Biting Cold

Chapter Eight

HOME IS WHERE THE SHOWER IS
I took the passenger seat, and Paige drove us in a beat-up extended-cab pickup truck with FARM TRUCK license plates to a private hangar at Omaha's airport. Ethan was in the backseat with our swords and Paige's pile of cherished books.
To cal the mood somber was an understatement. Malory had proven again that she was wiling to hurt others to rid herself of pain. It wasn't exactly a cause for celebration. But at least the Maleficium was gone.
We were mostly silent, probably al ruminating on what we'd seen - and what was to come. I was especialy worried about Ethan. He was connected to Malory in a way that was causing him physical pain. If a new sorceress could bring a four-centuries-old vampire to his knees because she was feeling agitated, what else could she do? It wasn't a question I was comfortable considering, and Ethan couldn't have felt any better about it.
Paige broke the ominous silence. "And I suggested she was a novice. The gnomes came because I asked them to, because I promised them she was al smoke and mirrors and very little skil.
They were hurt because of me in a fight they didn't want to wage in the first place."
The regret on her face was clear. I didn't relish the fact that she'd been wrong, or that the gnomes had suffered because of it, but at least she was wiling to reconsider her choices. Malory stil hadn't come around to that point yet.
"Because of Malory," I clarified.
"Does it matter?" Paige asked. I'm not sure she meant me to answer it, so I changed the subject.
"Todd said they'd go back to ground," I said.
She nodded. "They live in underground networks. They're incredibly industrious, and the tunnels keep the soil aerated. You ever wondered why the midwestern states are so big on agriculture? It's not the dirt," she said. "It's who's under the dirt."
Ethan rubbed his temples. That smal action was enough to make the panic flare in my chest.
"What is it?" I asked. "Is she free again?"
"Just a headache," he said, smiling apologeticaly. "I think she's stil unconscious. She's certainly stil drained, and I can feel it. But it's lessening since we're headed in opposite directions, at least until we get to the airport."
"You can sense her?" Paige asked, brow furrowed with concern.
"They have some kind of connection," I explained. "It started after she brought him back, but destroying the Maleficium apparently didn't stop it."
I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. "We'l figure it out."
"We'd better," he said.
His link to Malory was a liability, not just for his safety, but for Cadogan. Until that link was severed, he'd never regain control of the House. I'd hoped finishing Malory's work with the Maleficium might do the trick. Since it hadn't, I might have to rely on her for answers. That idea didn't thril me.
"It's not surprising she's tired given the amount of magic she threw out tonight," Paige said. "Controling the universe is generaly a subtle thing. Powerful, but subtle. Her magic is definitely not subtle. It's very disco magic. Flashy, but expensive to the aura."
It was expensive in every possible way: her livelihood, her friends, her family, her karma. No one trusted her, and for pretty good reason.
"You know what I need?" I asked.
"A chocolate fountain?" Ethan suggested. "A complete paper set of the Encyclopedia Britannica? A lifetime supply of griled meat?"
"I like al those ideas, but I was thinking a magical spray I can use on Malory to wash the crazy off her."
"Like Lysol for evil?" Paige asked.
"Something like that, yeah."
Ruminating on that impossibility, we fel silent again. I heard the occasional clicking of Ethan's phone in the backseat, and I took the opportunity to update Jonah on our progress and the shifters' intervention with Malory.
His text message in response encapsulated the problem: WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH TWO TATES?
I wished I had an answer to that.
Just as promised, the jet was sleek and white. It was parked in the middle of the tarmac, where a set of stairs unfolded to the ground.
We waited in a smal lobby while the plane was prepared, and then headed outside when they caled our names. Paige ascended the stairs first. I folowed, and Ethan brought up the rear.
"Good God," I said, glancing around the fuselage. "This is definitely the way to travel."
The cabin was divided into two sections - the first held rows of chairs much like a normal plane, and the second held a conversational area with a couch and flat-screen television. Al the surfaces were clad in buttery leather or gleaming wood, and the carpet was a thick, lush taupe.
"Not bad, hmm?" Ethan asked, taking a seat and buckling his seat belt with a click. Paige sat in a chair behind us, the stack of books in her lap.
I took the seat beside Ethan, and the steward immediately closed the door. As soon as the door was secured, we were moving.
"Very efficient," I said.
Ethan nodded. "The faster we're on our way, the faster we're home."
