Some Girls Bite
CHAPTER ELEVEN

ADVICE FOR LITIGATORS AND VAMPIRES:
NEVER ASK A QUESTION TO WHICH YOU DON'T
ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER
"Get your ass out of bed."
Two nights in a row? I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. "I'm trying to sleep."
The pillow was yanked back, and a cell phone was pressed against my ear in time to hear someone yell, "Get your ass out of bed, Sentinel, and get to the damn House! I don't know what kind of cushy job you expected, but around here, we earn our pay. You've got fifteen minutes."
Suddenly awake, and realizing who was on the phone, I grabbed the cell from Mallory's hand and fumbled through pillows and blankets until I was upright. "Luc? I can't make it across town in fifteen minutes."
There was a gravelly chuckle on the other end of the phone. "Then learn to fly, Tinkerbell, and get that pretty ass to the House." The call ended with an audible click, and I dropped it onto the bed and jumped to the floor.
"Hurry much?"
Cursing like a sailor on leave, I rifled through my closet. "I'm late," I vented. "The House vamps already think I'm a freak. And now I'm the prissy, princessy freak who can't show up to work on time. I didn't know he wanted me in at the crack of dusk."
Her voice almost irritatingly calm, Mal offered, "Check the door, hon."
"I don't have time for riddles, Mal. I'm in a hurry." I flipped through a long-sleeve T-shirt, then another, then another, and found nothing that Cadogan vamps would find even remotely acceptable.
"The door, Merit."
With a groan, I pushed back from the closet and glanced at the door. Hanging over my bedroom door was a short-sleeved black top and a pair of cuffed flat-front gray dress trousers. A pair of black high-heeled Mary Jane shoes sat in front of it. As an ensemble, it was simple, classy, and with the stiletto-heeled shoes, a little fierce. I glanced back at her. "What's this?"
"A first-day-of-work present."
My eyes filled with tears, and I wiped at them with the sleeves of the long-sleeved tee I'd slept in. "You take good care of me."
She sighed and moved closer, then pulled me into a hug. "You're on day eight of Merit's Brain Vacation. You've got until day ten. I expect you to have adjusted by then." She brushed the hair from my face, then tweaked a lock of it. "I miss brainiac Merit."
I smiled sheepishly. "I miss her, too."
She nodded. "Good. I'm going to run out and grab you a black suit. Since you've got a birthday coming up, I'm totally claiming that as your gift."
Birthday number twenty-eight was next week. And while I appreciated the thought, I wasn't crazy about the would-be present. "Not to be picky, Mal, but could I maybe get a birthday present that's not Ethan Sullivan-related?"
"Is there anything in your life right now that's not Ethan Sullivan-related?"
Hmm. She had a point.
"Now enough procrastinating! Go get in the shower, get these pretty clothes on, and go do that Sentinel thing."
I saluted her and followed the order.
It took twenty minutes to get dressed and in some semblance of order - to pull back my hair into a high ponytail, to brush out my bangs, to slide into the new clothes and fasten the tiny buckles on my three-inch-heeled Mary Janes, to grab my black messenger bag, to clip on my beeper - and another handful to get to Cadogan House. I threw the car into park as soon as I was near the gate and trotted in my heels - and quite a sight that was, I'm sure - down the sidewalk.
The House was quiet and empty when I finally bobbed up the front stairs and entered the foyer. I guessed the vamps were up and about, already assuming their positions and dedicating themselves to the Cadogan cause. I peeked into the front parlor, saw no one, and walked through to the second. Still no vampires.
"Looking for someone?"
Of all the luck. Ordering my face into what I hoped was a kind of meek chagrin, I spun to face Ethan. Not surprisingly, he was in black - a dark suit layered over a white shirt, no tie. He stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck.
"I'm late," was my confession.
His brows lifted, a corner of his mouth almost, but not quite, tipped up in amusement. "On your first day? I'm shocked. I'd imagined you'd prove to be our most reliable, dependable employee."
I walked around him, peeked through a doorway that led from the parlor. It led to another hallway, also empty. "And I bet you became Master of Cadogan House because of your spectacular wit." I stopped and faced him, then put hands on my hips. "Where would I find Luc?"
