Some Girls Bite

BEFORE THE FLOOD



The next night I woke exhausted, having spent most of the day rolling, staring, cursing, replaying the events of the night before, mentally reenacting every moment Ethan and I had shared, and wondering how, why it had been so easy for him to trade me in for his precious political capital.



While that mystery loomed, I had work to do, so I rose, showered, dressed, ate a bowl of cereal in the darkness of my kitchen, slipped on the leather jacket, and grabbed the belted sword and the box of cupcakes I hadn't had time to deliver last night, preparing to return to Cadogan House and report for duty.



I'd just locked the front door and turned to descend the stoop steps when I saw Morgan leaning against his car, arms and ankles crossed. He was in jeans again, a black shirt tucked into jeans snugged with a heavy black belt, and the ubiquitous leather jacket.



He was grinning. "Hi."



I stood on the stoop, blinked, then took the steps and went for the garage, hoping the obvious uninterest would send him running. Instead, he followed me, pausing at the threshold of the garage, a disarmingly cute grin on his face.



"You said I could call."



"Call," I repeated. "Not show up at dusk." I pulled open the garage door, walked inside, and unlocked the car door.



"You gave me permission to court you."



With what I thought was an impressive amount of control, I managed not to run him through with my sword, instead pulling open the driver's side door and sliding the katana into the backseat, then laying the box of cupcakes on the front. That done, I turned back to him.



"You put me on the spot in front of fifty vampires. I couldn't exactly say no." He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't give him the chance. "Fifty vampires, Morgan. Fifty, including my Master, another Master, and the leader of the Rogue vampires."



He grinned unapologetically, shrugged. "So I wanted witnesses."



"You wanted to mark your territory."



Morgan walked through the garage, squeezed between the narrow wall and the driver's side, and before I could scramble away, trapped me in the angle between the car and the open door, hands braced to bar my exit. He leaned in. "You're right. I wanted to mark my territory."



Ego deflation time. "You don't have a chance."



"I disagree. You danced with me. You fed me. You didn't slit my throat when given the opportunity." He grinned, bright and wicked. "You may be conflicted, but you're interested. Admit it."



I gave him a withering look that didn't succeed in flattening his smile or discouraging the Come Hither look it evolved into. "Not. A. Chance."



"Liar. If Ethan ordered you to go out with me, you'd go."



I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, that's the salve your ego needs - you're only dating the Sentinel of Cadogan House because her Liege and Master forced her to meet you at a Wendy's."



He shook his head with mock solemnity. "Not Wendy's. Bennigans, at least."



I quirked up an eyebrow. "Bennigans? Big spender."



"The Windy City is at your disposal, Merit."



For a moment, we were quiet, just staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. I considered kicking him out, reneging on my promise to let him court me, but discarded that choice as politically irresponsible. I considered saying yes while explaining that I agreed only because I was duty-bound. And then I considered the other option - saying yes, because I wanted to go. Because he was sexy and funny, because we seemed to get along, because, even if he did have some kind of weird Celina baggage, he'd tried to protect her and stepped back when he realized his method wasn't working. I could respect that, even if I didn't understand the loyalty she commanded.



I took a calming breath, looked up at him. "One date."



He smiled a smile of masculine satisfaction. "Done," he said, then leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. "No reneging."



"I don't reneg," I said against his mouth.



"Hmmph." He sounded unconvinced, but kept kissing me anyway, and for some unknown reason, I let him.



Oh - he wasn't Ethan.



Callous? Maybe. But for now, that was reason enough.



Some minutes later, surprisingly pleasant minutes, I was in the car, making my way south. But before I headed to Cadogan House, I wanted to drop by my grandfather's office. I needed a sympathetic ear, and had no doubt that Grandpa's vampire informant had already filled him in on last night's rally. I drove with the radio off, the windows down, listening to the city on the quiet spring evening, preferring the sounds of rushing vehicles to song lyrics about emotions I couldn't trust.



The neighborhood was, as usual, quiet. But there was an addition - Ethan's sleek black Mercedes parked outside. Only his car - no black SUV in sight.



More important, there was no sign at all of a security detail.



That was off. Ethan never traveled without guards, usually in the SUV that tailed his convertible; it was against protocol. I parked a little down the street, turned off the car, and grabbed my cell phone, punching in Luc's number. He answered before the second ring.



"Luc."



"It's Merit. Have you lost a Master vampire?"



