Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (18 page)

“Just like in
The Godfather
,” I muttered.

“What was that?” Jonah asked.

“Nothing,” I said, turning to Ethan. “Can’t Darius do something to stop him? He’s still in charge.”

“Technically in charge,” Ethan said. “But his political capital is nearly gone. He all but pushed us out of the GP, lost us when we called his bluff, wasn’t able to consummate an attack against us, and was injured by a Rogue vampire. That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence among the world’s most powerful vamps.”

“Confidentially,” Jonah said, “it appears Darius has become rather agoraphobic since his fight with Michael Donovan.”

“Agoraphobic?”

“The encounter freaked him out,” Jonah said. “He’s not used to being weak, to feeling weak. Donovan got the jump on him, which completely screwed up his sense of self. The others, especially Monmonth, feel that weakness.”

“To be fair, he was wielding a gun that shot aspen stakes,” I said.

“Certainly,” Jonah allowed. “But Darius is centuries old, and he’s fought enemies before. And usually doesn’t need a pink vampire to rescue him.”

“Pink” in vampire terminology didn’t refer to my gender, but my age. I’d been a vampire for less than a year, and it stung Darius that his rescuer had been less strong and skilled than he imagined himself to be.

“And the other members of the GP are exploiting it?” Lindsey asked.

Jonah nodded. “They are vampires in the most traditional sense. Old-school monsters. The type Van Helsing hunted. The type villagers killed. They do not let subordination stand in their way.”

“Which is why they attacked Cadogan House,” Luc said, “even if they stood to gain financially when we left.”

We’d been required to pay the GP back for financial gains we’d made during our tenure in the GP, but because their attack breached our contract, we got to keep the money.

“So what do we do?” I asked.

“In the long term, ironically, we do what we can to secure Darius’s position. If he remains head of the GP, this conversation is moot.”

“How can we make him stronger?” Jonah asked.

“That will require some strategizing,” Ethan said.

“And in the short term?” I asked.

“We keep an eye out. I don’t think Monmonth has the allies for another full-on attack. The fairies got what they wanted, and our peace remains in place. I can’t think he’d strike out against the combined Houses with only half the members of the GP at his side. But as to what he might actually do? I don’t know.”

“We’re putting a guard on the widow’s walk,” Luc said. “They have a bird’s-eye view of the yard. Jonah and I also have created a new schedule for the Cadogan and Grey House guards. You’ll find an app ready to download, and you’ll get a reminder fifteen minutes before your shift. It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there, so grab gloves, earmuffs, hot chocolate, whatever you need to stay warm. But get out there, and be alert. Oh, and one spot of good news—Saul offered to donate pizzas to feed the extra-large House tonight. A little thank-you since Merit got him some protection during the Wicker Park riot.”

“Of all the nights we have dinner with my parents,” I murmured.

Ethan squeezed my hand supportively. “You’ll manage, Sentinel.”

“If it makes you feel better, Sentinel, we’ve put you on the patrol roster for later, so you can freeze with the rest of them.”

I smiled a little. “It does, actually.”

“Saul’s gonna deliver the pies directly into the basement,” Luc said. “That way the guards only have to approve one truck, instead of keeping an eye on vampires and humans running back and forth into the House.”

“Good thought,” Jonah said.

“I have them occasionally,” Luc said, with honest modesty. “Not often, but occasionally.”

“If we’re done here,” Ethan said, “we do need to get going.” He rose, and I did the same.

Jonah stood up as well. “Ethan, Merit, could I talk to you for a moment outside?”

Ethan nodded his agreement but looked suspicious of the request.

We walked out of the Ops Room and toward the basement door, then stopped for the chat.

“Considering the threat by the humans and the GP, Grey House believes it’s time to consider an alternative method of protecting the Houses,” Jonah said.

Ethan put his hands in his pockets. That was another signature move, a gesture that looked casual but usually signified he was paying very close, very careful attention. “Which is?”

“There are people in this town who are stronger than we are. I think we should consider adding them to the mix.”

“You mean the sorcerers?” I asked, referring to Catcher, Mallory, and Paige, a sorceress we’d brought back with us from Nebraska.

