Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (19 page)

She ran haltingly toward me and held up her hands, clenching her fists, demanding that I pick her up.

“Hello, Miss Olivia,” I said, putting my flute on a nearby cocktail table and propping her onto my hip. “You are so heavy! How did you get so heavy?”

“I grow,” she said simply.

“I think you weigh as much as your mother does.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment to me, little sister.” Charlotte, wearing a green sheath, her dark hair cut into a short, pixie cut, kissed my cheek. “How are you?”

“I’m good. And it looks like Olivia’s good.”

“I’m two,” Olivia said, holding up the requisite number of fingers.

“That is really old,” I said. “You’re a big girl now.”

Olivia nodded gravely, then took a shy peek at the man who stood beside me. Charlotte was much less subtle.

“Oh my God, you are gorgeous!” Charlotte exclaimed. She had a cocktail in one hand and, suddenly, Ethan’s arm in the other. “I told her to nab you while she could.”

Ethan beamed at me. “She nabbed,” he said, apparently delighted by the familial attention.

“Maybe now she’ll finally trust that I’m right about everything,” Charlotte said. “She had a very difficult time with that growing up.”

“She still has a difficult time with it. I’m nearly always right, and she seems to forget that fact rather often. It’s unfortunate, really.”

“I bet,” Charlotte said.

“Where’s Major?” I asked. Major Corkberger was Charlotte’s heart-surgeon husband.

“On call, of course, as usual. He’s a surgeon,” she added to Ethan, as if the news was confidential. Ethan nodded politely.

“Here, Olivia, why don’t we let Auntie Merit and Uncle Ethan say hello to everyone else?” Charlotte asked. Olivia held out her hands to be swept away by her mother.

Ethan didn’t verbally object to being called Uncle Ethan, although he did look a bit paler than usual—a difficult feat for a vampire.

“Uncle Ethan?” he asked, when Charlotte walked away.

I slipped my arm in his. “Just keep breathing, Sullivan. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”

I introduced him to Elizabeth, Robert’s sable-haired wife, who looked nearly ready to pop with child number three. Ethan helped her off the couch when she needed a hand, and he managed not to wince when she wrapped him in a hug.

“We are just so glad Merit’s found someone who makes her happy.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I do my best.”

Elizabeth looked back and forth between us, a knowing smile on her face. “Mm-hmm,” she said, a hand on her belly. “There’s a lot of potential here. I can see it.”

I finished my champagne in a single gulp. “Another glass maybe, Mom?”

“Oh hush,” Elizabeth said, giving me a playful slap on the arm.

I’d always liked Elizabeth. Where Robert was the spitting image of my father, physically and emotionally, Elizabeth was funny and grounded. She was still a society girl, her father a magnate in his own right, but she’d always seemed comfortable in her own skin, like she didn’t need to show off in order to prove her worth to everyone else.

“I assume your intentions are honorable?” she asked Ethan.

“What answer won’t get me in trouble?” he asked, and to a one, every human female in the room over the age of ten sighed.

I rolled my eyes, but inwardly, the entire conversation was kind of . . . awesome. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like an outsider in my own family. I had a family of my own, a partner in my escapades. We were here—together—so I didn’t feel like the odd duck out.

And then, on the other end of the spectrum, was the man who’d seemed to make it his life’s purpose to transform me into something else. From shy teenager to socialite. From human to vampire.

“You’re here.”

We turned to find my father in the doorway. Joshua Merit walked in, utter confidence in his stride. My older brother, Robert, joined him.

Like me, my father had dark hair and pale blue eyes. Robert had my mother’s fair coloring, but he and my father shared the same aristocratic features and square shoulders.

“Ethan,” my father said, walking forward with a hand outstretched. They shook hands, but Ethan’s posture didn’t change.

There was no sense of sycophancy or toadying about him. He might have been a guest in my father’s home, but he was a force to be reckoned with in his own right, not a politico eager to hop onto my father’s coattails.

“Joshua,” Ethan said. They shook on it, and my father turned to me.

“Merit,” he said, a bit awkwardly, and without offering a handshake or a hug.

“Dad,” I said, then looked at my brother. “Robert.”

Robert seemed older than the last time I’d seen him. More mature, or perhaps simply with more weight on his shoulders. He stood in line to take over Merit Properties, so there would have been plenty of weight to go around.

“Hello, Merit,” he said, then nodded at Ethan. “Robert Merit.”

