Chicagoland Vampires - Friday Night Bites Part 5

Predictably, given my challenge to his sovereign authority, he tensed, his shoulders squaring. "You will report the information that you are instructed to report." His voice was crisp, chill.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a reaction to the spill of magic that vampires leaked as our emotions rose-magic that was currently spilling into the room as our discussion heated. Vampires weren't able to perform magic, but we were magical beings, magical predators. Add that dust of magic to the silvering eyes and the fangs, and you had a pretty good survey of vampire defense mechanisms-defense mechanisms that were beginning to fire up.

I clenched my hands into fists and tried to slow my breathing. I a.s.sumed my eyes had silvered, but I was trying to keep my fangs from descending.She wanted something else, though . . .

I'd noticed over the last couple of months that when I was stressed or afraid, when the fight-or-flight instinct was triggered and my fangs dropped down, I could feel the vampire inside me, something separate inside me, like we hadn't quite fused together. My three-day genetic change was supposed to turn me-fully and completely-into a vampire, fangs and silvering eyes and all. I didn't understand it, how I could be vampire-the craving for blood, the nocturnal schedule, the fangs and heightened senses-and still feel the separateness of the vampire, a ghost in my machine. But that's what it felt like.

I'd mentioned it to Catcher once; his lack of recognition, of rea.s.surance, had shaken me. If he didn't know what was going on, how was I supposed to know? How was I supposed to deal with it?

More important, what was I supposed to be?

A part of me wondered, whispered, something I could hardly stand to acknowledge-that this wasn't normal. That as a vampire, I was broken.

I could feel her now, a tiger beginning to pace. I could feel her moving, s.h.i.+fting beneath my bones, my muscles beginning to vibrate with it. She wanted my eyes fully silver, my fangs fully descended, my magic spilling through the room. She wanted to take Ethan's words and throw them back, to challenge him with steel.

Or she wanted to throw him down and have her way with him.

Either act would have been violent, primal, incredibly satisfying. And a truly bad idea.

I gripped the handle of the katana, pressing my nails into the cording around the grip to maintain my control. After my failed attempt at warning Catcher, I'd decided to keep the problem to myself. That meant Ethan didn't know, and I wasn't about to announce to a Master vampire who already had trust issues that I thought I was broken.

That she was waiting.

It took seconds for me to push her down, to breathe through her again, seconds during which the magic rose in eddies through the room.

Welcome to Cadogan House, I thought, and with some burst of strength, I willed her back down, lifted my chin and stared back at him. His eyes were wide crystal pools of green.

"I am Sentinel of this House," I said, my voice sultrier than usual, "and I recognize as well as you the responsibility that entails. I have agreed to get you into the places where you need access. I have agreed to help you investigate the raves, and you'll be the first person on my contact list if I learn that Celina is in town. But my love life is off limits."

"Remember who you're talking to, Sentinel."

"I never forget, Sullivan."

Nearly a minute pa.s.sed, during which neither of us moved, even as the weight of our collective stubbornness thickened the air.

But then, miracle of miracles, he relented. The tension and magic diffused. A single stiff nod was all he gave me, but I relished it, savored it, resolved to commit the moment to memory-the moment he'd tapped out. I managed not to scream, "I won!" but couldn't help the grin that lifted a corner of my mouth.I should have known the celebration was premature.

"Regardless, you'll check in with me if you bring Morgan to Cadogan House," Ethan said, his tone self-satisfied enough to deflate my smile.

Of course he wanted me to tell him. He wanted to savor the victory of my delivering the new head of Navarre House-and the possibility of a Cadogan-Navarre alliance-to his doorstep. Given his previous doubts about my loyalties-spurred by my controversial change from human to vampire-what better way for Ethan to ensure that I wasn't leaking information in the halls of Navarre House than to keep me safe and secure in Cadogan, Morgan in tow?

I wasn't sure how much I cared about Morgan. It was early; the relations.h.i.+p was young. But in comparison with the man Mallory had aptly nicknamed "Darth Sullivan," Morgan was Prince Charming in Diesel jeans. I took the comment, inflammatory as it was, as my cue to exit. There was no point in pretending we were going to just laugh this off, and the longer I stayed in the room with him, the more I risked my vampire surfacing. And if she gained control, G.o.d only knew what she'd do. That was a risk I couldn't take-not without risking my own death by aspen stake. So, without meeting the glare I could feel boring into my skin, I rose from my chair and moved toward the door, reaching for the handle.

"And lest you forget," he added, "my interest in your personal life is wholly Cadogan-motivated."

Oh, right in the numbers with that one.

"My concern is about alliances," he said, "about the potential of putting Navarre alliance insignia over our door. Don't mistake it for anything else."

"I wouldn't dare make that mistake, Sullivan." Hard to mistake it when he'd admitted that he was attracted to me, but only begrudgingly. When he'd practically handed me to Morgan. Of course, that was right after he'd offered to make me his newest consort. His live-in, go-to girl. (Needless to say, I'd declined.) But here he was, raising the issue. Maybe Ethan Sullivan, despite his crystalline facade of control, didn't really know what he wanted after all.