"Please?"
"Please what?"
Ethan rolled his eyes. "That was your cue to show some respect to your employer."
"And you're suggesting that's you?"
In response, he lifted a single brow higher.
"The thing is," I pointed out, "since I've got the responsibility of ensuring the safety of the House, I've got some authority over you, too."
Ethan uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. The posture was vaguely threatening, his tone only slightly less so. "Only if I was to act in a way that threatens the House. And I won't."
"But that's my determination to make, isn't it?"
He just stared at me. "Are you always this obstreperous?"
"I'm not obstreperous. Stubborn, arguably. And don't start in that I was causing trouble. I was only asking a question."
"You start causing trouble the minute you awaken. Case in point - you're late."
"And that brings us back full circle. Now where's Luc?" He lifted both brows, and I sighed. "God, you call me stubborn. Please, Sullivan, where's Luc?"
There was a pause as he slipped his hands into his pockets but then, finally, gave an answer that didn't involve a critique of my character. "Operations room. Down the stairs to the right. It's the first door on the left, before you get to the sparring room. If you suddenly discover you're fang deep in vampires, all intent on teaching you the manners you so obviously lack, you've gone too far."
I lightly grasped the edges of my shirt and dropped into a neat curtsy, batting my eyes coquettishly. "Thank you, Liege," I said, Gratefully Condescending.
"You're still not in Cadogan attire, you know."
I frowned, awash in the disheartening realization that I'd tried again, and failed, at playing Cadogan vampire. Was I ever going to be able to be good enough for Ethan? I doubted it, but faked a smile and cheekily offered, "You should have seen what I was going to wear."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Get to work, Sentinel, but find me before you leave. I want to touch base about the murder investigations."
I nodded. Hard to be sarcastic when serial murder was the topic. "Sure."
Ethan gave me a final silent perusal, then turned and walked out of the room. I kept my eyes on the empty doorway even when he'd gone, still expecting him to pop back inside and add a final snarky comment. But silence filled the House, Ethan apparently content not to do further battle right now. Relieved, I took the stairs and veered to the right. The door he'd indicated was closed. I knocked, heard someone invite me in, opened the door and walked inside.
It was like stepping onto a movie set. The room was as handsomely decorated as the upper floors of Cadogan House, pale colors and tasteful furniture, but it was smeared with technology - screens, computers, printers. The ends of the rectangular room were anchored by long banks of computers and expensive-looking equipment, with security monitors mounted above. Black-and-white images of the Cadogan grounds flickered on the screens. An oval conference table sat in the middle of the room, a handful of vampires - including Luc and Lindsey - around it. And on the long wall behind the conference table was a seven-foot-wide display screen, projecting a series of pictures of a brunette.
Of me.
I stared, lips parted, at a picture of me dancing across a stage in a pale pink leotard, a whispery skirt around my thighs, hands arced above my head. There was a clicking sound, and the image changed. I was in college, wearing an NYU T-shirt. Click. I was at a library table, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear as I pored over a book. The picture was undisturbed by vampire glam - I sat cross-legged in jeans in a comfy chair, my hair pulled back in a messy knot, retro-punk glasses perched on my nose, Chuck Taylors on my feet.
I cocked my head to the side, staring at the text on the screen. "Canterbury Tales," I announced to the room. All heads turned to look at me as I stood, not a little unsteadily, in the doorway. "I was preparing for a class, in case you were curious."
Luc, who sat at the head of the table, tapped a screen that was inlaid into the tabletop, and the images disappeared, replaced by a Cadogan House logo. He still looked cowboyish today - tousled blond hair ruffling the collar of a faded, long-sleeved denim shirt, jeans, and boots, visible because he crossed his ankles on the table in front of him. He was the only vamp in the room in jeans. Everyone else was in the requisite Cadogan black, fitted tops and shirts that, presumably, made it easier for the guards to do their jobs than the usual stiff suits.
"Doing some research?" I asked.
"You'd be amazed what you can find on the Interwebs in a week," Luc said, "and security always checks out security." He pointed me toward a seat at the table next to
Lindsey, and across from a female vamp I didn't know - a tall, coltish redhead, who'd maybe topped out at twenty-two when she was turned. She grinned at me.