“Ethan Sullivan.”

They looked at each other for a moment. I wouldn’t have called my brother the protective type, but there was something vaguely threatening in his eyes. I wasn’t naïve enough to think it had anything to do with me. Robert was protective of my father and the family name, and I imagine he hadn’t yet decided whether Ethan was a threat.

After a moment of staring each other down, Robert’s posture eased a bit. “You’re looking well,” he said to me.

I nodded. “Thanks. Congratulations on the baby. Elizabeth seems very happy.”

He nodded the same way my father did. Just a bob of the head, as if he were too busy to waste motion on anything more excessive.

“We’re very blessed,” he said. “It looks like you’re having a rough go of it this week.”

“Our popularity waxes and wanes,” Ethan said, “as it always has. At the moment, there is very clearly a vocal crowd of anti-vampire Chicagoans.”

“Unfortunate,” my father said, “that they would judge a man based on his physical attributes, rather than his deeds.”

“Hear! Hear!” Ethan said.

My father nodded with approval at Ethan’s approval of him. “Now that we’ve all shaken hands, perhaps a drink in the office before dinner? It will give us a chance to chat.”

He glanced at my mother questioningly, probably to check there was time enough before dinner was served.

“Yes,” she said. “Head that way and leave us to our chatting.” She waved at them. “Shoo.”

Ethan glanced back at me, and his expression was hard to gauge. Something between “Save me!” and “I am beginning to regret my enthusiasm for this dinner idea.”

I gave him a mean-spirited wave. “See you in a bit, darling.”

His eyes narrowed as my father and Robert shuffled him down the hallway, but he went willingly, a prisoner with no hope for escape, having accepted the inevitability of his sentence.

As he disappeared, the children ran through the sitting room, dragging wooden pull-toys behind them. Loudly. And with extreme prejudice.

“So,” Charlotte said, putting a hand on my knee, “I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but have you considered your china patterns yet?”

Called it.

NOTABLE NOSTALGIA

E
ventually, the boys’ and girls’ clubs came back together, meeting in the dining room at an enormous table (also new) for a meal of roast beast (undetermined origin), mashed root vegetable (undetermined origin), and other assorted dishes. The children were seated at a smaller table in the next room. While we dined on fine china, they got plastic plates decorated with robots and were probably discussing the latest toys and electronic gadgets. I guessed I could have pretty happily integrated into that conversation.

What did not make me happy was the mild buzz of irritated magic that flowed from Ethan as he came back into the room, my father and brother in tow.

I grabbed two glasses of wine from the buffet—my mother hadn’t stocked Blood4You—and took one to Ethan.

“Are you all right?” I quietly asked.

He took the glass but didn’t drink from it.

“Business was discussed,” he said without elaboration. He sounded, frankly, a bit mystified.

“Do we need to step out and discuss anything?”

“No need,” he said, squeezing my hand and, when he realized I still wasn’t satisfied, glancing down at me.

“All is well, Sentinel. Your father made a business proposal of a kind. It was . . . unexpected.”

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that my father had cornered Ethan and made a business play. I shouldn’t have been surprised that we’d probably been called to the house on this February night just for that purpose, because I’d once agreed to talk to my brother about family business, and my father was collecting on the debt.

“Never mind,” Ethan said, taking a sip of his wine. “How about you? How was girls’ time?”

“It was odd. Unusually drama free.”

He chuckled. “What had you expected? Hair pulling?”

I shrugged. “I’ve always been the odd one out. I just figured the transition would be harder than it is.”

“The transition to society dame?”

That narrowed my eyes. “I am not a society dame.”

“All right,” my mother said, interrupting the parrying. “I think we’re ready for dinner!”

Right on cue, women and men in black pants and crisp white button-downs emerged from the kitchen. That explained the food; she’d hired caterers. They took up positions behind the buffet and drink station, tools in hand, ready to meet our every culinary whim.

I wasn’t sure I would ever understand my parents. But I understood dinner, so I let the caterers place food on my plate and sat down at the table beside Ethan, the tension between him and my father nearly palpable when everyone took seats.

“A toast,” Robert said, holding his glass aloft. “To a family united, to our health and well-being, to our prosperity and happiness.”

We said, “Cheers,” and clinked together our very expensive glassware, and then began our meal.

The conversation was typical. My father and brother argued about politics and money, and my mother and sister discussed neighborhood gossip. Each set tried to draw me into the conversation, but I generally preferred to watch and listen. That was probably what made me a good research and graduate student: I was fascinated enough by other people and their drama that people watching kept me pretty entertained.

