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Authors: Chloe Neill

Twice Bitten (22 page)

BOOK: Twice Bitten
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There was a smallish bulletin board on every dormlike room in Cadogan House. A flyer was tacked to mine—a thick bit of cardstock bearing an announcement in fancy script letters:
Greet the Master!
Join us Saturday at 10:00 p.m.
to welcome Lacey Sheridan,
Master of Sheridan House.
Cocktails and Music.
Casual Attire.
Rolling my eyes, I pulled the invitation off the door, then stepped back to glance down the hall. The same black-and-white flyer was posted on every door I could see—a GOTV effort that had nothing to do with voting or democracy. I wondered if this had been his idea—a chance to show the Novitiates of Cadogan House whose team he was on?

Maybe more important, how mandatory was something like this? Was I required to make an appearance? Toast Lacey Sheridan? Bring a gift?

I crushed the card in my hand, then opened my door and stepped inside, but before I could close it again, I heard footsteps in the hallway. There were rarely vampires moving through this part of the building, so I nosily peeked through the crack . . . and got an eyeful.

Ethan and Lacey were walking side by side down the corridor. Ethan wore jeans and a snug, long-sleeved T-shirt in a pale smoky green. His hair was pulled back, the Cadogan medal at his neck. The ensemble was casual enough that I assumed he’d be wearing it to the convocation.

Lacey wore a gray tweed dress with a modern, folded neckline and a pair of patterned black stilettos. Every strand of blond hair was in place, and her makeup was as perfect as that of any airbrushed cover model.

“It should worry you,” Lacey was saying.

“Meaning?” Ethan asked.

“Sentinel or otherwise, she’s common, Ethan. A common soldier. And I have to say, I really don’t get all the fuss.”

My lips parted. Did she just call me
common
?

“I’m not sure that ‘common’ is a word I’d equate with Merit, Lacey. I don’t deny she’s a soldier, but I don’t think ‘common’ gives her due credit.”

“Still—brawn doesn’t make a Master.”

“Well, either she’ll Test one day, or she won’t.”

Lacey chuckled. “You mean, either you’ll nominate her or you won’t.”

Lacey was the only other Master vampire Ethan had nominated in his nearly four hundred years as vampire. He hadn’t even taken Testing. Masters like Ethan and Morgan, who’d risen to the ranks when their own Masters were killed, were allowed to skip the exam.

She sounded irritatingly confident that Ethan wouldn’t nominate me.

“Admittedly, she’s young,” Ethan said. “She has a lot of learning to do before she’s ready—a lot of immortality to get through before she’s ready. And only time will bear it out. But I believe she’ll prove capable.”

He chose that moment to glance up—and meet my eyes through the crack in the door. I made a split-second decision and pushed the door open as if I’d been on my way out.

Ethan lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Mer—Sentinel?”

Lacey stepped behind him.

I played innocent. “Oh, hello. I was just on my way out.”

They both looked over my sweaty workout ensemble, and I felt like the heroine in a John Hughes movie, all awkwardness and deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

“Out?” he repeated.

Think!
I silently demanded, and when genius struck, I nodded, reached behind me, and pulled up my right foot, imitating a stretch. “I just got in a run, so I was heading to the stairs to do some stretches.”

Ethan’s brow furrowed, worry suddenly in his eyes. Did he care if I’d heard? Would it bother him if she had hurt me?

“Are you going to introduce us?” Lacey asked.

For a split second, just enough for him to glimpse but not so long that she caught it, I tilted my head at him, letting him see the snarky question in my eyes:
Yes, Ethan. Are you going to introduce us?

“Lacey Sheridan,” she said, not letting Ethan make the choice. She didn’t extend a hand, but just stood there smugly, as if the mere mention of her name was supposed to knock me back a couple of pegs.

“Merit. Sentinel,” I added, in case she needed the reminder that I was the one in Ethan’s House now. I bit back a smile at the twitch in her jaw.

“I was a guard, as well,” she said, her gaze scanning my body as she sized me up, an opponent preparing to do battle. Were we battling for Ethan? For some kind of in-House superiority? Whatever the reason, I wasn’t going to play the game. I’d already gone all-in, and I’d lost my entire stack of chips in the bargain.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” I politely said. “I’m friends with Lindsey. You two were guards together, I understand, before you took Testing.”

“Yes, I know Lindsey. She’s a solid guard. Particularly good at ferreting out motivations.” She offered Lindsey’s evaluation as if, rather than discussing a friend or colleague, she’d been asked for a professional reference.

I shifted my gaze back to Ethan. “I assume you heard about Alabama?”

His expression clouded. “I did. Gabriel’s rumblings?”

