Drink Deep

BITTERSWEET DREAMS



I stood on a high plain in my modern-style black leather -



my long hair whipping in the chil ing wind that rol ed past, swirling the mist that curled at my feet.



The clothing might have been modern, but the setting was ancient. The landscape was bleak and empty, and the air smel ed of sulfur and dampness.



I felt the footsteps before I heard them, the ground rumbling just slightly beneath my feet.



And then he appeared.



Like a warrior returning from battle, Ethan emerged through the mist in garb out of time and place for twenty-first century Chicago. Knee-high leather boots, rough-hewn pants, and a long leather tunic belted at the waist. There was a rust-red gash in the middle of his chest. His hair was long and wavy and golden-blond, and his eyes were vibrantly green.



I walked toward him, fear circling my heart, making a vise around it, squeezing my lungs until I was barely able to sip at air. I was glad to see him alive - but I knew he was a harbinger of death.



When I reached him, he put his hands on my arms, leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead. Such a simple act, but so intimate. A precious affection that made my chest ache wn with sentiment. I closed my eyes and savored the moment as thunder rumbled across the plateau, shaking the ground again.



Suddenly, Ethan raised his head and glanced warily around. When he looked at me again, he began to speak, the words flowing in a lilting language that sounded like it came from a time and place far away.



I shook my head. "I can't understand you."



His expression tightened, a line of worry furrowing his forehead, the words coming more quickly as he tried to get his point across. But the speed didn't help.



"Ethan, I don't know what you're saying. Can you speak English?"



Panic in his eyes, he glanced back over his shoulder, then grabbed my arm and pointed behind him. A low, thick storm front was rol ing toward us, the wind beginning to pick up as the temperature dropped.



"I see the storm," I told him over the rising wind. "But I can't stop it."



Ethan yel ed something out, but the words were lost in the howling wind. He started walking toward the thundercloud, pul ing my arm in an attempt to drag me with him.



But I resisted, pul ing back. "That's the wrong way. We can't walk into the storm!"



He was insistent, but so was I. Positive we'd be swept off the plateau and into the sea if we didn't seek shelter, I began running away from the wal of clouds . . . and him. But began running away from the wal of clouds . . . and him. But I couldn't resist a final glance back. He stood frozen on the plain, his hair whipping in the gale.



Before I could reach out to him, the storm reached us and broke, the wind knocking me off my feet, the pressure sucking the air from my lungs. The rain came as I hit my knees, blowing sideways and turning the landscape gray, the wind howling in my ears. Ethan disappeared in the onslaught, leaving only the echo of his voice on the wind.



"Merit! "



I jolted awake, bathed in sweat, gasping for breath, the sound of his voice in my ears.



Tears slipped from my eyes as I pushed drenched bangs from my forehead, and scrubbed my hands across my face, trying to slow the feverish race of my heart.



My first dream of Ethan had been miraculous; we'd bathed in the sun - a taboo to vampires. I'd savored that last memory of him.



But this was the sixth nightmare in the two months since he'd been gone. Each was louder and more vivid than the last, and waking up was like emerging from a tunnel of panic, my chest squeezed into a knot. In each nightmare we were pushed to some crisis, but the end was always the same - he was always torn away from me. Each time I woke with his voice in my ears, screaming out my name in panic.



I dropped my forehead to my knees, grief pounding at my heart like a kettledrum. The helplessness of loss overwhelmed me. Not just from the loss of Ethan, but from the frustration - the exhaustion - of being visited again by a ghost who wouldn't let me go. Tears fel , and I let them, wishing the sting of salt would wash away the hurt.



I missed his voice. The sight of him. The smel of him.



And probably because of that, I was stuck in a cycle that kept me dreaming about Ethan - watching him die over and over again. My grief had become a hol ow I couldn't climb out of.



When my heart slowed, I sat up again and wiped the tears from my face with a shirtsleey t a shirve. I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and dialed up the one person who could calm me down.



"Crap on toast," Mal ory answered over the resounding bass of a man's voice. "I'm on a study break - Catcher's naked and Barry White's on the stereo. Do you know how rarely I get study breaks?"



