CHAPTER TWELVE

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND VAMPIRES

Ethan turned his body to shield me as they stepped onto the path in front of us. I didn’t like it, but I knew this was a battle he needed to fight. A battle he believed he needed to fight for me.

Reed looked coolly powerful in the dark tuxedo. His dark hair curled at the top of his collar, his goatee carrying more gray than his hair. He wore the same expression of arrogant conceit as he had in the Tribune photo.

Beside him, Sorcha wore a long column dress in her preferred color of emerald green, her thick blond hair pulled up into a complicated braid that wound around her head. Around her neck was a gold necklace in the shape of a serpent, the triangular head resting in the deep V between her breasts.

While Reed looked at us, Sorcha gazed at her phone, fingers tapping furiously. She looked up at the sound of Reed’s voice, and her eyes widened at the sight of us. But then the emotion was gone, replaced by bored indifference, her attention back on her phone.

“Crashing a party isn’t your usual style, but it does show your lack of character.” Reed was playing his part, wearing the mask of cool and moneyed indifference. That mask was a lie; we’d seen the glimmer of excitement in his eyes at the possibility of murder, of destruction.

Ethan’s smile was thin. “We were invited, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. If you’ll excuse us,” Reed said, and made to step around Ethan. But Ethan moved in front of him, blocking the path.

“We’ll have words, Reed. Now or later, but we’ll have them.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about, Mr. Sullivan?”

“The threat you’ve made against Merit. The danger you pose to this city.”

Reed’s eyes flashed with what looked like pleasure, but his voice stayed cool. “As usual, Ethan, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I find most supernaturals tend toward hyperbole.”

Ethan cocked his head. “Then how about the death of Caleb Franklin, the alchemy written near Wrigley Field?”

“I have no idea who that is,” Reed said casually, lifting a champagne glass to his lips. That was perhaps the most infuriating thing about Adrien Reed. He bluffed as well as any vampire.

“Ah,” Ethan said, nodding. “So you’ll play the mogul here, when surrounded by others who have money. Is that it? Afraid to let your true self show? Afraid they’ll see you for what you really are?”

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

“A thug.” Ethan dropped his gaze to Reed’s tuxedo. “A common thug at that, in a suit of medium quality. I’m surprised at you, Adrien—that your taste doesn’t run to something finer.”

That arrow found its mark, slipping through Reed’s armor. The monster flashed across his gray eyes. “You forget yourself.”

“I don’t, actually. I’ve remembered myself, and what my people stand for.”

“Which is?”

“Chicago, mostly. I’m sure you know we’ve discovered something of yours. A club in Hellriver. La Douleur, I believe it was called?”

“I don’t know it.”

Ethan frowned. “Curious. You don’t know Caleb Franklin, who was killed by one of your vampires. You don’t know about the alchemy near Wrigley, and you don’t know about a club run by one of your own people in a neighborhood where more of the same alchemy was located.”

Ethan glanced at Sorcha. “For a man who professes to have his finger on the pulse of the city, your husband is surprisingly unaware of what his own people are doing.”

She didn’t react. No flush, no huff of surprise, no curse. She just kept staring at her phone.

While she seemed unaffected, Reed was annoyed, and angled his body in front of her. It also kept anyone else nearby from seeing his face.

“I am aware of everything,” he said, that self-satisfied glint in his eyes. “From Robert Merit’s financial desires to the very unfortunate tension that’s developed between shifters and vampires.”

“Tension you created.”

“Actually, no. I didn’t kill Caleb Franklin, nor did I order him killed. And if, hypothetically, I had any familiarity with the other matters you’ve mentioned, what of it? You could never prove it.” Reed returned the condescending look Ethan had given him earlier. “They’d never believe you over me. I’m a pillar of Chicago. You are, quite literally, a parasite.”

Reed shifted the momentum again. His anger now rising, Ethan’s magic filled the air, his glamour potent, and my body unfortunately primed for it. My eyes silvered and my fangs descended in reaction to the glamour he spilled around Reed.