"Sit your ass down," Luc said. "It took you long enough to get here. You really need to consider moving into the House."
I smiled grimly at the other guards, none of whom I recognized beyond Lindsey, and took the proffered seat. "I can't imagine any way that'd be a good idea," I said, trying for a light tone. "I'd get pissed at Ethan and stake him in his sleep. No one wants that."
"Least of all Ethan," Lindsey pointed out, using a stick of what looked like beef jerky to gesture. "That's very magnanimous, Merit."
I smiled at her. "Thanks."
Luc rolled his eyes. "Before we were interrupted" - he gave me a heavy glance that made clear whom he was holding responsible for the disturbance - "I was explaining to your crew that I'm going to be testing you on the C-41 protocol, and that if you don't yet understand the four subsets of the C-41 protocol, you'll find your ass in Ethan's office explaining to him why you spent the evening partying with the baby vamps when you should have been preparing to ensure the security of your House."
Luc raised his gaze to mine. "I assume you looked through the Web site last night and can take us through the C-41 subsets?"
I swallowed down a keen sense of panic. It was like living the nightmare - the one where you're unprepared for an exam and you show up to the test completely naked? Here I was, nicely dressed, but still about to be humiliated in front of the squad of Cadogan guards. I might as well have skipped the wardrobe upgrade.
I opened my mouth to spit out some kind of response - an apology, a couple of lame sentences about the importance of House security in the days of dueling alliances (and Ethan said I never listened!) - when Luc was hit, square in the face, with a flying piece of jerky.
Lindsey snorted and nearly fell out of her chair laughing, catching herself - and the giant plastic tub of jerky that was sitting in her lap - just before she stumbled.
With the calm aplomb of a man accustomed to being hit in the face with dried beef, Luc peeled the square of jerky from his shirt, lifted it, and leveled a skewering glance at Lindsey.
"What?" she said. "You can't think I'm going to let you sit there and torture her." She glanced back at me. "He's bullshitting you. There's no such thing as a C-41 protocol." She reached into the tub and pulled out a ruler-shaped piece of meat, then looked back at Luc, as she nibbled on the end. "You're such a shit."
"And you're fired."
I'm not fired, she mouthed to me, shaking her head. She held out the tub. "Jerky?"
I'd never been a jerky fan, but the urge to nosh was undeniable. I reached in and grabbed two sticks of it, and immediately began gnawing. Weird thing about being a vampire - you never knew you were hungry until you were around food. Then the urges kicked in.
Luc grumbled at the set down, but kicked his legs off the table, motioned for the bucket, and when she offered it, grabbed some jerky of his own. He tugged at one end toothily, then said, "Folks, since our resident troublemaker has finally decided to join us, why don't you all introduce yourselves?" He put a hand on his chest. "I'm Luc. I exist to give you orders. If you question those order, you'll find your ass on the floor." He smiled wolfishly. "Any questions, doll?"
I shook my head. "I think I'm good."
"Right. Peter, you're next."
Peter was about six foot, with a thinner build, and brown hair that fell just past his ears. He wore a gray sweater, jeans, and boots. He'd probably been made in his early thirties, and had a look of casual wealth that reminded me of the new Novitiates. But where they wore a gloss of naive optimism, Peter had the vaguely tired look of a man who'd seen too much in his life.
"Peter. I've been here thirty-seven, thirty-eight years."
"Peter's concise," Luc commented, nodding at the next guard. "Juliet."
Juliet was the feylike redhead. "Juliet. Eighty-six years, fifty-four in Cadogan. I was Commended into Taylor, transferred over. Nice to meet you, Merit."
"Kel, you're next."
"I'm Kelley," said the woman to my right. Her black hair was long and straight, her mouth a perfect cupid's bow, her skin perfectly pale, her eyes slightly uptilted. "Two hundred and fourteen years. I was made by Peter Cadogan before the House was formed. When he was killed, I stayed with Ethan. You'll stand Sentinel?"
I nodded, the only option available, as her tone brooked no argument. The energy that surrounded her was contained, intense, and almost thickly aggressive. For all that, she was lithe and slim, and was probably deceptively unfrightening to the average human.
