And assuming she wasn’t already here, I thought.
Ethan rounded the corner at the foot of the basement stairs, then walked toward a steel door, beside which was mounted a small keypad. This was the door to the garage, providing access to Cadogan’s few coveted off-street parking spaces. I was nowhere near high enough in the ranks to get one.
Ethan and Malik stopped before the door and faced each other. Then I witnessed a surprising moment of ceremony.
Ethan held out his hand, and Malik took it. Hands clasped, and with gravity, Ethan said, “The House is given into your care.”
Malik nodded. “I acknowledge my right and obligation to defend her, and await your return, Liege.” Gently, Ethan cupped the back of Malik’s head, leaned forward, and whispered something in his ear. Malik nodded, and the men separated. After another nod in my direction, Malik headed for the stairs again. Then Ethan punched in a code, and we were through the door.
“Is he Master while you’re gone?” I asked.
“Only of the environs,” Ethan answered as we walked steps to his sleek black Mercedes roadster, which was parked snugly between concrete support columns. “I remain Master of the House as an entity, of the vampires.”
He opened the passenger door for me, and after I lowered myself onto the red and black leather upholstery, he closed the door and moved to his side of the car. He opened his door, placed the glossy black bag on the console between us, and climbed in. When he’d started the engine, he maneuvered the roadster through the columns and toward a ramp and security door that rose as he took the incline.
“The ceremony,” he said, “is an anachronism of the influence of English feudalism on the vampires who formalized the House system.”
I nodded. I’d learned from the Canon that the organization of the Houses was feudal in origin, heavy on the liege-and-vassal mentality, the sense that the Novitiate vampire owed a duty to his liege and was obliged to believe in his liege lord’s paternal goodness.
Personally, I wasn’t comfortable thinking about Ethan in a paternal fashion.
“If the king left his castle,” I offered, “he’d leave instructions for her defense with his successor.”
“Precisely,” Ethan said, swinging the car onto the street. He reached between us, lifted the gift bag, and handed it to me.
I took it, but arched a brow in his direction. “What’s this?”
“The sword needs to remain in the vehicle,” he said. “We will be spectacle enough without the accoutrements.” Leave it to Ethan to refer to three and a half feet of steel, leather, and rayskin as “accoutrements.”
“The bag,” he said, “is a replacement. At least in some way.”
Curious, I peeked inside and pulled out the contents. The bag held a black sheath, which held a blade—a thin, fierce dagger, mother-of-pearl covering the tang.
“It’s beautiful.” I slipped the dagger from its cover and held it up. It was an elegant and gleaming wedge of polished steel, sharp on both edges.
We passed beneath a streetlight, and the reflection caught the end of the pommel, revealing a flat disk of gold. It looked like a smaller version of our Cadogan medals, this one also bearing my position. CADOGAN SENTINEL, it read.
It was a dagger created for me. Personalized for me. “Thank you,” I said, thumbing the disk.
“There’s one more item in the bag.”
Brow arched, I reached in again and pulled out a holster—two leather straps attached to a thin sheath.
No, not just a holster—a thigh holster.
I glanced down at my skirt, then over at Ethan. I really wasn’t eager to strap on a thigh holster, much less in front of him. Maybe because I didn’t want to flip up my skirt for my boss. Maybe because a few-inches-long dagger wouldn’t be nearly as effective in a rumble as my katana. Not that I anticipated an attack by society mavens, but stranger things had happened. Especially recently.
Besides, I was Ethan’s only guard for the event, and I’d be damned if I was going to return to Cadogan House with a wounded Master in tow. Even if I lived through the attack, I would never live down the humiliation.
I sighed, knowing when I’d lost, deciding that the dagger would be better than nothing.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” I ordered, then unfastened the buckles.
“I’m not going to look.”
“Yeah, well, keep it that way.”
He made a disdainful sound, but kept his gaze on the windshield. He also gripped the steering wheel a little harder. I enjoyed that crack in his facade probably more than I should have.
I was right-handed, so I slipped the poufy skirt of my dress up a little on the right side and extended my right hand, trying to figure out where I’d want the blade positioned if I needed to grab it in a hurry. I settled on a spot about midway up my thigh, the sheath just to the outside edge. I fastened the first buckle, then the second, and twisted a little in the seat to make sure it was secure.
The sheath had to be tight enough to stay taut when I pulled out the blade. That was the only way to ensure that I could release the knife quickly and safely. On the other hand, too tight and I’d cut off my own circulation. No one needed that, much less a vampire.
When I was satisfied it was secure, at least as sure as I could be in the front seat of a roadster speeding toward the suburbs, I inserted the blade. A tug brought the dagger out in a clean swipe, the holster still in place.
“Good enough,” I concluded. I straightened my skirt again, then looked over at Ethan. We were coasting through relatively light traffic on the interstate, but his expression of blandness looked a little too bland. He was working very hard to look very uninterested.
Since we were heading into an enemy camp, I figured I’d pique his interest—and give him the dutiful Sentinel update. “You’ll never guess who was camped out on photographers’ row last night,” I said, baiting him.
“Jamie?” His voice was sardonic. I think he was kidding. Unfortunately, I wasn’t.
“Nicholas.”
His eyes widened. “Nicholas Breckenridge? At Cadogan House.”
“Live and in person. He was on the corner with the paparazzi.”
“And where was Jamie?”
“That was my question, too. I’m beginning to think, Sullivan, that there is no Jamie—I mean, I know there’s a Jamie, but I’m not sure Jamie is the real threat here. At the very least, we don’t have the entire story.”
Ethan made a dry sound. “This wouldn’t be the first time for that, as you’re well aware. Wait—did you say last night? You saw Nick Breckenridge outside the House and you didn’t tell anyone? Did you think to mention this to me? Or Luc? Or anyone else with authority to handle the situation?”
I ignored the near panic in his tone. “I’m mentioning it now,” I pointed out. “He asked some pretty pointed questions about the Houses, about Celina. He wanted to know if we thought her punishment was sufficient.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Party line,” I said. “You guys were very timely with the talking points.”
“Did you know he was back in Chicago?”
I shook my head. “I also didn’t know that he was curious about us. It’s like a disease working its way through that family.”
“I suppose it’s doubly fortuitous that we’re heading to the Breck estate.”
Or doubly troublesome, I thought. Double the number of would-be rabble-rousers in residence.