House Rules

CHAPTER TWO

PAS DE DEUX
An hour later, the yard was full of vampires of the Rogue and Cadogan persuasions. They seemed to be mixing relatively well - which was the entire point of a mixer, really.
If the fashion was any indication, the crew here today was much more eccentric than the Rogues who'd previously visited the House. A few were outfitted in the black military-style duds we'd seen before. But the others wouldn't have passed a military inspection. They wore heavy biker leathers and tie-dyed shirts, classic Goth ensembles and cocktail dresses.
Some of them had been snubbed or excluded by the House system, and some of them had purposely chosen the Rogue life. None of them seemed the worse for it.
Ethan worked the crowd like a master diplomat, moving from cluster to cluster of vampires, shaking hands and listening attentively while they chatted.
Luc stepped beside me. "Not bad for a last-minute party."
"It was only a last-minute party because we've been focusing on the transition," I pointed out.
Ethan appeared at my side and gestured across the lawn to a broad-shouldered man who chatted with Kelley, who'd served as the captain of Cadogan's guards when Luc was promoted. I guess now she was a cocaptain, since Luc had essentially reassumed the position. Seriously, our leadership structure was a mess.
"Noah's just arrived," Ethan said. "Let's say hello."
I hadn't seen Noah since he'd offered me a spot in the Red Guard, a clandestine organization of vampires whose mission was to keep an eye on the Greenwich Presidium and the Houses' Masters to ensure vampires were treated fairly.
I'd accepted Noah's offer, and Jonah, the captain of the Grey House guards, had been appointed as my partner.
Ethan didn't know about the RG or Jonah, or that Noah was affiliated with the organization. Seeing Noah again made my stomach clutch with nerves. I wasn't much of a poker player, but I was going to have to bluff my way to nonchalance on this one.
I followed Ethan across wet grass and toward Noah. He stood in a clutch of black-clad vampires who looked like the type of Rogues I was familiar with. Noah looked up as we moved closer, giving both of us slight nods of recognition.
"Ethan, Merit," Noah said, then looked at his crew. "I'll find you later," he told them, and they disappeared into the crowd.
"Everything okay?" I wondered.
"Personal matters," he said without elaborating, then smiled. "You two look happy and healthy. I was glad to hear you successfully managed Mallory and the Tate twins."
Seth Tate, the former mayor of Chicago, was also an angel who'd been magically linked to his demonic twin brother, Dominic. He'd slain Dominic and left Chicago to seek redemption for the crimes they'd committed while sharing a psyche. We hadn't heard from Seth since.
"So were we," Ethan said, "although it was touch-and-go for a while."
"Well, you put an end to the crisis, and that means something." He took in the sweeping height of Cadogan House, our home in Hyde Park. The mansion was three stories tall, made of pale stone and iron ornamentation. It was built around Chicago's Gilded Age, when cattle and manufacturing made the wealthiest citizens flush and they built stately homes to prove it. Some of those homes were gone, and some had been split into apartments. A few still existed as single-family homes . . . but only one was home to a pride of vampires.
"Are you ready to say good-bye to the GP?" Noah asked, dropping his gaze to us again.
"Only time will tell what it's like on the other side," Ethan said. "Although given the venom the GP's been spewing in our direction lately, I don't anticipate a significant change. If they're going to hate us, they might as well do it without our tithe. You and yours have managed well enough."
"With care and technique," Noah said. "We keep our ears to the ground and our bodies out of the GP's line of sight."
"Is it that bad?" I wondered aloud. Ethan had told me the GP took an all-or-nothing approach to its membership - the vampires within its purview were members, or they were enemies. But I'd never seen the GP take aim against a Rogue vampire. They seemed more interested in harassing the Houses and punishing those within the system who didn't adhere to their standards of behavior.
"Most of our drama lately has been internal," Noah said. "Issues among Rogues, not Housed vampires. But there was a time when the GP kept the lines between the Houses and the Rogues clearly marked and enforced those lines at sword point."
