Chicagoland Vampires - Some Girls Bite Part 31

"You f.u.c.king son of a b.i.t.c.h." The words were tight, forced through his clenched jaw.

Ethan blinked, but made no other move, his stance still relaxed, confident. "Excuse me?"

"You think this is right? That you can do this?"

I flinched when Morgan lifted his arm, nearly pushed through the couple of vampires who separated Ethan and me, but held back when I saw the white paper he held in his hand. A small square of it, a black curve of handwriting across one side. Having seen something similar weeks before, I guessed what might be written on it.

Ethan probably knew, too, but bluffed. "I don't know what that is, Morgan."

Morgan fisted the note, held it in the air. "It's a f.u.c.king death threat-that's what it is. It was on Celina's bedside table. Her bedside . Table. She's scared to death." Morgan took a half step forward, uncurled the note, held it out for Ethan to read. Ethan gingerly took it between long fingers, his gaze traveling the length of the paper and back.

"It's a threat," Ethan announced to the crowd, his gaze still on Morgan. "Very similar to the one Merit received. I'd guess it's the same handwriting, the same paper. And it's purportedly signed by me."

The crowd rumbled. Morgan ignored it, lowered his voice to a fierce whisper that immediately quieted the crowd again.

"And that's f.u.c.king convenient, isn't it? Get Joshua Merit's daughter into the House, then take out Celina? Blame it on the Rogues, consolidate your power right under Tate's nose?" Morgan turned, surveyed the crowd, swinging out an arm dramatically. "And all of a sudden, the House that drinks is everyone's favorite."

The room went eerily quiet, and Ethan's frame finally stiffened. I watched the change in his posture, and my stomach sank as I feared, and faced, the worst-that Morgan had guessed correctly, and that Ethan was on the main quad that night for a very specific reason. That it wasn't "luck" at all.

Ethan leaned forward, eyes flaming green, and bit off, "Watch your words, Morgan, before you take steps Celina isn't ready to back up. Neither myself nor any other Cadogan vampire is responsible for that note, for any violence or threats made against Celina or Merit." He lifted his head, looked at Noah, then Scott Grey, then out over the crowd. "Cadogan is not responsible for the death of Jennifer Porter, for the death of Patricia Long, for the notes, for the evidence, for any part of those crimes." He paused, let his gaze travel. "But if someone-some vampire-is responsible, be they Grey, or Rogue, or Navarre, and if information comes to light that any vampire or sect of vampires took part-any part-in these crimes, we will give that information to the police, human or not. And they will answer to me."

He glanced back at Morgan, gave him the withering Master-to-Peon look I knew he was capable of.

"And you'd better remember your place, your age, and where you're standing, Morgan of House Navarre."

"She's afraid for her life, Sullivan," Morgan said through clenched teeth, clearly unaffected by Ethan's threat. His jaw was set, his stance aggressive-feet planted, hands clenched into fists, chin tipped down just enough so that he glared at Ethan from beneath his brow. "I'm her Second, and that is unacceptable."

I sympathized, understood his frustration, knew Ethan would expect the same loyalty from Malik, if not the drama that made me wonder about the relations.h.i.+p between Celina Desaulniers and her Second. But I also knew Ethan wasn't involved. Maybe the Rogues had some involvement, maybe Grey House, undoubtedly some vampire with access to the Cadogan grounds. But Cadogan vampire would have, could have, murdered under his watch.

I looked across the anxious crowd, met Luc's eyes, got the nod that I knew signaled action. Just as Morgan c.o.c.ked back a fist, I stepped forward, pushed through the remaining veil of vampires, whipped the sword from its scabbard, and stretched out my arm just so the tip of it lay before the pulse that throbbed in his neck.

I lifted a brow at him. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

The ballroom went silent.

His dark eyes followed the length of the sword, surveyed the leather. He took in the jacket, the pants, the boots, the high ponytail that held back my hair. If he hadn't been completely sobered by the steel, I think he'd have complimented the ensemble. But this was business, and I'd stepped into his fight.