"And we move from one bit of drama to another."
The steward, a tidily dressed woman in a white shirt and navy skirt, brought us glasses of orange juice. "Beverage?" she asked.
I thanked her and took one. I was starving.
"Also, if you'd turn off al electrical devices, please," she said, then disappeared behind us.
Ethan puled his cel phone from his pocket to turn it off but stared down at the screen. Whatever he saw there, it wasn't good.
"Bad news?" I asked, not that there was much guesswork needed given the expression on this face.
He turned off his phone and slid it back into his pocket, his expression carefuly neutral. "The shofet has met. Whatever their conclusion, Darius is on his way to Chicago to announce it."
My stomach twisted. If Darius was traveling across the ocean to make some kind of GP pronouncement, the news couldn't be good.
"That's disconcerting," I said.
Ethan nodded. "I'm sure Darius wil have choice words about their decision."
"Darius always has choice words. And I get the sense he likes to hear himself talk."
"Most men in power do, I find."
The steward walked back to the front of the plane. Ethan signaled her, and she nodded back.
As the plane ascended sharply into the air, the smel of roasting meat filed the cabin. My stomach grumbled, and loudly.
Ethan chuckled. "Hungry much?"
"When am I not?" I grumpily asked. "I suppose they're bringing you dinner?"
"That wouldn't be a very wise move when I know you'd pounce on a meal before I could get at it."
The steward appeared at my side, presented me with a silver-domed plate, and then whipped off the dome.
The sight and smel of sizzling steak made my mouth instantaneously water. And beside it, a tidy pile of bright green broccoli, a scoop of garlic-permeated mashed potatoes, and a Thermos of blood. As I stared down at it, she delivered a similar plate to Paige.
"Oh, sweet God," I said appreciatively, my eyes al but eating the food.
"Omaha's finest," Ethan said with a smile. "For a good night's work."
The man procured steak to reward me. Say what you might about Ethan Sulivan, but he knew just how to butter me up. On the other hand, I wasn't convinced I'd done anything right.
"When we arrived here, we had one Tate and one book. We now have two Tates and zero books."
"The book is a move in the right direction."
"And the Tates?"
There was fear in his eyes. "If you have a preferred god, Sentinel, I suggest you start praying. And soon."
I couldn't fault the ride on a multimilion-dolar jet. It was even smoother than a hundred-thousand-dolar Mercedes, and a heluva lot faster.
We flew out across the dark waters of Lake Michigan before landing at O'Hare, my delightful meat coma giving way to relief as the steward unlocked the door and we prepared to descend the stairs.
The weather was miserable - the ground wet from earlier rain, the air cold and damp. Not exactly a warm greeting from my hometown, but that didn't make me any less glad to step down onto the tarmac. It was good to be home, even though the trip was short and there was no doubt we'd find just as much drama in Ilinois as we had in Nebraska.
Hopefuly, this time, it would be our kind of drama.
A sleek, silver sedan with a gril like a wide grin was waiting for us a few steps away from the plane. A guy in a Windbreaker and khakis stood beside the car, a set of keys in hand.
"Is that an Aston Martin?" Paige asked.
I slid Ethan a glance, but his gaze was already caressing the car's lines and curves.
"You'l recal my car was quite totaled," he said, without taking his eyes off his new ride.
"And how much did it cost to have this nice gentleman bring a new ride to you at the airport?"
"A drop in the bucket compared to the overal cost, Sentinel."
"I'l bet."
He checked his watch. "Gabriel won't have made it back to Nebraska, even as fast as they likely drove." He looked at me.
"We can go to the House. You can shower and get changed, and we can get Paige settled."
"A shower sounds glorious," I agreed.
"For me, too," Paige said.
Ethan held out a hand toward the car. "In that case, ladies, let's be on our way."
There was no faulting that ride, either. On the way, in the smooth comfort of Ethan's new Aston Martin, I texted Jonah again to let him know more GP trouble was brewing. I didn't know what the shofet had decided, but it didn't portend anything good that they were coming here to announce it. That was just the kind of thing the Red Guard needed to be prepared for.
It also didn't surprise me that Darius wanted a look at Ethan, to assure himself that Ethan was the vampire who'd earned the Masterdom of the House. There were only twelve vampire Houses in the United States. That meant Ethan had, relatively speaking, a good bit of power. I'd have wanted a look at the reincarnated vamp, too. But I didn't think it wise to voice that particular opinion to Ethan.
