Blood Games

Jonah glanced at his watch. “We don’t have much time before sunrise, but we’ll check our connections, be in touch with you tomorrow.”



“I’d appreciate it,” Stowe said. “We’ll let you know if we obtain any further information that would help.”



When one of the forensic techs approached her to discuss the case, my grandfather gestured toward the small parking lot on the other side of the courtyard.



“Let’s get out of their way.”



“Where’s Jeff tonight?” I asked.



“Actually, he’s waiting to show you his new office.”



We walked across the courtyard. Ethan and Catcher walked behind me, and Jonah stuck close to Ethan, gaze on the courtyard and any potential threats that might emerge.



On the edge of the lot was a gleaming white panel van, OMBUDSMAN stenciled across the side in black block letters. Jeff was just climbing out the open back. When he saw us approaching, he offered a muted smile—the circumstances weren’t exactly cheery—and a wave.



“Hey, Merit,” he said. We exchanged hugs, and then he offered manly grunts and nods to the rest of the guys in the way that guys do.



“Crappy night,” Jeff said, putting his hands on his hips. He’d swagged out his wardrobe, exchanging his usual button-down shirt for a pullover with OMBUDSMAN embroidered on the chest.



“The crappiest. Did you know Brett?”



“Not really. Seemed like a good guy, superquiet. I hear he played a mean violin. Has a degree in it.”



“That’s what Stowe said. Horrible way to lose a child.”



“I’m not sure there’s any non-horrible way,” Ethan put in.



“Fair point,” Jeff said, then rapped his knuckles on the side of the van. “And that’s where I come in.” We followed him to the back of the van, where the double doors were already opened. “Step inside my lair.”



And it was a lair—and a tech whiz’s dream. The van was outfitted with walls of built-in computers and monitors and equipment I couldn’t name, but which I didn’t doubt cost a lot of money.



The fact that they’d gotten an official van—and that it was filled with Jeff’s favorite variety of toys—was a very good sign. Chicago’s mayor, Diane Kowalcyzk, had fired my grandfather and hired a maniacal ex-military type to replace him. We’d managed to take down the crazy replacement and, supplemented with a little blackmail, get my grandfather hired again.



I guess she knew a good deal when she saw it.



Jeff offered a hand, helped me up into the vehicle. I sat down at a stool, glanced at the screens, which currently showed aerial photographs of the church and surrounding streets.



“This is impressive,” I said, turning around on the stool to glance back at Jeff.



Catcher, Ethan, Jonah, and my grandfather gathered outside the doors and looked in. My grandfather nodded, a supportive arm on the doorframe. “We’ll be able to do a lot more out there. Quick response. On-site research. And a hell of a lot more credibility with an official vehicle.”



“Can you do all your officing here?” I asked.



“Just about,” Catcher said. “Certainly anything you’d need on a mobile basis.”



Ethan glanced at my grandfather. “And a permanent office?”



“The mayor has graciously set aside office space at a community service center on the south side. We move in next week.”



“Successful blackmail is the best blackmail,” Jonah murmured.



“No kidding,” I said, then looked at my grandfather. “This is great. I know you’ll be glad to be settled.” Before he’d been fired, my grandfather had rented a small office on the south side. After he’d been fired, the team worked out of my grandfather’s basement. And then McKetrick, my grandfather’s replacement, had it firebombed.



It had really been a tough year for the Ombuddies.



“It will be nice to put down some roots,” he agreed.



“And how is life at home?” While my grandfather recuperated, he was staying with my parents. They were very nearly his opposites: rich, fusty, and very, very fancy.



“Your father has been nothing but gracious,” he said with a smile that looked a little bit tight at the corners.



I smiled knowingly back. “You’re very kind. I’m sure he’s driving you batty.”



“Nothing but gracious,” he repeated. “He’s hired a physical therapist, nurse, and dietician to oversee my recovery.”



“Your Oreo stash?”



“Depleted.”



“We’ll restock you,” I assured him. “How is Dad?”



“Busy. He’s got a new project in the works—a high-rise in Streeterville. Towerline, it’s called. He’s very focused on getting it up.”



Real estate was Joshua Merit’s particular wheelhouse—and not houses in the suburbs. Entire suburbs. Skyscrapers. Condos along the lake. If it was big, splashy, and expensive—and mentioned in the architectural river or lake tours—he probably had a hand (or a dollar) in it.



“I hope it works well for him. I haven’t seen Charlotte and Robert in way too long.” They were my elder brother and sister, whom I hadn’t seen since I’d taken Ethan home to meet them. We weren’t especially close, but I knew I was lucky to have a family.



“Or Robert’s new baby,” my grandfather said. “Frankly, you could stand to visit the entire family.” It wasn’t often he pushed where the family was concerned—our long-running differences were well-known to him—so I knew he meant it this time. And since he was right, I gave him the victory.



“I should,” I agreed. “We should plan a dinner.”



“We could have them to the House,” Ethan said, but cast a glance at the eastern sky. The pink fingers of dawn were beginning to reach above the horizon, which was our cue to leave.



“We can discuss that later,” my grandfather said, offering me a hand to help me out of the van. I took it, jumped down, straightened the hem of my jacket.



“I’ve got some ideas on the swords,” Jonah said, with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He definitely had something planned. “I’ll check in with Merit at dusk, and we’ll check it out and report back.”



Ethan managed not to stiffen or swear at Jonah’s planning my schedule for the evening, but I felt the brush of irritated magic against my skin. It had all the subtlety of stampeding wasps. Assuming wasps stampeded.



“Appreciate it,” my grandfather said. “We’ll dig in a bit more here, see what we can see. Hopefully, we’ll make some headway and find some justice for Arthur and his family.”



Justice would be good. But I knew it wouldn’t be good enough.