But it seemed to have no effect on Reed. “Glamour doesn’t affect me. Call it a side benefit of having . . . powerful . . . friends,” he said, then glanced at me. “Considering the look on your girlfriend’s face, seems like she could use a friend like that.”

His tone was vulgar, obviously intended to incite Ethan, embarrass me. But I’d seen enough of Reed to be unsurprised. I glanced again at Sorcha, intrigued and baffled. If the comment bothered her, she didn’t show it. Then again, Reed was manipulative, controlling. Maybe she was under his thumb, too.

Ethan dropped the glamour but bared his fangs. If he’d been wearing his katana, he’d probably have pulled that, too. “Stay away from her, and from the rest of my House.”

But Reed was enjoying himself now. “Why should I? Your entire community is a mess, and that’s just one sliver of our city. Do you know how many murders occurred in this city last year?”

“No, but I imagine you had a hand in most of them.”

Reed shook his head. “Tsk-tsk, Ethan. I didn’t, of course. And the answer is, too many. Chicago is, in your parlance, a disaster.”

“And you’re going to save it?”

“Not that it’s your concern, but let’s say I’m less troubled by the end result than the profitable middle. My job involves evaluating financial opportunity. Chicago has that in spades. Hypothetically speaking, a man with connections in both legitimate and illegitimate worlds would bring order and efficiency to a city that wastes time and resources on people who refuse to do their part.”

My brain tripped back to Cyrius Lore and the conversation in his office, to the order he’d mentioned, Reed’s “plan.” Lore had believed Reed was a messiah. I wasn’t sure if that was spin by Reed or naïveté by Lore, but it was wrong either way.

“So which is it?” Ethan asked. “Do you want the money or the power?”

Reed clucked his tongue. “You know better, Ethan. Money and power are inseparable. Money begets power; power begets opportunity; and opportunity begets more money.”

Reed should have that motto inscribed in his ouroboros, if it wasn’t already. Probably explained why he called his organization the Circle.

“Power,” Reed said, “is the only game worth winning.”

Ethan went rigid. “Chicago isn’t a prize for you to buy with dirty money.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Reed said. “This isn’t Gotham, and you aren’t some tragic superhero. This is the real world. People want money and power, so they respect money and power. I have both, so they respect me for it. And if you’re smart, you’ll heed it and walk away right now.” He slid his reptilian gaze to me. “Before anyone gets hurt.”

Ethan’s magic flared again, this time with heat. “I’ve already told you once to stay away from her.”

Ethan, he’s baiting you.

Stay out of this. Even in my head, his voice was edgy, angry.

I wanted to drag him back, to push Reed away. But that wouldn’t have helped anything. I wasn’t sure there was anything we could do right now that wouldn’t make things worse.

Reed couldn’t have heard the byplay, but his gaze said he realized it was there. “Fortunately, you have no control over me. Which must irritate you greatly.”

“What irritates me is your arrogance.”

Reed smiled easily. “You want to hit me, don’t you?”

Ethan’s expression was grim. “More than anything else.”

It was an obvious ploy. But Ethan would have known he was being baited, and wouldn’t have cared.

“Then take your shot, vampire. I dare you.”

Ethan stepped forward.

The air suddenly buzzed with steel and guns. Cops appeared at our sides, weapons drawn. “Step back!” said one of them to Ethan. “Step back, and get your hands in the air, very slowly.”

Reed had cast the bait, and Ethan had taken a bite. Now we’d pay the price.

Ethan’s jaw clenched with unmitigated fury, but he didn’t move. “Whatever you may be, whomever you may have in your pocket, you are, at heart, a coward.”

Reed shook his head ruefully, put a protective arm around Sorcha’s waist. “As we expected, Officer, they continue to stalk and threaten my family.”

“Hands in the goddamn air,” the cop said again, tension rising as Ethan and Reed stared at each other.