Mal ory was a belatedly identified sorceress in training.



She had just finished her apprenticeship with a cute boy-next-door type named Simon and had been prepping for her "finals" for weeks. Simon had seemed okay in the five minutes I'd been in the same room with him, but Catcher was definitely not a fan. That probably had something to do with the fact that Simon was a member of the Union of Amalgamated Sorcerers and Spel casters (euphemistical y cal ed "the Order"), an organization that had kicked Catcher off its rol s.



Her voice was testy, and I knew she was super stressed this week, but I needed her, so I pushed on. "I had another dream."



There was a moment of silence before she yel ed out,



"Five minutes, Catch."



I heard grumbling, and then the room went silent.



"How many is this?" she asked.



"Six. I've had two this week."



"What do you remember?"



Mal quizzed me every time I had a dream - her morbid curiosity and love of the occult combining into a post diem interrogation. I obliged and gave her the details.



"Mostly just the end, as per usual. Ethan was dressed like an old-school warrior. There was this storm moving in, and he was trying to warn me, but I think he was speaking Swedish."



"Swedish? Why in God's name would he be speaking Swedish? And how would you know what Swedish sounds like?"



"He was from Sweden. Original y, I mean. And I have no idea. Interwebs, probably. Anyway, he was trying to get me to move toward the storm. I was trying to run away from it."



"Sounds like the sensible thing to do. Then what?"



"The storm hit. I lost sight of him, and woke up when he was cal ing my name."



"Wel , the symbolism's pretty obvious," she said. "You're with Ethan, and then you're separated by some sort of calamity. Pretty much the real life scenario."



I made a vague sound of agreement and pul ed my legs under me. "That's true, I guess."



"Of course it is. On the other hand, dreaming is never just dreaming. There's always something more going on. The wanderings of the mind. The escapades of the soul. I've said it before and I'l say it again - you and Ethan had some kind of connection, Mer. Not exactly a healthy connection, but a connection nonetheless."



"So, what, I'm visiting his ghost in my dreams?"



She laughed mirthlessly. "Would you put it past Darth Sul ivan to figure out a way to haunt you postmortem? He's probably holding staff meetings in the afterworld. Offering up performance evaluations. Issuing dictates."



"Those were the kinds of things he loved."



Mal got quiet for a second. "Look," she said. "Maybe we're thinking about this the wrong way. I mean - we're talking about what it means and how often it's happening.



But you've cal ed me, what, half a dozen times about these thontout theings? Maybe we should start talking about how to make them stop."



I wasn't sure from the tone of her voice whether she was expressing concern about my mental state - or irritation that I'd been sharing it with her. I gave her a pass on the snark since she was stressed, but promised myself a good debriefing when it was al over.



As for her plan, I wasn't exactly thril ed about it. Pathetic as it sounded, at least in my dreams Ethan was alive. He was real. I had no pictures of him, and few mementos. Even my waking memories of him were fuzzy - each recol ection seemed to dul the lines of his face. It was as if he were a faint star on the horizon - attempting to focus on the image only blurred it further.



But in my dreams . . . he was always there, always clear.



"I don't think there's any reason to do that."



"There is if your dreams become a substitute for real life."



That stung, but I took her point. "They won't. These aren't those kind of dreams. It's just - they make me feel closer to him." At the cost, of course, of having sweaty night terrors.



"Wel , if it happens again, you'l have to talk to Catcher instead. Exams are starting."



"Now?" I asked her. "I thought you stil had a week to go."



"Simon wanted to add 'an element of the unexpected,' "



Mal ory said, and I could al but hear the air quotes in her voice. "The testing goes in phases. He'l put me out into some situation; I have to fix it. I'l go home and make something in my chemistry lab, and then I'm back on the streets for round two. He'l ask me questions about the Keys, and I use the Keys to fix the problem. Rinse. Repeat.



It's gonna be a whole, big thing."



The Keys were the four divisions of magic, which sorcerers had visualized by cutting a circle into four quadrants. It was apparently so important to sorcerers that Catcher'd had the four Keys inked onto his stomach.



