House Rules (3 page)

It especially wasn’t difficult when you knew where to look. In this case, I looked
to a slender woman in jeans and an apron, an aluminum tray of steaming food in her
hands, who was walking toward the tables.

She was Mallory Carmichael, a recently confirmed sorceress and my (maybe) best friend.
Our relationship had been strained by her recent efforts to unleash an ancient evil,
which nearly destroyed Chicago in the process. Go figure.

Her hair was a newly vibrant shade of blue—or shades of it, actually. She’d dyed her
hair in an ombré style; it darkened from pale blue at the roots to indigo at the ends.
Tonight it was pulled into a messy bun because she was working as an official employee
of the Little Red Catering Company.

Since loosing a fallen angel on the world, she’d been hired by the North American
Central Pack of shape-shifters as a girl Friday in their Ukrainian Village bar and
diner, Little Red. They were usually a self-contained bunch, but they were concerned
enough by Mallory’s behavior that they made an exception. She was now getting the
Karate Kid
treatment—doing manual labor while she learned to control herself and tolerate the
magic that bubbled beneath her skin.

The Pack also realized that with a sorceress attempting to redeem herself, they had
enough staff to increase their income. Little Red already produced top-notch Eastern
European food, so they’d ventured into the catering business, prepping full-on meals
for Chicago’s supernatural denizens. Only supernaturals for now, because humans weren’t
yet sure that victuals prepared by shape-shifters were safe to eat.

Mallory put her trays on the table, where they were immediately arranged by the Cadogan
House chef, Margot, a vampire with a signature bob of sable hair.

“Mallory looks good,” Ethan said, still beside me.

I nodded, feeling as relieved as he sounded. Fortunately, Mallory was recovering from
the addiction to black magic that had led her astray. But the wounds were still fresh,
and vampires had long memories. We were in the process of rebuilding our relationship,
and this wasn’t the kind of betrayal that was solved by a pint of ice cream or a cathartic
cry. I would need time before I could trust her again, and I had the sense she needed
time to trust herself, as well.

I didn’t see her nearly as much as I used to, so it was reassuring to see her here,
now, helping others instead of creating magical mayhem. That’s precisely why I’d asked
Margot to hire Little Red for the catering. Supporting the bar meant supporting the
shifters’ new business venture and Mallory’s recovery efforts. It seemed like a good
idea all around.

“She does look good,” I agreed. “I’m going to go say hello.”

“Do that,” he said, a hand at my back. “I’m going around to the front to greet the
guests as they arrive.”

“And formally invite them to the House so they don’t break any points of vampiric
etiquette?” Vampires did love their rules.

“Just so,” he said with a smile. “And perhaps we’ll finish our library discussion
later?”

I barely contained the blush that brightened my cheeks. “We’ll see,” I said coquettishly,
but the knowing look in Ethan’s eyes told me he didn’t buy the bashfulness.

My evening plans addressed, I caught up with Mallory as she began to walk away from
the table, probably to grab another tray of meats.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly self-conscious, our interactions still a little awkward.

“Hey,” she said.

“I like your hair.” That was the absolute truth, but it was less the hair than what
the hair symbolized that thrilled me. Mallory’s hair had been blue as long as I’d
known her . . . except for her period as the Wicked Witch of the Midwest. It seemed
to me to be a good sign.

She smiled and touched the top of her bun. “Thanks. It took forever, and I lost four
towels in the process, but I think it turned out.”

“It definitely turned out. The ombré works for you.”

“I need to get some more stuff from the truck,” she said, gesturing toward the front
of the House. I nodded and walked beside her.

“You ready for this shindig?” she asked.

“As ready as we can be. We’re trying to mix two groups of people who’ve basically
sworn to have nothing to do with each other. You do the math.”

“That good, eh?”

“I’m expecting some tension,” I said honestly. Many of the Rogues had purposely avoided
the House system, and now we were inviting them here to socialize.