“I do.”

“No,” Ethan said. “We’ve talked about this. Mallory violated this House.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “She damaged property and hurt people. But she’s also skilled. She’s more powerful than Monmonth or McKetrick or anyone else that we know of.”

“They aren’t supposed to be practicing sorcerers,” Ethan pointed out. “Catcher got kicked out of the Order, and Mallory’s on house arrest. I don’t believe Paige is official, either.”

“Catcher’s already used magic this week, and Mallory can’t be magicless forever. If she’s going to use magic again, maybe it’s not a bad idea that we harness it for our purposes.”

Ethan stood quietly for a moment, staring at the floor, brows knitted as he considered.

Jonah glanced at me, and I shrugged. There was no doubt—Mallory was a risk.

But maybe, if she had the support of her friends and a network of supernaturals, she could figure out a way to do it right this time.

I frowned. Had I really come around to thinking Mallory was the solution? Was I ready for her to use magic again? No. I wasn’t ready for it. But it was inevitable. And the only way to keep that inevitability from coming back to haunt us was to control it in the first place.

“I’ll consider it,” he said.

We both looked over at him.

“You’re sure?” I said.

“Definitely not. But, loathe as I am to admit it, Jonah’s right. They are stronger than we are, and we are vulnerable now in a new and different kind of way. It would behoove us to consider all possibilities. I’ve been called a control freak,” he said, looking pointedly at me. “Maybe it’s time to hand over a bit of that control to our witchy friends.”

“Let us know how we can help,” Jonah said.

“Rest assured,” Ethan said, “We will. I want this House secure, and I want it secure now.”

—

After ensuring the House was in good hands and that Luc, Malik, Scott, and Jonah had Ethan’s number, my number, my parents’ number, and my grandfather’s number handy, and after grabbing a bottle of red wine from the kitchen, we proceeded to the parking area, scabbards and shoes in hand.

Ethan opted to drive to Oak Park, which was fine by me. He also opted to take his new, shiny Ferrari. It probably would have been even more fun in the summer than on ice- and snow-packed streets, but we made do. Because, again, it was a
Ferrari
.

It was clear when we exited the basement that security around the House was tighter than usual. There were double the usual number of guards at the gates, more humans posted along the perimeter, and vampires interspersed with them, keeping a supernatural eye on things.

After two bouts of stop-and-go traffic—the first because of an empty sedan on the shoulder with its hazard lights on; the second because of a piece of cardboard in the road—we made it to Oak Park, the western suburb of Chicago that my parents called home. Ethan pulled the Ferrari in front of my parents’ blocky, modern house. It was the only one in the neighborhood built in that style, and that wasn’t a compliment.

Ethan helped me out of the car, which was tricky, considering my body-hugging skirt. The wind was bone-chillingly cold, even with a coat, gloves, a scarf, and galoshes.

I stared up at the boxy house, preparing myself for a moment before we went inside. Before my sister, mother, and sister-in-law fell on Ethan like hyenas at a kill.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked when the doors were closed and the car was locked again.

I glanced back at him, so ridiculously handsome in his three-piece suit, so unlike any other man I’d met. He was as awe-inspiring as he was frustrating.

“I’m fine,” I said, glancing over at the luxury minivans in the driveway. Neither Charlotte nor Robert spared the expense for top-of-the-line kid carriers. “Nervous, which seems to be a common theme these days.”

Ethan frowned. “I thought you and your father were making progress.”

“We were, although with my father, it’s two steps forward, twelve steps back. It’s more the rest of the crew that I’m worried about.”

“I will try to forgo their advances on your behalf, Sentinel.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing he was baiting me to help me relax, and loving him more for it. “You’re not that irresistible, Sullivan.”

He stopped suddenly, one foot on the street and one on the snowy curb. “Now you’ve done it,” he murmured. Before I could object, he scooped me off the ground and into his arms, and carried me down the sidewalk to my parents’ front door.

“What are you doing?”

“Being irresistible,” he said matter-of-factly, as if there were nothing even remotely unusual about a vampire in a sexy black suit carrying his woman down the snowy sidewalk to her parents’ castle.