"And last, and arguably least, we have Lindsey." He looked over at her, gave her a haughty look.
Lindsey just waved an airy hand. "You know who I am. I'm one hundred and fifteen, if it matters, originally from Iowa, but I did my time in New York - Yankees rule. I had too much to drink last night, and I have a splitting headache, but I divested a newbie of a pint."
I grinned, but caught a low-grade growl from Luc's end of the table. Some unrequited feelings there, maybe?
"Do us a favor and spare us the bloody details, Linds."
Lindsey smirked at him, smiled at me. "And I'm the resident psychic."
He snapped his fingers. "Of course. I knew there was a reason he kept you around. Everyone has their specialties - Peter's got the contacts, Juliet's slippery. She gathers data." I assumed he meant surreptitiously. "Kelley's our resident mechanical and software genius."
When he turned to look at me, the rest of the guards followed suit. I sat still while they gave me calculating, appraising glances, probably registering strengths and weaknesses, estimating powers and potentials.
"I'm strong and fast," I offered. "I don't know how I match up against everyone else, but as you probably heard, I at least gave Ethan a run for his money, so you know what I could do a couple of days out. Since then, I've been training with Catcher Bell, learning moves and sword work, and that's coming along. I seem to have some resistance to glamour, but I don't have any other psychic powers. At least, not yet."
Her wide whiskey eyes on me, Kelley offered, "I suppose that makes you a soldier."
"And I'm the fearless leader," Luc said, "haranguing this group of ragtag vampires into something greater than the sum of its parts. I like to think of it as - "
"Boss, she's in. She doesn't need the recruiting speech." Peter lifted brows expectantly at Luc.
"Right." Luc nodded. "Right. Well, in addition to the six of us, we liaise with the daylight guards, the folks who stay at the gate. They're employed by RDI - that's our external security company."
"And how do we know we can trust them?" I asked.
"Cynical," Luc said with approval. "I like it. Anyway, RDI is run by fairies. And nobody fucks with fairies. The thing is, while we protect the House - "
"Because a safe House is a safe Master," the four guards parroted together, their words ash-dry, and I guessed Luc broke out the proverb frequently.
"Jesus, you bastards do listen to me. I'm touched. Really." He rolled his eyes. "As I was saying, our primary loyalty is to Ethan, to the vamps. Your loyalty is first and foremost to Cadogan. I don't think that'll make too much difference in the short run, but should something arise that tests the bond between Master and House, you'll need to be aware of that." He shook his head, mouth pursed. "That'll put you in a helluva goddamn spot, having to counter Ethan about House security. But he thought you were the girl for the job, so . . . You know anything about guns?" he asked, expression suddenly tight.
I blinked. "Um, only to stay away from them?"
Luc blew out a breath, ran his hands through his hair. "Training, then. Jesus, you're green. Ballet and grad school to Cadogan fucking Sentinel. It'll take time." He nodded, then released his hands and scribbled something on a notepad that lay on the table in front of him. "You're going to need weapons training, strategy, cleaning and safety, all of it."
He was quiet for a moment, flipping an occasional page as he made notes. In the interim, Lindsey offered me another hunk of jerky, which I gratefully accepted.
"Now that we've done the tea party," Luc said, pushing back the notepad and settling into his chair, "it's time for our annual review of Rules You Disrespectful Bastards Never Follow."
A unified disgruntled groan filled the Operations Room. Luc ignored it. "I'm explaining these rules for Merit's benefit, but since you people rarely obey them" - he gave Lindsey a pointed glance, to which she responded with a stuck-out tongue - "I'm sure you'll appreciate the refresher."
He tapped the panel in front of him. The Cadogan logo disappeared from the wall screen, replaced by a bulleted list entitled Cadogan Guards - Expectations.
Luc leaned back, crossed his hands behind his head, and kicked his booted feet back onto the table. "Number one, you're always on call. I don't care where you are, who you're with, or what you're doing. Sleeping, showering, making inappropriate advances toward still-pink vampires." That earned a grunt from Lindsey. "If your beeper sounds, you're on your way to the House, to the action.
"Number two, you will review the Web site, and you will learn the security protocols. If the worst happens - if there's a direct attack on Cadogan - I want everyone in place, knowing their positions, knowing their responsibilities, knowing whether you're guarding zone or man-to-man."