I could see Ethan wanted to move. He wanted to ignore the cops, step forward, and give back some of the pain Reed had caused us. But that wouldn’t have helped. It wouldn’t have done anything but land us in even more trouble.

Step back, Ethan, I said. Now.

I will have my chance at him, Sentinel. For all that he has done to us, I will have my chance at him.

Not here, and not now.

It took Ethan a long moment to weigh justice against consequence, honor against action.

He is mine, Ethan said, but took a step back, lifted his hands into the air.

The cop stepped forward, pulled Ethan’s arms behind him, forced him to his knees. A second cop did the same thing to me. I winced as I hit the ground hard, my bare knees scraping across the rough stone of the path. My arms were wrenched behind me, my wrists zip-tied together, because I was obviously a threat in a ball gown and stilettos.

“You should use two ties,” Reed said. “I understand that’s more effective on vampires.”

The cop was last on the list of people I hoped to battle tonight. Reed, for being an unmitigated monster, was number one on the list. Sorcha, for just watching as the officers cuffed us, was second. And Ethan, whose stubborn ass had gotten us into this, fell in at third.

“We were, of course, prepared,” Reed said as they pulled Ethan to his feet, hands cuffed behind him. “I was afraid you’d show up and cause a scene, so we requested the additional security. The CPD was happy to oblige.” He looked at the officers. “If you’ve got them in hand, I’d like to get my wife to safety.”

For the first time, the cops looked unsure of their steps. “We’ll need to talk to you and your wife,” said the one who’d cuffed Ethan. “Formalize the report.”

“Of course. We’ll just be in the main building. My wife becomes distressed by these two. I just want to get her away from them. I’m sure you understand.”

“Well, all right,” he said after a moment, gesturing to his partner. The other cop stepped aside so Reed and Sorcha could walk past him. The humans who’d gathered nearby to watch nodded as they walked by, offered supportive words.

“You disgust me,” said the first cop as I was pulled to my feet. Then they escorted us in the same direction Reed and Sorcha had gone, past the same gauntlet of humans.

When we passed beneath an overhead light, the second cop happened to glance at me. “Oh, shit,” he said, pulling me to a stop. “You don’t know who they are?”

Ethan’s cop looked at him, then back at me. “No. Should I?”

“These are those Cadogan vampires. The ones who are always in the news. I think one of ’em’s related to a cop, too.”

“Chuck Merit,” I said, uttering the first words I’d said in many long minutes. And when Ethan and I were alone, they wouldn’t be the last. “He’s my grandfather.”

The second cop shook his head ruefully. “I know Chuck Merit. He’s a good guy. You doing this? Putting him in this position? That’s a damn shame. You need to change your ways, ma’am. You need to get your shit together, and change your ways.”

“I have my shit together,” I muttered as we were led back toward the main building.

But right now that felt like a complete lie.

•   •   •

When we reached the visitors’ center, they called my grandfather, agreed to wait until he arrived. He was the city’s supernatural Ombudsman, after all. That put us squarely in his jurisdiction.

It took half an hour for him to arrive with Jeff in tow. No sign of Catcher, but Jeff and my grandfather looked irritated enough to fill Catcher’s usual quota.

“I don’t believe they need to be cuffed, gentlemen,” my grandfather said. “It’s your call, of course, but these two aren’t violent. They may not be especially smart, but they aren’t violent.”

The cops looked at each other; then the first cop looked at my grandfather. “You’ll vouch for them?”

“I will. She’s my granddaughter, and he’s her beloved. They both usually have more sense than this.”

There was a pause before the cops reached some agreement, stepped forward, and cut the zip ties. My wounded arm sang with pain, and I rolled it to release some of the tension.

“Might I have a word with my granddaughter?” my grandfather asked, and the cops shared a glance and stepped away.

My grandfather stared down at us, the disappointment clear in his face.

I hadn’t gotten in trouble much as a kid. I hated the feeling of it, the violation of trust, the sickening sense that I’d disappointed someone, the humiliation that came with having done something wrong. I hadn’t been the type of child who handled it well.