I guess I hadn’t needed the galoshes after all.

My arms around his neck, his mouth pulled into a haughty smirk, I couldn’t help but smile.

He walked up the steps as if my weight were negligible—impossible, since I was five foot eight—and placed me carefully on the stoop. But he paused there for a moment, on one knee, grinning up at me.

My heart nearly stopped. Was he . . . ? He couldn’t be . . .

As casually as he’d picked me up, Ethan flicked a bit of lint from the knee of his pants.

“Just a spot of dust,” he explained, rising again and grinning wickedly at me. “Did you think I was on one knee for some other reason, Sentinel?”

My heart began to beat again. “You are a cruel, cruel man.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m your cruel man.” He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my palm. “Forever,” he added, and I smiled like a smitten teenager. Ethan Sullivan could play me like a Stradivarius.

“Let’s go, Casanova,” I told him, smoothing out my skirt and raising my fist to knock on the door.

My mother pulled it open before I made a sound, and I blushed, wondering how much of the front porch drama she’d seen. She wore a pale blue sheath dress and a string of pearls, her blond bob of hair perfectly arranged.

“Merit!” she said, her voice tinkling. “We’re so glad you’re here. You look absolutely gorgeous. So professional.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek before immediately dismissing me for bigger and better prey.

“Ethan, you look absolutely dashing. That suit is terribly becoming.” She squeezed his hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You look lovely yourself, Mrs. Merit.” Slyly, he glanced between us. “I’d have taken you for sisters.”

My mother waved him away, crimson rising on her cheeks. “Hush,” she said. “And call me Meredith. I insist.”

For a moment, my mother looked at us, a mixture of pride and relief in her expression. I wasn’t sure which of those to find flattering.

“Where are my manners?” she asked. “Come in, come in.” We didn’t need the formal invitation—we’d been in the house before—but we nodded politely and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind us.

My mother reached out a hand for our coats, then deposited them on a wooden coat stand by the door. “We’ve given Pennebaker the night off since the family’s all here, so just make yourselves at home.”

I found it remarkable she’d arranged a dinner for so many without him. It either meant she’d cooked, which would be unfortunate, or she’d hired in the food. I crossed my fingers for the latter.

My mother smiled and clapped her hands together as she took in our ensembles, at least until she saw the galoshes on my feet. Her smile faded quickly.

I held up the straps of the heels in my hand. “Don’t worry; I brought backups.”

“Whew,” she said. “I was afraid you were going to ruin that dress with those shoes. If we’re calling them that. Plastic mud clompers, more like.”

She disappeared into the hallway while Ethan chuckled beside me.

“Plastic mud clompers,” he repeated.

I made a vague sound, using his body as a brace while I traded galoshes for pointy-toed stilettos. When the trade was done, I’d gained three inches in height. Still not enough to be at eye level with Ethan, but a good deal closer.

My mother appeared again with champagne flutes in hand and gave one to each of us.

I took a heartening sip before noticing the goofy expression on my mother’s face.

Please do not glamour my mother,
I silently requested.

I have no need to glamour, Sentinel. I’m naturally this charming.

I kept the commentary to myself.

We followed my mother into the house as five children—three boys and two girls—ran past us, toys in hand.

“My nieces and nephews,” I explained.

“And Elizabeth is expecting a third. We’re just in the sitting room,” she added, and we followed her through the front of the house to the main living area.

As we made the journey, I found a house utterly different from the one I was used to. I knew my mother had planned to redecorate—she’d been moving out the old furniture during my last visit. But the change was remarkable. The architecture was still the same—concrete, like the exterior—but she’d brought in furniture and décor that made it feel warm and inviting, not the cold and clinical shell it had been before. No small feat for a concrete box of a house.

The sitting room, especially, was completely different, now full of rugs and brightly colored furniture, ten-foot plants, and a bevy of family portraits. And on that comfy furniture lounged a bevy of Merits.

“Merit!” squealed the youngest in the family, the nearly two-year-old Olivia, my sister Charlotte’s daughter. She was adorably dressed in a green velvet dress that matched her mother’s, her hair in pigtails that poked from each side of her head.