Some Girls Bite

CHAPTER THREE

YOU GOTTA FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT.
"Merit?"
Pulled from my fantasy by the sudden flood of adrenaline, I clenched my hands into fists. I'd heard about the fight-or-flight instinct - the animalistic drive to dig in and fight for survival or to run away, seek shelter or cover. Before tonight, it had always been an abstract construct. Biological trivia. But I felt it after the attack on our house, and as I faced Ethan Sullivan for the first time, I felt it intimately. Some previously absent part of my psyche awoke and began to evaluate surroundings, to debate whether to set heel to the ground and get as far away from him as possible, or face him, stand against him, and even if the effort was doomed, to see what I was made of.
This was one of those moments, I thought, one of those make-or-break moments that set the direction of your life, that remind you about courage and free will.
I felt a nudge at my ribs, and heard a fierce whisper. "Merit!" I looked beside me, where Mallory stood, eying me curiously. "Are you okay? Ethan was just saying hello. Did you have something you wanted to say to him, maybe regarding an eath-day eat-thray?"
I slid my gaze back to Ethan, who watched me cautiously, then let my focus shift to the vampires, who stood at attention in the room. They'd stopped tapping the keys of their PDAs and were outright staring. Without looking at him, I asked, "Can we speak privately?"
He paused, apparently surprised, and then said in a voice smooth enough to send a second chill down my spine, "Of course."
His hand at my elbow, Ethan escorted me through the crowd of gaping vampires, back into the hallway, and then into the room next door. It was an office, masculine and well- appointed. His office. To the right was a sizable oak desk; to the left was a seating area of brown leather furniture. At the end of the room was a long, oval-shaped conference table, which stood just before a bank of windows covered by navy blue velvet curtains. Both side walls were lined with built-in shelves covered in books, trophies, photographs, and memorabilia.
Mallory followed us in, and Ethan closed the door. He waved his hand in invitation at two chairs that sat in front of his desk, but Mallory moved to the shelves at the far end of the room and, hands crossed behind her back, began to peruse the mementos. She gave us privacy without leaving me alone with him. Appreciating the gesture, I remained standing.
Ethan crossed his arms and gazed at me expectantly. "Well? To what do I owe the pleasure, Merit?"
I stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to remember why I thought visiting the Hyde Park office of a Master vampire was a good idea, when my mouth, which apparently wasn't privy to the internal debate, suddenly blurted out, "I didn't give you permission to change me."
Ethan stared at me for a moment before turning his head. He walked away, moving with self-assurance to the leather chair behind his desk. For all the tailored clothes and impeccable looks, his power was obvious. He fairly hummed with it, and while his movements were crisp and elegant, they hinted at something darker, something menacing beneath the surface - a shark arcing below deceptively smooth water.
He shuffled papers on his desk, then crossed his legs and looked up at me with those obscenely emerald eyes. "Frankly, that's not what I expected to hear. I was hoping for something along the lines of 'Thank you, my Liege, for saving my life. I do so enjoy being alive.' "
"If saving me had really been your goal, you could have taken me to a hospital. A doctor could have saved me. You unilaterally decided to make me something else."
He furrowed his brow. "Do you think the vampire who bit you first intended to let you live?"
"I didn't have a chance to ask him."
"Don't be naive."
I'd seen the press conference about Jennifer Porter's death, knew about the similarities between our attacks. So, unable to argue that point, I made another. "My life will never be the same."
"Yes, Merit," he said, frustration in his voice, "your human life will never be the same. It was, regrettably, taken from you. But we've given you another."
"It should have been my decision."
"I was a little short on time, Merit. And given that you are fully aware of the choice I had to make, this petulant attitude is beneath you."
I didn't disagree, but who was he to tell me that? My throat constricted with emotion. "Excuse me for not having adjusted to the fact that my life has been turned upside down. Excuse me for not reacting to that with grace."
"Or gratefulness," he muttered, and I wondered if he knew he'd been loud enough for me to hear him. "I gave you a life. And I made you like me. Like the rest of your brothers and sisters. Are we such monsters?"
I wish I could have said yes. I wanted to say yes, to feign horror.
But a tear ran down my cheek, propelled by some combination of rage and guilt that I wasn't as repelled by Ethan Sullivan as I'd planned to be. I wiped away the tear with the back of my hand.
Ethan looked at me for a long time, and I could read the disappointment in his eyes. It bothered me, that disappointment, more than I cared to admit.
He steepled his fingers together on the desk, leaned forward. "Then perhaps I made a mistake. Cadogan House was allowed twelve new vampires this year, Merit. That makes you one-twelfth of my allotment. Do you think you were worth it? Do you think you can contribute to Cadogan in sufficient measure to repay that investment? Was my bringing you into the House a better decision than saving someone else to whom I might have given a new life?"
