House Rules

VISITING HOURS



I woke in Ethan's arms, my consciousness triggered by the whirring retraction of the automatic shutters that covered his windows.



"Good evening," he said, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder.



I humphed and pressed my face back into the pillows. The room was chilly, and I was entangled with a handsome and powerful man. I really had no incentive to get out of bed . . . except for my solemn duty to the House and my friendship with Noah. Vampires were missing, and I had work to do. First item on the list? Calling Catcher for an update.



Begrudgingly, I sat up and pulled my hair out of my face, twisting it loosely behind my head. It wouldn't stay there for long, but at least I could make it out of bed without blinding myself in the nest of it.



Ethan sat up beside me, his back against the headboard as he scanned his phone for news and updates.



"Anything new?" I asked.



"The fairies have confirmed Catcher retrieved the packages we left with them. And more updates from the transition team," he said. "I've invited them to the House, you know. I thought it would be advantageous to have them here in person. And, frankly, they provide a bit of insulation against any shenanigans Darius attempts to pull."



I nodded. "The dailies said people would be visiting, but there weren't many details yet. I don't think the travel arrangements had been finalized." "Dailies" were the reports of House happenings Luc prepared for the Cadogan guards. Vampiric travel arrangements were often complicated by our sunlight restrictions.



"Who got the official transition team invites?" I asked.



"Paige, who has maneuvered her way into the librarian's heart."



"As I predicted." Cadogan House had a gorgeous library and a knowledgeable, if crabby, librarian. Paige was a redheaded sorceress who'd gotten mixed up in Mallory's midwestern rampage, and she'd spent time at Cadogan House after Dominic Tate torched her house to punish her. She'd recently found a place of her own - a third-floor walkup also in Hyde Park - but she'd remained a frequent visitor to the House . . . and the librarian. Both lovers of books and knowledge, they'd made a quick love connection.



"Mm-hmm," Ethan noncommittally mumbled. "They're perusing the library for precedents regarding the Decertification."



"Precedents?" I wondered.



"It might not surprise you to learn the members of the GP are sticklers for rules." His voice was dry as toast; the fact was completely unsurprising.



"And there are lots of rules," he said. "The Decertification of Houses doesn't happen often - only twice since the GP was formally established. The problem is, when the GP disbands a House, it doesn't usually wave a polite good-bye and go on about its business. So they're checking the other Decerts to determine if the GP pulled any shenanigans they might try to repeat here. Our financial adviser's also on the team, and a security auditor, Michael Donovan. We've asked him to provide an unbiased perspective on our security protocols. Luc and I have been communicating with him for the last couple of weeks, but it seemed appropriate to bring him in for the final battle, as it were."



Luc hadn't mentioned Michael Donovan to me, which made me wonder whether he was irritated that Ethan had hired an auditor to look over his shoulder. But Ethan was the boss. Unofficially, anyway. "Sounds like a good plan."



But Ethan went suddenly - and unusually - quiet.



I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What?"



"Lacey will be one of the visitors."



Lacey Sheridan was the Master of San Diego's Sheridan House. She was tall and blond, with enviably long legs and a history with Ethan. She'd visited once since I'd been a member of the House, and she made it quite clear to me then that she wanted to rekindle their relationship. Ethan might have moved on, much to her chagrin, but she wasn't ready to give up on him.



Part of that bond, undoubtedly, had been formed when Ethan made Lacey a vampire and helped train her to lead her own House. She was the only one of Ethan's vampiric "children" to have her own House. With only twelve Houses in the United States, that made her a very valuable ally.



On the other hand, he also knew that Lacey had been a thorn in our side before, which made me wonder about his real motivations. How was she so vital?



"She and Darius have a unique friendship," Ethan said, as if guessing my concern.



"Romantic?" I wondered.



"No. More an affinity. A kinship. They are two of a kind."



Darius was fastidious and proper, and the Cadogan vampires called Lacey the Ice Queen. She was as carefully styled and modulated as Ethan - without the endearing personality. A friendship between her and Darius actually made a warped kind of sense.



"Darius is a member of the old guard," he said. "We challenge the authority of the GP and, by virtue, his authority. By becoming Rogues, we become that which they despise: outcasts and traitors. I'm hoping that Lacey's presence - an ally of his own, in a sense - will mitigate his more dictatorial sensibilities."