I felt doubly sickened tonight by the fact that I’d disappointed the relative I trusted most of all, and that disappointment was compounded by anger at Ethan. I wasn’t especially surprised, because I’d predicted right down the line exactly what would happen. But I was furious that my grandfather’s reputation had been impugned, and that we’d put that look in his eyes. And Jeff didn’t look so happy, either.

“Would you like to tell me exactly what happened here?”

“Words,” Ethan said. “Only an exchange of words.”

For the first time, Jeff spoke, and his tone wasn’t any more pleasant than my grandfather’s. “Nothing physical?”

“No,” Ethan said ruefully. “I didn’t get that far. The cops showed up first.”

“He told them we were stalking and threatening him,” I explained.

Jeff and my grandfather exchanged a glance.

“Reed’s already called the CPD once,” my grandfather said. “That adds credence to his contention this is a pattern of bad behavior.” He looked at Ethan. “Did you come here specifically to piss him off? Specifically to get arrested? Because if that was your plan, I’d say you accomplished it.”

“We had our reasons,” Ethan said.

My grandfather lifted his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

“He sent her a note,” Ethan finally said. “A threatening note.”

“A direct threat?”

“Implicit.”

My grandfather didn’t roll his eyes, but that looked like a close call. “Goading you to act, just as you’ve done?”

“I did what I thought was best.”

My grandfather sighed, patted Ethan’s arm. “I don’t doubt that, son, but there are times to fight, and times to wait. This was one of the latter.”

There was something odd about my grandfather, a man in his seventies, referring to a four-hundred-year-old vampire as “son.” But the dynamic worked.

“You know this is part of a bigger plan,” Ethan insisted.

“I know what kind of man Reed is, and I’m not alone. There are others on the force—Detective Jacobs, for one—who agree with us, who understand. But, by God, you’re playing right into his hands. You’re proving the point he’s apparently decided to make—that he’s a businessman who’s doing right by this city, and you’re unstable monsters with a personal vendetta. You’re too smart for antics like this, and I’d say the same thing about your trip to Hellriver last night.”

“We wanted to get out before the CPD arrived,” Ethan said.

My grandfather looked dubious. “While I’m sure that was part of the motivation, I doubt that was all of it.”

Ethan had to know my grandfather was goading him to answer, but he obliged. “I was hoping Cyrius Lore would get away, tell Reed.”

“You thought you’d provoke him to act.”

“I want him to come at me.” Ethan pushed his hands through his hair. “I want him to come at me like a man with some courage.”

“And there’s the fault in your logic,” my grandfather said. “A man like Reed doesn’t have courage, not in the way you mean. He has soldiers. He has men who fight his battles for him.”

Ethan took a slow, heavy breath. “It was my call, not hers, and I take responsibility for it.”

My grandfather nodded, acknowledging the admission, then looked at me. “You’re unusually quiet.”

Because I was seething with anger. But there was nothing to gain in airing that anger in front of Jeff and my grandfather.

I settled on “It’s been a long night.”

My grandfather watched me for a moment before nodding. He could probably read my face, understood Ethan and I would have words later.

“Did you find anything in Hellriver?” Ethan asked, bringing my grandfather’s attention back to him.

“No. They’d cleared out the entire building other than a few pieces of furniture. If there was anything that tied the building to Reed, it was gone by the time we got there.”

“Damn,” Ethan said. “There’d been file boxes in the dock area. Dozens of them. Merit had suspected it was paperwork, maybe records of improper business dealings by Reed.”

My grandfather’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you that we might have gotten to it if you’d phoned us earlier.”

“You do not,” Ethan said. “That was also my call.”

“Next time,” my grandfather said, “make better calls.”

The cops walked back to us again. “Mr. Merit, we need to get these two to the station, get them processed. You know how it goes.” The CPD might have given my grandfather some deference, but we were still criminals.

“I do,” my grandfather said, then glanced at Ethan. “I’ll warn Malik. And have them put the House on alert. Just in case.”