I nodded. “That was my guess.”

He blew out a breath, then nodded. “It is what it is. I’d like to leave for the church within the hour.”

“Liege,” I said again, obedience in my voice.

He didn’t growl, exactly, but the acquiescence clearly irritated him. I smiled as I walked away.

I was showered and dressed—jeans, boots, and a tank top beneath my leather jacket—and on my way downstairs to Ethan’s office when my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the screen. It was Mallory.
“Yo,” I answered.

“I know you’re heading out, but I’m about to pull up in front of Cadogan House. Catcher wants to talk to Ethan, and I have something for you.”

“Something tasty?”

“Do you only love me for my choice cooking?”

“Well, no, but I’ll admit it’s one of the reasons.”

“As long as the reasons are many and varied. Get your butt down here.”

Knowing when to take an order, I closed and repocketed the phone, then completed my trip to the front door. The foyer was Master vampire free, so I headed outside with a pleasant lack of drama.

Mal stood at the front gate in stovepipe jeans and a long tank, hands at her hips. She looked to be interrogating the guard. I hopped down the steps, then took the sidewalk to the gate. Catcher stepped beside her just as I approached, probably having just parked the car, a mix of amusement and defeat in his expression.

“And I’d heard you folks were really great at the Third Key,” she was saying. “Do you have any advice for me?”

The mercenary fairy at the gate stared down at her with maliciousness in his eyes. “ ‘You folks’?”

Mallory grinned. “Sorry, it’s just, your traditions are so interesting. So natural. So woodsy. Would you be willing to sit down with me and maybe you could share—”

“Okay,” Catcher interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her toward the House. “That’s enough of that. My apologies,” he offered to the guard, then guided Mallory up the sidewalk.

“Making new friends?” I asked her.

“They’re a really fascinating people.”

“I bet
they
like being called by their names.”

Mallory slid Catcher a flat stare. “Do you know his name?”

He looked at me. I shrugged. “I just work here.”

“Species-ism among supernaturals really is the last bastion of acceptable prejudice in this country,” Mal said, then seemed to realize I was dressed in leather and holding my sword. “You look ready to chase down some shifters.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You’re not in Schaumburg tonight?”

She shook her head. “I have practicum again tonight, which means I’m supposed to be at home making potions and whatnot.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Good luck with your shifters. And that’s why I’m here.” She stuck her fingers into the snug pocket at her hip and fished around. “Hold out your hand.”

I arched a skeptical eyebrow, but did as I was directed. Mallory fished something out, then deposited it into my palm.

It was an antique bracelet—a gold link chain, dark from wear, that bore a circular locket. I held it up. The image of a bird was engraved in the top.

“It’s an apotrope,” she proudly said.

“It’s a what?”

“Apotrope. It’s a charm for luck, to ward off bad juju.” She leaned forward and pointed at the inscription. “That’s a raven. It’s a symbol of protection. I found the bracelet in a shop in the Scandinavian District.”

I frowned at her, puzzled. “Chicago has a Scandinavian District?”

“Nope,” Catcher said. “But the store was next-door to a restaurant that sold pickled herring. She decided that was the Scandinavian District.”

“First you’re moving furniture; then you’re moving neighborhoods.”

“I’m an up-and-comer,” she said. “Anywho, I worked a little Second Key action of my own, and there you go.”

“Well, that was very thoughtful, even without the gratuitous urban planning. Thanks, Mal.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to give you a tincture of wolfsbane, but party pooper over here said no.”

“Wolfsbane?” I asked, looking between them.

“It’s poisonous to shifters,” Catcher said, mid-eye roll.

I nodded in understanding. “Yeah, might be bad form to wear wolf poison to a shifter convocation.”

“I only would have put a little in there,” Mallory said. “Not enough to give anyone a stomachache, much less actually kill somebody. And no one has to know about it.”

“Still better to stick with the raven. Thank you for bringing it.” I held out my right wrist so that she could clasp on the bracelet, but I glanced up when Catcher made a low whistle of warning.

“Company,” he said, and since his gaze was on the door, I guessed who that might be.

“Ooh, she’s pretty,” Mal whispered, looking up once she’d secured the bracelet. “Who is she?”

“That would be Lacey Sheridan.”

Mallory blinked at me. “Lacey Sheridan? The vampire Ethan—”

I interrupted her with a nod.

“Were you going to let me know that his former girlfriend was in town?”

“I figured you’d already had a good dose of Merit humiliation for the week.”

She patted my arm. “Don’t be silly. Vampire humiliation is like a fine wine. It should be shared between friends.”

I stuck out my tongue, but Catcher shook his hand. “Here they come,” he warned. “Put on your happy face.”

