He shook his head with mock solemnity. “Not Wendy’s. Bennigans, at least.”
I quirked up an eyebrow. “Bennigans? Big spender.”
“The Windy City is at your disposal, Merit.”
For a moment, we were quiet, just staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. I considered kicking him out, reneging on my promise to let him court me, but discarded that choice as politically irresponsible. I considered saying yes while explaining that I agreed only because I was duty-bound. And then I considered the other option-saying yes, because I wanted to go. Because he was sexy and funny, because we seemed to get along, because, even if he did have some kind of weird Celina baggage, he’d tried to protect her and stepped back when he realized his method wasn’t working. I could respect that, even if I didn’t understand the loyalty she commanded.
I took a calming breath, looked up at him. “One date.”
He smiled a smile of masculine satisfaction. “Done,” he said, then leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. “No reneging.”
“I don’t reneg,” I said against his mouth.
“Hmmph.” He sounded unconvinced, but kept kissing me anyway, and for some unknown reason, I let him.
Oh-he wasn’t Ethan.
Callous? Maybe. But for now, that was reason enough.
Some minutes later, surprisingly pleasant minutes, I was in the car, making my way south. But before I headed to Cadogan House, I wanted to drop by my grandfather’s office. I needed a sympathetic ear, and had no doubt that Grandpa’s vampire informant had already filled him in on last night’s rally. I drove with the radio off, the windows down, listening to the city on the quiet spring evening, preferring the sounds of rushing vehicles to song lyrics about emotions I couldn’t trust.
The neighborhood was, as usual, quiet. But there was an addition-Ethan’s sleek black Mercedes parked outside. Only his car-no black SUV in sight.
More important, there was no sign at all of a security detail.
That was off. Ethan never traveled without guards, usually in the SUV that tailed his convertible; it was against protocol. I parked a little down the street, turned off the car, and grabbed my cell phone, punching in Luc’s number. He answered before the second ring.
“Luc.”
“It’s Merit. Have you lost a Master vampire?”
He grumbled, cursed. “Where?”
“Ombud’s office. The Mercedes is out front. I’m assuming there’s no guard in there with him?”
“We don’t force guards on him,” Luc testily responded, and I heard the snapping of papers through the phone. “Normally, I can trust him not to behave like an idiot and go off alone when there’s a psychopath on the loose, Rogues up in arms.”
Speaking of which, I sheepishly asked, “Any additional progress made last night?”
Luc sighed, and I imagined him settling into a slouch, crossing his booted ankles on the Ops Room table. “Morgan was damn near chipper when he finally left, but that’s probably your doing. I’m not sure how productive it was. Nobody’s got answers, the clues point everywhere. No evidence at the murder scenes except for the trinkets someone’s leaving. But they know Ethan wouldn’t do it, certainly wouldn’t condone it. It’s not the way he operates.”
I understood that. If Ethan wanted something done, taken care of, he’d make damn sure you knew it was coming from him.
“Listen,” I said, “while we’re on the phone.” I paused, had to brace myself for the apology. “I’m sorry I bailed last night. After the thing with Morgan-”
“Forgiven,” Luc quickly answered. “You handled yourself, you stepped in when you needed to, and you gave Morgan a peaceful out. You did your job. I’m fine with that. That said, the fucking look on your face when he went down on one knee.” He burst into raucous laughter. “Oh, sweet Jesus, Merit,” he said, hiccup-ping with laughter. “It was priceless. Deer in headlights.”
I made a face he couldn’t see, double-checked the office door to look for movement, of which there was none. “I’m glad I can be a source of amusement for you, Luc.”
“Consider it your hazing ritual. Your other one, anyway.”
I chuckled. “Commendation, you mean? That was more of a hazing for Ethan than for me, unfortunately.”
“No-your change.”
I froze in the process of flipping up the visor, my hand still on it, and frowned at the phone. “The Change? How does that count as hazing?”
His voice changed to something graver. “What do you mean, how does that count?”
“I mean, I don’t remember much of it. Pain, cold, I guess.”
He was quiet so long I called his name, and even then it took a moment for him to come back. “I remember every second,” he finally said. “Three days of pain, of cold, of heat, of cramps. Sweating through blankets, shivering so hard I thought my heart would stop, drinking blood before I was psychologically ready to accept it. How do you not remember that?”
I played back the memory in my mind, trying to cup my hands around the fleeting images that ghosted at the edges of my vision, tried to replay the mental video of it. I got nothing more than those select memories, until the ride home, the dizziness I’d felt when I’d stepped from the car, the sluggishness, the fuzziness.
Drugs?
Had I been drugged? Spared the experience of some portion of the Change?
I was saved offering that theory to Luc, a little disconcerted by the questions it raised-who’d drugged me? and why was I spared the misery?-by Ethan emerging from the front door, the light spilling in a trapezoid on the sidewalk in front of him. Catcher stepped out behind him. “Luc, he’s out.”
“Keep an eye on him.”
I promised I would and snapped shut the phone, then waited until Ethan and Catcher had shaken hands. Ethan walked to the Mercedes, cast a glance down the darkened street, then unlocked the door and slipped inside. Catcher stayed on the sidewalk, watched as Ethan’s car pulled away. When he was a block down the road, I turned the ignition and drove forward to where Catcher stood. Motioning me to follow Ethan, Catcher raised his cell phone, then flipped it open. My phone rang almost immediately.
“What’s he up to?”
“He’s going to Lincoln Park,” Catcher said, frustration in his voice.
“Lincoln Park? Why?”
“He got a note, same paper, same handwriting, as the ones left for you and Celina. It asked to meet him there, promised information about the murders. He had to agree to go alone.”
“They won’t know I’m there,” I promised.
“Stay a few cars behind him. It’ll help that it’s night, but your car sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“He doesn’t know what I drive.”
“I doubt that’s true, but do it all the same.” He explained where Ethan expected to meet his source-near the small pagoda on the west side of North Pond-which at least gave me a chance to be surreptitious. I could take another route, get there without having to keep too close a tail on the Master vampire in front of me.
“You have your sword?”
“Yes, oh captain, my captain, I have my sword. I have learned to follow orders.”
“Do your job, then,” he said, and the line went dead.