"Wel , if you can't be available at my beck and cal ," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "do you think Catcher would wear a blue wig in the meantime?"



Mal ory's previously blond hair was now a notoriously bright shade of blue. It was straight and reached a couple of inches below her shoulders.



"Probably not. But you could always threaten to have his cable disconnected. That's how I got the kitchen cabinets painted."



"How is Mr. Chick Flick?"



"Infinitely happier not knowing you referred to him as that."



Be that as it may, Catcher was addicted. If a made-for-television movie featured a once-downtrodden lady doin' it for herself, he was in. It was an odd fixation for a gruff, muscular sorcerer with a penchant for swordcraft and sarcasm, but Mal ory tolerated it, and I suppose that was al that real y mattered.



"I cal 'em like I see 'em. Wanna schedule a dinner break? Maybe sushi?"



"Breaks aren't real y on my agenda right now. I have a lot to focus on. But you might think about not hogging down snack cakes right before bedtime."



"I have no idea what you're talking about."



"Liar," she accused, but I was saved the necessity of lying any further. My Cadogan House beeper - a guard necessitya guardessity - al but buzzed off my nightstand. I leaned over and snatched it up. OPS ROOM, it read.



ASAP.



Unfortunately, "ASAP" translated only one way in Cadogan House these days: "It's time for another meeting."



Once again, with feeling: another meeting. Kel ey, our newly appointed guard captain, was a fan.



"Mal," I said, climbing off the bed, "I need to run. It's time to play Sentinel. Good luck with your exams."



Mal ory made a huffy noise. "Luck doesn't figure into it.



But sweet dreams to you."



I hung up the phone, not thril ed about our conversation, but wel aware that I needed to pick my battles. I'd done a real y crappy job of supporting Mal ory when she'd discovered she was a sorceress, mostly because I'd been knee-deep in newbie vampire drama at the time. I needed to be supportive, even if it wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to be. This was not the time to lay into her about sarcasm. She'd given me slack when I'd needed it; it was time to repay the favor.



Besides - we both had other fights to wage.



Luc took his job seriously, but he also had a pretty good sense of humor. He brought a jokey camaraderie to the Ops Room, along with a taste for denim, swearing, and beef jerky. Luc was a great strategist and a big picture kind of guy. I was perfectly fine with al those qualities.



Kel ey, his replacement, was smart, savvy, and skil ed . . .



but she was no Luc - cowboy boots or otherwise.



When she'd accepted the position, she'd chopped her silky dark hair into a short, sleek bob. Her hair became al business, and so did the Cadogan House guards. Our schedule became tighter, our meetings more formal. She scheduled daily workouts and required us to complete end-of-shift reports. Virtual y everything in the Ops Room had become virtual, and the few bits of paper that remained were color-coded, tabbed, alphabetized, and col ated. We had time cards and name tags, and we were required to wear the latter during our nightly patrols of the House grounds "for public relations."



"Part of keeping a safe House," Kel ey had said, "is instil ing a sense of trust in the neighborhood. If they know who we are, they'l be less inclined to violence."



It's not that I didn't agree. It's just - name tags? Real y?



But while I thought the idea was corny, I didn't voice the objection. When Ethan had been Master, before they'd needed me back in the guard corps, I'd spent most of my time on special assignments with him. Now that he was gone, Kel ey was my boss and my primary point of contact for the House.



She was my boss, so she'd get no name tag arguments from me. Besides, now was the time for solidarity, name tags or not. We'd had enough upheaval lately.



Surprisingly, the Ops Room was meeting-free when I arrived, post-shower and clothed in my Cadogan uniform - a black, slim-fit suit. Lindsey and Juliet sat at two of the room's computer stations, while Kel ey stood beside the conference table, a cel phone in hand, her eyes on the screen.



"What's up?" I asked.



Without a word, Kel ey turned her cel phone around and thrust it toward me. A picture fil ed the screen - or what I assumed was a picture, since the screen was pitch-black and I couldn't actual y see anything.



"I don't get it."



"This is Lake Michigan."