He grumbled, cursed. "Where?"



"Ombud's office. The Mercedes is out front. I'm assuming there's no guard in there with him?"



"We don't force guards on him," Luc testily responded, and I heard the snapping of papers through the phone. "Normally, I can trust him not to behave like an idiot and go off alone when there's a psychopath on the loose, Rogues up in arms."



Speaking of which, I sheepishly asked, "Any additional progress made last night?"



Luc sighed, and I imagined him settling into a slouch, crossing his booted ankles on the Ops Room table. "Morgan was damn near chipper when he finally left, but that's probably your doing. I'm not sure how productive it was. Nobody's got answers, the clues point everywhere. No evidence at the murder scenes except for the trinkets someone's leaving. But they know Ethan wouldn't do it, certainly wouldn't condone it. It's not the way he operates."



I understood that. If Ethan wanted something done, taken care of, he'd make damn sure you knew it was coming from him.



"Listen," I said, "while we're on the phone." I paused, had to brace myself for the apology. "I'm sorry I bailed last night. After the thing with Morgan - "



"Forgiven," Luc quickly answered. "You handled yourself, you stepped in when you needed to, and you gave Morgan a peaceful out. You did your job. I'm fine with that. That said, the fucking look on your face when he went down on one knee." He burst into raucous laughter. "Oh, sweet Jesus, Merit," he said, hiccup-ping with laughter. "It was priceless. Deer in headlights."



I made a face he couldn't see, double-checked the office door to look for movement, of which there was none. "I'm glad I can be a source of amusement for you, Luc."



"Consider it your hazing ritual. Your other one, anyway."



I chuckled. "Commendation, you mean? That was more of a hazing for Ethan than for me, unfortunately."



"No - your change."



I froze in the process of flipping up the visor, my hand still on it, and frowned at the phone. "The Change? How does that count as hazing?"



His voice changed to something graver. "What do you mean, how does that count?"



"I mean, I don't remember much of it. Pain, cold, I guess."



He was quiet so long I called his name, and even then it took a moment for him to come back. "I remember every second," he finally said. "Three days of pain, of cold, of heat, of cramps. Sweating through blankets, shivering so hard I thought my heart would stop, drinking blood before I was psychologically ready to accept it. How do you not remember that?"



I played back the memory in my mind, trying to cup my hands around the fleeting images that ghosted at the edges of my vision, tried to replay the mental video of it. I got nothing more than those select memories, until the ride home, the dizziness I'd felt when I'd stepped from the car, the sluggishness, the fuzziness.



Drugs?



Had I been drugged? Spared the experience of some portion of the Change?



I was saved offering that theory to Luc, a little disconcerted by the questions it raised -  who'd drugged me? and why was I spared the misery? - by Ethan emerging from the front door, the light spilling in a trapezoid on the sidewalk in front of him. Catcher stepped out behind him. "Luc, he's out."



"Keep an eye on him."



I promised I would and snapped shut the phone, then waited until Ethan and Catcher had shaken hands. Ethan walked to the Mercedes, cast a glance down the darkened street, then unlocked the door and slipped inside. Catcher stayed on the sidewalk, watched as Ethan's car pulled away. When he was a block down the road, I turned the ignition and drove forward to where Catcher stood. Motioning me to follow Ethan, Catcher raised his cell phone, then flipped it open. My phone rang almost immediately.



"What's he up to?"



"He's going to Lincoln Park," Catcher said, frustration in his voice.



"Lincoln Park? Why?"



"He got a note, same paper, same handwriting, as the ones left for you and Celina. It asked to meet him there, promised information about the murders. He had to agree to go alone."



"They won't know I'm there," I promised.



"Stay a few cars behind him. It'll help that it's night, but your car sticks out like a sore thumb."



"He doesn't know what I drive."



"I doubt that's true, but do it all the same." He explained where Ethan expected to meet his source - near the small pagoda on the west side of North Pond - which at least gave me a chance to be surreptitious. I could take another route, get there without having to keep too close a tail on the Master vampire in front of me.



"You have your sword?"



"Yes, oh captain, my captain, I have my sword. I have learned to follow orders."



"Do your job, then," he said, and the line went dead.



If Ethan knew I was tailing him, he didn't act like it. I stayed three cars behind, grateful there was enough traffic in the early evening to keep a shield between his car and mine.



Ethan drove methodically, carefully, slowly. That shouldn't surprise me - it was in keeping with the way he lived his life, orchestrated his other moves. But in the Mercedes, it disappointed me. Cars like that should be driven.



