“The Canon prescribes death for the betrayal of a House.” Ethan had let Amber go, despite her betrayal; I wondered if Peter would be so lucky.
As if reading my mind, he offered, “Obviously, I don’t subscribe to most of the more archaic punishments. Not that he doesn’t deserve it.”
I withheld judgment on that one.
We followed Lake Shore for miles, past the Pier and Oak Street Beach, then North Avenue Beach.
“Boss.” Luc’s voice echoed through our headsets. “He’s taking the exit. Fullerton. Near North Pond.”
Ethan’s hands tightened on the wheel. North Pond, situated in a corner of Lincoln Park, was the place we’d enjoyed our previous Celina episode, her attempt on Ethan’s life, her attempt to take control of Chicago’s other Houses. I understood Ethan’s hesitation. He’d nearly been stabbed, and I’d nearly committed vampiricide. That had been the finale in the bustle of our supernaturally busy weeks.
“The marina,” Luc said, “he’s heading to the harbor.”
“Diversey Harbor,” I added. “It’s across Cannon from North Pond.”
Ethan followed the SUV as it made a couple of right turns, but stopped before entering the harbor’s parking lot.
“Keep going,” I told Ethan. “Head him off at the other end of the lot.”
Ethan nodded. We passed one entrance, then took a second, the lights on Peter’s car the only thing moving in the lot. We parked the Mercedes, popped out, and rebelted our katanas. This time, Ethan skipped the noisy security check.
“We’ve got him,” came Luc’s whisper. “Linds is staying in the car in case he tries to run. I’m on foot. He’s heading toward the boat launch. I’m going in, but I’ll stay under cover until your mark.”
“That’s good,” I whispered, as Ethan and I headed south again to the rendezvous point. “If we can corner him against the Lake, fewer escape routes.”
“Do it,” Ethan said.
Seconds of silence followed, seconds in which my heart thudded against my chest as Ethan and I trotted toward the launch.
“I’m in the car,” Lindsey said. “Luc’s in the trees to the south. He’s here, looking around, obviously waiting for someone. He keeps checking his watch.”
“Waiting for her?” Ethan whispered.
“Who would it surprise?” I wondered back. When we got close enough to see him—a long figure before the dark void of the Lake—I stopped and put out a hand to stop Ethan.
“I’m first,” I whispered. He glowered for a moment, but then relented with a nod. “Luc, let’s keep him in the middle.”
“Aye, aye, Sentinel.”
I blew out a breath, then adjusted my grip on the katana and released the thumb guard. Three months ago, I’d been a grad student standing before a classroom of undergraduates. And today . . .
Today I stood Sentinel for a House of three hundred and twenty vampires. An old House. An honorable House. A House that had been betrayed by one of its own.
No, I mentally corrected—by another of its own.
Peter suddenly turned, katana out and poised in front of him. Behind him, the ramp angled down into the water.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
Behind me, Ethan growled.
“Your colleagues,” I called back. We stepped through the shadow of the trees into the overhead lights that illuminated the launch.
Peter’s eyes widened, a breeze of magic floating through the air as his fear rose. “What are you doing here?”
“We’d ask you the same question, Novitiate.” Ethan stepped beside me, his katana already loosed.
Rein it in, Sullivan, I mentally warned him. He must have heard me, as the katana dropped an inch.
“We know why you’re here, Peter,” I told him. “We know you sent the e-mail to the Breckenridges about the vampire threat, and we assume you gave the ‘anonymous’ information to the Ombud’s office. It’s not much of a stretch to assume that you’ve been feeding someone information about our social schedule.”
Peter wet his lips.
“The question, Peter, is whether you want to cooperate or not.”
“No,” Ethan said. “The question is why.” The words were softly spoken.
Peter’s gaze flicked nervously from me to Ethan. “Liege.”
“No,” Ethan said, taking a step forward. “You have lost the right to call me, to call anyone, Liege. Peter Spencer, you have violated the Canon and the covenants of Cadogan House.”
No longer just “Peter.” Now “Peter Spencer.” Peter had regained a last name. Not good.
“You can’t do this,” Peter said, a nervous laughter in his voice.
Ethan moved forward another step. I gripped the handle of my katana in my right hand.
“You have violated your responsibilities to your Master, your brethren, and your House, and you have broken your oaths as a Novitiate vampire.”
“I acted in the best interest of vampires,” Peter said, regrip ping his katana. “I acted when you wouldn’t.”
Ethan, I warned, pulling my own sword.
“You are, hereby—” Ethan reached out his hand toward Peter’s neck. No, not his neck. His medal. Ethan reached for the symbol of Peter’s soon-to-be-former membership in Cadogan House. His link to the rest of the Cadogan vampires.
“All right, stop!” Peter said, taking a step backward and out of Ethan’s reach. “Stop.” He looked around, then back at Ethan. “You don’t get it, Sullivan. You don’t understand what we need, what she can give us. We are vampires!” His voice rose, carried across the empty parking lot, across the Lake, then dropped again.
“They mock us. They are mortal, and weak, but they mock us. They would take away our rights. But we can’t allow that.”
“Who mocks us?” I asked. “Humans?”
Peter looked at me, frustration in his features. “Shifters. The pretenders.”
And there was the vampire version of Nick’s animosity, I thought. Born of some historic feud, and just as archaic.
“Ethan,” Peter said, “Keene is bringing the shifters to Chicago. They are practically on their way. You can’t let Cadogan House fall. Not to shifters, not to humans. You can’t let us become some kind of amusement park vampire spectacle. On the cover of magazines?” He spat out a curse. “We are better than that. We are immortals. We can control the night again, but we have to act.”