Wild Things

“Roger that,” she said, and there was a click as she dropped from the call.



We said good-bye to the others, and they dropped off the call as well. Luc’s personal phone rang almost immediately.



“Luc,” he said, lifting it to his ear.



He nodded, listened, spoke quietly with the caller, and after a moment, hung up the phone and looked at us. “That was Will, the guard captain at Navarre. The terrorism squad is packing up at Navarre House.”



That meant Ethan was officially in interview, or in custody, depending on how the mayor’s office was spinning it.



“That’s good news,” Lindsey earnestly said, catching my gaze. “It means she’s sticking to her word. That’s exactly what we want.”



I nodded, but the clenched ball of worry in my stomach didn’t unknot much.



“Why don’t you take some personal time tomorrow at sunset?” Luc said. “You haven’t had a chance to see your grandfather yet. Take an hour—go say hello.”



It was a good idea. I hadn’t had a chance to visit the hospital since he’d been admitted. We’d gotten home too late tonight, but if I went after sunset tomorrow, I could probably catch him during visiting hours. Still, we were in the middle of an investigation.



“Is that a good idea right now? Considering?”



“You need a break,” he said. “And you need to visit your grandfather. Run the carnival bit past him. See if he has any ideas.”



I nodded.



“How about a movie tonight?” Lindsey asked. “We don’t have time for a full run before sunup, but we could fit in half a show, maybe some snacks?”



I thought about the offer. While I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of going back to the apartments alone and spending the entire evening obsessing about Ethan, I also wasn’t up for another night of entertainment. A bottle of Blood4You, roaring fire, and good book seemed like a much better option.



“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I’ve been surrounded by sups for a few days now. I need a little quiet time.”



Luc chuckled, fingered the new pendant around his neck. “Sentinel, you live in a literal house of vampires. You’re going to be surrounded by sups regardless.”



For better or worse.



• • •



I added what we’d discovered to the whiteboard, said my good nights, and headed upstairs to the first floor. I heard sounds coming from the front parlor and walked toward it.



A dozen Cadogan vampires stood around the television mounted above the fireplace. The TV was tuned to a news station and the coverage of Ethan’s arrival at the Daley Center.



Ethan climbed out of a town car and then walked, Andrew at his side and four officers surrounding him, into what looked like an underground entrance. Reporters who’d staked out the door yelled questions and accusations, wondering why Ethan had killed Harold Monmonth, where he’d been for the last three days, and why he’d finally come back to Chicago. He kept his eyes clear and stared straight ahead, ignoring the questions. But the line between his eyes tightened with each new volley, and it was clear he had plenty of things to say to them.



After a moment, Andrew directed him to stop and faced the camera. With his broad shoulders and intense expression, Andrew looked more like a soldier or bodyguard than a lawyer. But either way, and whatever the reason, he commanded their attention. They quieted immediately.



“Ethan Sullivan is innocent of the various accusations—political, criminal, and otherwise—that have been leveled against him. He is being targeted because he is a vampire, and the mayor’s office, respectfully, is targeting him because she’s looking for a scapegoat. The citizens of Chicago know better, and I’ll be glad when we can put this entire matter to rest.”



The tension in my chest eased just a little. Thinking I’d seen as much as I needed to, I turned to walk away, but the sudden gasps behind me had my heart pounding, and I turned back to look.



“Altercation at Daley Center,” read the screen now, and the footage showed Ethan being escorted into a small room, a table and chairs visible through the door. But there was a bright bruise blooming across his left cheekbone.



Sometime between his arrival at the building and his reaching the interview room, he’d been assaulted. Punishment, maybe, for his refusal to come in earlier, to acquiesce to Kowalcyzk’s request that he sacrifice himself for her political agenda. And if they were knocking him around before he even got into the room, what more did they have planned?



Fear bubbled and spilled over, and I strode from the room before the tears tracked down my face. I made it as far as the stairway, stopping to knuckle away the tears, hoping no one had seen my quick exit or the reason for it. The last thing they needed was to see their Sentinel bawling in fear. There was a place for tears; it wasn’t here, when the House needed its officers to be strong.



An arm wrapped around my shoulder. I looked up, surprised, into Malik’s eyes.



“Are you all right?”



He was so quiet, so reserved, I wouldn’t have expected him to offer physical solace, which made the fact that he had offered it even more meaningful. I had, over the last year, gathered up an assemblage of weird and wonderful friendships. They all had their ups and down, and some of the downs were pretty miserable. But sometimes, times like this, I could just be grateful.