Morgan lifted his chin incrementally above the blade. "Put down the sword."

"I don't take orders from you." I took a step to the side, my arm outstretched, and stepped directly between Morgan and Ethan, forcing Ethan to back up behind me. It was enough to put him out of Morgan's reach, and to subst.i.tute me in Morgan's line of attack.

"But you take orders from him?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I blinked, all innocence, and let my voice ring across the room. "I stand Sentinel. I'm a vampire of his House, and I stand Sentinel.

If he orders me to lower the blade, I will."

Ethan was silent behind me. But it wasn't the fact that he made no order, but my admission that I'd obey it if it came, that prompted a round of whispering. Ethan had been right: Chicago's vampires doubted my allegiance, maybe because rumors had leaked out about the nature of my change, maybe because of my father, maybe because of my strength. Whatever the reason, they had doubted.

Until now.

Now they knew. I'd joined the fight, I'd made a s.h.i.+eld of my body, and I'd stepped between Ethan and danger, drawn steel on his behalf. I'd accepted the possibility of injury, of death, in order to protect him, and I'd publicly made clear that I was amenable to his orders, willing to submit to his authority.

I had to squeeze the handle of the katana when the tunnel rushed me, when I heard Ethan's voice. I'd say this counts as a show of allegiance.

I almost grinned from the sheer relief of it, of realizing that I wasn't doing this alone, facing down a hostile crowd outside the chain of command. But I kept my gaze neutral, remembered the audience around us, and knew that they were memorizing this moment, would play it back, would recall it for friends and enemies and allies-the night they first saw Cadogan's Sentinel take up arms.

I said a quick prayer not to screw it up too badly.

Oblivious to the undercurrent, Morgan barked, "This isn't your fight."

I shook my head at him. "I took my oaths. It's my fight-only my fight. He named me Sentinel, and if you bring this to Cadogan House, you bring this to me. That's the way this works."

Morgan shook his head. "This is personal, not House business."

I c.o.c.ked my head at him. "Then why are you here, in someone else's House?"

That must have had some kind of impact. He growled, the sound low and predatory. If I'd been an animal, it would have raised my hackles. As it was, it called the vampire again, and I knew my eyes were silvering at the edges, but pushed, as hard as I could, to quiet her again.

"This isn't your concern," Morgan said. "You're only going to get hurt."

A corner of my mouth lifted. "Because I'm a girl?"

His lips tightened, and he leaned forward, p.r.i.c.ked his neck against the sharpened tip of the blade. A single crimson drop slid down the edge of it. Looking back, I'd have sworn the sword instantaneously warmed as Morgan's blood traced the steel.

"First blood!" was called by someone in the crowd, and the vampires around us backed up, widening the open circle in which we stood. There was movement to my left and right, and I slid a quick glance sideways, saw Luc and Juliet take up positions at Ethan's sides.

Master secured, I grinned at Morgan beneath the fringe of my bangs and called up all the bravado I could muster. "You're here.

I'm here. We gonna dance?"

I kept my sword level, saw Morgan's gaze flick behind me, then back to me again. His eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting. I had no idea what that was about. But Morgan began pulling off his jacket, then held it out to the side, revealing the straps of a sheath. A vampire, presumably one who'd arrived with him from Navarre House, stepped forward to claim his jacket, and reaching behind him, Morgan pulled a gothic-looking dagger from its mount. The blade glinted, all weird curves and angles, and I couldn't say that I was impressed by the fact that he hid it beneath clothes.

I stifled a sudden sense of panic that, at twenty-eight, I was about to be in my first real fight-not a sibling spat, but a duel, combat, my first battle on Cadogan's behalf. Honestly, I still wasn't sure Morgan would go through with it, that he would actually attempt to draw my blood in front of Ethan, Scott, the Rogues, and witnesses from Cadogan House, and on Cadogan territory. Especially because he lacked concrete evidence that Cadogan was involved in the threat, because he knew I'd received a threat of my own, and maybe most important, because he'd kissed me.