I found the Mercedes parked on Stockton, the only car in the vicinity. I drove past it, parked, then got out of the car, belted the katana, and in a moment of uncharacteristic forethought, grabbed an aspen stake from the bag Jeff had given me, still stuffed behind the front seat. I stuck the needle-sharp stake in my belt, quietly closed the door, and began to hike back. I crept through the grass, between the trees, until I was close enough to see him, tall and lean, standing just outside the pagoda. His hands were in his pockets, his expression alert, his body relaxed.



I stopped, stared at him. Why, in God's name, would he have come here alone? Why would he have agreed to meet a source in the middle of an empty park, after dark, without a guard?



I stayed in the shadows. I could leap out if necessary, come to his rescue (again), but if his goal was to glean information from whoever had asked him to meet, I wasn't about to ruin that.



The scritch of footsteps on the path broke the silence. A tall form appeared. A woman. Red hair.



Amber.



Wait. Amber?



I saw the jolt of recognition in Ethan's face, the shock, the sudden wash of humiliation. I sympathized, felt the flash of it in the pit of my stomach.



He approached her, head snapping as he looked around him, and reached out an arm, taking hers just above the elbow. "What are you doing here?"



She looked down at his hand on her arm, blinked up at him, then pulled his fingers away. "What do you think I'm doing here?"



"Frankly, I've no idea, Amber. But I've got business - "



"Ethan, really." Her voice was flat.



He stopped, stared at her, understanding dawning, and offered the conclusion I'd reached seconds before. I knew I didn't like the little tramp. Voice defeated, he said, "You took the medals. You were in my apartments, and you took the medals."



She shrugged standoffishly.



He took her arm again, this time his grip fierce enough to make her grimace. "You took House property from my apartments. You took from me. Did you" - he spit out a curse -  "did you kill those girls?"



Amber grunted, yanked her arm away, and took a couple of steps, put space between them. She rubbed her arm, where the red marks of his fingers - even in the dark - were obvious.



"You're - " Ethan shook his head, fisted his hands on his hips, and whipped aside his jacket in the process. "How could you do this? You had everything. I gave you everything."



Amber shrugged. "We're tacky, Ethan. Cliched. Among the sups, not authentic enough. Among the vampires, a little too authentic. Cadogan House is old news." Amber looked up, and her eyes gleamed with something - hope, maybe? "We need change. Direction. She can give us that."



Ethan froze, scanned her face. "She?"



Amber shrugged and, when a car door slammed shut, popped up her head. "That's my cue to go. You should listen, love." She leaned in, brushed a kiss against his cheek, and whispered something I couldn't hear. And then she was off, and he let her go, let her walk away. Not the decision I would have made, but traipsing after her, giving her the beat down she deserved, would have given away my position. And if the car door was any indication, the fun was only just beginning.



It took only seconds for her to reach him, to walk - lithe and catlike - toward Ethan. Her black hair was up in a snug knot at the crown of her head, held by long silver pins. She was dressed like a dominatrix masquerading as a secretary - impossibly tight pencil skirt, black stockings with a back stitch that ran the length of her legs, patent black stiletto heels with ankle straps, and a tucked-in snug white blouse. I half expected a riding crop, but didn't see one. Left it in the car, maybe.



Celina walked toward Ethan, and stopped four feet in front of him, one hand on a cocked hip. And then she spoke, her voice smoky and fluid like old Scotch.



"Darling, you're out here all alone. It's dangerous at night."



Ethan didn't move. They faced each other silently for a moment, magic swirling and flaring between them, spilling its tendrils through the trees. I ignored it, had to resist the urge to brush the wispy breeze of it away with a hand.



But I used the cover of their distraction, slipped the cell phone from my pocket, and texted a phrase to Catcher and Luc: CELINA EVIL. God willing, they'd send out the troops.



"You look surprised to see me," she said, then chuckled. "And certainly surprised to see Amber. All women, human or vampire, are looking for something more, Ethan. Something better. It was naive of you to have forgotten that."



Wow. Nothing like a little sexism to cap off the night.



Celina sighed her disappointment, then began to circle his body. Ethan's head turned slowly, his gaze following her as she moved. She stopped next to him, her back to me.



