipped back into the crowd.

“We also anticipate the GP will use its contracts with the House to contend it is
the rightful owner of some of our assets. Part of that anticipated claim we must honorably
accept; another part we will dispute. Regardless, to address our alleged debt, tomorrow
we will give a substantial sum to the GP.”

He paused while the vampires whispered nervously.

“This House has existed for centuries, and it will continue to do so. But we must
tighten our belts. We will live, for the time being, more as humans, and less as vampires
with decades upon decades of compound interest. Our assets will be consolidated. Some
antiques will be sold. My vehicle, which was admittedly ostentatious, will be returned
to the dealership.”

There were masculine moans of disappointment from the crowd.

Ethan smiled with understanding and raised a hand to quiet the crowd. “This exercise
will prove two things to us. First, that the GP is exactly what we believed it to
be: selfish, motivated by fear, and unconcerned about the needs of individual vampires.
Second, that we are strong. That we appreciate fine things, but we do not need them
to survive. For we are Cadogan vampires.”

There were appreciative hoots in the crowd.

“We are, of course, on our way to becoming Rogue vampires, at least of a sort. You
may know two of our Rogue brothers and sisters were recently killed. Oliver and Eve
were, by all accounts, lovely and caring individuals. Let us take a moment of silence
in their memory. And let us hope that we soon can lead the murderer to justice.”

The room went silent, even the magic calming as we offered our thoughts to Oliver
and Eve.

“There is one more matter to attend to,” Ethan said. “Our arguments with respect to
the disputed contract provisions may not be strong. But we believe there is one act
that will help simplify and solidify our position.”

The lights suddenly went out, causing a moment of panic among the vampires, at least
until they realized a golden glow emanated from the front of the room.

I moved quietly through the crowd to get a better look.

“Malik,” Ethan said. “Come forward, please.”

Malik stepped onto the dais holding a small white taper candle. The room was utterly
silent but for the soft pops of the flickering flame as we all waited to find out
what the hell was going on.

Ethan looked at him. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“You have the paperwork?”

“I do,” Malik said, placing the candle on a holder in the dais. He took a folded piece
of paper from his lapel pocket, then held a stick of red wax over his candle’s flame.
Droplets of wax began to bead as the wax melted.

Candlelight casting shadows across his face, Malik looked across at Ethan. “Upon this
night, I set my seal upon this page and I relinquish the House to you, my Liege, its
only and rightful Master.”

We roared into applause and joyous shouts.

Ethan was taking his place again as Master of Cadogan House.

Malik moved the stick of red wax, and it dripped—thick and scarlet and fragrant—onto
the paper in his hand. He put down the stick and pulled a handled brass seal from
his pocket, pressing it into the wax and making official the act we’d been anticipating
for so long.

The deed done, Ethan sighed with what sounded like relief. But even as he did it,
his shoulders straightened, as if he’d donned again the mantle of House power and
was ready to wield it. This time, my goose bumps were for a completely different reason.

He looked over the ballroom of vampires.
His
vampires. His eyes blazed as they made contact with mine.

“I am alive,” he said. “I am alive and well and in good health. The House has been
relinquished to me, and I have undertaken its leadership once again. I presume none
of you object?”

Once again, the ballroom exploded with applause. The world might end tomorrow, but
for tonight, our Master was back, and he was most definitely in charge.

* * *

Ethan stayed behind to answer questions from the vampires. Because dawn was rising,
I headed upstairs to get ready for bed, and found a message on my phone. It was from
Jonah.

“The lighthouse,” he said. “Tomorrow night. Nine p.m. Look for the rocks. We’ll be
there.” That was it.

The lighthouse stood in Chicago’s main harbor, and provided light for ships seeking
safety from Lake Michigan’s breaking waves and rocky coastline. The lighthouse helped
them find safe passage; now, ironically, it would be a place of reckoning for me.

I sat down on the bed and turned the phone over and over in my hand. As my initiation
moved closer, I became even more swamped with guilt, and even less sure I was doing
the right thing for the right reasons.

Times were so perilous. We were facing a fundamental change to our identities as vampires,
and in the midst of the chaos, I was scampering away to join a rebel organization.
And not just that, but an organization I couldn’t tell Ethan—or anyone else—about.
That didn’t exactly make me feel honorable, or honest.