Ethan ran his hands through his hair, then crossed them behind his head and leaned back against the headboard again. He looked concerned, and was obviously unaware of how the move tightened the muscles in his torso and made him look even more like a distracted cologne model from a GQ spread.



I couldn't fault his logic. It was entirely reasonable that he'd ask Lacey to visit. I wasn't crazy about the idea - mostly because I wasn't crazy about her - but I was also a grown-up.



"Okay," I said.



He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes. "Okay?"



"Okay," I repeated with a smile. "I appreciate your honesty. I don't trust her any farther than I can throw her, but I'll deal."



"Why don't you trust her?" I saw the pain in his eyes; he was afraid I thought he'd be unfaithful. But it wasn't him I worried about.



"She's still in love with you."



"She is not in love with me," he countered, but there was a hint of pink in his cheeks.



"I assure you she is, and she's all but willing to take me out to get to you."



He looked mildly amused . . . and flattered in an ego-driven, masculine kind of way. "And you know this because?"



"She stares at you, she hangs on every word . . . and she told me."



He looked surprised. "She told you?"



"She told me." Maybe not in so many words, but she'd gotten the point across.



"Merit, Lacey has lived in Sheridan House for years. She is the only Master in a city with hundreds of vampires, and - I say this without personal interest - she's a perfectly attractive woman. I assure you - if she wanted a suitor, she could find one."



Not when she's holding out for you, I silently thought, but kept that to myself. If he was truly that naive about her feelings, I figured that benefited me. It would be harder for her to woo him away if he had no romantic thoughts of her.



"Okay, then."



Ethan looked at me. He watched me, really checking my mood and whether that "okay" meant okay in the male sense ("okay") or the female sense ("possibly okay; it depends on what you say next").



"You mean that," he said.



"I do. I trust you. I'm not entirely sure I trust her, but I trust you." I put my hand on his. "And more important, I know you're worried about the House - and about Darius and the GP. Do what you need to do. I'll live."



Without warning, he pounced, wrapping my body in his, his warmth penetrating through to my core. As a vampire, I was often cold; Ethan Sullivan was by far the best blanket a girl could ask for.



"What time do they arrive?" I murmured.



"Hours yet." He nipped at my neck and pulled me closer, a suggestion of exactly how we might spend those hours.



Unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards for me tonight. "You've got work to do, and I need to get moving. We've got missing vampires and an Ombudsman who's probably already left half a dozen messages on my phone."



"That should fill out your schedule for the night," he said.



Still beneath him, I stretched out and snagged my cell phone from my nightstand. No calls or messages, which was unusual, but we were only a few minutes past dusk. Perhaps Catcher hadn't seen the point in sending a message I wouldn't have been able to read for hours anyway. "Barring a zombie attack, yes."



"More likely a human attack than a zombie attack," Ethan said.



"Potato, potato. Either way, the attacks would be mindless, and they'd be out for blood. Hey," I said, poking his chest. "What do zombies chant at a riot?"



"Grrarphsnarg?" he asked, in a surprisingly well-done bit of mindless zombie imitating.



"No, but that was really good. Disconcertingly good."



"I was deceased for a time."



"True. But anyway, the rioters get all riled up, and they chant: 'What do we want? Brains! When do we want them? Brains!'" I fell into a wave of appropriately boisterous laughter; Ethan seemed less impressed.



"I truly hope the stipend we pay you doesn't get spent on the development of jokes like that."



"It gets spent on smoked meats to supplement this House's paltry smoked-meats selection."



"There's probably a twelve-step program for meat addiction, and I imagine the program starts by admitting you have a problem."



"Loving smoked meats isn't a problem. It's a birthright. Especially for the fanged. All right," I said, slapping Ethan on the butt. "Off. I need to get dressed, as do you."



But he didn't shift the weight of his body; instead, he cupped my face in his hand. "Be careful out there."



"Yes, Liege," I dutifully said.



Ethan turned to his side, and I climbed off the bed and headed toward the shower. But I paused in the doorway just long enough to wink. "And do try to keep your hands to yourself."