I frowned, trying to figure out what I'd missed. Lake Michigan made up the eastern border of the city. Since we were awake only at night, the lake was always pitch-dark by the time we woke up. So I didn't understand the concern.



"I'm sorry," I told her apologetical y, "but I stil don't get it."



Kel ey pul ed back the phone, punched some buttons, and swiveled it again. This time, it displayed a photo of a drinking glass ful of inky black water.



"That's water from Lake Michigan," she explained before I could ask. "The Internet is going crazy. About two hours ago, Lake Michigan turned completely black."



"And that's not al ," Lindsey piped up, then swiveled in her chair to face us. "Same thing happened to the Chicago River, at least as far as the city limits. They've both gone black, and they've stopped moving."



I struggled to understand what they were tel ing me. I mean, I understood the literal meaning of the words, but they didn't make any sense. "How could they just stop moving?"



"We aren't certain," Kel ey said, "but we have a sense this might be involved." She flipped the screen to a third image. It showed a petite but busty woman with long red hair and a very tiny green dress. She stood on a bridge over the river, arms outstretched, eyes closed.



I'd seen a girl like that before - a number of them, actual y. She looked like one of the nymphs that ruled Chicago's waterways. I'd met them before when my grandfather, the city's supernatural mediator, had helped them resolve a dispute.



"A River nymph," I concluded, leaning in to peer closer at the screen. "But what's she doing to the water?"



"We aren't entirely sure," Kel ey said. "This photo's making the Internet rounds just like the one of the water.



Based on the picture's time stamp, the lake went dark a few minutes after she did that - whatever 'that' was."



I grimaced. "That's not a good coincidence."



"No, it's not," Kel ey agreed. "Especial y not with the mayor convinced we're the root of al evil."



Former Mayor Seth Tate had made his mark - at least pre-indictment - by staying on top of the supernatural situation in Chicago and supporting our integration into the human population. He set up my grandfather's office, and when vampires came out of the closet, he positioned Chicago as the frontier of supernatural relations in the U.S.



Mayor Kowalczyk was no Mayor Tate, and she certainly wasn't interested in positioning herself as a friend to sups.



The campaign for her special election had been short, but she'd made her position plenty clear. Chicago might have been built on patronage, but under the Kowalczyk administration, that patronage didn't extend to vampires or shifters. No "special treatment" for supernaturals.



"As if we weren't already popular enough," I mumbled.



When she and Lindsey exchanged a glance, I knew I was in trouble. "What?"



"Here's my thought," Kel ey said. "I know this water thing isn't exactly our problem, especial y if nymphs are involved.



I seriously doubt any vampire created the issue, and probably the Om-bud's office wil get people working on it, right?"



"It's a definite possibility."



But we are the public face of supernaturals."



Kel ey said. "The public only knows about us and shifters, and Gabe's keeping them on the down low. If people start freaking out . . ."



"They're going to blame us," I finished for her. Suddenly nervous, I tugged at the hem of my jacket a bit. "What do you want me to do?"



"Make contact with your grandfather. Find out what he knows, then get downtown. Keep an eye on things, and do whatever you can to help the Ombud's office, preferably with as little public drama or political involvement as possible."



"What about you? The House? If I'm out, you're going to be even more shorthanded."



She shook her head. "There won't be a House if the mayor finds a reason to crucify us." Then her expression softened. "I didn't think to ask - wil you be okay doing this?



You haven't been out of the House much since . . . you know."



Since Ethan, she meant.



The last time I'd left the House on a real mission, two vampires had ended up dead, and only one had deserved it. I could admit I was gun-shy. The wound was stil raw, the fear that I'd screw up and someone else would end up dead stil sharp. The fact that I already had a demerit in my file for investigating Celina and pissing off the GP in the process also wasn't encouraging.



Luc had argued the point, reminding me that Ethan had been staked not because I was careless, but because he'd jumped in front of a drug-addled vampire - and a stake meant for me. Unfortunately, that reminder hadn't done much to assuage the guilt or to make me want to try again.



Kel ey had been patient, letting me work around the House instead of playing Sentinel outside it. That arrangement had suited Malik's plan to keep us under the radar for a while. We'd had more than enough drama lately, receiver included.