On the other hand, there seemed to be little dispute the RG was going to help the
House. I wasn’t even a member yet, and they’d already informed us of the GP’s asset
grab.

The RG was the kind of help we needed.

Stop whining
, I warned myself, and sent a response to Jonah.

I’LL BE THERE. AND THANKS FOR THE CONTRACT TIP. YOU MAY HAVE SAVED OUR ASSES.

I put the phone away as the apartment door opened.

I’d made the decision to join the RG a long time ago. But for now, Ethan was home,
so I rose to join him. The night would be over soon enough, and the fear would wait
for later.

CHAPTER NINE

THE ICY PRECIPICE

H
ours later, night fell again as it had so many times before. The sun dropped beneath
the horizon, the shutters opened, and vampires awoke.

Tonight we would leave the Greenwich Presidium and strike out on our own.

But as relieved as we were to have the House under the control of a single Master
once again, the drone of anxious magic made me feel as if I were standing beneath
power lines.

I felt Ethan stir behind me. He was awake, and undoubtedly could feel the magic, as
well.

“The House is nervous,” I said.

“Hmm. It’s a big night.”

I struggled for the right words—something that would acknowledge the giant step we
were taking but express confidence that he could lead us through it.

Maybe it wasn’t what he could say, but what he could do. . . . I sat up and swung
my legs over the bed, then glanced back at him, his hair a golden mess around his
face. “Let’s go for a run.”

“A run?”

“For exercise. Around the neighborhood. It will help you burn off some magic.”

He arched an eyebrow. “As I’m not currently being chased, I see no need to run.”

“No, you have no desire to run. That’s different. It’ll give you a chance to alleviate
some stress.”

“Is this about Lacey?”

“It’s about the House being on the precipice of something monumental, and your needing
to lead them through it. And if they think you’re nervous, they’ll freak out.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you attempting to manage me, Sentinel?”

I put my hands on my hips and gave him back the same authoritative look he was giving
me. “Yes. I am, and according to the House rules, I have that right. Get dressed.”

He grumbled, but scooted out of bed, confirming that I was, in fact, the power behind
the throne.

It was winter and cold, so I opted for layers. Capri-length leggings. A sports bra,
tank, T-shirt, and slim jacket. My shoes were well worn, and it was probably time
to find a new pair, but they still had enough bounce to keep me moving.

Ethan wore track pants and layered long-sleeved shirts, and on his wrist was a huge
watch.

No, not just a watch: a GPS watch—the kind serious runners use to keep track of their
pacing and mileage.

My gaze narrowed. “I thought you hated running. I thought you only ran when chased?”

He smiled slyly. “You once told me you preferred unprocessed foods.”

“Touché,” I said. “Exactly how badly are you planning to outpace me here?”

“Time will tell.”

“Har, har,” I mocked, but I was getting nervous.

We walked downstairs in silence, both of us warily eyeing the other, the competition-fueled
adrenaline already calming us down. And a calmer Master, I figured, meant a calmer
House.

He pressed a button on his watch to start the timer, and then he was gone—already
down the steps and running through the gate to the quiet streets of Hyde Park.

“Crap,” I muttered, pushing off and bounding down to the sidewalk. Ethan stood one
hundred feet away at the corner, one hand on the fence, the other on his hip. It didn’t
take more than a few seconds to reach him, and he grinned at me as I jogged closer.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

“I gave you a head start. As I’ve said before, and undoubtedly will again, age before
beauty.”

Ethan made a decidedly sarcastic sound and pushed off the gate, then lined up beside
me on the sidewalk. “Nine miles,” he said, then identified the landmarks that would
mark our loop around the neighborhood and back to the House again. The trip would
be long for humans, but a bit of light exercise for vampires.

“I can only assume you’re telling me where to go because you know I’ll be out front?”

“Or because I’ll completely lap you,” he said.

“Does your ego know no bounds?”

Ethan Sullivan, Master of Cadogan House, smiled wickedly and slapped my ass. “Not
when it’s well deserved. I’m ready when you are, Sentinel.”

I didn’t give him the opportunity for a faster push-off. “Go!” I yelled, but I was
already past him and sprinting feet away toward our first landmark—the church four
blocks down the street. Vampires were predators, and we were naturally faster than
humans. But like humans—or cheetahs or lions or any large predators—the superspeed
could last only so long.