A shifter carrying four stacked aluminum trays that smelled of porky goodness walked
past us, and I couldn’t help but stare as all that meat disappeared from sight. “I
need to find him later,” I absently said. “How’s work?”

“Shiftery,” she said, pointing to a white delivery truck that was parked at the open
gate in the Cadogan fence. “I feel a lot better, but I’ve developed a new problem.”

“What’s that?” I asked, fearing a new magical addiction or another demigod with an
attitude.

The answer came quickly, and it was decidedly shorter than a demigod.

“Mishka!”

Mallory frowned as a barrel-chested woman with bleached hair stepped out of the truck
and headed our way. She was a shifter named Berna, and she tended bar and worked the
kitchens at Little Red. She also supervised Mallory, apparently to Mallory’s chagrin.

“She calls you Mishka?” I wondered.

“Among other things. And she’s driving me crazy.” Mallory picked up more aluminum
trays, then turned to Berna with an obviously forced smile. “Yes, Berna?”

As soon as Berna reached us, she poked me in the arm. She was always concerned I wasn’t
eating enough—which was never the case; it was just my vampire metabolism—so the poke
was actually an affectionate hello.

“Hi, Berna. The food looks good.”

“You eat enough?” she asked in her heavy Eastern European accent.

“Always,” I assured her.

“You eat more,” she said, then poked Mallory. “You back to work.”

“I was just saying hello to Merit.”

Berna made a sarcastic noise and pinched my arm. Hard. “Still too thin,” she pronounced,
then walked away, yelling at another shifter who was heading toward the back of the
house carrying plastic bags of yeast rolls.

“I should get back to work,” Mallory said. “She has a very specific plan about how
this gig should operate.”

“I take it you two aren’t getting along?”

“She’s driving me up the freaking wall.”

“Berna’s intense,” I said, rubbing the sore spot on my arm. “Motherly, in her way,
but intense.”

“That’s precisely the problem. It’s been a long time since I’ve been mothered, and
twenty-eight is too late to start.”

Mallory’s parents had been killed in a car accident years ago, and she didn’t have
any living relatives.

“I can see how that would be awkward.”

“It is. But she means well, so I’m going to shake it off later with a hot bath and
stack of gossip magazines.”

I wondered whether she’d also shake it off by talking to Catcher Bell, her boyfriend—or
at least, he’d been her boyfriend before her unfortunate magical incidents. I wasn’t
entirely sure where they stood, but since she didn’t bring it up, I didn’t either.
Not that the curiosity wasn’t killing me.

“Do the bath and magazines help?” I asked.

“Less than they should. But when you aren’t supposed to use your magic, you do what
you can. It’s like the world’s worst diet.”

“Mishka!”

“I’m coming!” Mallory yelled, then smiled apologetically. “It’s good seeing you, Merit.”

“You, too.”

She looked up at me a little shyly. “Hey, maybe we could do something sometime? If
you’re up to it?”

It killed me a little that I hesitated before responding. But I still needed time.
“Um, yeah. Okay.” I nodded. “Give me a call.”

She smiled a little brighter, then jogged back to the truck to arrange food at Berna’s
command.

Say what you would about Mallory, but the girl was trying to claw her way back into
her life. I had to respect that, and I truly hoped she could make it stick.

CHAPTER TWO

PAS DE DEUX

A
n hour later, the yard was full of vampires of the Rogue and Cadogan persuasions.
They seemed to be mixing relatively well—which was the entire point of a mixer, really.

If the fashion was any indication, the crew here today was much more eccentric than
the Rogues who’d previously visited the House. A few were outfitted in the black military-style
duds we’d seen before. But the others wouldn’t have passed a military inspection.
They wore heavy biker leathers and tie-dyed shirts, classic Goth ensembles and cocktail
dresses.

Some of them had been snubbed or excluded by the House system, and some of them had
purposely chosen the Rogue life. None of them seemed the worse for it.