We drove to Hyde Park, where the pale stone of Cadogan House emerged from darkness. It was a large, three-story mansion with features from another time - an arched entrance, a turret, and a widow's walk around the roof. The grounds were even larger than the House and offered a bit of the gated outdoors for itchy vampires who needed fresh air and space from vampire drama.
The sidewalk in front of the House was peppered with protestors; they'd become a fixture over the past few months, and Malory's recent shenanigans certainly hadn't helped. They were citizens of al ages and genders and ethnicities, but the hatred in their hand-painted signs was similar: GO HOME, VAMPS. NO VAMPS IN ILLINOIS. WINDY CITY, NOT VAMPIRE CITY. What they lacked in creativity, they made up in good old-fashioned discrimination.
They sat in lawn chairs, bundled up against the cold, many eating dinners like they'd puled up to a drive-in movie instead of a vampire hate fest.
Normaly, I'd have squeezed my car into a spot on the street and faced them al down as I strode into the House, but Ethan had a coveted basement parking spot. No snow, no parking permits, no dibs. Just a few steps to the stairs, and a few stairs to the lush first floor...and a few backward glances from a Master vampire clearly smitten with his new purchase.
"She'l probably stil be here when you come back," I reminded him.
He huffed but stil gave the sedan one last look. "She is a beauty."
"She is a car," Paige reminded him.
"And he is a man," I said, pointing her toward the door.
"Let's not dig too deeply into it."
We took the stairs, and I couldn't fight the relief of feeling like I was home again. Which was pretty weird, since I was returning to a vampire frat house I hadn't even lived in for a year.
Tonight, the House smeled like cinnamon, and much to my surprise, the interior had been decorated for the holidays. Malik had been busy while we were gone. Fragrant garland hung from doorways, mantels, and the railing of the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Sugared fruit and sparkling candleholders stood on tables and bookcases, and silver bowls of old-fashioned ribbon candy sat on side tables.
It would be a Cadogan House Christmas - and it made a nice change from the swaths of black fabric that had wrapped the House while we were in mourning. The House deserved it.
Grieving was exhausting, and two months of mourning took a physical and emotional tol.
A few of the House's ninety or so live-in vampires, al dressed in traditional black, were busy in the foyer. They nodded and waved as we passed, which didn't make me nearly as uncomfortable as it once would have. I'd become part of the House, of the family of Novitiates who lived there.
"Ladies, I'm going to leave you here," Ethan said. "I believe I could use a bit of a cleanup myself." He gestured toward the foyer, where Helen, the House's new vampire liaison, waited.
"Paige, Helen wil get you a room key and some basic necessities. Merit, drop by later so we can talk about next steps."
I nodded and did my duty, escorting Paige to meet Helen.
"Merit," Helen said, "lovely to see you again. And you must be Paige."
She probably wasn't thriled to see me again, since we hadn't exactly hit it off the first time we'd met, but she was al politeness today. Helen handed Paige a laminated Cadogan House guest pass on a lanyard and a key on a Cadogan House key ring.
We were al about the branding.
"You'l be staying in the guest suite," Helen said, then smiled at me. "Perhaps you could show her the way?"
"Of course. Where is it?"
"Third floor, three doors down from Ethan's. There's a star on the door."
I nodded. "I'l find it."
Helen looked at Paige. "There are some clothes upstairs and, as Ethan noted, 'necessities' for you until you have a chance to get your own things."
Paige looked relieved. "I don't even have a toothbrush. Thank you."
"Of course." With that, Helen smiled and marched back through the House.
We walked upstairs to the third floor and then down the quiet halway past half the House's bedrooms; the rest were on the second floor. Each of the ninety-ish vampires who lived in the House (of three hundred total House members) had his or her own room. They were al smal and dormlike: hardwood floors, simple furniture, smal bathroom. Each room was just large enough to afford the vampire a place to sleep and a little privacy at the end of the night.
Near the end of the long halway, three doors down from Ethan's, was the star-marked guest room, which looked from the outside like the dressing room of a television guest host.
"This must be it," I said.
Paige unlocked the door and stepped inside. I also peeked inside to get a look. It was a nice suite - a little bigger than our dorm rooms, but a lot smaler than Ethan's three-room apartment. The decor was neutral, like a midrange business-class hotel. This was definitely a place for guests - to keep them comfy for a little while, but not so comfy that they overstayed their welcome.