Ethan let me take the lead, and I took full advantage, pushing myself at a sprinter’s
pace to get as large a lead as I could. I was lighter, but he was taller and had longer
legs. He’d also been running for
centuries
. There seemed little possibility I could outpace him to the end of the race, so I
did what I could for now.

It wasn’t enough.

He caught up two blocks later, and I risked a glance behind me at the sound of his
footfalls. His arms and legs were swinging, every muscle honed and triggered, his
form impeccable. If only Olympic races were run at night.

He caught up to me, his breathing barely increased, and jogged beside me. “I believe
you cheated, Sentinel.”

“Sentinel’s prerogative. I’m sure there’s a rule in the
Canon
about it.”

He made a sound of doubt. “Grateful Condescension requires total obsequiousness to
the Master of the House.”

“You’ve been a Master for a matter of mere hours and you’re already a cruel despot.”

“Hardly, although you are a Sentinel in need of an attitude adjustment.”

I opened my mouth, and would have given back the same snark he was giving me, but
some silent alarm went off in a marginal part of my psyche.

I slowed to a jog, then a stop, hands on my hips, my breathing still elevated, as
I looked around.

Ethan realized something was wrong, stopped. He’d moved a few steps ahead; ever cautious,
he walked back to where I stood.

“What is it?”

I scanned the neighborhood, opening all my senses to figure out what had tripped my
trigger. Other than the rasp of our breathing, there were no other unusual sounds.
A car door opening up the block. A mewling cat in an alley. The rumble of traffic
on nearby avenues. I saw nothing unusual, and even the smells were typical—the cold,
smoky scents of a night in the city.

“I don’t know. I just had a feeling. Internal alarm bells.”

I’d probably have made a sarcastic comment if Ethan had said the same thing to me,
but there was no humor in his eyes. I took it as a grave compliment that he trusted
I’d sensed something, even if I wasn’t sure what it was.

“Instinct is important,” he said. “Occasionally the senses detect things the rational
mind can’t yet analyze.”

I reached out and squeezed his hand, moving my body closer to his and pushing him
a little farther away from the street and a little closer to the retaining wall that
bounded this part of the sidewalk.

Being the good Sentinel, and an Ethan Sullivan trainee, I began to plan. We weren’t
far from the House, and we could easily run back if necessary, but that would leave
both of us more exposed than I liked. A phone call to Luc, asking him to pick us up,
would be safer, but I didn’t want to give myself over to an agoraphobic fear without
some kind of evidence.

“Merit?” Ethan asked.

“I hate to pull rank,” I told him, “but I’m playing Sentinel, and I’m getting you
back to the House in one piece. And without argument. Stay at my side.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and I was pretty sure he meant it lasciviously.

“Keep jogging to the end of the block. Human pace. And no showy stuff.”

He grunted with disdain at the idea of dialing back his effort, but complied. We made
a slow and silent jog toward the end of the block . . . and that was when I heard
it.

The slow scratch of tires on gravel.

Hear it?
I asked Ethan, activating our silent link.
Car behind us, seven o’clock?

American, by the sound of it. Strong engine.

Of course that would be your contribution
, I kidded to ease the tension.
Slow down just a smidge.

We slapped back a gear, moving with less speed, our feet barely lifting off the ground.
A slow jog for humans, barely a shuffle for healthy vampires.

And still, the vehicle crept forward. I hadn’t yet seen it, but I could hear it behind
us. Moving as we moved, tracking our speed. But was this friend or foe?

Was this someone who watched us, wanted to speak with us . . . or wanted to end us?

On three, stay where you are. I’m going to make a move.

You’ll be careful?

Liege
, I parroted back, using one of his favorite phrases,
I’m immortal.

One
, I silently said. I squeezed his hand for luck.
Get a look at the license plate if you can.

Ethan nodded.
Two
, he silently said.

Three
, we said together, and I bolted.

I darted to the street. The car, half a block back, caught me in its headlights and
came to a squealing stop. I couldn’t see the car for the lights, but it was high enough
that I could tell it wasn’t a sedan or convertible, more like a truck or SUV.

For a moment, we faced each other.

The vehicle revved its engine, and I stared it down with feigned bravado—because my
heart was beating like a timpani drum.

We could stand here all night, but I wasn’t going to learn anything about this threat—if
it was a threat—unless I made a move.