"Watch your tone," he said.

"Watch your implication." I was toeing the line of insubordination, but couldn't let him get in the last word. Not on this.

His jaw clenched. "Just do your job."

I nearly growled at him. I'd done my job. I'd done my job when there were a million reasons why I shouldn't risk my life to defend his. I'd done my job, despite his lack of faith, despite my better judgment, because there'd been nothing else to do but to do my job. I'd accepted my life as a vampire, I'd defended him before Morgan, and I'd defended him before Celina.

My frustration rose again, and with it the threat of her breaking through. I could have let her loose, could have allowed her to test her mettle against Ethan . . . but I'd sworn two oaths to him, one to defend him against all enemies, dead or alive.

My vampire probably counted as one or the other.

So instead, calling up the willpower of a saint, I forced my lips into a smile and gazed at him beneath half-hooded lashes. "Liege," I said crisply, an allowance of his authority, and a reminder of exactly what our respective positions were. If he could put me in my place, I could remind him of his.

Ethan watched me for a moment, nostrils flaring, but if he was angry, he resisted the urge to push back.

Instead he bobbed his head and looked down at the spread of papers on his desk. I walked out and, with a decisiveclick , shut the door behind me.

It's not like I hadn't known it was coming, that he'd work that "I'm the boss" tone and attempt to meddle in my social life. Moving into the House was necessary to quickly respond as Sentinel, to help out my fellow guards, standing by their side instead of cruising down from Wicker Park at the whim of Chicago traffic.

But there was a cost. Being near Ethan was just . . . incendiary. Part animosity, part ridiculous chemistry, neither conducive to a peaceful home environment. And this was only my first night under his thumb. Not a good sign of things to come.I returned to my room and worried the end of my ponytail as I looked around. Although the sun's rising would knock me out pretty quickly, I had an hour yet to go before dawn, and my encounter with Ethan had done a pretty good job of winding me up. I figured I could head down to the gym in the Cadogan bas.e.m.e.nt, maybe put a few miles on the treadmill, or check out the Cadogan cafeteria's pre-sunrise offerings. I wasn't going to go that one alone-I was still the new girl, after all. So I took the stairs to the third floor and set about finding Lindsey.

Turns out, it wasn't difficult: a picture of Brad and Angelina was pinned to her bulletin board, a tiny cutout of Lindsey's face glued over Angelina's. "Bradsey," maybe?

The door opened before I had a chance to knock. Lindsey stood in the doorway, her gaze on the magazine in her hands. Her hair was in a low ponytail, and she was out of her Cadogan suit, having exchanged it for a fitted, short-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans.

"I was waiting for you," she said.

I blinked at her. "What?"

"I'm psychic, remember?" She grinned up at me and waved one hand in the air. "Woo-woo," she said, apparently mocking the supernatural quality of it. "I sensed you were coming, and I know you're hungry."

"You can psychically tell that I'm hungry?"

She hmphed. "I can tell because you're Merit. When are younot hungry?"

She had a point.

I only got a peek of Lindsey's room before she threw the magazine inside and shut the door. The layout and furniture scheme were the same as mine-basic vampire dorm-but her room was riotous with color. The walls were crimson red, loud posters and pictures and alb.u.m covers papering a good portion of them. Directly above her bed hung a giant New York Yankees flag. Lindsey was born in Iowa, but she'd done some time in New York. Apparently, it took. While I loved the Big Apple as much as the next girl, I was a Cubs fan through and through. She couldn't seem to shake her pro-Yankees affliction.

When the door was shut, she glanced at me, then clapped her hands together. "All right, Hot-s.h.i.+t Sentinel. Let's go downstairs so you can get your feed on and share your live-in goodness with the rest of your brothers and sisters, yes?"

I scratched absently at my biceps. "The thing is . . ."

"They don't hate you."

"You have really got to stop doing that."

Lindsey held up both her hands. "That one was written on your face, chica. Seriously, they don't hate you. Now, shush so we can chow."

I obediently shushed, then followed her down the hall to the main staircase and down again to the first floor.

At this time of night, the main floor was all but empty of vampires. One or two sat around in conversation or with a book in hand, but the House was beginning to quiet as vampires settled in for sunrise.

We walked through the main hallway to the cafeteria, where a handful of Novitiates carried trays through a U-shaped line around gla.s.s-s.h.i.+elded, stainless-steel bulwarks of food. We joined the end of the line, grabbed our own trays, and began to follow the route.

The food was largely breakfasty-sweet rolls and bacon and eggs. It didn't seem like a typical dinner spread; on the other hand, it was nearly five o'clock in the morning.

I plucked a box of organic chocolate milk from an array of drinks, then s.n.a.t.c.hed a cherry Danish and a pile of bacon. I probably didn't need a heavy pre-sleep breakfast, but I figured the protein would do me good. And, seriously, when you wave a plate of bacon at a vampire, is she really gonna say no?

My tray full, I sidled behind Lindsey, waiting for her and the vamps in front of us to make their selections.