"So many things in the world to worry about," I mused, "and they decide to create animosity for no particular reason."
"Oh, there's a reason," Ethan said. "If they convince the Houses that those outside the Houses are bad, the GP is good by default. They offer constructive criticism and protection from all that's bad."
"So the GP is a protection racket," I said.
"A year ago," Ethan said, "I'd have said that proposition is ridiculous. Now I fear it's not far off the mark. But they aren't here, and we haven't been Decertified yet. So for now, let us eat, drink, and be merry."
"For tomorrow we . . . ?" Noah asked.
Ethan smiled slyly. "We'll see." He glanced across the crowd at someone I couldn't see, and nodded before looking back at us. "If you'll excuse me, I'm being paged from afar. Be nice to our new allies, Sentinel."
"Har, har," I muttered, enjoying the view as he walked away.
"You seem smitten," Noah said.
My cheeks warmed. "I am, as it turns out. Although God knows how that happened."
"He's not the type I would have imagined you with."
"Me, either, and not just because he's fanged." I'd initially planned to avoid dating vampires; that plan hadn't succeeded. "But whatever the reason, we work. We complement each other. I can't explain it, as much as I like to try."
"Connections like that are a rare and fortunate thing," Noah said, with enough bleakness in his voice that I thought he had experience with that rarity.
"Jonah indicates your relationship with Ethan won't affect your RG involvement?" He asked the question casually, although it seemed unlikely he'd have asked at all if he'd actually believed Jonah's answer.
Margot walked toward us with a tray of delicate crystal glasses shimmering with golden champagne.
"Drink?" she asked.
Nodding, I pulled one from the tray and took a hearty sip. Noah did the same.
"I made a commitment," I promised when she was out of earshot again. "And I intend to keep it."
"See that you do," Noah said. His tone was just mild enough that I wasn't sure whether he was confirming my allegiance - or questioning it.
* * *
When dinner was served, I joined Lindsey at a table beneath the tent.
She was blond and fit, and incredibly bright. She also had a great sense of fashion, a piercing sense of humor, and a strong streak of loyalty, which had nearly tanked her burgeoning relationship with Luc. She'd been afraid a relationship would ruin their friendship, but they seemed to be doing okay.
Across from us at the table were two Rogue vampires.
Alan, who wore a button-down plaid shirt, looked as happily average as they came. He explained that he worked in insurance; I didn't entirely understand his job, but it seemed to involve a lot of math and, fortunately, allowed him to work at night.
Beth, who dressed with Gothic flare, was a tattoo artist with a shop in Wrigleyville and a part-time burlesque dancer. She had dark, wavy hair and a curvy figure with a nipped-in waist, and she snorted a little bit when she laughed, which she did a lot.
Alan and Beth had recently met on an Internet dating site for Chicago vamps, and my mixer was their very first outing together. I took an obscene amount of pride in that, even though their finding each other had nothing to do with me.
Alan put down the bottle of root beer he'd been drinking. "You know, the GP may call you Rogues, but there's still a big difference between you and us."
"How do you mean?" Lindsey asked.
"You're Housed," Alan said. "Even if you aren't in the GP, you're still part of a unit. You've agreed to live and work together, to hang out together. It's basically a vampire fraternity, right?"
I actually hadn't agreed to live and work in Cadogan House - I'd been attacked by a Rogue vampire and left for dead. Ethan had made me a vampire to save my life. Membership in Cadogan House had been the side benefit. Or cost, depending on your perspective.
"Alan," Beth scolded, but he shrugged off the concern.
"I'm not trying to be rude," he said. "I'm just being honest. That's the perception of a lot of Rogues - that you think you're in a club and that makes you better than everyone else."
That thought hadn't even occurred to me, and I doubted it had occurred to Lindsey, either. We weren't the elitist type. If anything, Cadogan was the least elitist House in Chicago. Navarre, in my humble opinion, was snootier, and the vampires of Grey House, which was all about athletics, had a built-in tendency to hang together.