Ethan worked the crowd like a master diplomat, moving from cluster to cluster of vampires,
shaking hands and listening attentively while they chatted.

Luc stepped beside me. “Not bad for a last-minute party.”

“It was only a last-minute party because we’ve been focusing on the transition,” I
pointed out.

Ethan appeared at my side and gestured across the lawn to a broad-shouldered man who
chatted with Kelley, who’d served as the captain of Cadogan’s guards when Luc was
promoted. I guess now she was a cocaptain, since Luc had essentially reassumed the
position. Seriously, our leadership structure was a mess.

“Noah’s just arrived,” Ethan said. “Let’s say hello.”

I hadn’t seen Noah since he’d offered me a spot in the Red Guard, a clandestine organization
of vampires whose mission was to keep an eye on the Greenwich Presidium and the Houses’
Masters to ensure vampires were treated fairly.

I’d accepted Noah’s offer, and Jonah, the captain of the Grey House guards, had been
appointed as my partner.

Ethan didn’t know about the RG or Jonah, or that Noah was affiliated with the organization.
Seeing Noah again made my stomach clutch with nerves. I wasn’t much of a poker player,
but I was going to have to bluff my way to nonchalance on this one.

I followed Ethan across wet grass and toward Noah. He stood in a clutch of black-clad
vampires who looked like the type of Rogues I was familiar with. Noah looked up as
we moved closer, giving both of us slight nods of recognition.

“Ethan, Merit,” Noah said, then looked at his crew. “I’ll find you later,” he told
them, and they disappeared into the crowd.

“Everything okay?” I wondered.

“Personal matters,” he said without elaborating, then smiled. “You two look happy
and healthy. I was glad to hear you successfully managed Mallory and the Tate twins.”

Seth Tate, the former mayor of Chicago, was also an angel who’d been magically linked
to his demonic twin brother, Dominic. He’d slain Dominic and left Chicago to seek
redemption for the crimes they’d committed while sharing a psyche. We hadn’t heard
from Seth since.

“So were we,” Ethan said, “although it was touch-and-go for a while.”

“Well, you put an end to the crisis, and that means something.” He took in the sweeping
height of Cadogan House, our home in Hyde Park. The mansion was three stories tall,
made of pale stone and iron ornamentation. It was built around Chicago’s Gilded Age,
when cattle and manufacturing made the wealthiest citizens flush and they built stately
homes to prove it. Some of those homes were gone, and some had been split into apartments.
A few still existed as single-family homes . . . but only one was home to a pride
of vampires.

“Are you ready to say good-bye to the GP?” Noah asked, dropping his gaze to us again.

“Only time will tell what it’s like on the other side,” Ethan said. “Although given
the venom the GP’s been spewing in our direction lately, I don’t anticipate a significant
change. If they’re going to hate us, they might as well do it without our tithe. You
and yours have managed well enough.”

“With care and technique,” Noah said. “We keep our ears to the ground and our bodies
out of the GP’s line of sight.”

“Is it that bad?” I wondered aloud. Ethan had told me the GP took an all-or-nothing
approach to its membership—the vampires within its purview were members, or they were
enemies. But I’d never seen the GP take aim against a Rogue vampire. They seemed more
interested in harassing the Houses and punishing those within the system who didn’t
adhere to their standards of behavior.

“Most of our drama lately has been internal,” Noah said. “Issues among Rogues, not
Housed vampires. But there was a time when the GP kept the lines between the Houses
and the Rogues clearly marked and enforced those lines at sword point.”

“So many things in the world to worry about,” I mused, “and they decide to create
animosity for no particular reason.”

“Oh, there’s a reason,” Ethan said. “If they convince the Houses that those outside
the Houses are bad, the GP is good by default. They offer constructive criticism and
protection from all that’s bad.”

“So the GP is a protection racket,” I said.