His smile widened. "Michael Donovan is an attractive man, Sentinel. But I'll do my best."



Ethan Sullivan, registered smart-ass.



* * *



I quickly cleaned, loofa-ed, and shampooed, spending less time in Ethan's roaring shower than I would have liked. When I was just clean enough, I toweled through my hair, pulled it into a high ponytail - my signature move - and brushed out my bangs.



Ethan dipped into the shower as I walked back into the bedroom to dress. My clothes were easy to assemble - leather pants, shirt, leather jacket, and boots. An ensemble that would protect me against the chill in the air and serve me well in a fight . . . in case that became necessary.



I already wore the gold medal around my neck that identified my name and position and marked me as a member of Cadogan House. I tucked a sleek dagger - a gift from Ethan that bore a coin in the hilt similar to my House medal - into my boot, and grabbed my scabbarded katana from the table near the door. I hadn't pulled it last night, but I was planning on visiting the Ombuddies tonight, including Catcher. He'd given me the katana and trained me in how to use it, and there was no way I'd carry it near him without ensuring it was clean.



With a whip of sound, I unsheathed it, the light pouring down its honed steel. It looked pristine, but out of caution I pulled a sheet of rice paper from a drawer in the table - the sword-cleaning drawer, as I'd named it - and wiped down the blade. Better safe than sorry, especially when a gruff sorcerer might demand an inspection. It wouldn't be the first time.



"You're going to see Catcher, I presume?"



I looked up. Ethan stood in the doorway in unbuttoned slacks, scrubbing a towel through his hair.



It was not an unpleasant sight.



"Yes," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "I'm going to call him as soon as I grab some blood and breakfast."



"And Jeff?"



There was a funny little twinge in Ethan's voice. Surely not jealousy, as he'd sworn he was so sure of our relationship that he wasn't capable of it. Jeff did, admittedly, have a pretty obvious crush on me. But since he was in some kind of on-again/off-again relationship with a shifter named Fallon - the only sister of the head of the North American Central Pack - I didn't think Ethan had much to worry about. Even if I weren't in love with him, and even if I did have a thing for Jeff, I was not about to cross a shifter, much less one in line for the Pack throne. I hoped to squeeze at least a few years out of my immortality, thank you very much.



"Yes, and Jeff. I enjoy seeing him, and he enjoys seeing Fallon," I reminded Ethan.



"Fair enough. Keep your wits about you, Sentinel."



"I will. And I'll be back in time to say hello to our guests." I might have wanted to refuse Lacey's entrance into the House, but Ethan wanted her here, so I could take one for the team.



"I wouldn't have it any other way," he said with a wink.



But before I could make my brilliant exit, there was a knock at the door.



"Likely Helen," Ethan said, "with information about ceremony planning."



He was partially right. Helen, who was basically the House's den mother, stood in the hallway when I opened the door, but she didn't look pleased about it. She stepped inside, her gaze searching for Ethan, with a cloud of floral perfume and nervous magic about her.



Ethan stepped into the room, hair still damp, but now dressed. "What is it?" he asked, concern in his expression. He must have picked up the same magical notes.



"They're here. Early."



Ethan's expression went stone cold. "They" could only have been the GP, and their arrival a day early couldn't have signaled anything good.



"Sentinel," he said, grabbing his suit coat and heading for the door.



I pushed my sword into its scabbard and tied the belt around my waist. "Right behind you," I said, and followed him down to the House's first floor.



In addition to Malik and Luc, seven men and women stood in the foyer in an inverted V, with Darius West, head of the Greenwich Presidium, directly in the middle. These were the members of the GP, some of the most powerful vampires in the world.



Darius - tall, with a shaved head and an aristocratic manner - had the personality of an egotistical hall monitor.



The other GP members, four men and two women, didn't look familiar. I knew their names, and that they'd wreaked havoc in our House from an ocean away. But I could identify only one of them - Harold Monmonth, a class act who'd once helped Celina Desaulniers, the former Master of Navarre House, dispatch a woman who'd stood in her way. Celina had tried to kill me on several occasions, and when she threw the stake that killed Ethan, I returned the favor. Morgan Greer, whom I'd dated for approximately five minutes, took over as Master of the House after her bad behavior.



