“Don’t you have people at your beck and call?” I asked, reminding him that he was one of the Masters he’d been referring to.
“Well, I do have them, but I don’t think I’ve officially becked or called them yet. And I suppose this is the price of dating the hot shit Cadogan Sentinel.”
“I’m not sure about hot shit, but the Sentinel part is true enough.” I cast my own dark glance at the doorway; Ethan and Catcher communed in the hall. “Although I have no idea what this is about.”
“I’d like to know.”
I looked back at him, hoping he wasn’t about to pump me for information. That concern must have shown on my face; he shook his head. “I’m not going to ask, I’d just like to know.” Then his tone went flat—Master vampire flat. He must have been practicing. “I hope that if it’s something that affects us all, he’ll fill us in.”
Don’t bet on that, I thought.
After we said our goodbyes, I shut the door behind me and found everyone still standing in the hallway. Catcher and Ethan were in identical poses—chests back, arms crossed, chins dropped. Warriors in concentration. This was serious, then, and not just a means for Ethan to further irritate me.
When I joined them, they expanded their semicircle to let me in.
“I’ve learned,” Ethan began, “that a rave was held earlier tonight. We need to check it out. We also need to hope that we’re the only ones who’ve heard about it.”
How Ethan had learned about the rave, given that his usual source for such things was standing beside him, was an interesting question.
Catcher and I were apparently on the same wavelength. “How’d you find out?” he asked.
“Peter,” Ethan said. “He received a tip.” That made sense, I thought, since Peter was known for his contacts. “A friend of his, a bartender at a club in Naperville, heard two vampires discussing the fact that they’d received the text message announcing the rave.”
“Alcohol loosens the lips of the fanged?” Catcher sardonically asked.
“Apparently so,” Ethan agreed. “The bartender didn’t recognize the vampires—they were likely drifter Rogues. By the time Peter heard from his source and contacted Luc, the rave was long since over.”
“So we can’t stop it?” I asked.
Ethan shook his head. “But we have an opportunity to investigate with significantly less political maneuvering than might be required if we were crashing the party.” Ethan looked at Catcher. “And speaking of political maneuvering, can you join us?”
Catcher gave a single nod, then looked at me. “Is your sword in the car?”
I nodded. “Will I need it?”
“We’ll know when we get there. I’ve got some gear stashed here, flashlights and whatnot.” He glanced at Ethan. “Did you bring your sword?”
“No,” he said. “I was out.”
We all stood silently, waiting for Ethan to elaborate, but got nothing.
“Then I suppose I’ll play vamp outfitter. And I need to call Chuck,” he said, then whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “We’re supposed to be a diplomatic corps,” he muttered, “not the Hardy Boys. And you can see how well that’s working out for us.”
Mallory rolled her eyes at the mini-tirade. I figured it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. “I’ll get dinner cleaned up,” she offered.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Catcher said, stopping her escape with a hand on her arm. “Sorry, kid, but you’re coming with us.”
“With us?” I repeated, Mallory and I sharing the same deer-in-the-headlights look. I knew he wanted to foster her learning, but I wasn’t sure this was the time for that.
“She needs the experience,” Catcher answered, his eyes on Mallory. “And I want you there with me. You’re my partner, my asset. You can do it.”
There was a tightness around her eyes, but she nodded.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and pressed his lips to her temple. Then he released her, put the cell up to his ear, and trotted down the hallway toward the back of the house. “Sullivan,” he called out, “you owe me one big fuck of a favor. And Merit, you might want to change your shoes.”
“Noted,” Ethan replied. “On both counts.”
Mallory and I looked down at my pretty ballet flats. Red or not, I probably didn’t want to wear them to investigate a bloodletting.
“I’ll grab a pair of boots or something,” she said. “I know you left some here.” Although I undoubtedly had a better sense of where my remaining clothes were, Mal walked away, leaving me to babysit Ethan. Not that I could blame her for taking the out.
We stood there silently for a moment, both of us making every effort to avoid looking at each other. Ethan’s gaze lifted to the photographs along the hallway wall, the same wall I’d been pressed up against a couple of hours ago.
“Why me?” I asked him.
He turned back to me, brow arched. “Excuse me?” His voice was frosty. Apparently, he was fully in Master and Commander mode. Lucky me.
“Why are you here? You knew that I had plans tonight; you saw me leave. Luc was at the House when I left, as were the rest of the guards. They’re all more experienced than I am. You could have called one of them. Asked for their help.” And given me a break, I silently added. Given me a chance to get over the training session, to have a break from Celina and my father and vampire drama. To just be me.
“Luc is busy protecting our vampires.”
“Luc is your bodyguard. He swore an oath to protect you.”
An irritated shake of his head. “You’re in this already.”
“Luc was there when you explained the raves, helped you plan for my involvement, and I’m sure you’ve brought him up to speed about what we learned so far. He knows everything that I know.”
“Luc was busy.”
“I was busy.”
“Luc isn’t you.”
The words were quick, clipped, and completely dumbfounding. That was twice that he’d surprised me in the span of a few minutes.
Catcher was lumbering down the hall again before I could fathom a response, the mesh strap of a black canvas duffel bag in one hand, the black lacquer sheath of his katana in the other. “Your grandfather is now in the know,” he said when he reached us, then glanced at Ethan. “If I’m going, that means we’re doing this official-like. I’m looking into this on behalf of the Ombud’s office and, therefore, on behalf of the city.”
“So there will be no need to contact additional authorities,” Ethan concluded, and they shared a knowing nod.
I heard Mallory’s footsteps on the stairs. She appeared with an old pair of knee-high leather boots in her hands.
“In case there’s, you know, fluids,” she said, handing me the shoes, “I figured the taller the better.”
“Good call.”
My shoes in hand, I looked at Mallory, who then turned to look at Catcher, her brows lifted. There was stubbornness in the set of her jaw; clearly, she wasn’t going to give in as easily as he might have wished.