The family had better luck engaging Ethan. He wasn’t shy with his opinions, and although he was respectful, he was a man secure in his skin and in the world. He didn’t bother with waffling or sycophancy, not when there was honesty to be had.

So this is a family meal,
he said after a while.

I speared a bit of asparagus with my fork.
Indeed. Welcome to the Merit home.

They’re very formal, aren’t they?

They like to be fancy,
I agreed.
It’s part of my father’s plan to distance himself from his upbringing.
That upbringing being his lot as the son of a cop. Fancy is as fancy does.

My sister caught my light smile and gave me a sly one. “What’s so funny over there?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just enjoying my asparagus.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, but clearly didn’t buy it.

“Hush, Charlotte,” my mother said. “They’re in love. Let them have their moment.”

Wearing my expensive heels and my designer dress, and sitting next to the most handsome man I’d ever seen, I stuck my tongue out at my sister.

“Enjoy the thrill of young love,” my father said, as if suddenly an expert on emotional fulfillment. “Youth is fleeting. Well, perhaps not in your case.”

My sister raised her glass. “Here’s to never needing, shall we say, facial enhancement procedures.”

“Amen to that,” my mother said, flicking a delicate gaze to Ethan. “If it’s not impolite, may I ask how old you are?”

“It isn’t,” he said, “and you may. I’m three hundred and ninety-four years old. Oh, and approximately three-quarters.”

The table went silent.

“That such a thing could even be possible . . . ,” my mother mused.

“The things you must have seen—experienced,” Elizabeth said, eyes shining with curiosity. “World wars. New technologies. The advent of modern medicine. It’s staggering.”

“I have been lucky to sample much that is laudable among humans,” he said. He reached out and put a hand on mine. “And to find a prize awaiting me at the end of four centuries.”

I might have sighed, but for the glint in his eye that told me Ethan was playing his crowd, and with success. My mother, sister, and even pragmatic sister-in-law got dreamy expressions at the sentiment.

Kiss-ass,
I mentally accused.

How dare you think the sentiment is anything less than genuine?

The sentiment was intended to woo my family.
So much for thinking him not sycophantic.

Ah, Sentinel. So suspicious.
He picked up my hand and pressed it to his lips in full sight of the rest of the table, leading to even more sighs and puppy dog expressions.

For a pretentious Master vampire, Darth Sullivan was pretty dreamy.

—

An hour later, we finished the evening in the sitting room, a warm and pliable Olivia asleep in my arms.

“It’s amazing how limp she goes, isn’t it?” Charlotte remarked.

“It really is,” I said, wincing a little as I tried to gently shift my arms, which were stiffening from the sack of potatoes in my lap. And a beautiful sack of potatoes at that.

Olivia was as pretty as her parents; she’d leave any number of broken hearts in her wake. Teenage boys who dreamed of her from afar; frat boys too cool to approach her.

Not that her appearance would define her. She was the granddaughter of one of the most powerful men in Chicago, the daughter of a heart surgeon and a philanthropist. Ivy League schools would vie for her attention. That would be a pretty fun battle to watch.

But as I smiled down at her, I couldn’t help but feel saddened by my own limitations. Vampires couldn’t have children. I wouldn’t be a mother, and Ethan wouldn’t be a father. And despite Gabriel’s once-upon-a-time prediction, it wasn’t possible that a child with eyes as green as Ethan’s could be in our future.

Suddenly struck by melancholy, I felt my eyes fill with tears, and I stared down at Olivia until I was sure I’d blinked them back, and they wouldn’t spill across my face like etchings of grief.

After a moment, I glanced up at Ethan and found sadness in his eyes. We hadn’t spoken, but he’d watched me hold a sleeping child—and mourn for a future we couldn’t have.

Olivia woke, her eyes suddenly wide and staring up at a person who wasn’t her mother. She began to cry, and Charlotte rose and lifted her from my arms, leaving behind wrinkled silk and a bit of sadness.

“Stranger danger,” Elizabeth said.

“No kidding,” Charlotte said, hoisting Olivia onto her hip. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and plunked her head down, her eyes drifting shut almost immediately.

“I think that’s our cue to get home,” she said.

“We should probably be going as well,” Ethan said. “We’ve some matters at the House to attend to.”

My mother nodded and rose. “I’ll get your coats.”

