Dark Debt
Page 102
Catcher wore a black suit over a white button-down, no tie, the top button unfastened. He looked sexy and a little rough around the edges, like a race car driver.
“I’m not jealous. I’m envious. There’s a difference.”
“You know he can hear everything you’re saying right now, right, Sentinel?” Luc asked with no little amusement. “He has an earpiece, too.”
When Ethan grinned down at Margot, a smile probably meant for me, I didn’t much care. “Then he’ll hear me warn him: Touch her again and lose a finger,” I said sweetly.
Mallory grinned. “Merit doesn’t like other people touching her things.”
“Any sign of Balthasar?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Catcher said.
“Damn,” Mallory intoned, amazement in her voice. “Are there any ugly vampires?”
I glanced in the direction of her dreamy smile, found Jonah walking toward us, eyes on me. His auburn hair gleamed like bronze, highlighting his blue eyes, and in his dark tux, he looked like an Armani runway model.
“Get out of my dreams,” Lindsey sang into my ear, “and into my car.”
“There’s a lot of male sexualizing going on right now,” Luc said. “And it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Snark is allowed on an op,” I reminded him.
“Check out Mallory’s boobs again,” Lindsey said to him. “You’ll feel better.”
Mallory grinned, wiggled her shoulders for effect. She was in a good mood, which made me hopeful she’d talked to Catcher and resolved her doubts. But we’d get to that later.
“Focus,” I said. Since Jonah kept his gaze on me as he approached, I kept my gaze on him.
“Hello,” he said, eyes dipping to take in the gown, the lace, the skin. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
I felt the burst of Ethan’s magic across the tent. Party guests noticed, too, and began whispering, just as if we’d actually broken up. The ruse had played pretty well.
“If you touch her,” said a familiar voice in my earpiece, “you’ll lose something more precious than a finger.”
“Take a breath, Sullivan,” Jonah intoned, his gaze on me. He slid his hands into his pockets, and I braced myself for the worst, for him to ask me to return the saints’ medal he’d given me to mark my RG membership.
But his tone was utterly bland. “Any sign of Balthasar yet?”
I surmised he was still angry, whether at me, the RG, or the circumstances.
Since I was utterly in the right, I kept my tone flat and businesslike. “Not yet. But we believe he’s a vampire by the name of Julien Burrows who once knew Balthasar. Like Balthasar, he was imprisoned by the Memento Mori, but he escaped and disappeared.”
“That’s new.”
“Hot off the presses,” I said. “Jeff found the link a little while ago.”
“The Masters are here,” Ethan said through the earpiece. “Let’s begin the ceremony and see if that draws him out.”
* * *
They gathered on a dais at the end of the tent—three Master vampires in tuxedoes, all of them handsome beyond any human measure or level of appropriateness.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ethan said, “thank you for joining us here tonight. We come to begin a new tradition, to celebrate the Investiture of the Chicago Masters into the American Assembly of Masters.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted voices across the crowd of vampires, who filtered into the tent to hear the ceremony. None of them were Balthasar.
“Just as our American forefathers did nearly three hundred years ago, we have relieved ourselves of interests that didn’t align with our own, men and women who sought to keep their power intact at all costs and to the detriment of the American Houses. Tonight, we celebrate the beginning of a new era.” Ethan raised his glass of champagne. “To Cadogan, to Grey, to Navarre!”
“To Cadogan, to Grey, to Navarre!” they repeated, and clapped wildly for their Masters while I scanned the crowd for danger.
“Anything, Sentinel?” asked Luc through the earpiece.
“Nothing at all,” I responded, covering the answer with my champagne glass. “Maybe the ceremony’s too ceremonial. Maybe he’s biding his time.” But for what?
Ethan handed the microphone to Scott. “We have vowed,” Scott said, “to protect the vampires of our Houses, to support their happiness, their freedom. We reiterate those vows here, and now, and pledge that our membership in the Assembly is intended solely to foster those goals. We pledge to reject any action, any resolution, that would harm our vampires. We pledge to keep our vampires’ interests at the forefront of our minds in all decisions.”
Scott passed the microphone to Morgan. “We take these vows here, before you whom we serve, before the Novitiates we have made, before our colleagues and friends”—he looked at Scott and Ethan—“before the other Masters with whom we share this city, because if we cannot hold the city safe, we have failed not just our vampires but each other.”
Morgan and Ethan shared a long and intense look before Morgan turned to the crowd once again. “We make these vows to you, our Novitiates, tonight. May our Houses eternally prosper, may we eternally serve, and may our vampires enjoy eternally good health.”