Lindsey leaned toward me. "He's obsessed with college ball," she whispered. "Expect him to channel Coach K whenever he thinks he can risk the analogy."
I grinned.
"Twice a week," Luc said, "we will review said protocols, focusing on developments, strategies, whatever burr I happen to have up my ass at that particular time. Every day that you are on duty, you will review the dailies, and you will review the dossiers that are placed in your particular file." He pointed at a line of hanging folders mounted to the wall, each a different color, each labeled with one of our names. The label on the bottommost folder read Cadogan Sentinel.
"These documents will keep you informed as to any threats, any changes in the management of this or any other House, any guests in Cadogan, any particular instructions given by your Liege and mine. Four times a week you will train in accordance with the manual you'll find on the Web site. Train here, train with your comrades, train outside the House. I don't care. But you'll be tested periodically -  strength, speed, stamina, katas, weapons. You're a Cadogan guard, and you owe your life and health to this House. You will be prepared to pay that debt, in full, if necessary."
A weighty silence fell over the room, and I watched the guards nod solemnly, some touching the Cadogan medals that lay at the base of their throats.
"Number three," Luc continued, pointing at the screen. "You're an employee of Cadogan House. That means you screw something up in the process of doing your duty - injuring bystanders, pissing off humans - and you risk drawing unwanted attention to the House, our getting sued, an increase in our insurance premiums, and your ass on the streets, where you'll end up following goth wannabe Rogue vampires around the Windy City. To use Merit's words, no one wants that, least of all Ethan. And you sure as shit don't want aspen drawn because you were careless.
"Number four, while this isn't a hard and fast rule, and Ethan would never admit to it, you should be . . . circumspect in your relations with other sups. That includes vamps from other Houses, sorcerers, shifters, and perhaps most relevant today" - Luc looked to Peter and tapped the tips of two fingers on the table - "nymphs. Malik is the only Cadogan vamp authorized to enter into alliances on the House's behalf without Ethan's stamp. Friendly is fine - we don't need to make enemies by acting like pricks from Navarre." A chuckle flowed around the room; some of the tension faded. "But alliances are for our Liege and his Second to arrange. Use your common sense. And if you lack common sense, talk to me." He grinned slowly, wolfishly, and directed that smile at Lindsey. "I'll be sure to point you in the correct direction."
She rolled her eyes.
"Number five. You work four days on, one off. On working days, unless I've assigned you elsewhere, you're in the Ops Room when you report. You'll either work here, or you'll patrol - the House, the grounds. At least one day a week, you'll guard Ethan personally, travel as his body man." He looked at me. "Technically, as Sentinel, you'll set your own schedule. But I'd suggest you work with us, learn the ropes in here, at least until you're familiar with our processes."
I nodded my agreement.
Luc's brows lifted. "Well, you're a little more biddable than we thought."
That earned another chuckle around the room. I blushed in response, but smiled at my colleagues. Luc dished it out to everyone, and I knew I needed to - and could - take it.
"I await your pleasure," I drily said, which earned an appreciative snort from Lindsey.
Luc tapped the screen again, and the image on the wall disappeared. "I'm going to give Merit the grand tour. Lindsey, since you're mentoring Merit - and my advance apologies for that, Sentinel - you'll take over babysitting when the tour's done. Everyone else who's scheduled, get to work."
Luc rose, but the vamps stayed obediently seated until he threw out, "Dismissed." Then they murmured thank-yous and rose, grabbing jerky from the tub Lindsey had placed on the table. Lindsey and Kelley both moved to the computer workstations at the edges of the room. Peter left the room; I guessed it was his day off. Juliet grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. "I'm on grounds," she announced, then touched a finger to the buff- colored shell of a device that fit around her ear. "Check."
"Check that," Kelley said. "Audio in. Dialing in RDI." There was a pause before she said, "Kelley, Cadogan House, on duty." She nodded, then looked over at Juliet. "Security transferred. Juliet on. You're good, Juliet."
She looked at me, winked jauntily, then made for the door. "Tell me about it."