"Chicago is at a crossroads," she said. "We are the first city with a visible vampire population. And we were the first to announce our existence. Why take the risk? Because as long as we stayed quiet, we were destined to remain in shadow, to be subservient to the human world. It was time for us to step forward. It is time for us to flourish. We can't erase history" - she paused, gazed at him solemnly - "but we can make it."



Celina began to move again, circling his body until she stood on his other side.. The sound of her voice was muffled, but I caught enough.



"There are few vampires who are capable of the kind of leadership we need right now. Vampires who are disciplined. Intelligent. Cunning. Navarre fits that mold, Ethan. I fit that mold." Her voice became insistent. "Do you understand how powerful we could be under my leadership? If I unified vampires? If I unified the Houses?"



"The Presidium would never allow that," Ethan said.



"The Presidium is antiquated."



"You're a member of the Presidium, Celina." Ethan's voice was perfectly flat, perfectly modulated to hide the fury that I knew lay beneath it. Say what you wanted about his strategizing, his penchant for manipulation, the man had control. Icy control.



Celina waved off the criticism. "The GP doesn't understand our modern problems. They won't let us expand, Commend more Initiates. We're shrinking relative to the other sup populations, and they're getting braver. The nymphs are fighting. The shifters are preparing to meet in our city" - she punctuated the last three words with a finger pointed toward the ground - "and the fairies demand more and more each year to protect us from humans. And the angels" - she shook her head ruefully - "the bonds are breaking there, the demons loosed."



She looked up at him, chin raised defiantly. "No. I will not allow vampires to become less than what we are. Only the strongest will survive the coming conflict, Ethan. Being strongest means unification - vampires coming together, working together, under the guidance of a vampire with vision."



She completed her circle so that she faced him again, maybe five feet between them. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, like a cat's caught in the light, shifting shades and colors, green and yellow. "I am that vampire, Ethan." She waved a negligent hand. "Of course, in every war there are casualties. The deaths of those humans were a messy necessity."



He spoke the words as I thought them, voice flat. "You killed them."



She held up a slender finger. "Let's be precise, Ethan. I had them killed. I wouldn't waste my time on the actual doing of it. Of course, that does pose certain . . . quality- control problems." She snickered, evidently pleased at her joke. "I found a Rogue. I convinced him, through no little work on my part, to do the dirty work. I had to change horses after Merit's attack." She shrugged. "I do hate sloppy work. Nevertheless, you got a Merit out of the deal. A Merit vampire, Commended into your House."



"Leave her out of this."



She chuckled without amusement. "Interesting answer. And unfortunate that we don't have time to explore your affection for your pet Sentinel."



Without warning, Celina reached behind her and whipped the pins from her hair. Or, rather, what I'd thought were pins, but were actually twin stiletto blades that gleamed in the moonlight. Her hair, released from its moorings, spilled in an inky wave down her back.



She took a step forward, angling her body so that, had Ethan not been standing between us, I'd have faced her directly.



I stepped forward, prepared to defend him, but heard a WAIT echo through my head.



Not yet, he told me. Let her finishing confessing it.



He knew I was there, then. Knew I was ready. So I obeyed the order, katana handle in one hand, already slipped from its guard, halfway loosed from its scabbard, the aspen stake in the other.



"Sloppiness or not, my plan worked," she said. "Humans are now suspicious of Cadogan vampires - they think you killed Jennifer Porter. And humans are suspicious of Grey vampires, who they think killed Patricia Long. You're wicked, Ethan. All of you. All except Navarre . . ." She paused and smiled, and the effect was as lovely as it was maniacal. "If I'm the only one that humans trust, I can consolidate my influence in both worlds - human and vampire. The Houses will need me as their ambassador, and I will offer my guidance. Under my leadership we will become what we were meant to be."



"I can't allow you to do that."



"It's amusing that you believe the decision is in your hands," she said, waggling the stilettos in the air. "You'll be another sacrifice, of course, and an expensive one - a lovely one - but the cause is worth it. How many of us were staked, Ethan? You were alive during the Clearings. You know."



But he wouldn't be drawn into a discussion of history. "If you wanted to bring down Cadogan and Grey, why the notes? Why implicate Beck and his people?"



"The notes were only intended for vampire eyes. As for why - you've surprised me again. Solidarity, Ethan. It's all of us together or nothing. Rogues offer us nothing. They're warm bodies, I'll admit. They increase our numbers. But as friends, they're useless. No alliances - they're morally opposed. They certainly don't play well with others." She flicked a hand negligently in the air, and the blades glinted. "They needed cleaning out."