“I’m fine,” I said with a half smile, still swiping at tears. “Long night.”



“No argument there,” he said, but his eyes continued to track my face, as if he wasn’t quite sure I was telling him the entire truth.



“How are you?” I asked. “This can’t be easy, this back-and-forth Masterdom.”



He chuckled, his green eyes crinkled with amusement. “Musical chairs aren’t my preferred method of serving this House.”



“At least you get to keep your rooms,” I said. “And don’t have to move in and out of the Master’s suite.”



“That is some consolation,” he agreed. “Although you have better closets.”



I hadn’t actually seen Malik’s closet, but as Ethan’s was the size of a room in itself and outfitted with lush wood and thick carpet, he was probably right.



“Ethan would be lost without his suits.”



“He would,” Malik agreed, and patted my arm. “He would be lost without many things, including you. Go upstairs. Get a good day’s sleep. This will be over tomorrow, and you and Ethan can enjoy a reunion.”



I thanked him, walked upstairs, and hoped he was right. But I feared in my heart of hearts that we were all underestimating the depth of Kowalcyzk’s ignorance.



• • •



I kept to the plan I’d laid out for Lindsey, snagging a bottle of blood from the tray Margot had left in the apartments and both of the cellophane-wrapped Mallocakes, my favorite processed snack. Chocolate and blood didn’t sound appealing, but it might have been the pinnacle of vampire comfort foods.



I changed into pajamas, nabbing one of Ethan’s button-up shirts, the trace of his cologne lingering even after a wash, and buttoning it on. I turned on the fire in the onyx fireplace with the flick of a switch, and sat down on the rug in front of it, the bottle in hand.



My phone beeped, and I snatched it up greedily, hoping for good news about Ethan. It was Lakshmi, with another favor to ask.



KEEP HIM SAFE, she messaged.



I wanted to call her back, rail at her for standing by while Ethan bore the blame for acts by her colleagues. But vitriol would do no better now than tears. I put the phone aside, but the sting of her words stayed with me.



Wasn’t I trying to keep him safe?



I stared at the fire until the sun rose, watching the forks and tendrils rise and shift and move, letting it blank my mind and send me to sleep.



Chapter Sixteen



THIS MAGIC MOMENT



The sun set again, and I awoke on the floor beside the fire, curled into a ball with the crook of my elbow as a pillow, the fireplace still crackling, the empty bottle beside me. I sat up and stretched, working out the kinks of spending ten hours asleep on a hardwood floor, then flipped off the fire and put the bottle on the tray the kitchen staff would eventually collect.



“Another night in paradise,” I mused, and turned to the shower.



As part of the miracle that was Cadogan House, I found my leathers clean and shiny and ready to wear again. I dressed for war, belting on my katana, my hair in a ponytail, and the new Cadogan pendant around my neck. It felt differently than the last one had, the medal colder and thicker. But no less meaningful, and I was glad the tradition was under way again.



Now that I was back in Chicago and back on the clock, I grabbed my phone, texted Jonah. ALL WELL AT GREY HOUSE?



SO FAR, SO GOOD. MORGAN ON A TEAR ABOUT NAVARRE RAID.



That thought actually made me smile. Although Navarre was the origin of most of our troubles, the House rarely had to deal with the unpleasant consequences. Maybe now Morgan would appreciate the spot Celina had put us in all those months ago by announcing our existence to the world.



WORD ON ETHAN? he asked.



NOT YET. I’M ABOUT TO HEAD DOWNSTAIRS. ALSO GOING TO VISIT GRANDFATHER. MAY NEED YOU ON MISSING SUP CASE.



ROGER, Jonah responded. KEEP ME POSTED.



Taking Luc’s advice, I called the hospital, confirmed visiting hours, and prepared to head out. But I had two quick stops to make before I left.



The first was to the Ops Room. It seemed only fair that I’d check in with Luc before leaving campus, even though he’d given me permission the night before.



I made my way downstairs, and Helen stopped me on the first floor, a scrap of paper in hand. She extended it with perfectly manicured fingers, a silver charm bracelet dangling from her wrist.



“What’s this?” I wondered.



“Your garage code,” she said, smiling mirthlessly. I guessed she wasn’t thrilled that a peon so far down the chain of command had won access to the garage. Helen was adept and capable at her job. But she was the growly sort, and she had very specific opinions about who deserved the spoils of Cadogan House . . . and who did not.