There was a gap in the V between the last two individuals on the left-hand side. That was the spot, I guessed, that had once been held by Celina. But she was gone, and that was no doubt another reason why the GP didn't care much for me.



Ethan smiled thinly at Darius. "You're early."



"But not unwelcome, I presume," Darius said. Ironically, the statement was incredibly presumptuous.



Before Ethan could get himself into any more trouble, Helen stepped beside us.



"I've spoken with the manager at the Dandridge," she said. "Your rooms have been prepared and are ready at your convenience."



The Dandridge Hotel was one of the most exclusive luxury hotels in Chicago, small but chic, and apparently the only place good enough for the GP to stay this time around.



Darius nodded. "We'll settle in and be in touch about the ceremony."



"As you say," Ethan said.



Like a flock of birds, the vampires turned in unison, then filed back through the gate to waiting limousines.



For a moment we all stood there.



Ethan muttered a curse, but when he turned back to us, he slipped his hands into his pockets, his body tight with the swagger and confidence of a Master vampire. He might not have been official Master of Cadogan House, but he was a Master vampire all the same.



It was comforting to see him confident, even if he was bluffing.



"They will think of us what they think of us," he said. "That doesn't matter. What matters is what we are together, and that is stronger than we could ever be as GP automatons and subjects of a would-be king."



He looked at Malik. "Assemble the House tonight. We'll wait until an hour before dawn."



"To assure Darius is tucked in at the Dandridge and can't spy on us?" Luc asked.



"Precisely," Ethan said. "I'll speak to the Decert at the ceremony, so whatever the night brings, plan to be back at the House by then." He nodded at Luc. "Call Paige and the librarian. He's up to something, and I want to know what it is. Now."



"Liege," Luc acknowledged.



"Go on about your business," Ethan said. "I'll see you all soon enough."



* * *



I wouldn't be a vampire if Ethan hadn't changed me, and I wouldn't survive without regular doses of blood. Even though the process had become a fairly routine endeavor, I still needed it. So I dropped by the House cafeteria and plumbed for snacks. A bag of blood from our retail supplier, Blood4You, was a necessity, as was a mini chocolate candy bar that I stashed in my jacket pocket for later. For now, I grabbed a bagel with a smear of peanut butter and took a bite as I nuked the blood and poured it into a travel mug, just another Chicagoan on her way to the office.



There was something about the first bite of food in the morning - maybe the relative absence during sleep, maybe the reawakening of the taste buds - that made my simple breakfast seem nearly majestic.



I am only barely exaggerating. The depth of my relationship with food is no doubt thrilling to some and strange to others. It probably has something to do with the fact that I grew up feeling removed from the rest of my very wealthy, very fancy family. I'd entertain myself with my other great love - books - during a hot Chicago afternoon, usually with something to nibble on. I was especially fond of foods that could be dipped - tortilla chips, celery sticks, apple wedges, chocolate drops. Eating them was an activity in itself, a repetitive movement that was almost Zen-like.



Fortunately, I was athletic enough then that my weight stayed manageable. I'd danced ballet for many years, and had the toes to prove it. Also fortunately, my speedy vampiric metabolism now meant I could eat all night with no ill repercussions. Not that I had time for that kind of grazing. Not when vampires were possibly being abducted and our House was facing an uncertain future. And not when Lacey Sheridan was on her way.



Yes, I believed in me and Ethan, but I was still a girl. The last thing I needed was for her to find me wrist-deep in a bucket of Frank's Finest fried chicken.



Although that did sound delicious. I made a mental note to grab a celebratory Cluckin' Bucket after we found Oliver and Eve safe and sound. I really hoped we'd do that.



When I emerged into the main hallway with breakfast in hand, the House's tension was palpable. We were forty-eight hours away from the severing of our GP ties, and they'd already made an appearance. The hum of nervous magic was becoming a torrent of full-on worry. I could feel it in the prickly air, the haze of anticipation that flowed through the House. The vampires of Cadogan House might trust both their Masters - Ethan and Malik - but they were entering unknown political territory.



I held the bagel with my teeth and fished the keys to my ancient Volvo from my pocket. Unlike last night, it was bone-chilling cold outside, the kind of cold only a hot bath or a roaring fire could cure.