On the other hand . . . I glanced over at the nearly empty Ops Room. Other than me, Juliet and Lindsey were the only two arrows left in Kel ey's quiver. Someone needed to step up, and I was the only candidate left.



"I'l be fine," I agreed. "I'l give my grandfather a heads-up about the picture in case they don't already know, and I'l head out now."



There was clear relief in Kel ey's expression, but it didn't last long. "I hate to send you out alone, and I know you're used to working with Eth - with a partner. Unfortunately, we can't spare anyone right now. You'l have to take this one by yourself."



I'd anticipated that, and had a strategy in my back pocket.



"Actual y, I met Jonah, the Grey guard captain, the night of the Temple Bar fiasco." Long story short, drugged-out Cadogan vamps had caused a ruckus that created city-wide attention. Jonah had walked down from Grey House to check out the fight, our faux first meeting. "Since we're short-staffed, and this isn't a Cadogan-specific problem, I could see if he can spare a guard." Of course he'd spare a guard - himself.



"Oh," Kel ey said. "That's a good idea. I hadn't considered it, but it definitely has merit. No pun intended."



I smiled politely, but caught Lindsey's expression of uncensored curiosity. She'd definitely have questions about Jonah later.



"Do it," Kel ey said. "Get to the lake, and figure out what the hel is going on down there - and what we need to h d we needo about it."



I promised I would. Reticence notwithstanding, that's what Sentinels were for.



With a mission in mind, I hopped back upstairs to my second-floor room and changed into leather pants and jacket, a gray tank beneath, and then pul ed on boots and clipped on my beeper. I'd already been wearing my gold House medal - the official membership card of most American vampire Houses.



I unsheathed my katana, the official weapon of GP vampires, and checked its edge. It was sharp and stil immaculate from its last rice paper cleaning.



I opened the top drawer in my bureau, where a double-edged dagger lay nestled atop folded T-shirts too thin for autumn in Chicago. It wasn't exactly a glamorous place for a weapon, but it was an intimate one that seemed fitting under the circumstances. A dagger was traditional y presented to the House Sentinel by its Master; most American Houses hadn't had a Sentinel in a while, so Ethan's appointing me - and giving me the blade - was a revised tradition.



The blade gleamed like chrome; the handle was pearl and silky smooth to the touch. And on the end of the handle was a gold disk, a near match to my Cadogan medal, inscribed with my position.



I picked it up and ran my thumb across the ridges left by the engraved lettering. It was one of the few physical reminders I had of Ethan, along with the medal and a signed Cubs basebal he'd given me to replace one I'd lost.



It was such a strange thing - to be in a House surrounded by vampires he'd made and decor he'd chosen, to have vibrant dreams and memories of him, to have been on the verge of a relationship when he'd been kil ed - but to have so few mementos of our time together.



I might have been immortal, my life theoretical y eternal, but I had no more control over the passage of time than any mortal. I assumed my memories would eventual y fade, so I savored the tangible reminders of who he'd been.



Kel ey had given me time to grieve, but it was time to get back to work. I pressed my lips to the engraving, then slid the dagger inside its boot holster. I pul ed my hair into a high ponytail and grabbed my cel phone, dialing up Jonah's number.



"Lake Michigan?" he answered.



"Yep. Do you mind playing Sentinel sidekick this evening?"



Jonah made a sarcastic noise. "I'm the older, wiser vamp. That makes you the sidekick."



"I'm better with a katana."



"That remains to be seen. And I've got more degrees."



He was right; he had me beat on that one. My change to vampire had interrupted my own doctoral studies; Jonah had managed four graduate degrees even with fangs. I was woman enough to admit to some academic envy.



"Fine," I said, rol ing my eyes. "No one's the sidekick.



Equal rights, et cetera. Where should we meet?"



"I've got a friend with a boat, but it's already in dry dock for the season. Navy Pier. Half an hour. Oh - and Sentinel?"



"Yes?"



"If the gate's locked, don't forget you're strong enough to scale it."



Excel ent. I could now add "breaking and entering" to the skil s section of my resume.