“A year ago,” Ethan said, “I’d have said that proposition is ridiculous. Now I fear
it’s not far off the mark. But they aren’t here, and we haven’t been Decertified yet.
So for now, let us eat, drink, and be merry.”

“For tomorrow we . . . ?” Noah asked.

Ethan smiled slyly. “We’ll see.” He glanced across the crowd at someone I couldn’t
see, and nodded before looking back at us. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m being paged from
afar. Be nice to our new allies, Sentinel.”

“Har, har,” I muttered, enjoying the view as he walked away.

“You seem smitten,” Noah said.

My cheeks warmed. “I am, as it turns out. Although God knows how that happened.”

“He’s not the type I would have imagined you with.”

“Me, either, and not just because he’s fanged.” I’d initially planned to avoid dating
vampires; that plan hadn’t succeeded. “But whatever the reason, we work. We complement
each other. I can’t explain it, as much as I like to try.”

“Connections like that are a rare and fortunate thing,” Noah said, with enough bleakness
in his voice that I thought he had experience with that rarity.

“Jonah indicates your relationship with Ethan won’t affect your RG involvement?” He
asked the question casually, although it seemed unlikely he’d have asked at all if
he’d actually believed Jonah’s answer.

Margot walked toward us with a tray of delicate crystal glasses shimmering with golden
champagne.

“Drink?” she asked.

Nodding, I pulled one from the tray and took a hearty sip. Noah did the same.

“I made a commitment,” I promised when she was out of earshot again. “And I intend
to keep it.”

“See that you do,” Noah said. His tone was just mild enough that I wasn’t sure whether
he was confirming my allegiance—or questioning it.

* * *

When dinner was served, I joined Lindsey at a table beneath the tent.

She was blond and fit, and incredibly bright. She also had a great sense of fashion,
a piercing sense of humor, and a strong streak of loyalty, which had nearly tanked
her burgeoning relationship with Luc. She’d been afraid a relationship would ruin
their friendship, but they seemed to be doing okay.

Across from us at the table were two Rogue vampires.

Alan, who wore a button-down plaid shirt, looked as happily average as they came.
He explained that he worked in insurance; I didn’t entirely understand his job, but
it seemed to involve a lot of math and, fortunately, allowed him to work at night.

Beth, who dressed with Gothic flare, was a tattoo artist with a shop in Wrigleyville
and a part-time burlesque dancer. She had dark, wavy hair and a curvy figure with
a nipped-in waist, and she snorted a little bit when she laughed, which she did a
lot.

Alan and Beth had recently met on an Internet dating site for Chicago vamps, and my
mixer was their very first outing together. I took an obscene amount of pride in that,
even though their finding each other had nothing to do with me.

Alan put down the bottle of root beer he’d been drinking. “You know, the GP may call
you Rogues, but there’s still a big difference between you and us.”

“How do you mean?” Lindsey asked.

“You’re Housed,” Alan said. “Even if you aren’t in the GP, you’re still part of a
unit. You’ve agreed to live and work together, to hang out together. It’s basically
a vampire fraternity, right?”

I actually hadn’t agreed to live and work in Cadogan House—I’d been attacked by a
Rogue vampire and left for dead. Ethan had made me a vampire to save my life. Membership
in Cadogan House had been the side benefit. Or cost, depending on your perspective.

“Alan,” Beth scolded, but he shrugged off the concern.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” he said. “I’m just being honest. That’s the perception
of a lot of Rogues—that you think you’re in a club and that makes you better than
everyone else.”

That thought hadn’t even occurred to me, and I doubted it had occurred to Lindsey,
either. We weren’t the elitist type. If anything, Cadogan was the least elitist House
in Chicago. Navarre, in my humble opinion, was snootier, and the vampires of Grey
House, which was all about athletics, had a built-in tendency to hang together.

On the other hand, he was right that we were part of a club. There were three hundred
vampires associated with Cadogan House. Nearly one hundred of us lived together in
Cadogan House in our dormlike rooms, ate together, worked out together, and sometimes
worked together. We had positions and titles, rulebooks, and T-shirts and medals that
proclaimed our membership to the world.