Tonight the lawn was bereft of fragrant food trucks and revelry, but the nearly identical mercenary fairies still stood watch in front of the House. When I walked through the gate, their expressions were typically stoic, but they both nodded in acknowledgment. That was a recent development - and a hard-won victory. Fairies bore no strong love of vampires, but we'd had interactions recently with Claudia, the fairy queen, that seemed to have bridged the gap between us.



Windshield wipers flapping against the glass, I drove south to my grandfather's modest house. Traffic wasn't bad, but the drive still took a few minutes. I used the opportunity to check in with Jonah.



It took four rings for him to answer the phone, but his handsome, auburn-haired visage eventually popped up on the screen.



"Busy?" I wondered.



"Unfortunately, yes. Your House drama has spread. We've got already aggressive vampires mouthing off about the GP and talking about seceding."



"Already aggressive?" I asked.



"Jocks," Jonah said with a smile. "They spent their human lives lifting weights and destroying linemen. The adrenaline doesn't fade."



"Why do they want to secede?"



"They want to drink."



Vampires or not, that was actually surprising. Most American Houses had sworn off drinking from humans or vampires. Their only source of blood was Blood4You, and they drank only from the bag or cup. Banning drinking from another person was supposed to help vampires assimilate; it kept their less endearing behaviors hidden from human view. Cadogan was one of the few Houses that still allowed drinking, and we took crap around the country - and from the GP - for doing it.



I was still a relative novice when it came to drinking, but I was experienced enough to know that nothing made me feel more like a vampire - and less human - than drinking from Ethan, or letting him drink from me.



"You should join us," I said. "It's hard to be the only target in this game of GP dodgeball."



"You couldn't pay me to be in your position."



"We manage," I dryly said.



"For now. But you should know we're hearing things about the GP and the Decert that aren't exactly promising."



"Such as?"



"Such as the GP wants to cause you as much trouble as possible."



That revelation made my stomach flip uncomfortably, even if it wasn't entirely surprising. Ethan and the others had centuries of experience with the GP, and had previously trusted that it operated with the Houses' best interest in mind.



I'd been a vampire for just a few months, but I knew it operated with only one thing in mind - its own interest. It seemed to me keeping power in the GP's hands was its number one priority.



"Unfortunately, that squares with the fact that they're here a day early."



Jonah whistled. "That's not promising."



"I know."



"I hate to say Cadogan House is screwed. . . ."



"Then don't say it. It would be considerably more helpful if you could give me any details about what you think they're going to pull so I can adequately prepare my House."



"Reason and logic will only get you so far. All I know is, the GP's contract with Cadogan House is key."



I wasn't sure which contract he meant, but I'd figure it out. "Your information comes from other RG members?"



"From our communications network," he said, "which I can't loop you into until you're official. Which you will be tomorrow night."



The night of the GP ceremony. The timing for the RG ceremony could hardly be worse, although I appreciated the irony. I would be joining the RG - and thereby promising to watch over the GP - even as we left the GP because of its tyranny.



"Where and when?" I asked.



"I'll let you know. I've got to make sure I can get out of here, too. I'll try to message you later tonight."



"Okay. FYI, I'm heading to my grandfather's. We picked up glass and Eve's cell phone last night at the reg center they visited, and I asked them to take a look."



"Does your grandfather have that kind of facility?"



"Not unless he's remodeled the rumpus room," I said. "But he's got friends in high places, and it's the only lead we've got so far."



"Good thinking. I hope the investigation gets some momentum."



"You and me both. The night is young. I'm hoping against hope Oliver and Eve will call Noah and tell him they had to make an emergency trip to KC or something."



"It would be a happier ending," Jonah agreed. "Good luck with it."



"Thanks. I'll let you know if there are any developments."



"Do that. And in the meantime, I'll do my part to keep Grey House on Darius's good side."



I made a sarcastic sound. "Since the well-being of your House is clearly at the top of my list, that comforts me."



"That's my girl," he said, and ended the call.



I wasn't, but he hung up before I could argue. Probably better for both of us.