One hand on my hip, I crooked a finger at the car, daring the driver to move forward.

The driver took the dare.

With the squeal of rubber on the road, the driver mashed the accelerator and pushed
forward. I squeezed my fingers into fists, even as my heart thudded beneath my chest,
willing myself to stay where I was until the vehicle was closer, until I had a chance
to catch sight of the driver. But it was dark, the windows were tinted, and the glare
was too much to see through.

With only nanoseconds and a few millimeters to spare, I half turned and flipped backward,
barely moving out of the way in time. I’d have sworn I felt the slickness of the vehicle’s
clear coat beneath my toes as we passed each other.

I hit the ground in a crouch and turned back to stare after the car.

It was a black SUV. No plates. We’d seen similar vehicles before; McKetrick’s thugs
had driven them when he’d confronted us in the past.

I nearly jumped when Ethan put a hand on my arm. “You’re all right?” He scanned my
eyes.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t even close,” I lied. “But I couldn’t see the driver. Did you
see anything?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Weird. Why get this close without taking action?”

“Maybe they’re watching us,” Ethan said darkly, which was somehow even more disturbing.

“For what purpose?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, obvious concern in his voice. “Let’s get back to the House.”

I wasn’t about to argue with that.

* * *

When we walked into the foyer, Malik stood beside the door, awaiting our return. Ethan
must have signaled him telepathically.

“You’re all right?” he asked, his gaze shifting between us; he must have sensed the
spill of magic.

“We were followed by a black SUV. No clue who it was or what he or she was after.
The vehicle drove off when Merit confronted them.”

Malik looked at me. “Merit confronted them?”

“I approached; they left.”

“Any word yet from the GP?” Ethan asked.

Malik shook his head. “They’ve been completely incommunicado. I presume they’ll be
here when it’s time for the ceremony, but they haven’t reached out.”

“Is it just me, or is that completely unlike them?” I asked, glancing between them.
“Why bother to get here early if they aren’t going to use the time to harass us?”

Ethan nodded. “Unfortunately, I tend to agree. And a bit of last-minute drama isn’t
out of the question.” He glanced at Malik. “I’m going to head up and take a shower.
Please tell Luc about the SUV, and let’s warn the House in the event they’re still
out there.”

Not exactly the most comforting of thoughts.

* * *

I was also grungy from the run, so I grabbed a shower as soon as Ethan was finished
and climbed into my leathers, as I had no idea what the night might bring.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and touched the hollow of my neck where my Cadogan
medal formerly would have rested.

I’d given back the medal I’d been wearing during last night’s ceremony. But that was
only one of the two I owned. The first I’d been given had been stolen, and I’d eventually
gotten it back. Last night’s medal had been the replacement; the original sat in a
small box in the bottom of my nightstand in Ethan’s room. Because I hadn’t been wearing
it last night, I hadn’t had an opportunity to give it back.

But now that I remembered, I still didn’t offer it up. I wasn’t going to wear it;
that seemed dishonest, especially when all my fellow vampires had given up their own.
But this medal had been stolen and returned by Seth Tate, and I had no idea what magic
he’d done while he’d had it. Maybe nothing; maybe wicked acts.

The medal would stay in its box, at least until I was sure one way or the other.

By the time I was ready to go, Ethan was dressed as well, in a perfectly fitted suit.
Every molecule of clothing on his body was bespoke and perfect, from the slacks that
ran the length of his long legs to the suit jacket that fit his shoulders as if it
had been hand-sewn for him by an elderly European gentleman with small needles and
thick chalk.

Come to think of it, I bet that was exactly how it had been made.

Whatever its origins, he looked sharp. He looked in charge, and every bit the Master
of the House.

“Do you need anything for the GP ceremony?”

“No,” he said. “One night without drama would be appreciated, but that seems unlikely
in the near term.”

I hardened my heart against the half lie I was about to tell—or at least the substantial
omission. “Since we’ve got a bit of time before the ceremony, and unless you need
me here, I’d like to check in about the murders. I might visit my grandfather, see
if they’ve learned anything. It bothers me that we still don’t have a lead, especially
when we gave our word to Noah. Plus, I’m stressed about the murders and the GP”—
and the other thing I’m not supposed to be telling you about
, I silently thought—“and my grandfather usually offers me Oreos. I like a good Oreo
now and again.”