I plastered on a fake smile and turned to greet them. His katana in one hand, he used the other to gesture toward Lacey.

“Mallory Carmichael and Catcher Bell,” he said. “Catcher, I believe you and Lacey met when she was in the House.”

“Yep.” That was all Catcher said. He didn’t bother extending a hand.

“It’s nice to see you again, Catcher.”

He barely acknowledged the greeting, and my heart warmed. Catcher was gruff, sure, but that usually didn’t involve outright snubbing people, at least in my experience. I may have given him and Mallory a lot of crap about their naked shenanigans, but he knew which team he was on.

“Mallory is Merit’s former roommate,” Ethan told Lacey, “and a newly identified sorceress. She’s currently training with an Order representative in Schaumburg.”

Lacey cocked her head. “I thought the Order didn’t have representatives in the Chicago area.”

Mallory put a hand on Catcher’s arm before he could growl at Lacey, but you could see the urge to step forward in his expression. Catcher had been kicked out of the Order under circumstances that weren’t altogether clear to me, but the lack of an Order office in Chicago had something to do with it.

“That’s a long story,” Mallory said, “and it’s nice to meet you.” She glanced at Ethan. “Are you going to take care of my girl tonight?”

“I always take care of my vampires.”

Mallory smiled sweetly. “All evidence to the contrary.”

Catcher put a hand on Mallory’s shoulder and looked gravely at Ethan. “We actually came by here for a reason other than skewering you, and it’s not good news. A body was found in a warehouse about eight blocks from the bar. It was Tony.”

Ethan blew out a slow breath. “I’m bothered by that on a number of levels, not the least of which is the fact that he was our prime suspect.”

“He still could have been behind the hit,” I pointed out. “But someone else might not have been happy about that—or wanted to keep him quiet.”

Catcher nodded. “At the very least, there’s more than one person involved in whatever shifter mess is going on.”

“Does Gabriel know?” Ethan asked.

Catcher nodded. “Jeff made the call a little earlier.”

“This is not the kind of information I like having two hours before the convocation.”

“No,” Catcher agreed, “it’s not. And it’s probably not the last of your problems tonight.”

“I’d expect trouble,” Lacey said, apparently joining the conversation. “It’s highly unlikely the first attack was random, and since the perpetrators haven’t managed to forestall the meeting, I’d predict that a second strike is imminent.”

“We’ve arranged backup,” Ethan said, but his gaze was on the lawn, his expression blank, as if he were contemplating unpleasant things. “Guards from Grey and Navarre. We’ll have communications open.”

“Best you can do,” Catcher said.

We stood there for a moment, all of us probably wondering what the night had in store.

“I’m going to get Lacey settled in so she can work in my office while we’re away,” Ethan said, glancing at me. “Meet me at the first-floor stairs in five.”

“Liege,” I said, dipping my head with perfectly Graceful Condescension.

His upper lip curled in dissatisfaction, but after a wave to Mallory and Catcher and some awkward goodbyes between Lacey and Mallory, he escorted Lacey back down the sidewalk.

“Liege?” Catcher repeated. “I bet I could count on one hand how many times I’ve heard you say that.”

“I’m opting for acquiescent,” I said, my gaze still on the Masters.

Catcher grinned a bit evilly. “I bet that’s pissing him off.”

I gave him a grin. “I think he hates it. Which makes it all the more enjoyable.”

“And since he’s wanted Merit the Acquiescent since the day you stepped foot in Cadogan House,” Mallory pointed out, “it’s not even immature. You’re just giving him what he asked for.”

“Precisely,” I agreed with a nod, although I didn’t entirely agree—it was fun, sure, and appropriate in its way, but still immature.

“You know,” Mallory said, her head tilted as she watched them walk, “she’s all blond and fusty . . . like an attorney or something. And that’s not a compliment.”

“Bloodsuckers either way,” Catcher muttered.

I patted his arm. “You know, that was very sweet, what you did. Being snarky to Little Miss Sunshine.”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s not that I’m on your side,” Catcher said, then nodded toward Mallory. “But I’d be sleeping on the couch for a week if I didn’t take
her
side.”

“And my side is your side,” Mallory concluded, then held out her hands. “We need to run. I need to start cooking. You be good tonight, okay?”

I stepped forward and embraced her, then stepped back again. “I’ll be as good as possible, and I’d ask the same thing of you two.” I gave them my best motherly stare.

Catcher snorted. “If we’re not playing naked Twister, we’re wasting our waking hours.”

“Yep,” Mallory said as she tugged him down the sidewalk, “that’s the love of my life. He’s a romantic at heart.”

BOOK: Twice Bitten
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