His guards set to work, the next task on Luc's list was the full House tour. We began in the basement, which held the Ops Room, the sparring room, a gym, and the steel-lined arsenal that housed Cadogan's weapons - modern crossbows, bladed weapons of every shape and type, aspen stakes and pikes, and although Catcher had suggested vamps didn't use them, an entire cabinet of guns. Rifles, shotguns, handguns -  weapons I could only identify after years of faithfully watching Law & Order.
The main floor held the front and main parlors, Ethan's office, the state dining room, the kitchen, a cafeteria area for informal meals, and a series of smaller offices, one of which belonged to Helen, who'd been given the unenviable duty of introducing me to the world of vampires. I made a mental note to find her and apologize.
As we took the stairs to the second floor, Luc explained the mansion had been built during Chicago's Gilded Age by an industrialist eager to show off his newfound wealth. Unfortunately, the house had been finished for only sixteen days when he was shot to death in a flophouse in one of the city's rougher neighborhoods, reportedly after an altercation with the boyfriend of a prostitute named Flora. The Greenwich Presidium purchased the building on Cadogan's behalf shortly thereafter - for a very good price.
The second floor, which held the ballroom I'd visited the night before, also held the library, which we didn't have time to see, a couple of informal dens, and half the dorm- style rooms that housed the Cadogan vamps who lived "on campus." The rooms were wood-floored and high-ceilinged, and each held a small bed, dresser, bookshelf and nightstand, and had been decorated to suit the personality of the vamps who lived there. The House's ninety-seven live-in vamps (which included all of last night's Novitiates, save me) were unmarried and tended to work directly in the House - as administrators, guards, House staff, or other members of Ethan's entourage.
The third floor housed the rest of the vamps' rooms, as well as another den. Ethan's sizable apartments were also there, as were the suite of rooms next door that Luc referred to as the "boudoir." These were Amber's rooms, the suite used by the reigning House Consort. We didn't look inside the suite - the mental image of a "boudoir" was enough - but I couldn't help but pause outside, thinking that I might have been moving into those rooms, replacing Amber, making myself, my body, available to Ethan.
I shivered and moved on.
Having walked through the corpus of the House, Luc took me back to and through the first floor. Just off the cafeteria, which was stocked with wooden tables and chairs, was a set of wide glass doors that led to an expansive patio.
"Wow," I said when we emerged into the torch-lit back yard. Before us was a formal hedged garden, with a huge brick barbecue to the right, and a kidney-shaped pool to the left. The entire area was ringed by a tall shrubbery that obscured the wrought-iron fence and the street beyond.
"Nice, huh?" Luc asked as we stood on the patio and surveyed the area.
"It's beautiful."
Luc led the way to the parterre, the border of which was made up of vibrantly green hedge interspersed with a purple-leafed plant I couldn't name. In the middle of the garden was a bubbling fountain. Black metal benches surrounded it.
"Formal garden," Luc said, "in the French style."
"So I see." I dipped fingers into the fountain, then flicked cool water from my fingers.
"Not a bad place to spend some off-duty time," he said, then led me through the path that split the garden into quadrants and through the other side to the pool. "We can't sunbathe, obviously, but the pool's nice in the heat. We'll have parties, barbecues, that kind of thing."
A copse of trees stood at one edge of the pool, and Luc pointed through them to the path that wound around the edge of the property, illuminated by tiny inground lights.
"Running path. Gives us a chance to get in a little outdoor exercise without leaving the grounds. It's heated from beneath, so you can even run in the winter, if that's your gig."
"It isn't, not in Chicago, but it'll be nice in the summer," I said.
But it wasn't summer yet, and the April night was still chilly, so Luc skipped the stone- by-stone tour of the grounds, and settled for a summary of the parts we hadn't seen. That done, we headed back into the building, this time through a side door that opened into a narrow hallway on the first floor. Luc then led me back down to the Ops Room and planted me in front of a computer.
"You know the password?"
I nodded, loaded a Web browser, and found the Cadogan log-in page, then typed it in. He patted my shoulder. "Learn the protocols," he advised, then moved to his desk, and began pouring through a foot-high stack of files.
