Hard Bitten
Chapter Nine

BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE . . . UNLESS YOU'RE IMMORTAL AND UNDERSTAND COMPOUND INTEREST
I shuddered awake, blinking in the glow of unfamiliar lights. I was curled into a ball atop a giant sleigh bed that smelled like woodsy cologne and cinnamon. I sat up and took in unfamiliar surroundings. A massive bed, topped by a pile of taupe bedclothes. An equally large flat-screen television at the end on a facing bureau. And leaning against the bureau, arms crossed over his chest, was Jonah. He was dressed more casually today in a V-neck T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
"Good evening, Sentinel."
"Where are we?"
"Grey House. My room."
"Grey - ," I began to repeat, but the night began to replay. I fell asleep in his car, and he must have brought me here. No, not just brought me - carried me - into Grey House while I was out.
"I wasn't comfortable dropping you off at your car. You were completely out, and your being here was easier to explain than my showing up with you at Cadogan House. Dawn was moving in; I had to make a call."
That made sense, although I wasn't thrilled that I'd been carried around like a hapless girl in one of my favorite bodice rippers.
"Thanks. Did anyone else see me come in?" If so, since I'd spent the night in Jonah's room, I could imagine well enough myself what they'd been thinking. I felt the rising blush on my cheeks.
"Nope. Everyone else was bunked in by then."
I swung my feet over the bed and buried my toes in expensive, thickly piled carpet. "Where did you sleep?"
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Sitting room. I'm a gentleman, and there's nothing about seducing an unconscious vampire that appeals to me." He shrugged. "Besides, the sun was nearly up. We were out. I could have slept right beside you, and no one would have been the wiser. We'd both have been angels."
I was on enough of a boy hiatus to agree, but appreciated that he'd given me space. It was a gentlemanly thing to do, and not something I'd take for granted.
"Thank you."
He shrugged. "I borrowed your phone. Sent a message to Ethan to let him know you were okay. I thought you'd probably have checked in when you returned, and a call from me would have been really suspicious."
I nodded my agreement. Of course, just because he hadn't outed himself to Ethan didn't mean there weren't going to be questions. Ethan was still going to wonder where I'd spent the day.
I glanced into the sitting room where he'd slept. A plush couch and love seat were poised near another enormous flat-screen television mounted to the wall. The rest of the room was equally nice. Luxe carpet, rich colors, crown molding, and wainscoting. An arcade video game stood against one wall, and a framed Ryne Sandberg jersey hung on the other.
This place could have been featured on vampire Cribs.
"This is a pretty sweet place."
"New House, new digs. Well, relatively new House, anyway. Only eight years old, which isn't much when immortality is the context." He walked to a mini-fridge built into a cabinet on the far wall and opened it, revealing tidy rows of longneck bottles. He plucked one out and walked my way.
"I don't think hair of the dog is going to do it for me today."
"It's not beer." When he held it out, I looked it over. It was blood. Traditional beer bottle, but definitely not the traditional brew. It was another Blood4You product - the unfortunately named LongBeer. They really could use Mallory's marketing expertise.
"You looked like you could use it."
I nodded my agreement and twisted off the cap, my fingers shaking with the sudden hunger.
The blood was cold and had a peppery zing to it, like it had been doctored with a dash or two of Tabasco.
As blood went, it was delicious. But, more important, it satiated the need. I finished the bottle in seconds flat, then lowered it again, chest heaving.
"Guess you needed that?"
I nodded, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Sorry. Sometimes the hunger takes me."
Jonah reached out and took the bottle from my hand. "It can do that. And you had a big night last night."
"Not as big as it might have been, but big enough. I got hungry at the party, and I was lucky not to flip out like everyone else there."
He dropped the bottle into a bin beside the refrigerator. "Speaking of, you certainly got the vamps fired up."
"It wasn't me," I assured him. "A female vamp bumped me, and I ended up with two vamps in my face trying to take me out."
Jonah frowned. "There did seem to be a lot of aggression in the air."
"And did you notice their eyes?" I asked.
"Totally silver, barely any pupil. They were seriously vamped out."
"There was also a lot of magic in the room.You put those two things together and you get vamps itching for a fight."
I shook my head. "This couldn't just be volume - all the vampires in a room together.
The Houses couldn't exist if just being near other vampires made them predatory enough to fight for no reason. Maybe it's a mob-mentality thing? One vamp sanctions violence and the rest of them fall into line?"
Jonah shook his head. "I've got another theory. What if the magic wasn't just leaked by the vamps - what if it was directing them?"
"You're suggesting someone was using magic against us? Fueling the aggression?"