Ethan was silent for a long moment, his eyes on the ground, before he raised them again. "So you convinced Amber to help you, had her steal the Cadogan medal, and had someone plant them?"



Celina nodded.



"And the jersey from Grey House? How did you obtain it?"



She smiled wolfishly. "Your redhead made another friend. Another conquest."



Ethan's expression went cold. I sympathized. This was not the time to learn that your Consort had betrayed you, your House, and another.



"How could you do this?"



She sighed dramatically. "I was afraid you'd see it that way, stake out some kind of sympathetic moral high ground. Humans are never innocent, darling. A human broke my heart once. He thought nothing of it. They're cold, callous, stupid things. And now we're forced to deal with them. We should have taken a stand centuries ago, should have banded together to fight them. It's not an option now, of course. Their numbers are too great. But we begin slowly. We make friends. We build, as you're always preaching, alliances. And while we're lulling them to sleep with our pretty faces and pretty words, we infiltrate. We plan. We get them accustomed to us, and when the time comes, we strike."



"You're talking war, Celina."



She bit out through a tightly clenched jaw, "Goddamn right. They should fear us. And they will." But her expression softened. "But first, they'll love me. And when the time comes that I can reveal my true allegiance - my love for vampires; my hatred of humans - I'll drink in that betrayal, Ethan. I will revel in it. And it will begin to make up for what he did to me."



That perfectly encapsulated Celina Desaulniers, I thought. She needed fame, attention, the focused desire of those around her. She needed friends, nearly as much as she needed enemies.



Celina razed the tip of a blade down the front of his shirt. "Centuries, Ethan. Centuries, obeying their laws, their dictates, hiding ourselves, our nature from the world. No more. I made this world in which we live. I decide the rules."



She drew back her arms, elbows raised, and prepared to strike. I jumped, pouring through the trees, aiming for her with a blind rage that ran like electricity through me, piqued by the thought of her injuring my Master, my Liege. MINE.



DOWN! I cried out, willing him to hear me, and threw the stake, pouring all my strength into the throw. Ethan ducked immediately, crouching to the ground, as the aspen whistled above him, catching Celina high in the left side of her chest. Too high. I'd missed her heart. But she dropped the blades, dropped to her knees, and screamed out at the pain, fingers clutching the stake too slippery with blood to allow her a grip. Ethan immediately jumped, grabbed her from behind, pinned her arms.



Suddenly, car doors slammed, footsteps echoed. The cavalry had arrived - Catcher, Luc, and Malik ran through the trees, accompanied by the rest of the Cadogan guards.



"Merit?"



I couldn't tear my eyes away. She screamed out blistering obscenities, berating the guards for standing in her way, for interfering with her plans, as they tried to subdue her. Her hair, the long, dark locks of it, whipped and flew around her face as she yelled.



"Merit."



I finally heard my name, looked over, saw Ethan wipe blood from his hands - Celina's blood - with a handkerchief. A red stain marred his usually impeccable white shirt. Celina's blood. Blood she'd shed because of me. I stared at the crimson stain of it, then raised my gaze to his face. "What?"



He stopped scrubbing, balled the handkerchief into a wad. "Are you okay?"



"I don't - " I shook my head. "I don't think so."



A line appeared between his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak, but was distracted by more car doors, more footsteps. He looked away; I followed the direction of his gaze.



It was Morgan, in the same clothes in which I'd seen him an hour ago, grief and worry etched on his face. As Celina's Second, he must have gotten a call from Luc or Catcher after my text message.



Morgan stopped a few feet from us, stared at the scene before him - his Master, bleeding from an aspen stake still protruding from her shoulder, being pulled off the ground by a cadre of guards who had to work to counteract her strength, to subdue her.



He closed his eyes, turned away. After a moment, his lids lifted, and he looked at Ethan, evidently prepared for the story.



"She confessed," Ethan said. "She planned the murders, used Rogues to execute them, used Amber, of my House, to steal the medals and the jersey from Grey. She used the notes to implicate Beck's group."



"To what purpose?"



"In the short term, control. She wants Chicago's vampires. Chicago's Houses. In the long term - war."



They were quiet for a long time.



"I didn't know," Morgan finally said, the words heavy with regret.



"You couldn't have. She must have planned this for months, maybe longer. She drew me here to tell me, to kill me, maybe to take Cadogan from Malik when I was gone. She attacked first, Greer. Stilettos." Ethan pointed to where the glimmering blades lay on the ground. "Merit defended."