But here we were, in this circle of fifty vampires, and he'd brought this on himself, so I called his bluff. Carefully, slowly, I lowered the sword, flipped the weight of it so the pommel was up, and held it out to the right, waiting until Lindsey stepped forward to take it.

Morgan's eyes went wide when I unzipped the jacket, but not as wide as they did when I slipped it off. The only thing beneath was snug leather band, which left my abdomen and hips bare to the top of the leather pants. I extended the jacket with my left hand, felt the weight of it disappear, then held out my right to retrieve the sword. When the body-warmed handle was back in my hand, I rolled it in my wrist, getting used to its weight, and smiled at him.

"Shall we?"

His expression darkened. "I can't fight you."

I a.s.sumed the basic offensive position Catcher had taught me-legs shoulder width apart, weight on the b.a.l.l.s of my feet, loose knees, sword up, both hands in position around the handle.

"That's unfortunate," I commented, then lunged forward slightly and sliced a stripe in the sleeve of his long-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt. I pursed my lips, blinked up at him, gave him a look of doe-eyed innocence. "Oops."

"Don't push me, Merit."

This time my expression was flat. "I'm not the one who's pus.h.i.+ng. You challenged my House. You're here to take up arms against Cadogan, against Ethan, because you think we have something to do with the deaths of these women. And you do this on the basis of a note that someone placed in the bedroom of your Master. I doubt Ethan made it into Celina's boudoir without notice." The crowd snickered appreciatively. "So how else did you expect us to respond to this, Morgan?"

"He shouldn't have called you here."

"I stand Sentinel, and this is House business. He didn't have to call me here. I'm honor-bound to fight-for the House and for him-and I will."

I don't know what I said to spark it, but Morgan's expression changed so suddenly I doubted what I thought I'd heard in his voice when he'd sought to protect Celina from her would-be attacker only moments ago. He looked at me slowly, a head-to-toe perusal that would have melted a lesser woman. He looked at me, Morgan of Navarre, and his gaze went hot, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "Yield, d.a.m.n it. I won't fight you. A fight isn't the thing I want from you, Merit."

I felt the blush warming my cheeks. I could take threats, I could take bl.u.s.tering, but propositioning me in front of fifty vampires was completely uncalled for. So I leveled the sword at the height of his heart.

"Don't say it. Don't suggest it. Don't even think it. I've told you before"-I grinned up at him evilly-"I don't do fang."

The crowd gave an ironically appreciative snicker.

I took a step forward, took satisfaction in the fact that he moved a step back. "Yield, Morgan. If you want out of this, then yield.

Apologize to Ethan, take your note, and leave the House. Or," I added, thinking about the strategy of it, "decide to stay, to be part of the dialogue, to figure out a solution to the problem of sudden human attention on our Houses."

I could practically feel the glow of Ethan's approval at my back. I'd given Morgan options, including at least one that would allow him to salvage his pride, to back down from the point of the sword without ruining his reputation.

And then the tunnel rushed me again. But this time, it was Morgan's voice that rang through my head, my sword trembling as I focused all my will on the blade in my hand, trying to maintain my stance and my composure. I thought telepathy was something shared only between Master and Novitiate. It seemed wrong somehow for Morgan to be inside my head. Too personal, and I wasn't comfortable knowing that he had a psychic "in."

I can't back down without a boon, he told me. I represent my House as well, Merit, and I have my pride. His name was on the note.

I arched a sardonic brow. You know that no one from Cadogan is involved in this.

He was quiet for a moment, then gave me the slightest inclination of his head, a signal that he'd understood, was willing to admit our innocence. Perhaps, but Ethan knows something.

I couldn't argue with that. I already suspected Ethan knew more than he let on, but I had no more evidence for that than I did for the possibility that he'd written the note himself.

Then stay, and talk, and find out what that is, I told Morgan. Stay and work this out with conversation, not with swords.

You know that's the right thing to do. No one will condemn you for running to Celina's rescue. You're her Second.

For what seemed like a long time, he looked at me, a smirk on his face. A boon, then. If I back down, I want something in return.