On the other hand, he was right that we were part of a club. There were three hundred vampires associated with Cadogan House. Nearly one hundred of us lived together in Cadogan House in our dormlike rooms, ate together, worked out together, and sometimes worked together. We had positions and titles, rulebooks, and T-shirts and medals that proclaimed our membership to the world.
"We kind of are a fraternity," I said. "That makes us loyal to each other, and willing to work for the House's good. But I don't know anyone in the House who thinks we're better than anyone."
"Well, I think you seem cool," Beth said.
"She is cool," Lindsey said. "For a nerd."
Beth and Alan also seemed cool, and they certainly didn't seem miserable just because they lived outside the Houses.
Beth smiled. "And it's not that we think anything's wrong with living in a House. We just don't do it."
The clink of metal against glass brought our attention to Ethan, who stood nearby, a champagne flute in one hand and a fork in the other.
"If I could have your attention," he said, placing the fork on a nearby table while the crowd quieted. "I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome the unaffiliated vampires of this city to Cadogan House. I hope you've felt our door was open to you, and I certainly hope that you'll feel that way after our status changes. It is true that we're a House. But we are now, have always been, and will continue to be a collective of vampires. We have chosen to come together just as you have chosen to stand as proud individual vampires, and we respect your decisions to do so. We are searching for a new way to live and thrive as vampires." He smiled rakishly. "We may come to you for advice."
There were a few appreciative chuckles in the crowd, and a few suspicious grunts. It was becoming clear that the city's Rogues weren't just going to welcome us with open arms; we'd have to prove our worth to them just as we had to the GP. Maybe, unlike the GP, the Rogues would actually listen.
Ethan looked down at the ground for a moment, his forehead wrinkling in the center. That was a sign he was worried, and when he looked up across the crowd again, the concern in his eyes was clear.
"These are strange times," he said. "We have been tested, as this city has been tested. Recent events have been difficult for vampires and Chicago, and they may become more so. Other supernaturals' announcements of their existence, while taking some of the spotlight off vampires, have made humans increasingly nervous about our presence. Tate's antics did nothing to improve the humans' esteem; nor has the new mayor offered any help."
There was no disagreement with that point. Diane Kowalcyzk, Chicago's new mayor, wasn't bright, and she seemed to be overtly prejudiced against supernaturals. She'd even made friends with McKetrick, first name unknown, a former military type with a raging hatred of vampires.
"At the risk of speaking ill of our soon-to-be former leaders, it probably won't surprise you to learn that the Greenwich Presidium has turned a blind eye to those developments, and has refused to accept the changing world. We don't think that's fair, and we think it's time for a change. This week we take our stand. We cannot predict the future," Ethan said. "We do our best, and we hope - with love and luck and friendship - that we survive these turbulent times."
He held up his champagne glass. "May the winds blow fair through your journeys, wherever they may lead. Cheers."
"Cheers," responded the crowd, and everyone took a sip.
Without missing a beat, Ethan walked to Noah's table and shook his hand. The chatter returned to normal levels, vampires digging back into their proteins while two of the most important vampires in the city made nice in front of their minions.
I had to give it to Ethan: He was right that times were precarious, but he'd managed to convince a chunk of the city's unaffiliated Rogues to venture into our domain, break bread with us, and toast our collective futures. Fanged or not, the man had a way with words.
Fortunately for me, his skills weren't limited to his vocabulary.
As if sensing the somewhat lurid direction of my thoughts, Ethan turned toward me and smiled, my toes curling just from the heat of a look.
His conversation with Noah done, he walked toward me, every female eye - and some of the men's eyes, too - on him as he moved, the embodiment of masculinity. A vampire in his prime.
He stopped behind my chair and held out a hand. The entire table went silent.
"Dance with me," he said.
My cheeks warmed. "There's no music."
Before he had time to respond, the quartet in the corner - a group of Cadogan and Rogue vampires with musical talents - began to play a jazzy tune.
I gave him a sardonic look. "Did you just telepathically direct them to start playing that?"