He nodded. "Making the vamps super predatorial."
"Okay," I allowed, "say it is magic. But who does that implicate? Sorcerers? They usually try to stay away from vamp drama, and there are only, like, three in the Chicago area. I know two of them, and making vamps play gladiator isn't exactly on their to-do list." Granted, I'd never met Mallory's tutor, but I had a pretty good idea how he was spending his time - training her.
"Okay, so probably not sorcerers. How did you find Sarah?" Jonah asked.
"She was sitting on the floor, looked completely spaced-out. No visible bite marks, so something else had to be going on. Is it possible to glamour someone into illness? I mean, to make them physically weaker just from the glamour?"
He frowned, considering it. "I've never seen it.
But that's not to say it's not possible. Did you learn anything from her? How she found out about the party?"
I passed along the information she'd given me about Temple Bar and the man she'd seen outside. "She also gave me this," I said, digging the envelope from my pocket. I pulled it out, then opened the flap and emptied the envelope's contents into my hand.
Two white pills fell into my palm.
"Well," he said, "that might explain why she was so out of it."
I held one tablet up to the light. The same curvy V was pressed into its surface.
"She said she didn't take anything."
"She was also embarrassed about what happened."
"True," I agreed. "Tate said Mr. Jackson had been arrested for drug possession. So maybe vamps are drugging humans to make them, what, more susceptible to glamour?"
"Given the crowd you saw last night, would that seem farfetched to you?"
Unfortunately, it didn't. Of course, we also didn't have any evidence of it. Sarah could have been glamoured - not that vamps manipulating humans was a big improvement over drugging them.
Whatever the case, it was worth looking into. I put the pills back into the envelope, then tucked it into my pocket again. "I'll take them to the Ombud's office," I told him. "Maybe they can find out more."
The debriefing done, Jonah let me freshen up in his small bathroom. I rubbed at mascara smears and hitched up my ponytail again.
When I came out, he was pulling a buzzing phone from his pocket. He glanced up at me.
"I'm going to take this. I'll be right back. Make yourself at home. There's more blood if you need it."
I nodded at him. "Thanks."
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the cool comfort of his suite.
I rounded the corner, moving into the sitting room and toward a group of framed papers on the wall. They were diplomas for four doctorates: three from state schools in Illinois (history, anthropology, and geography) and one from Northwestern (German literature and critical thought). Each diploma bore a variation of his name - John, Jonah, Jonathan, Jack - and their dates were spread in time across the twentieth century.
I guess graduate school was possible for a vampire.
The door opened. "Sorry," he said behind me.
"It was Noah. He is now aware you spent the night at his condo last night."
"Good call," I said, assuming Ethan didn't quiz me on the finer points of Noah's home - or any other details about Noah other than the little I already knew.
I pointed at the degrees. "You're quite the student."
"Is 'student' a euphemism for 'geek'?"
"It's a euphemism for 'man with four PhDs.' How did you manage all this?"
"While hiding the fact that I'm fanged, you mean?"
I nodded, and he grinned and walked toward me. "Very carefully."
"Lot of night classes?"
"Exclusively. All of these were before online classes were an option." He smiled secretly as he looked over the certificates. "In earlier days, grad school was still a place for eccentrics. It was easy to play the lone genius - the one who only took evening classes, slept during the day, et cetera."
"Did you TA any?" Being a TA, a teaching assistant, seemed like it would have been harder.
"I did not. I got lucky with some fellowship money, and I liked researching, so they kept me away from the classrooms. Otherwise, it would have been hard to arrange." He tilted his head at me. "Did you do time in grad school?"
"Before I was changed, yeah."
He must have heard the regret in my voice.
"I'm guessing there's a story there?"
"I was in grad school at U of C before I was made a vampire. English lit. Three chapters into my dissertation." Before I could stop myself, the entire story was out. "I was walking across campus one night, and I was attacked." I looked over at him. "One of the Rogues Celina hired."
He put two and two together. "You were one of the park victims. The one who was bitten on campus?"
I nodded. "Ethan and Malik happened to be there. They jumped out, scared the attacker away, and Ethan took me home and began the Change."
"God, that was lucky for you."
"It was," I agreed.
"So Ethan saved your life."
"He did. And made me a Cadogan vampire and House Sentinel." I frowned. "He also pulled me out of school. He didn't think I could go back as a vamp." That was right before the North American Vampire Registry outed my Initiate class in the paper, so he'd probably been right.
"He had a point," Jonah said. "School as a closeted vampire wasn't an easy task. It was a little easier, I think, as an older vamp who knew the rules, knew how to play the game. For an Initiate still learning the ropes?" He shrugged. "It would have been difficult."