Morgan seemed to suddenly realize that I was there, looked down at the unsheathed katana in my hand, then up at me. "Merit?"



I wondered if she called to him, what words she was spilling into his mind. "Yes?"



"You staked her?"



I looked to Ethan, and he nodded, so I answered, "In the shoulder."



Morgan nodded, seemed to consider this, evaluate it, then nodded again, this time more firmly. A bit more composed, he offered, "I'm glad you didn't aim for her heart. That saves an inquiry for you."



An inquiry, her life, and my having committed murder. I smiled weakly, sickly, knowing that I'd aimed for her heart - but missed.



Morgan walked away, walked toward the guards, spoke with them.



"Thank you," Ethan said.



"Hmm." The guards pulled Celina to her feet, her arms pinned behind her. "What will happen to her?"



"She'll be taken before the rest of the Presidium and her fate decided. She'll likely be stripped of her authority. But she's the Master of the oldest American House. Any other punishment will likely be temporary."



There was a gentle tug on the end of my ponytail. I looked up, found Luc staring down at me, concern in his eyes. "You okay?"



I felt my stomach tighten again, nausea building as I remembered, again, that I'd nearly killed someone, had meant to do it, had wanted to do it to protect Ethan. To keep him alive, I'd selected someone for death, and only my bad aim had kept me from committing the act, from finishing the job. "I think I'm going to be sick."



His arm was suddenly around my waist. "You'll be fine. Deep breaths, and I'll get you home."



I nodded, then cast a final glance at Celina.



A serene smile on her face, she winked at me. "Apres nous, le deluge," she called out.



She'd spoken in French, but I'd understood what she'd said. It was an historical phrase, allegedly spoken by France's Madame de Pompadour (of big hair fame) to Louis XV.



Literal translation: After us, the flood.



Figurative translation: Things are only gonna get worse from here, chica.



I stifled a shiver as Luc began to lead me toward the line of cars. We passed Morgan, who was speaking authoritatively to another guard, his eyes on the woman being led away.



I realized what I'd done.



I'd given him Navarre House.



In a tenth of a second, I'd thrown aspen, catching Celina before she could kill Ethan. She'd be punished and, if Ethan was right, stripped of her House. Morgan was her Second, next in line to the throne.



I had, by proxy, made Morgan head of the oldest House of vampires in the United States. His status would rival Ethan's, even if he was younger and less skilled, because his House was older.



I wondered how much more pleased Ethan would be to have a Master of Navarre, not just its Second, seeking his Sentinel.



I looked over at Ethan, found I couldn't bear the sight of him, the bile rising in my throat. For him, I'd nearly killed someone, even if I had - thank God - failed the test in the crucial moment. Some soldier I made.



He stepped forward, but I shook my head. "Not now."



He looked at me, then looked away, and pushed a hand through his hair.



As Luc led me away, led me toward the black SUV parked along the street, the tunnel rushed me. I owe you my life.



My knees nearly buckled. I wanted none of it, just to be home, in my own bed, and certainly not to hold someone else's debt. You owe me nothing.



I wasn't sure you'd step forward. Not after last night.



I stopped, turned, looked back at him across Luc's broad shoulder.



Ethan's gaze was potent, his expression radiating incredulity that I'd protected him, reverence that I'd saved him, and that same bit of surprise I'd first seen in his office, when he'd discovered I wasn't thrilled to be a vampire of Cadogan House, that he couldn't buy my allegiance with money or art or well-tailored clothes.



He'd underestimated me again, hadn't taken me at my word even after I swore, in two oaths, that I'd protect the vampires of Cadogan House against all enemies, living or dead.



Against Morgan.



Against the Rogues.



Against Celina.



His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, and that nearly did me in again, but I held tight to the anger, to the rage, to the disgust, and sent back to him, I swore an oath. Last night, I proved my allegiance. You have no room to doubt me.



He nodded. I didn't. I don't.



A lie, but I nodded, accepted it.



Maybe he'd learn to trust me, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd know this would change me, this first battle, this first attempt on a life. Maybe he'd know that the seed of hatred he'd planted two weeks ago would blossom, watered by the things I'd done, and would do, in his name.



He said nothing else, but turned, and walked toward Morgan.



I went home, sobbed on Mallory's shoulder, and slept like the dead.



Which I'm pretty sure I wasn't.