* * *



My grandfather's house was small and quaint - white clapboards, metal storm door, stubby concrete porch. As I drove up, the lights were on and half a dozen cars were parked in the driveway and on the street. Most of them were tiny roadsters, which meant only one thing.



River nymphs.



I guessed Catcher hadn't managed to resolve the shoe crisis.



When I reached the front door, I could hear music and the squealing of voices. I didn't bother knocking, but walked inside.



I could not have been more surprised.



The front door opened directly into my grandfather's living room, and it was full of people, among them my grandfather and half a dozen nymphs in their typically short, cleavage-baring dresses.



They knelt in a semicircle around what looked like a new television, and squealed while Jeff Christopher stood in the middle with a video game controller in his hand.



But that wasn't even the strangest part.



Jeff Christopher, geek extraordinaire, was in costume.



He wore a pale green tunic, over which he'd slung a forest green cape trimmed in brown, and knee-high leather boots. The tunic's hood was up, just perched at the crown of Jeff's head, but his shoulder-length brown hair shone at the edge of it.



Jeff was tall and lanky, and the costume fit him surprisingly well. But for his lack of longbow and horse, he might have stepped out of a medieval forest.



By the look of the screen, his costume was modeled after a character in the game, who was currently flailing at green, goblinlike creatures with a golden sword. The excitement in the room built as Jeff's character, a ranger of some kind, pummeled the creatures with his steel, until - with a final killing blow - he finished off the last goblin.



The room erupted into a flurry of hoots and applause. The nymphs jumped to their feet and surrounded their victor in a cloud of wavy hair, rayon, and fruity perfume.



I pressed my back against the door to avoid the crush. I'd been snagged by River nymphs before, and I wasn't much interested in another round.



"Merit!" my grandfather exclaimed, finally realizing I'd stepped into the room. In his typical button-down plaid and grandfatherly slacks, he walked over and enveloped me in a hug.



"What's all this?" I asked.



"Diplomacy in action," he quietly said. "The nymphs were giving Catcher fits, and Jeff thought they might be calmed by a show of virtual strength."



It wasn't the type of show that would have occurred to me, but it was clearly working for the ladies. After a moment, Jeff pulled himself away from the cluster of girls; his expression turned serious when he saw me.



He clapped his hands together. "Ladies, thank you so much for squeezing me into your schedule. I need to get some work done, but do you think you could find me some cheat codes for the next level? That would be awesome."



To a one, they squealed and clapped their hands together at the assignment, then jiggled out the front door until the screen slammed shut behind them.



The sudden silence was deafening, at least until the game console reminded us Roland of Westmere was ready for his next quest.



"The nymphs like video games?" I wondered. "They don't really seem the gaming type."



"Not the games themselves," Jeff said, pulling back his hood, his hair damp beneath. Digital adventure or not, he'd definitely gotten a workout. "They like watching shifters win games. They think it's manly."



I frowned in sympathy, then moved closer to wipe a crimson stain from his cheek. "Well, Mr. Manly Man, you have a drugstore's worth of lipstick on your face."



Jeff sighed and scrubbed the mark. "That's not gonna work. I'm supposed to meet Fallon later."



"I don't think she'd be thrilled about their interest in you. Or the evidence."



"She'd go ballistic," he said. "She's got history there, I guess, with cheating."



"Ah," I said. I didn't know enough about her to say more than that.



"The good news is, we've discovered they're easily distracted. Catcher couldn't calm them down, so they went nuclear about a minor issue - again - and drove over here. We discovered a few minutes of gaming calms them down and gets them talking rationally again."



"They have to band together to solve problems," my grandfather said. "And this is much less messy than paintball."



"Whatever works," I said with a smile, then gestured at Jeff's getup. "And what's this you're wearing?"



"The ensemble of Roland of Westmere. He's a character from 'Jakob's Quest' - that's the game I was playing."



"I can't imagine being so involved in a video game that I'd want to wear a costume. I mean, what's the appeal?"



"What isn't the appeal? I get to have someone else's drama for a little while instead of my own."



Okay, that I could understand. My Sentinel leathers were a kind of costume for me - an ensemble that let me feel a little more kick-ass and bluff a little more easily. Not that the role didn't come with its own drama.



"Fair enough," I told Jeff.



