Midnight Marked
Page 105
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As Ethan approached him, Reed looked gratifyingly unsure of his steps. I decided Ethan needed to handle him, and it didn’t take him long. Adrien Reed was a man who’d gained power through others’ work: others’ misery, others’ criminality, others’ fights. When push came to shove, and he had no minions to protect him or magic to back him up, the facade crumbled.
He offered Ethan a couple of testing jabs, but those seemed to be for form. And when Ethan used a right cross—one of his favorite moves—Reed hit the deck.
“And that,” Mallory said, “is how we do it in Chicago.”
• • •
My grandfather found me standing over Logan, Ethan standing over Reed, and Mallory standing over Sorcha Reed. We probably all looked happier than we should have been. Well, Mallory and I. Ethan still looked disappointed that Reed hadn’t put up more of a fight, had proven to be the coward we’d suspected.
We walked out of what remained of Towerline’s lobby to screams and applause. In the madness and chaos, humans had encroached on the CPD’s barricades. They’d been kept off the plaza, but they filled Michigan Avenue and celebrated as if the Cubs had won another pennant.
I could understand the enthusiasm.
They probably didn’t understand what they’d seen, or what we’d done. That we’d been protecting ourselves as much as them. But they understood victory, and that we’d been victorious against the magic that had threatened to tear their city apart.
The plaza looked miserable, scattered with steel and glass and broken granite. Reed and Sorcha screamed obscenities as officers escorted them from the building to the car. Logan’s tranq must have worn off, as he shot me nasty looks, so I waved back pleasantly. I wouldn’t be afraid of him anymore.
“You know,” my grandfather said as he joined us, “I don’t think the Reeds are going to enjoy prison. I don’t think they’ll find it up to their standards.”
“No,” Ethan said with a grin, “I suspect you’re right.”
“Robert?” I asked.
“Hospital,” my grandfather said. “He stabilized when the Reeds went down.”
Relief rushed me. “Thank God.”
My grandfather nodded. “Morgan saw him out, fought back a few monsters to keep him safe.”
“He’s got good instincts,” Ethan said. “Only gets into trouble when he ignores them.”
My grandfather looked around at the destruction. “And isn’t that true of all of us?”
Then he shifted his gaze back to us, smiled. “You did good tonight, kids. Good by Chicago, good by your family, good by your House. I’m proud of both of you.”
The weight of disappointing him dissipated, replaced by the warm glow of approval. “Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, and, when he pointed to his cheek, leaned forward to press a kiss there.
“I’m going to get the paperwork started,” he said, then glanced back at the building and whistled. “And attempt to mollify your father.”
“Actually, Chuck, you might want to wait for a moment.”
I looked back at Ethan, surprised at the comment, and found him staring at me, his gaze utterly serious.
“Are you all right?”
“I am,” he said. “More right than I’ve been in many, many years.” He put his hands on my face. “You are the bravest person I have ever known.”
“You aren’t so bad yourself,” I said with a grin, but Ethan’s expression stayed serious.
“What?” I asked, afraid for a moment that he’d been hurt or someone else had. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, his thumb tracing a line across my cheek as he stared down at me. “I am precisely where I should be.”
And there, in the middle of the broken plaza, Ethan Sullivan went down on one knee. He stared up at me with eyes wide with love and pride and masculine satisfaction. He held out a hand, and I put my fingers in his palm.
The crowd of humans—thousands strong—who realized what he was doing roared with excitement. Cameras and cell phones began to flash around us.
“Holy shit!” I heard Mallory cry out somewhere behind us, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the warrior in front of me.
I put my free hand against my chest as if that would stop my throbbing heart from bursting through it. That didn’t stop the shaking of my fingers.
“You’re all right?” Ethan asked, glancing up at me with obvious amusement at my reaction. “I can stop if you’d like.”
I grinned at him. “No, you go ahead. I mean, you’re already down there.”
“Very well,” he said, and the crowd went silent as they strained to hear him.
“Caroline Evelyn Merit, you have changed my life completely. You’ve made it large and happier, and you have given me love and laughter. Perhaps most of all, you have reminded me what it means to be human. I’ve looked for four centuries to find you. I cannot fathom a world without you in it. Without your heart, and without your honor. Merit, my Sentinel and my love, will you marry me?”
He was stubborn and arrogant, domineering and imperious. He was brave and honorable, and he was mine. There was no one else. Had never really been anyone else, even before I knew he’d been waiting for me. And if I said yes, there would never be.