She squeezed honey from a plastic bear onto a bowl of oatmeal, then lifted her tray and walked toward an empty table. I followed, taking the seat across from hers.

"Do I want to ask what's going on downstairs?"

I glanced up at her. "Downstairs?"

She dipped her spoon into her oatmeal, then nibbled a bit off the end. "Again," she said, "I'm psychic.There are vampires wigging out all across Cadogan House tonight. There's a kind of nervous energy.

Preparations, maybe?"

There was little doubt that Lindsey, as a guard, wouldn't ultimately hear about Celina. "Celina's been released," I whispered, tearing a corner from my cherry Danish.

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," she said, surprise and worry in her voice. "That explains why your energy's all over the place."

When I glanced up at her, her head was tilted to the side, an expression of curiosity on her face. "And there's something else there, too. A different kind of energy." After a pause, she grinned. "Ooooh," she said. "I got it now."

I lifted a brow. "Got what?"

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "If you don't want to talk about Celina, I'm not going to talk about why you're all hot and bothered." She closed her eyes and put her fingertips against her temples.

"Although I'm seeing someone-yep, definitely someone there. Someone with blond hair. Green eyes."

She dropped her hands and gave me a flat stare.

"Shut it," I warned her with a pointed finger, a little embarra.s.sed that she knew Ethan was the one who'd gotten me "all hot and bothered," but glad she thought it was l.u.s.t-related-and not because I might have been biologically amiss. Well, vampiri cally amiss, anyway.

I glanced around, noting the curious looks of the vamps who sat at the wooden tables around us. They sipped at mugs and forked through bowls of fruit, their eyes on me.

They didn't look too impressed with their Sentinel.

I leaned toward Lindsey. "Have you noticed that everyone is staring at me?"

"You're a novelty," she said. "You challenged their Master before you even took the oaths, you were named Sentinel, you threw down at the Commendation ceremony, and our beloved leader still covered for your skinny a.s.s."

That made me smile sheepishly. "I got thrown down. Not exactly the same thing."

"Did you know that I've been in this House one hundred and fifteen years? In all that time, Ethan's only nominated one other Master."

I tore at a corner of my pastry, popped it into my mouth. "I'm not a Master."

"Yet,"she said, pointing at me with her spoon. "But that's only an issue of time. Of course, you could have inherent magic, be able to work some of that Mallory Carmichael juju-she's going to be good, you know-and you still wouldn't measure up to the Golden Child."

"I know she's going to be good," I agreed. "It scares me on a daily basis. Who's the Golden Child?"

"Lacey Sheridan."

I'd heard that name but couldn't place it. "Who's Lacey Sheridan?"

"The Master Ethan nominated. Master of Sheridan House."

"Ah," I said, understanding dawning. I remembered seeing the House name in theCanon . There were twelve vampire Houses in the United States. Sheridan was the newest.

"Lacey was in Cadogan for twenty-five years before Ethan nominated her for Testing. She pa.s.sed, and Ethan Apprenticed her before she took the Rites. Then she moved to San Diego, opened Sheridan House. They were close, he and Lacey."

"Business partner close or . . . ?"

"Touchy-feely close," Lindsey said. "And that was unfortunate."

I didn't disagree. Something twinged in my chest at the thought of Ethan being touchy-feely with anyone, and that was despite the fact that I'd been a firsthand witness to the act. Nevertheless, I asked, "Why unfortunate?"

Linds frowned, seemed to consider the question as she stirred her oatmeal.

"Because Lacey Sheridan was picture-perfect," she finally said. "Tall, thin, blond hair, blue eyes. Always respectful, always acquiescent. 'Yes, Liege,' 'No, Liege.' She always wore the right thing, looked like she'd stepped out of an Ann Taylor catalog. Always said the right thing. It was unnatural. She was probably barely human even when she was one."

"Ethan must have been crazy about her," I said, thinking she was the kind of woman he'd prefer toprefer. Elegant. Cla.s.sy. And, I thought, as I nipped the end of a strip of bacon, acquiescent.

Lindsey nodded. " 'Crazy' is the word for it. He loved her, I think. In his way."

I looked up at her, bacon halfway toward its vampiric end. "You're serious?"

I couldn't imagine Ethan in love, Ethan letting his guard down. I wouldn't have figured him capable of trusting someone enough to let the man inside him peek through.

Well, except for those weird few moments with me, and he never seemed happy about those.

"Aspen-stake serious," Lindsey said. "When he realized how strong she was-she's rated a Very Strong Psych-he took her under his wing. After that, they were constantly together." She ate another spoonful of oatmeal. "They were like . . . arctic bookends, like some Nordic fairy couple. They were beautiful together, but"-Lindsey shook her head-"she was all wrong for him."

"Why's that?"

"Ethan needs someone different than that. He needs a girl who'll stand up to him, who'll challenge him.

Someone to make him better, more. Not someone who'll kiss his a.s.s twenty-four/seven and bow to every little suggestion he makes."

She eyed me speculatively.

I caught the glimmer in her eyes, shook my head. "Don't even think it. He hates me, I hate him, and acknowledging that's the only way we stand to work together."