Dagger in boot and in hand, I headed down the Houseded the Hous main staircase to the first floor - and a few feet closer to my chil y car.



I was in the lobby, keys in hand, when Luc and Lindsey came downstairs holding hands, both looking very much in love. Their blooming relationship didn't make my own grief any easier to bear, but if I was playing the dopey-eyed optimist, at least something good had come from Ethan's demise.



"Sentinel," Luc said. "You heading out to check out this water problem?"



"I am."



"First time on the streets in a while."



"First House-related mission in a while, certainly."



"You nervous?"



I thought about my answer for a few seconds. "Not nervous so much as uncomfortable. I know Ethan wasn't always easy to be around. He was a tough teacher, and there were days when I felt like a lump of clay he was trying to mold into something else."



"Like every trip was a teaching point?"



"Like that, yeah," I said with a nod. "But I think he was figuring me out. Learning who I was, and learning that I could be a help to the House on my own, without amendment." I smiled a little in spite of myself. "He was an imperialistic, self-righteous pain in the ass. But he was my pain in the ass, you know? And tonight, I won't be with him.



That definitely feels strange."



Without warning, Luc reached out and gripped me in a chest-crushing bear hug. "You can do this, Sentinel."



I held my breath and patted him on the back until he released me. "Thank you, Luc. I appreciate that."



"You have backup?" Lindsey asked.



"Jonah - the Grey guard captain - volunteered to take point. He's going to meet me downtown. And I can cal my grandfather, of course."



Luc put an arm around Lindsey's shoulder. "You know we're here for you, of course."



"I do. You're two of my favorite vampires."



"You barely tolerate most vampires," Lindsey said with a wink. "So I'm not sure that's saying a lot."



I stuck my tongue out at her, but gestured toward the door. "You wanna walk me outside?"



"Sure thing. I'm heading out for a walk around the grounds anyway." She leaned over and kissed Luc on the cheek. "I'l catch you after shift."



"You know it, Blondie," he said. He gave her butt a slap for good measure, and then offered me a salute. "Bon chance, Sentinel."



Lindsey took my hand and practical y dragged me to the door. But she managed to wait until we were outside and on the sidewalk before the interrogation began.



"So, you're hanging out with Jonah again?"



"Again?" I wondered aloud, not wil ing to commit to an answer until I knew how much she knew.



"Hon, give me some credit. I've been alive a long time, and I'm one of the best guards this House has to offer."



"It's a smal sample," I snarked, but she poked me in the shoulder.



"Focus. I'm pretty sure he's the reason you were glowing a little last night."



"I wasn' ing"I wat glowing." Had I been glowing? And how had she known I'd seen Jonah? When had I become a topic of House conversation?



"You were glowing." She put a hand on my arm. "And that's okay. It's okay for you to have a friend, or a lover . . . ?"



There was actual y hope in her voice; I decided not to take that as a compliment.



"He's a friend. A col eague. Only a col eague."



"Does he know that?" At my raised eyebrows, she shook her head. "I mean, Merit, from what I hear the guy's spending time with you. Cal it work or whatever, but guys don't invest time if they aren't interested."



"Trust me," I said. "This is business." Even if he was vaguely interested, Jonah was stil my RG recruiter. He had an interest in keeping me safe.



"Is it going to stay that way?"



I looked away, embarrassed by the question. Ethan had been gone for only two months. I knew Lindsey wanted to see me come back to life, but the idea of dating anyone seemed rushed, disrespectful of Ethan's memory.



"You aren't ready to talk about it, are you?"



"What answer wil you believe?"



Lindsey sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "You know what we need? We need to toughen you up a little. Rough up your edges. You'l find being a heartless vamp a hel uva lot easier when the shine is gone."



"Yay," I said without enthusiasm, twirling my fingers like a party favor. "I am real y looking forward to that."



"You should be. You'l get a membership card and a lifetime subscription to Heartless Vampires Monthly."



"Does that come with a free tote bag?"



"And a toaster." She gestured toward the back of the House. "I'm gonna get to work and take a look around the yard. Good luck tonight."



If only it were a matter of luck.