* * *



Jonah walked us back to the SUV, just in case, and we scanned the tourists and alleyways for possible threats against Ethan. When we reached Lindsey’s SUV, I unlocked the car and opened the driver’s-side door.



“I’ll be in touch tomorrow,” Jonah said. “Don’t forget about our date.”



He offered Ethan a wave, then mixed back into the pedestrian traffic and headed down the street, drawing a handful of interested glances from the men and women he passed.



I glanced back at Ethan, found his gaze on me, his expression flat and a twinge of jealousy darkening his eyes. It would be a lie to say that twinge didn’t thrill me a teensy bit, but since I had to live with Ethan, it wasn’t in my best interest to let him stew all the way back to Cadogan House.



“Business date,” I reminded him. “Investigatory date. You’re the only vampire on my mind.”



“Oh, I know,” he said, opening the door. “If I thought for a moment he was making a serious move, I’d have beaten him senseless.”



I didn’t think he was joking.



Ethan was halfway inside the car when he stilled and reached outside, plucking something from beneath the windshield wiper.



In his hand was a piece of white paper, slightly larger than a business card. It was thin enough to see that there was print on one side—words that had his eyes instantaneously widening—before he stuffed it into his pocket.



“What’s that?”



“Nothing, Merit.” He climbed inside, closed the car door. “Let’s get home before the sun rises.”



“Is it from the driver?”



“It’s nothing, Merit.”



“Ethan—,” I began, but he shook his head.



“It’s just . . . a flyer. For a restaurant down the street.” He looked at me, smiled lightly, and pulled the door shut. “Let’s be on our way, Sentinel.”



He was lying. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. He’d seen something on that paper, and he’d lied to me about it.



That scared me more than whatever might have been written there. But dawn was approaching. Seeking shelter from the rising sun was paramount, so I pulled the car into traffic and drove us both home.



* * *



He made conversation on the way back to the House, as casual as ever. By the time we’d pulled up to the House, I was nearly convinced.



Nearly.



We reported to Luc, briefly told him about the murder, the swords, the evidence so far.



Luc confirmed they’d seen no more of the driver, and the guards were preparing to turn the safety of the House to the human patrol at the gates.



We’d had a bad run of luck staffing the guards who watched the gate, a necessity when we were unconscious during the daylight hours. We’d previously hired mercenary fairies, strong supernaturals with serious fighting skills, but they’d betrayed us for an ancient artifact they were convinced we’d stolen. (We hadn’t.) We’d then hired humans, but two had been killed in the line of duty by Harold Monmonth, a former member of the GP, who’d himself been killed. (We were responsible for that one.) We’d stuck with humans but turned to off-duty officers, who we hoped stood a greater chance of survival.



It was an unfortunate irony that the monsters they guarded were the least of their worries.



Our report given, we took the stairs to our apartments on the third floor. The lights had already been dimmed to a soft glow, and classical music played quietly in the background. And because Margot was the coolest chick ever, there was a tray of snacks and water. Turndown service was one of the better perks of dating the Master.



The other was the Master himself, who stood on the other side of the room, one hand on his hip, perusing a stack of papers as he removed his cuff links and placed them on a bureau.



I watched him, looking for a hint of worry or deceit, for the truth of what he’d seen on that small piece of paper.



Perhaps sensing my gaze, he looked up at me. “Sentinel?”



I had no idea what to say, but we’d been through many trials together, and this wasn’t the time to bury fear.



“The paper you found—it wasn’t a flyer for a restaurant.”



Ethan didn’t answer. He finished with his cuff links, began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the flat, muscled plane of his abdomen.



“What would you like me to say?”



“Obviously, I’d like you to tell me the truth. What was in the note? Was it a message from the driver? Another threat?”



He watched me, his eyes colder than I’d seen them in a very long time. “Don’t you trust me, Sentinel?”



I felt like we were having two different conversations. “I want to know if someone is out there gunning for you.”



“It’s something I need to handle.”



“That wasn’t an answer.”



“It’s the answer I’m prepared to give right now.” His features had tightened into Master vampire haughtiness, which drove me crazy. He looked at me, green eyes alight. “Do you think I’m not capable of handling my own problems? I managed to run this House before you were named Sentinel, and I can run it now.”



He wasn’t angry at me. But in true Sullivan style, he was pushing my buttons because he was angry at something else, and I was here.



That only irritated me more. I was here because I cared about him. Because I worried for him. My own anger rose swiftly.



“I don’t doubt it, or that you’ll push me away because you’re angry or afraid. But that’s not how this works. That’s not how you and I work, and it’s not how the House works.”



His expression went stony. “That’s how this will work.”



I took a step forward. “Ethan, you’re in danger. And if it’s a threat, I need to know about it. This isn’t something you pretend not to see.”



“No, it’s something I see very clearly, and something I’ll handle on my own.”



He turned, walked into the closet, where I heard the shuffling of fabric.



My eyelids felt suddenly heavier, both because of the rising of the sun and because this conversation was exhausting.



I walked to the closet, ignoring Ethan, kicked off my boots and pulled off my jacket. I left the rest of my clothes in a pile on the floor, pulled on a tank and shorts, and headed back to the bed. Ethan walked in and sat on the edge, wearing his Cadogan medal and emerald silk pajama bottoms, phone in his hand.



I stood there for a moment, waited until he put the phone down and looked up at me again.



“Come here, Sentinel,” he drowsily said, and I stepped between his thighs, threaded my fingers into his golden hair. Ethan wrapped his arms around me, rested his head against my chest.



“Be still,” he said. “For tonight, let’s both be still.”



The automatic shades closed over the windows with a mechanical buzz. I fell into bed beside Ethan, and he turned off the lamp, leaving us in darkness.