My father stood and reached out to shake Ethan’s hand again. “Nice seeing you again. And do remember our conversation.”

Ethan nodded tightly and escorted me back to the door, where my mother had readied our outerwear. We slipped on our coats, and I pulled on my galoshes. The mood was suddenly somber, having shifted from awe of vampire longevity to sadness about our other physical shortcomings.

“It’s lovely seeing you so happy,” my mother said, embracing me, apparently oblivious to the change in mood.

“Thanks, Mom. You, too.”

We exchanged hugs and promises to do dinner again soon, then Ethan and I walked down the sidewalk, our hands linked together.

I picked carefully across the ice to the car’s passenger side and climbed in. Ethan started the Ferrari with a tantalizing purr, and his phone began to ring almost immediately.

“It’s Luc,” he said, then put the phone on speaker.

“Ethan and Merit,” he answered.

“You’re on speakerphone in the Ops Room.”

Luc’s voice was tight, which put my nerves on edge. He wouldn’t have called unless it was important, but Luc’s brand of important was rarely good news.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked.

“The CPD is done with Robin Pope. They’ve released her.”

“Released her?” I repeated, panic rising in my voice. “Why?”

“Because she’s alibied for both riots,” Jonah said. “She wasn’t at either.”

“But her complaint against Bryant Industries?” I asked. “Her relationship with the Grey House vamp? Those couldn’t have been coincidence.”

“They were,” Luc said. “She hasn’t so much as sent an e-mail to anybody arrested in the riots, surfed a Web page, anything. I realize it’s not much of an update, but I wanted to let you know as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Luc. We’ll be back to the House shortly.”

Ethan hung up the phone and glanced at me. “Ideas?”

“Not a single damn one. I was certain she was involved, and now we’re back at square one.”

“We will deal with this just as we’ve dealt with everything else. The solution is there, waiting for us to find it.”

I nodded. “We have to go back to the start. Visit Bryant Industries and see if there’s anything to be learned. See what we missed.”

“We spend enough money on their products that they could probably afford to give us a factory tour.”

“It’s late,” I said. “Will they still be around? At least without a riot to attend to?”

Ethan nodded. “Bryant Industries works with us, so Charla tends to keep vampire hours. I’ll send her a message and see if it can be arranged.”

He did so, then updated Luc and pulled into the road and then into traffic. When we’d gotten some distance from my parents’ house, I voiced the question I’d been pondering since Ethan had emerged from my father’s study.

“Out of curiosity, what did you and my father talk about?”

For a moment, Ethan didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me.

“Your father wants to become an investor in Cadogan House.”

“He what?” I boggled at the request. I presumed my father had wanted to discuss Ethan’s putting in a good word about Merit Properties with other Houses. This was in an entirely different orbit.

“He has money and connections. He wants to offer us a rather considerable amount of money to join the House’s board of directors.”

I frowned. “We don’t have a board of directors.”

“No, we do not. Which is one of the smaller of many, many problems with his proposal.”

“He wants to pay us to let him control the House?”

Ethan nodded. “Your father has demonstrated very questionable decision making in the past. Which means that power might be used in questionable ways.”

I nodded. “We’d be trading one GP for another.”

“I’m glad to hear you think so.” There was relief in his voice that I didn’t find flattering.

“You can’t think I’d have supported the idea? Giving my father the key to your kingdom?”

“Your father is a powerful man, and with power comes protection. I wasn’t afraid you’d support the idea, but I wondered if you’d find it attractive.”

“I find peace and serenity attractive. Bringing my father into our House is not the way to accomplish either of those. No,” I concluded. “There’s no way.”

I looked out the window, wondering how things had gone so sideways.

—

Charla Bryant agreed happily to another meeting; Ethan was one of her customers, after all. The police tape was gone, the debris had been cleaned away from the lawn, and new wooden studs and plastic sheeting were in place. Charla was definitely a woman of action.

We stood in front of the building for a moment and scanned the scene.

“The damage looks mostly superficial,” Ethan said.

“I think it was. The fire didn’t go very deep into the building, but they spread across the front.”

Ethan nodded. “Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

“Actually, Luc would prefer you not get into any trouble.”

Ethan smirked. “Then you shouldn’t have let me out of the House, Sentinel.”

I guess I couldn’t argue with that. But I could keep an eye on him, so I followed him to the make-do front door, now guarded by a beefy man in a security guard’s uniform.