“Hear, hear,” Ethan said, and the vampires burst into applause again.
“I’m not jealous. I’m envious. There’s a difference.”
“You know he can hear everything you’re saying right now, right, Sentinel?” Luc asked with no little amusement. “He has an earpiece, too.”
When Ethan grinned down at Margot, a smile probably meant for me, I didn’t much care. “Then he’ll hear me warn him: Touch her again and lose a finger,” I said sweetly.
Mallory grinned. “Merit doesn’t like other people touching her things.”
“Any sign of Balthasar?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Catcher said.
“Damn,” Mallory intoned, amazement in her voice. “Are there any ugly vampires?”
I glanced in the direction of her dreamy smile, found Jonah walking toward us, eyes on me. His auburn hair gleamed like bronze, highlighting his blue eyes, and in his dark tux, he looked like an Armani runway model.
“Get out of my dreams,” Lindsey sang into my ear, “and into my car.”
“There’s a lot of male sexualizing going on right now,” Luc said. “And it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Snark is allowed on an op,” I reminded him.
“Check out Mallory’s boobs again,” Lindsey said to him. “You’ll feel better.”
Mallory grinned, wiggled her shoulders for effect. She was in a good mood, which made me hopeful she’d talked to Catcher and resolved her doubts. But we’d get to that later.
“Focus,” I said. Since Jonah kept his gaze on me as he approached, I kept my gaze on him.
“Hello,” he said, eyes dipping to take in the gown, the lace, the skin. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
I felt the burst of Ethan’s magic across the tent. Party guests noticed, too, and began whispering, just as if we’d actually broken up. The ruse had played pretty well.
“If you touch her,” said a familiar voice in my earpiece, “you’ll lose something more precious than a finger.”
“Take a breath, Sullivan,” Jonah intoned, his gaze on me. He slid his hands into his pockets, and I braced myself for the worst, for him to ask me to return the saints’ medal he’d given me to mark my RG membership.
But his tone was utterly bland. “Any sign of Balthasar yet?”
I surmised he was still angry, whether at me, the RG, or the circumstances.
Since I was utterly in the right, I kept my tone flat and businesslike. “Not yet. But we believe he’s a vampire by the name of Julien Burrows who once knew Balthasar. Like Balthasar, he was imprisoned by the Memento Mori, but he escaped and disappeared.”
“That’s new.”
“Hot off the presses,” I said. “Jeff found the link a little while ago.”
“The Masters are here,” Ethan said through the earpiece. “Let’s begin the ceremony and see if that draws him out.”
* * *
They gathered on a dais at the end of the tent—three Master vampires in tuxedoes, all of them handsome beyond any human measure or level of appropriateness.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ethan said, “thank you for joining us here tonight. We come to begin a new tradition, to celebrate the Investiture of the Chicago Masters into the American Assembly of Masters.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted voices across the crowd of vampires, who filtered into the tent to hear the ceremony. None of them were Balthasar.
“Just as our American forefathers did nearly three hundred years ago, we have relieved ourselves of interests that didn’t align with our own, men and women who sought to keep their power intact at all costs and to the detriment of the American Houses. Tonight, we celebrate the beginning of a new era.” Ethan raised his glass of champagne. “To Cadogan, to Grey, to Navarre!”
“To Cadogan, to Grey, to Navarre!” they repeated, and clapped wildly for their Masters while I scanned the crowd for danger.
“Anything, Sentinel?” asked Luc through the earpiece.
“Nothing at all,” I responded, covering the answer with my champagne glass. “Maybe the ceremony’s too ceremonial. Maybe he’s biding his time.” But for what?
Ethan handed the microphone to Scott. “We have vowed,” Scott said, “to protect the vampires of our Houses, to support their happiness, their freedom. We reiterate those vows here, and now, and pledge that our membership in the Assembly is intended solely to foster those goals. We pledge to reject any action, any resolution, that would harm our vampires. We pledge to keep our vampires’ interests at the forefront of our minds in all decisions.”
Scott passed the microphone to Morgan. “We take these vows here, before you whom we serve, before the Novitiates we have made, before our colleagues and friends”—he looked at Scott and Ethan—“before the other Masters with whom we share this city, because if we cannot hold the city safe, we have failed not just our vampires but each other.”
Morgan and Ethan shared a long and intense look before Morgan turned to the crowd once again. “We make these vows to you, our Novitiates, tonight. May our Houses eternally prosper, may we eternally serve, and may our vampires enjoy eternally good health.”
“Hear, hear,” Ethan said, and the vampires burst into applause again.