"What's the point of being telepathic if you can't use the connection for a wee bit of wickedness, Sentinel?"
I heard the yearning sigh of a female vampire to my right, and caught the dreamy-eyed gaze of a male vampire to my left. Ethan was an equal-opportunity crush.
He wiggled his fingers. "Merit?"
With the audience's eyes on me, it would have been difficult to say no to Ethan even if I hadn't had feelings for him. That I did made it virtually impossible.
"Of course," I said, putting my hand in his and letting him lead me to the makeshift dance floor.
Oh, my God, could he move.
Ethan whipped a hand around my waist like he'd trained with the cast of a televised dance competition. With moves that were a mix of swing and tango, he led me around the floor like a dance master, all the while keeping those ridiculously green eyes focused on me. Fortunately, I'd been a ballerina in my former (human) life, so I managed to keep up with him. I even tried to put on a good show - or at least as good a show as pants and a fitted leather jacket would allow - to the surprise of Rogue and Cadogan vampires.
The song ended, and Ethan dropped me into a dip, his smile mischievous and his eyes twinkling. The rest of the world came rushing back in a roar of sound as the vampires on the margins of the dance floor burst into applause.
Ethan brought me back to my feet, my ponytail bobbing over a shoulder. "And that, Sentinel, is how you impress a crowd."
My cheeks warmed as I waved a little at said crowd, acknowledging their applause.
But when I caught sight of Noah surrounded by the same black-clad vampires he'd been speaking to earlier, I realized my fun would be short-lived. There was no mistaking the distress in Noah's expression, or the fact that his companions kept sneaking anxious looks in our direction.
Delicately, I put a hand on Ethan's arm and leaned toward him, my lips just brushing his ear. It was a move the crowd would mistake for a show of affection, which was a perfect bit of sleight of hand.
"Something's up," I whispered. "Noah's surrounded by Rogues, and they look worried. They're at your eight o'clock."
In the guise of pressing a light kiss to my cheek, Ethan glanced over his shoulder. "So I see," he said, turning back to me again. "Can you get the gist of it?"
As predators, vampires had uniquely strong senses - hearing, sight, smell. But there were too many vampires in the crowd, and too much magical energy, for me to tell what trouble was brewing.
"I cannot," I said. "Perhaps an invitation to your office?"
"That seems wise," he agreed. He took my hand and, with smiles and waves to the crowd, stepped out of the spotlight.
"Keep the guests busy," he whispered to Luc, who nodded obediently and stepped into the middle of the dance floor.
"It's a party!" Luc said, clapping his hands together as a jaunty David Bowie tune filled the air. "Let's all dance."
With Luc's encouragement, vampires spilled onto the dance floor.
We slipped through the tent to reach Noah and the worried Rogues. Fear marked their expressions, and they radiated tense magic that made my skin feel tight from the contact.
"Is everything all right?" Ethan asked.
Noah glanced among his Rogues, meeting the gaze of a female vampire with cropped hair and small silver spikes above both eyebrows. Her look was edgy, but her tearstained eyes belied her appearance. She nodded at Noah, giving him approval for something. Rogue democracy at work.
Noah paused, as if weighing a decision. "Perhaps we could speak privately?" he asked. "We have a concern, and we'd appreciate your thoughts."
"Of course," Ethan said, gesturing toward the door. "Let's go to my office. We can speak there." He glanced across the group of Noah's friends. "You're all welcome to join us."
But they edged away like feral kittens nervous about being led indoors.
"I'll be back," Noah said to the rest of the Rogues, then supportively squeezed the hand of the spiked girl. Both of them followed us into the House.
* * *
We walked silently down the hallway, and Ethan closed the office door when we were all inside. Noah immediately headed toward the conversation area and took a seat in one of the leather club chairs there; the female vampire followed him. I took a seat on the opposite couch, and Ethan did the same.
"What's on your mind?" Ethan asked when all were settled.
"Two of my vampires have disappeared, and we're afraid they might be in trouble."