Hours passed. Although security and warfare had never been my gig, vampire security was highly contextual and thus incredibly interesting. There were links to history (Vampires were screwed over yesterday!) and politics (House X screwed us over yesterday!), philosophy (Why do you think they screwed us over yesterday?) and ethics (If we didn't bite, would they have screwed us over yesterday?), and, of course, strategy (How did they screw us over? How can we keep them from screwing us over again or, better yet, screw them over first?).
While I didn't know a thing about elemental strategy beyond what I'd learned in Catcher's swordsmanship lectures, I understood history. I understood philosophy. I knew how to read a first-person account of warfare, of loss, how to glean information from it. That was, after all, how I'd researched my dissertation. So, when quitting time came, I felt pretty satisfied with my lot. Confident that I could learn enough to supplement my physical strength, to make good decisions for Cadogan House, to protect those vampires I'd sworn two oaths to serve.
Luc dismissed us, and I followed the off-duty vampires back up the stairs, then said goodbye to Lindsey, intending to meet with Ethan as he'd requested earlier. His office was open, but empty. And while I was momentarily tempted to take the chance, to scrounge through his books and papers and discover what secrets the antiques might have to offer, that would be a breach of privacy I wasn't equipped to take on. So I paused inside the doorway, apparently just long enough to raise someone's eyebrows.
"Excuse me."
I turned, found a brunette behind me. The vamp was dressed like a secretary in a noir- era detective serial, her body perched cattily in the doorway, one hand on the jamb.
"You're in Ethan's office." Her voice was haughty.
I nodded. "He asked me to stop by. Do you know where he is?"
She crossed her arms, short, black nails tapping against the trim cuffs of her shirt, and looked me over. "I'm Gabrielle. A friend of Amber's."
Not an answer to the question I'd asked, but informative all the same. Gabrielle thought I was poaching, maybe preparing to steal the Master of the House from beneath the Consort's nose. If she only knew.
But I had no interest in telling her, or anyone else, what he'd offered me. I hadn't even told Lindsey. Instead, I smiled politely, played nice.
"It's lovely to meet you, Gabrielle. Ethan asked me to meet him about some security issues. Do you know where he is?"
For my trouble, I got another slow perusal. Territorial, was Gabrielle. Finally, she lifted her gaze, one dark, carefully plucked brow higher than the other. "Oh, he's . . . inside."
I nodded. "I know he's in the House. I saw him earlier, and he told me to stop by. Do you know where he is specifically?"
She pursed her lips as if holding a grin, and kind of bobbled her head presumptuously. "He's inside," she repeated. "And I doubt he'll be happy to see you." But she was smiling when she said it. I knew I was missing a joke, but couldn't for the life of me fathom the punch line.
I had to clench my fingers to keep from lashing out in sheer frustration. "He asked me to find him," I explained, "to talk about business?"
She delicately lifted a shoulder. "I'm really not interested. But if you're so keen to see him, then by all means . . . go see him. It'd probably do you some good. He's in his apartments."
"Thanks." She waited at the doorway until I left the office; then she closed the door behind us. I started back for the main staircase and heard her chuckle evilly as I moved down the hallway.
I took the stairs to the second floor, rounded the landing, and headed up toward the third. Tucked here and there into nooks that bore sofas and chairs, vampires were reading books or magazines or chatting together. The house quieted as I moved upward, the third floor nearly silent. I followed the long hallway back to Ethan's apartments, stopped outside the closed double doors.
I knocked and, when I got no response, put an ear to the door. I heard nothing, so I slipped the doorknob on the right-side door and pushed it slowly open.
It was a sitting room. Well-appointed, tastefully decorated. Oak paneling rose to chair rail height, and an onyx fireplace dominated one wall. The room housed a couple of conversation areas, the furniture tailored and undoubtedly expensive. Side tables bore vases of flowers, and a Bach cello sonata rang softly through the air. On the opposite wall, just beside a small desk, was another set of double doors. One was closed; the second was slightly ajar.
"Ethan?" I called his name, but the word was a whisper, completely incapable of rousing attention. I walked to the doors, put the flat of my palm on the closed one, and peeked inside the gap.
I realized, then, why Gabrielle had so deliberately pointed out that he was inside.
Ethan was inside - inside the House. Inside his apartments.
And inside Amber.