“We kind of are a fraternity,” I said. “That makes us loyal to each other, and willing
to work for the House’s good. But I don’t know anyone in the House who thinks we’re
better than anyone.”

“Well, I think you seem cool,” Beth said.

“She is cool,” Lindsey said. “For a nerd.”

Beth and Alan also seemed cool, and they certainly didn’t seem miserable just because
they lived outside the Houses.

Beth smiled. “And it’s not that we think anything’s wrong with living in a House.
We just don’t do it.”

The clink of metal against glass brought our attention to Ethan, who stood nearby,
a champagne flute in one hand and a fork in the other.

“If I could have your attention,” he said, placing the fork on a nearby table while
the crowd quieted. “I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome the unaffiliated
vampires of this city to Cadogan House. I hope you’ve felt our door was open to you,
and I certainly hope that you’ll feel that way after our status changes. It is true
that we’re a House. But we are now, have always been, and will continue to be a collective
of vampires. We have chosen to come together just as you have chosen to stand as proud
individual vampires, and we respect your decisions to do so. We are searching for
a new way to live and thrive as vampires.” He smiled rakishly. “We may come to you
for advice.”

There were a few appreciative chuckles in the crowd, and a few suspicious grunts.
It was becoming clear that the city’s Rogues weren’t just going to welcome us with
open arms; we’d have to prove our worth to them just as we had to the GP. Maybe, unlike
the GP, the Rogues would actually listen.

Ethan looked down at the ground for a moment, his forehead wrinkling in the center.
That was a sign he was worried, and when he looked up across the crowd again, the
concern in his eyes was clear.

“These are strange times,” he said. “We have been tested, as this city has been tested.
Recent events have been difficult for vampires and Chicago, and they may become more
so. Other supernaturals’ announcements of their existence, while taking some of the
spotlight off vampires, have made humans increasingly nervous about our presence.
Tate’s antics did nothing to improve the humans’ esteem; nor has the new mayor offered
any help.”

There was no disagreement with that point. Diane Kowalcyzk, Chicago’s new mayor, wasn’t
bright, and she seemed to be overtly prejudiced against supernaturals. She’d even
made friends with McKetrick, first name unknown, a former military type with a raging
hatred of vampires.

“At the risk of speaking ill of our soon-to-be former leaders, it probably won’t surprise
you to learn that the Greenwich Presidium has turned a blind eye to those developments,
and has refused to accept the changing world. We don’t think that’s fair, and we think
it’s time for a change. This week we take our stand. We cannot predict the future,”
Ethan said. “We do our best, and we hope—with love and luck and friendship—that we
survive these turbulent times.”

He held up his champagne glass. “May the winds blow fair through your journeys, wherever
they may lead. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” responded the crowd, and everyone took a sip.

Without missing a beat, Ethan walked to Noah’s table and shook his hand. The chatter
returned to normal levels, vampires digging back into their proteins while two of
the most important vampires in the city made nice in front of their minions.

I had to give it to Ethan: He was right that times were precarious, but he’d managed
to convince a chunk of the city’s unaffiliated Rogues to venture into our domain,
break bread with us, and toast our collective futures. Fanged or not, the man had
a way with words.

Fortunately for me, his skills weren’t limited to his vocabulary.

As if sensing the somewhat lurid direction of my thoughts, Ethan turned toward me
and smiled, my toes curling just from the heat of a look.

His conversation with Noah done, he walked toward me, every female eye—and some of
the men’s eyes, too—on him as he moved, the embodiment of masculinity. A vampire in
his prime.

He stopped behind my chair and held out a hand. The entire table went silent.

“Dance with me,” he said.

My cheeks warmed. “There’s no music.”

Before he had time to respond, the quartet in the corner—a group of Cadogan and Rogue
vampires with musical talents—began to play a jazzy tune.