“Of course I will.”
The crowd erupted again with screams and hoots and applause as Ethan Sullivan, my former enemy, jumped to his feet and kissed me deeply, winding his hands into my hair.
He offered Ethan a couple of testing jabs, but those seemed to be for form. And when Ethan used a right cross—one of his favorite moves—Reed hit the deck.
“And that,” Mallory said, “is how we do it in Chicago.”
• • •
My grandfather found me standing over Logan, Ethan standing over Reed, and Mallory standing over Sorcha Reed. We probably all looked happier than we should have been. Well, Mallory and I. Ethan still looked disappointed that Reed hadn’t put up more of a fight, had proven to be the coward we’d suspected.
We walked out of what remained of Towerline’s lobby to screams and applause. In the madness and chaos, humans had encroached on the CPD’s barricades. They’d been kept off the plaza, but they filled Michigan Avenue and celebrated as if the Cubs had won another pennant.
I could understand the enthusiasm.
They probably didn’t understand what they’d seen, or what we’d done. That we’d been protecting ourselves as much as them. But they understood victory, and that we’d been victorious against the magic that had threatened to tear their city apart.
The plaza looked miserable, scattered with steel and glass and broken granite. Reed and Sorcha screamed obscenities as officers escorted them from the building to the car. Logan’s tranq must have worn off, as he shot me nasty looks, so I waved back pleasantly. I wouldn’t be afraid of him anymore.
“You know,” my grandfather said as he joined us, “I don’t think the Reeds are going to enjoy prison. I don’t think they’ll find it up to their standards.”
“No,” Ethan said with a grin, “I suspect you’re right.”
“Robert?” I asked.
“Hospital,” my grandfather said. “He stabilized when the Reeds went down.”
Relief rushed me. “Thank God.”
My grandfather nodded. “Morgan saw him out, fought back a few monsters to keep him safe.”
“He’s got good instincts,” Ethan said. “Only gets into trouble when he ignores them.”
My grandfather looked around at the destruction. “And isn’t that true of all of us?”
Then he shifted his gaze back to us, smiled. “You did good tonight, kids. Good by Chicago, good by your family, good by your House. I’m proud of both of you.”
The weight of disappointing him dissipated, replaced by the warm glow of approval. “Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, and, when he pointed to his cheek, leaned forward to press a kiss there.
“I’m going to get the paperwork started,” he said, then glanced back at the building and whistled. “And attempt to mollify your father.”
“Actually, Chuck, you might want to wait for a moment.”
I looked back at Ethan, surprised at the comment, and found him staring at me, his gaze utterly serious.
“Are you all right?”
“I am,” he said. “More right than I’ve been in many, many years.” He put his hands on my face. “You are the bravest person I have ever known.”
“You aren’t so bad yourself,” I said with a grin, but Ethan’s expression stayed serious.
“What?” I asked, afraid for a moment that he’d been hurt or someone else had. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, his thumb tracing a line across my cheek as he stared down at me. “I am precisely where I should be.”
And there, in the middle of the broken plaza, Ethan Sullivan went down on one knee. He stared up at me with eyes wide with love and pride and masculine satisfaction. He held out a hand, and I put my fingers in his palm.
The crowd of humans—thousands strong—who realized what he was doing roared with excitement. Cameras and cell phones began to flash around us.
“Holy shit!” I heard Mallory cry out somewhere behind us, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the warrior in front of me.
I put my free hand against my chest as if that would stop my throbbing heart from bursting through it. That didn’t stop the shaking of my fingers.
“You’re all right?” Ethan asked, glancing up at me with obvious amusement at my reaction. “I can stop if you’d like.”
I grinned at him. “No, you go ahead. I mean, you’re already down there.”
“Very well,” he said, and the crowd went silent as they strained to hear him.
“Caroline Evelyn Merit, you have changed my life completely. You’ve made it large and happier, and you have given me love and laughter. Perhaps most of all, you have reminded me what it means to be human. I’ve looked for four centuries to find you. I cannot fathom a world without you in it. Without your heart, and without your honor. Merit, my Sentinel and my love, will you marry me?”
He was stubborn and arrogant, domineering and imperious. He was brave and honorable, and he was mine. There was no one else. Had never really been anyone else, even before I knew he’d been waiting for me. And if I said yes, there would never be.
“Of course I will.”
The crowd erupted again with screams and hoots and applause as Ethan Sullivan, my former enemy, jumped to his feet and kissed me deeply, winding his hands into my hair.