Ethan's eyes widened. "I'm sorry to hear that. Start at the beginning, if you would."
Noah nodded. "Last night we had a gathering - a meeting - that we hold monthly for Rogues in the city. Nothing formal, nothing official, just a chance for us to get together and chat. Some Rogues aren't interested in attending; some are. On average, we get thirty to forty vampires. Most of them are regulars, including a couple of kids named Oliver and Eve. They came up from Kansas City when the GP consolidated the Rogues down there into Murphy House. Living in a House wasn't their bag, so they moved up here. But they didn't show up at the meeting."
"Is that so unusual?" Ethan asked.
"Unusual enough," Noah said. "I can't recall a meeting they've missed since they came to Chicago."
"They broke pattern," Ethan said, and Noah nodded.
"Precisely. And that's gotten a few of our Rogues worried."
"Understandable," Ethan said.
"I'm going to be honest with you - I'm not convinced there's anything to this. Oliver and Eve are generally quiet kids, and I don't tend to ask a lot of personal questions. It's not impossible they had business to take care of that they simply didn't want to tell us about. Kansas City vampires tend to be reserved like that."
"If they didn't attend the meeting, when were they last seen?" Ethan asked.
Noah's expression darkened. "A place we all have to go sooner or later."
That cryptic response sent my imagination on a tear. To what places did vampires have to go? Fang orthodontists? Plasma centers? Vampiric couturieres?
"A vampire registration center?" Ethan flatly guessed.
Chicago's politicos had decided, in a fit of ethnocentrism, that forcing vampires to register with the city would somehow make Chicago safer. The conclusion might have been correct, but for the wrong reason. Registration scared and angered vampires, precisely the emotions humans wanted to avoid. There were a handful of registration offices across town, their existence funded by the fees vampires paid to register.
Noah nodded. "Exactly. Two nights ago, Eve took a picture on her phone when she and Oliver were in the registration line. She sent the pic to a few of her friends, including Rose." He gestured at the vampire beside him.
"Given what you've told us about them so far, and their reason for moving to Chicago, I'm surprised they decided to register at all," Ethan said.
Noah nodded. "So was I. Most of us haven't registered. Many Rogues feel that if registration of vampires is the first step, internment is the second. They don't even align themselves with Houses of their own kind; they certainly aren't going to set themselves up for de facto incarceration by humans."
I could understand his concerns, even if I couldn't evade them. My father was a real estate mogul, and my picture had been in the paper. I was too well known to avoid registration even if I'd wanted to, which was why my laminated registration card was safe and snug in my wallet, even as much as it offended me.
"If they were last seen two nights ago," Ethan said, "what's made you nervous tonight?"
"Rose got a call from Oliver's phone earlier this evening. She didn't actually talk to Oliver; no one was speaking on the other end. But she thinks she heard something in the background."
I glanced at her. "What did you hear?"
Her voice was soft. "I don't know. I thought he'd called me accidentally - like a misdial. Nobody was speaking, but I thought I heard something loud, and then voices, but they were muffled. I'm not really sure. . . ."
She glanced at Noah, and seemed hesitant about offering more, so I gently nudged.
"Anything else?" I asked.
"I thought I heard . . . maybe a scuffle? Or a fight? Like furniture moving or people falling down? That kind of fleshy sound?"
Ethan nodded, then returned his gaze to Noah. "Have you advised the police Oliver and Eve may be missing?"
Noah shook his head. "I haven't, and I don't plan to. We aren't fans of the city's police establishment. Their history with vampires leaves something to be desired."
Noah linked his hands together, elbows on his knees, and leaned forward. "Look, maybe this is something; maybe it's not. Oliver and Eve have left a vampire community before. This could be the same situation. And we aren't crazy about involving others. Bringing you into this is . . . challenging for us. But it's unusual enough that we think it's worth checking into. I apologize for the timing; we certainly hadn't planned to bring trouble to your door tonight."
Ethan shook his head, dismissing the worry. "You're troubled, and we're colleagues. We're happy to listen."