Paige put her books on the bed and glanced back at me. "I'm going to clean up. And I might rest a little bit. I'm pretty exhausted, and I have a lot of Order business in front of me."
"Of course. When Gabriel cals, I'd like to go see Malory. I can let you know."
"That would be great. I'l want to get a sense of where she is so I can tel the Order."
I nodded. "If you need anything before then, feel free to cal Helen."
We said polite good-byes, and I closed the door behind me and nearly ran back to the stairs, where hot-water oblivion awaited. I wanted a long, steamy, environmentaly irresponsible shower that wrinkled my skin and fogged the bathroom mirror.
My room was on the second floor of the House. One floor up from the main, one floor down from Ethan's apartments. In another time, I'd appreciated having space between us.
A note was tacked to the buletin board on the front of my door. It was from Lindsey, my best girlfriend in the House.
Girl! I hope you did lots of nasty with Our Dear Sullivan and made us all proud. Please bring him back in a good mood. And eager to give us all raises. We need shoes. Hearts, Lindsey.
Unfortunately, there was decidedly no "nasty," and I doubted Ethan was in a better mood - not when he was returning to political spite and double the number of enemies he'd had when he left.
When the door was locked behind me, I peeled off my leather jacket and filthy clothes and climbed into the shower.
It was even better than I'd imagined. I scrubbed the soot from my face and let the heat push the remaining pain from my presumptively broken rib and twisted ankle and the green-purple bruise on my arm where Ethan had grabbed me. There was no doubt they were healing, but the residual aches hadn't yet gone away.
When I was pink and clean, I climbed out again and dried my hair. I returned to my basic fal uniform - jeans, boots, a snug long-sleeved T-shirt, and my leather jacket.
Since Paige was resting, I took the time to check my e-mail and the news of the world, then gave my sword a wipe-down with rice paper and oil. A good thing, too - it was filthy. Catcher would not have been impressed that I'd carried it back from Nebraska without cleaning it. Hygiene, sword or otherwise, took an unfortunate backseat in a crisis.
When we were both clean again, I made a trip across the hal to the second floor's smal kitchenette.
There'd been an unfortunate lack of deliciousness in the House when Franklin Cabot, the receiver, had been here; he was a fan of green and organic. I was a fan of celophane wrapped and seriously processed. Now that Cabot was gone, sugar was back in play. The kitchen was stocked with treats, including Malocakes and bags of blood from Blood4You, our delivery service.
I nuked a bag for a few seconds, poked in a straw, and drained it dry. Even steak only went so far. I drank another pint just to be on the safe side, and because I was being mature, I skipped the Malocakes for a granola bar that I ate while reading flyers posted to a newly hung buletin board in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, they weren't exactly cheery. There were instructions for registering with the city and an article about the attack on the vampires and humans Jeff had mentioned.
If no news was good news, was al news bad news?
My stomach (temporarily) sated and Paige (temporarily) out of service, I decided to check on Lindsey. I wasn't sure she'd be in her room in the middle of the night, but since I hadn't seen her since before we left for Nebraska, I figured it was worth the time to knock.
There was silence for a moment, and I almost turned to walk away.
Oh, if only I'd walked away.
I heard a bout of giggling, and then the door opened. Lindsey stood in the doorway, blond hair in al directions, wearing only a sheet and, of course, her Cadogan medal.
And behind her, on her smal bed, was Luc. He was also wrapped mostly in a blanket, except for the tooled leather cowboy boots on his feet. He waved colegialy, as if I hadn't just interrupted him midcoitus.
"I am...clearly interrupting...something," I said, taking a step away from the door. "And I don't want to keep doing that, so I am going to just go on about my business."
Lindsey pressed her lips together, then slipped out the door and into the halway, closing the door behind her. "You good?"
"Me? Oh, sure. I'm - I'm great. I'm just going to go...find something else to do."
"Didn't want to see your other boss half-naked, did you?" she asked.
"Or wearing cowboy boots," I agreed. "But I'm glad to see you're getting along so wel."
"I'm doing what I can for House solidarity."
"I can see that. Okay. You two have fun. Find me...when you're dressed."
Without waiting for her reply, I walked down the halway again.
"Home sweet home," I murmured.