"Said the man with four doctorates."
"Fair point. But you seem to have adjusted to being a vampire, even if the transition wasn't exactly by choice."
"It wasn't easy," I admitted. "I had my moments of irritating whininess. But I eventually reached the point where I had to accept who I was and deal with it - or leave the House and pretend to be a human again." I shrugged. "I opted for the House."
Jonah wet his lips, then looked at me askew. "I should give credit where credit is due. You did well last night."
"That would be more flattering if there wasn't so much surprise in your voice."
"My expectations were low."
"Yes, I'm aware of that." I thought of the first time we'd met, of the disdain in his voice. "And why is that exactly? Why the anti-Sentinel sentiment?"
He smirked. "It's not so much anti-Sentinel - "
"As anti-Merit?" I finished for him.
"I know your sister," he said. "Charlotte. We have mutual friends."
Charlotte was my older sister, currently married with two children and engaged as a full-time charity soiree attendee and fund-raiser.
I loved my sister, but I wasn't a part - by choice - of the fancy circles she ran in. So it didn't exactly impress me that he knew her.
"Okay," I said.
He sighed, then looked up at me a little guiltily. "I'd assumed - your being a Merit - that you were her clone."
It took me a moment to gather up an answer.
"What, now?"
"I just figured - since you're sisters and all.
And both Merits . . ." He trailed off, but didn't need to finish the rest of it. Jonah wasn't the first vampire who'd confessed he'd judged me based on my family name - and the baggage that accompanied wealth and notoriety. I'm not saying money doesn't have its advantages, but being judged on one's own merits - pun very much intended - isn't one of them.
On the other hand, that did explain why he'd been so cold the first couple of times we'd met.
He'd expected a bratty new vampire from new-money Chicago.
"I love my sister," I told him. "But I'm far from being her clone."
"So I see."
"And now you believe what?"
"Oh. Well." He smiled, and there was pride in his eyes. "Now I've seen you in action. I've seen this avenging angel - "
"I prefer Ponytailed Avenger," I dryly said.
That was the nickname ascribed to me by Nick Breckenridge (aka "the blackmailer").
Jonah rolled his eyes. "This avenging angel of a vampire," he continued, "coming to the rescue of humans and roaring through the folks who cross her. And now I'm wondering if you wouldn't be such a bad addition to the RG."
"As opposed to the train wreck I would have been a couple of months ago?"
He had the grace to blush.
"I know you weren't impressed by me. You didn't exactly hide it. And I wouldn't call myself an avenging angel. I'm Sentinel of my House, and I do what I can to protect them."
"To protect only them?"
I met his steady gaze. "For now, only them."
We stood there for a moment and let the phrase stand between us. I was again passing up the opportunity to become his partner, but admitting that I wasn't ruling it out completely.
Immortality, after all, lasted a long time.
He nodded. "I should probably get you back to your car."
"That would be a good idea. I need to get home." Back to the House, back to Ethan. Back to a routine that didn't involve my fighting crazed vampires - but now involved lying to him about them.
Jonah grabbed up keys, and we left his room.
The sight outside it was unbelievable.
Grey House was located in a converted warehouse near Wrigley Field, and they'd definitely made use of the space. His door was one of many along the wall, each evenly spaced like in a hotel. The hallway was open on the other side, a railing made of steel posts and thin wire giving way to a four-story atrium. Across the atrium, at the same level on which we stood, was another line of doors. Bedrooms, I supposed.
I walked to the railing and glanced down. The middle of the space below us was filled by a forty-foot-tall tree and a lush island of greenery.
There were also plants and trees along a path that wound through the space. Black posts stood at intervals along the path, each bearing a vertical flag of a Chicago sports team.
It was unlike anything I'd seen before - and certainly unlike anything I'd seen in the realm of vampires.
"This is spectacular," I said when Jonah joined me at the rail. I glanced up at the ceiling, which was all glass. But that couldn't work in a House of vampires. "How do the trees grow? I mean, don't you have to close up the skylights during the day?"
Jonah made a circle with his hands. "The roof has a parabolic canopy that rotates to close during the day." He swiveled his fingers. "They close just like a camera shutter, so it leaves a gap in the middle for the tree. And the mechanism is photosensitive, so the circle follows the sun as the earth rotates to ensure the tree always has light."
"That is amazing."
"The technology is pretty impressive," he agreed. "Scott's taken the time to try new things, which we can't always say about Masters."
"They do tend to be a little stodgy."
He made a vague sound of agreement. "The rest of the foliage gets light as the shutters turn."