•   •   •

We were driven to the nearest station in the back of a cruiser, processed, and separated, stuck in separate rooms for interviews.

My room was small, with a hard tile floor and a small table with four chairs. The wall beside the door was mirrored. Probably two-way glass so people in the hallway could look in on the woman in the fancy party dress who was mentally kicking her boyfriend.

I was a well-dressed cautionary tale.

I’d been sitting alone for fifteen minutes when the door opened. Instinctively, I sat up straight.

The woman who walked in was tall and slender with dark skin, wavy brown hair, and very serious brown eyes. She wore dark trousers, and a cream silk top beneath a fitted taupe blazer that curled into pleats across the bottom, showing long and elegant legs. There were pearls at her ears and throat, and a no-nonsense handbag on her arm. She set down the bag and a leather padfolio on the table, pulled out a chair for herself, and sat down.

“You’re Merit.” Her expression was as no-nonsense as the bag.

I nodded.

“I’m Jennifer Jacobs. Arthur Jacobs’s daughter.”

Arthur Jacobs was the CPD detective and ally my grandfather had mentioned. He’d actually been the cop who responded to Reed’s previous call.

“Did he send you?” I asked.

“He asked me to check in on you, make sure you’re all right. I’m an attorney,” she said, checking her phone when it buzzed, then sliding it back into a slim pocket on the side of her purse. “Not your attorney. I’m not offering you representation, nor am I representing you with respect to any criminal complaint that Adrien Reed may file. I’m just doing my father a favor.”

A favor, by her tone and lengthy disclaimer, that she wasn’t thrilled about. But since she was here, I could be gracious.

“Then thanks to you both. It’s nice to meet you, if under these circumstances.”

Jennifer didn’t respond, but took a good look at me, then linked her hands on the table.

“I’m going to tell you something, Merit,” she said, her gaze direct. “My father is a good cop. A good father and a good cop. He doesn’t need trouble.”

I was getting tired of this speech. “We haven’t brought him any trouble.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” She sat back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other. “He has some kind of affinity for supernaturals, probably because he’s friends with Chuck Merit. He should be captain right now. Was close to it, until he began involving himself in supernatural affairs.”

“In my eyes, that’s something to respect him for.”

“In my eyes, it’s something that could get him killed.”

And there it was. I sympathized, but I was sick of taking undeserved blame.

“We’re not troublemakers, although our enemies enjoy painting us that way. They also enjoy targeting us because of who we are, because we’re different. I have a great deal of respect for your father, because he understands that. I’m sorry you have to worry for him. I worry for my grandfather. But their involvement is their choice.”

“You’re frank,” she said.

“I don’t see the point of not being frank.” My voice softened, considering what her family had recently been through. “I’m very sorry about your brother. I understand he was a wonderful young man.”

Her brother, Brett, had been targeted by a serial killer whose latent crazy had been triggered by unrequited love.

Jennifer’s expression tightened. “That should help you understand my concern.”

“I understand it, but I didn’t cause it, and I’m not sure what you think I could possibly do about it.”

“Don’t involve him in your troublemaking.”

I linked my hands on the table, leaned forward. “Ms. Jacobs, I don’t know you. I don’t know your father very well, but like I said, I respect him. His intelligence, his sense of fairness, and his ability to think critically about supernaturals. I would suggest you spend a little less time accusing vampires and a little more time listening to what he actually has to say. Your attitude? It’s exactly what he’s fighting against.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m not concerned about your people. I’m concerned with mine, as they aren’t immortal. Stay away from my father, and we won’t have any problems.”

She rose, slipping her handbag over her arm before grabbing the notebook. “I’ll advise my father that conditions here are fine, and you’re awaiting your attorney’s arrival. That should fulfill my part of the bargain.”

She walked to the door, glanced back. “Stay away from him.”

And with that, she walked out.

Much like the flowers at the Botanic Garden, nourished by the warmth of spring, our list of enemies was growing.