Nicely subtle bit of politicking there, I thought.
Noah nodded. "At the risk of ungraciously putting you on the spot, perhaps you could make some inquiries? You have certain connections. Your grandfather, for one," he said to me. "Chuck Merit's a good man. I'd appreciate any help he could offer."
I nodded in agreement. My grandfather was unquestionably a good man. One of the best, in my opinion. He'd been the city's supernatural Ombudsman, at least until Mayor Kowalcyzk did away with the position. But my grandfather wasn't dissuaded from his mission; he set up shop in his own house.
They both went quiet for a moment. Ethan, I suspected, was considering whether we had the resources to take on someone else's problem, especially when it wasn't entirely clear there was a problem at all.
"I know you have a lot on your plate right now," Noah added. "But you're the House that listens."
Ethan looked at me. Are you willing to discuss this with your grandfather? he silently asked. As Noah notes, I do have a bit on my plate.
Of course, I said. And besides - if we don't help, who will? The new mayor wouldn't much care, and the other Houses avoided politics and controversy at all cost.
There was a flash of pride in Ethan's eyes. He was glad that I hadn't shrunk back from the problem, that I was willing to face it head-on. I was glad of the same from him - that he wasn't letting appearances and political considerations sway him from a course we needed to chart. Of course, now that we were leaving the GP, those considerations were even more flexible.
"We're on board," Ethan said. "Perhaps we could review the photograph Eve took outside the registration center?"
"I'll do you one better," Noah said. "I'll escort you to the spot."
* * *
Ethan advised Malik and Luc of our plans and ensured the party was well tended. Rose went back to her group of Rogue friends, and we met Noah in the House's foyer. We were all dressed severely in black, and we looked displaced among the House's holiday decorations.
"Do you need a ride?" Ethan said, but Noah shook his head.
"I have things to take care of when we're done. I'll meet you there?"
Ethan nodded; Noah had already given us the address of the registration center, a spot in Chicago's Little Italy neighborhood near the University of Illinois at Chicago. "We'll be right behind you."
Ethan, being a senior House staff member, had a coveted parking spot in the House's basement. He wouldn't have to dig his car out of a Chicago snowstorm, have someone hold a spot on the street as he neared the House, or attempt to parallel-park between gigantic cars and a mountain of snow that cemented into a secondary curb.
We took the main staircase to the basement, and he keyed his way into the garage. I stopped short in the doorway.
In Ethan's parking spot, which an Aston Martin had temporarily filled, sat a shiny two-door coupe with a deep red finish and grinning grille.
"What is that?" I asked.
Ethan beeped the security system and walked to the driver's side. "This, Merit, is a Bentley Continental GT."
"It looks brand-new."
"It is."
I glanced around the parking area; his Aston Martin was nowhere to be found. "Did something happen to the Aston Martin?"
"No," he said, frowning. He opened the door. "The Aston just didn't do it for me."
Ethan had lost his former car, a sleek Mercedes convertible, in an unfortunate run-in with the Tate twins before their separation. Tate had thrown the car off the road - with us inside - and the Mercedes hadn't survived the fall.
I understood well the bond between car and driver. I was still driving the boxy orange Volvo I'd had for years. It wasn't much, but it was paid for, and it got me where I needed to go.
Still. He'd had an Aston Martin. A brand-new, right-off-the-lot Aston Martin delivered to him by a very pleased salesman.
"All due respect, a brand-new Aston Martin 'didn't do it' for you? That's James Bond's car."
"I'm no James Bond," he cannily said. "I loved the Mercedes. It fit me perfectly. The Aston just . . . didn't."
"So you traded up?" I asked, walking toward the car and opening the door. "Do you treat your relationships in the same way?"
"Yes," Ethan gravely said. "And I spent four hundred years shopping before I met you."
It was comments like that that kept me around, even when Ethan was being otherwise insufferable. He popped them into conversation just often enough to make my heart melt.
"Then by all means," I said, "let's see what she can do."