"And if a vamp has an emergency and needs to move through the atrium during the day?"
"They don't," Jonah said simply. "The interior architecture of the House is organized so you never have to cross the atrium space to get to any living quarters or exits." He pointed below. "The rooms on the sides of the atrium are nonessential - offices and the like - and there are shaded walkways in any event."
He turned and began walking down the hallway, and I followed him to an elevator and a basement parking level that was pretty similar to ours: long concrete vault, lots of expensive cars.
I stopped short when we passed a platinum silver convertible. It was small and curvy, with round lights, a hood vent, and wire wheels, and it looked exactly like the kind of car James Bond would drive.
"Is this - is that an Aston Martin?"
He glanced over. "Yeah. That's Scott's car.
He's been alive for nearly two hundred years. A man accumulates prizes in that time."
"So I see," I said, clenching my hands to fight back the urge to run my fingers across the spotless paint. I'd never seen one in person.
Never seen one at all outside the movies. But it was stunning. I didn't consider myself to be a car person, but it was hard not to like long lines and sweet curves. And what I'd imagine was a pretty fast engine.
"Lots of, you know, horsepowers or whatever?"
He smiled and unlocked his hybrid's door, and was still grinning when we climbed inside. "Not much of a car buff?"
"I can appreciate a beautiful thing. But cars are only a skindeep infatuation for me."
"Duly noted."
We drove from Wrigleyville back to Magnificent Mile and my car. And I totally lucked out - my car had been parked in the same spot for nearly twenty-four hours, but while there was a ticket under the wiper, there was no boot on the tire. Street parking in Chicago was a hazardous activity.
"Are you going to get hassled for sleeping over?" he asked through the open window as I unlocked my door.
Only if Ethan thinks I'm sleeping with Noah, I thought to myself.
"I'm good," I told Jonah. "Besides, it's not like you could escort me home. You'd blow your cover."
"True. We should probably plan to talk again.
I expect this isn't the last time we'll hear about what went down last night."
"Probably not." My stomach turned over. I wasn't thrilled at the possibility of heading back into another "rave," if that's what we were calling it. I had the skills for war, but not the stomach for it. It was easy to help someone in need, but it would have been nicer if the need didn't exist in the first place.
"I'll talk to the bartenders at Temple Bar, see if they've noticed anything suspicious. And I'll let you know if I find out anything about the phone number. I'll also talk to them about the drugs. They'll want to know if illegal substances are being spread around, and what the effects are."
"Sounds like a plan. Keep me posted."
"I will. Thank you again for the help."
Jonah smiled thinly. "That's what partners are for."
"Don't jump the gun. We aren't partners yet."
With a final, knowing smile, he pulled away from the curb, leaving me on the sidewalk beside my lonely Volvo. What had Mallory said about not wanting to go back to your life again? And what had I told her? Something about accepting the choices you were presented with and getting the nasty stuff done regardless?
I climbed into the Volvo and shut the door behind me, blowing the bangs from my forehead as I started the car.
"Good times," I muttered, as I turned the wheel into traffic. "Good times."
When I was parked in front of the House, I took a moment to get the next part of the investigation in motion. I dialed up Jeff's number.
His answer was enthusiastic. "Merit! We heard some shit went down last night. You okay?"
"Hey, Jeff. I'm good. I'll fill you in later. But for now I need a favor."
"The Jeff abides. What's up?"
I rattled off the phone number Jonah had given me. "It's the number that sent out a text about the party, which may or may not have been a rave. Can you trace it?"
"On it," he said, and I heard the rhythmic clack of keys. "Nothing in the first round," he said after a moment. "Give me a little bit of time.
I'll find it."
"You're a doll."
"You and I both know it. I'll call you."
"Thanks, Jeff."
That done, and the phone tucked away again, I glanced up at the House. Probably best to get the hard part over with. I headed inside - this time through a gauntlet of personal epithets from the protesters - and straight for Ethan's office.
The office door was open, and he sat at his desk, a phone at his ear.
I waited until he put the phone down, and then started in. The words came out in a rush.
"It was in a high-rise in Streeterville, but it wasn't an intimate rave, not like we think of them. This was at least two dozen vamps. A lot of magic, a lot of glamour, and a lot of fighting.
Everyone was on a hair trigger, like they were waiting for an excuse to rumble. There were plenty of humans, and some bloodletting. There's also a possibility they're being drugged to make them susceptible to glamour."
Ethan's eyes shifted to something behind me.
"Sire," he said after a moment, "this is Merit, Sentinel of Cadogan House. Merit, Darius West. Head of the Greenwich Presidium."
Oh, snap.