You brought the fight, I reminded him. You came into my House, threatened Ethan.

And you just took my blood.

I rolled my eyes. You leaned into my blade. G.o.d, but he would argue with a signpost.

You pulled your weapon first, Sentinel. That was threat enough to prompt a reaction.

I looked at him for a while, long enough to make the vampires around us stir nervously, as I considered his position. He was right-he'd verbally threatened Ethan, but I'd pulled steel first. I could have taken a softer approach, thumbed the guard, reached for it without unsheathing it, but I'd seen him pull back his arm and a.s.sumed he was going to throw a punch. That was when I stepped forward. And in return for my trouble, I stood in the middle of a throng of vampires, their eyes on me as I psychically negotiated with the vamp who started the scuffle in the first place.

Fine, I told him, hoping irritation carried telepathically. I owe you a favor.

A favor, unspecified.

There was my mistake.

I had to give him credit-he saw his opportunity, and he took it. I omitted terms, failed to identify the thing I owed him, failed to clarify that I owed him a favor equal to the one he'd given. Vampires, I belatedly realized, negotiated via a system of verbal trades and barters and, just as to overzealous attorneys, every word mattered. These were oral contracts of a sort, backed by steel rather than law, but just as binding. And I'd just handed Morgan a blank check.

He grinned wolfishly, offered a smile so possessive it made my stomach flip, and then sank to one knee. My own eyes wide, I followed him down with my sword, kept it pointed at his heart.

You made it too easy, he said, then announced to the room, "Merit, Sentinel of Cadogan House, I hereby claim the right of courts.h.i.+p. Do you accept?"

I stared down at him. I wasn't even sure what it meant-not the details, anyway-although the gist of it was bad enough. You cannot be serious, I told him.

Once you go fang, babe, you'll never go back.

I was about to respond with a few choice maxims of my own, but the landscape s.h.i.+fted, and I was hurling down another tunnel, Ethan whispering at the end of it.

Take his hand. Accept his claim.

My stomach dropped again, this time for an altogether different reason. What?

You heard me. Take his hand. Accept him.

I had to fight back the urge to turn on him and level my sword at the shrunken black nugget of his heart. Tell me why. Explain to me why. "Why you're pimping me out," was the unspoken end of that request.

Silence, until: Because it's a chance for us. For Cadogan. If Morgan courts you, he courts Cadogan by proxy. And he has made this request before representatives of Cadogan, Navarre, Grey, and the Rogues. For Navarre to court a House that drinks, to court Cadogan so openly-it's unprecedented. This could be the gateway to an alliance between our Houses.

Things are . . . unstable, Merit. If your courts.h.i.+p brings Navarre closer . . .

He didn't finish the thought, the obvious implication being that I was a useful bridge between Cadogan and Navarre, a leather-clad link between the Houses. My feelings, my desires, were irrelevant.

I looked down at Morgan on his knees before me, his smile bright and hopeful even while he'd manipulated his way into a relations.h.i.+p, and wondered which of them was the lesser evil.

The crowd around us shuffled, getting antsy as they waited for a response. There was chatting. I heard snippets, whispered behind cupped hands: "Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Morgan dating someone from Cadogan-that's huge."

"I didn't know they knew each other."

And the real kicker: "I thought Ethan had a thing for her?"

My eyes still on Morgan, I squeezed the handle of my sword, sent Ethan another question: If I accept his claim, what does that mean?

It means you accept his suit. You acknowledge that I am, and that you are, receptive to his courting you.

I locked my knees and forced out the question that needed asking, unpleasantly surprised that the answer mattered so much. And are you? Receptive?Silence.

Nothing.

Ethan didn't answer.

I closed my eyes, realizing I'd made the lamentable, and incorrect, a.s.sumption that, at the least, we had reached an accord that would have prevented him from using me, from pa.s.sing me to a rival to meet a political goal. Oh, how wrong I'd been. Wrong to discount the fact that he was first and foremost a strategist, weighing outcomes, considering options, debating the means that would best achieve his ends. Wrong to think that he'd make an exception for me.