He gestured toward the back of the House. "I'm going to change real quick and then I'll come fill you in. Catcher's in the back if you want to talk to him."



"Do you need a drink, baby girl?" my grandfather asked.



"No, I'm good. But thank you. I'll go find Catcher."



I walked down the hallway to the former storage room my grandfather had turned into an office for his volunteer crew. Catcher sat at a homely-looking desk. No costume for him, fortunately. He wore a flat expression, jeans, and a T-shirt that pictured a velociraptor, teeth bared, riding a giant kitten and wearing his own T-shirt that read, KTHXBAI.



"FYI," I said, stepping into the room, "I think the Internet threw up on your T-shirt."



Catcher rolled his eyes. "Is it just me, or is there always vampire drama to attend to?"



"Unfortunately, there is, and I'm attending to it. Although I could say the same thing about sorceress drama. And speaking of, how's yours?"



I meant Mallory, of course, because I wanted - from at least one of them - an update about their relationship.



Uncharacteristically, Catcher blushed. I took that as a good sign.



"We're talking," he said.



"That sounds promising. Especially since you're living in her house."



Before the onset of her magical addiction, Mallory and Catcher shared her brownstone in Wicker Park. When Mallory decamped to live with the shifters, Catcher stayed put.



His blush deepened, and I gave myself five more points. Advantage: Merit.



"Our relationship is a movie of the week," he admitted.



Jeff, having quickly changed, walked into the room wearing a pale-blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and khakis. The combo was his unofficial uniform. He sat down at his desk and began tapping on his keyboard, which was actually a conglomeration of keyboards he'd turned into one Frankensteinian monstrosity.



"I checked Eve's calls," he said. "She'd cleared out her call list within the last day or two, so there are only a couple of phone calls on it: to Rose, to the registration center."



"Crap," I said. "I was hoping for more of a lead there. She probably called the registration center to see if they were open."



"That's what I was thinking."



"What about biological material on the phone? Fingerprints, anything like that? Or the glass?"



"We've asked Detective Jacobs to take a look," Catcher said. Detective Jacobs was a solid cop and a friend of my grandfather's. Unlike some of the other CPD members, he didn't assume we were troublemakers just because we were vampires.



"Good," I said.



Jeff swiveled in his chair to face me, fingers intertwined over his abdomen. "It is good. The problem is, the CPD is already backlogged. Even pulling in a favor, it could be a few days before we find anything out."



I sat down and blew out a breath, deflated. I'd been hoping for something more from those two little bits of evidence. They were the only leads we had, and they were looking like pretty crappy leads.



"I'm out of ideas," I said.



"It's possible there's nothing to this," Catcher said. "Maybe they aren't missing. Maybe this is just about two vampires who decided to make their own decision, go their own way. They are Rogues, after all."



"Yeah, but even Rogues follow patterns. And from what Noah was saying, it was out of character for these two to completely up and disappear."



"Merit?"



We all looked up. My grandfather stood in the doorway. "There are some folks here I think you'll want to see."



His expression was neutral, and I found my hopes lifting. Was it Oliver and Eve? Had they dropped by to tell us they were fine, and this had all been a big misunderstanding?



I followed him into the hallway, Catcher and Jeff at my heels, and then back into the living room.



In front of the door, tucked into jackets against the cold, stood Noah, Rose, and a third vampire I didn't know. Rose's eyes were red and swollen. The new girl, who had tan skin and sleek, jet-black hair, had an arm around Rose.



Their expressions didn't bode well; nor did the melancholic magic that accompanied them into the house.



"We're sorry to barge in," Noah said.



"Not at all," my grandfather said. "Please come in. I can take your jackets, if you like."



"No, we're okay," Noah said, as they stepped inside.



My grandfather smiled gently and gestured toward the sofa. "Have a seat."



Noah nodded, and the trio moved silently to the couch.



"You know Rose," Noah said when they were seated. "This is Elena."



"Catcher and Jeff Christopher," I said, motioning to the pair, who stood behind me. "And my grandfather Chuck Merit. What's happened?" I asked Noah.



"We found them," Noah said.



As Rose broke into a sob, Noah pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pushed a button or two, and handed it to me.