I stared at him, the value of the gift he'd given me, however much I hadn't wanted to become one of them, sinking in. I slid into the chair before me.
Ethan nodded. "I thought that might do it. Now, your objections to having been changed have been duly noted. So for the moment, what say we move on? I don't want that between us, even if you have decided I'm your mortal enemy." He lifted brows in challenge. I didn't bother to deny it.
I paused, then asked, "Duly noted?"
Ethan smiled knowingly. "Noted and recited in front of a witness." His gaze flicked to the corner of the room, and he gazed at Mallory with curiosity. "I haven't met your companion."
"Mallory Carmichael, my roommate."
Mallory glanced up from the thick book she was perusing. "Yo."
"And your backup, I presume," he said, rising and walking to a bar tucked into the bank of bookshelves on the left side of the room. He poured amber-colored liquor into a chubby glass and watched me over the rim as he sipped its contents. "I've met your father."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
He cradled the glass in his hands. "You aren't close to your family?"
"My father and I don't get along. We have different priorities. He's solely focused on building his financial kingdom."
"While Merit's not," Mallory offered from her corner. "She's perfectly happy dreaming about Lancelot and Tristan."
"Lancelot and Tristan?" he asked.
Embarrassed at the love-struck teen implication, I stammered out, "I am - was - working on my dissertation. Before."
Ethan finished his drink and put the glass on the bar, then leaned back against it, arms crossed. "I see."
"Honestly, I doubt that you do. But if you hoped changing me would help you access Merit money, you're out of luck. I don't have it - either the money or the access."
Ethan looked momentarily startled, and didn't meet my gaze when he pushed off the bar and moved back to the desk. When he was seated again, he frowned at me - not in anger, I thought, but in puzzlement. "What if I said that I could give you things? Would that ease the transition?"
Across the room, Mallory groaned.
"I'm not my parents."
I was the recipient of another long stare, but this one held a glimmer of respect. "I'm beginning to see that."
Finally finding my footing - he may have been a vampire, but he was subject to human prejudices just like everyone else - I relaxed back into the chair, crossing my legs and arms, and arching a brow at him.
"Is that what you thought? That I'd see the Armani and the Hyde Park address, and I'd be so excited I'd forget that I hadn't consented?"
"Perhaps we've both misjudged the situation," he allowed. "But if there's such animus in your family, why do you go by 'Merit'?"
I glanced over at Mallory, who was picking a bit of lint from one of the heavy velvet curtains that lined the windows. She was one of only a handful of friends who knew the entire story, and I wasn't about to add Ethan Sullivan to that group.
"It's better than the other option," I told him.
Ethan seemed to consider that before averting his gaze to a pile of papers on his desk. He shuffled them. "And you aren't undead. You aren't undead, or the walking dead, and Buffy isn't a reliable anatomical resource. You didn't die that night. Your blood was taken and replaced. Your heart never stopped beating. You're better now, genetically, than you were before. A predator. The top of the food chain. I've made you an immortal, assuming you manage to keep out of trouble. If you follow the rules, you can have a long, productive life as a Cadogan vampire. Speaking of, did Helen give you everything you need? You received a copy of the Canon?"
I nodded.
"Have you had blood yet?"
"Bagged blood was delivered to the house, but I haven't had any. To be honest, it didn't look that appetizing."
"You got plenty during the transition, so the thirst hasn't hit you yet. Give it another day. You'll want it badly enough when First Hunger strikes." Ethan's lips tipped up, and he smiled. It was a little disarming - that smile. He looked younger, happier, more human. "Did you say bagged blood?"
"That's what was delivered. Why is that funny?"
"Because you're a vampire of the Cadogan line. You can drink directly from humans or other vampires. Just don't kill anyone."
I put a hand across my stomach, as if the touch could still the greasy wave that suddenly rolled through it. "I'm not going to bite someone. I don't want to drink at all, bagged or otherwise, people or not. You can't just go around and" - I waved a hand in the air - "chew on people."
Ethan clucked his tongue. "And to think - we were so close to having a normal conversation. Merit, you're an adult. I suggest you learn to accept your circumstances, and quickly. Like it or not, your life has changed. You need to come to terms with exactly who you are."
"I know who I am," I assured him.
A golden eyebrow winged upward. "You know who you were. I know who you are, Merit, and who you'll come to be."
"And what is that?"
His face was completely, serenely confident. "Mine. My vampire. My subject."
The possessiveness called my anger, and it rose, flowered and rushed across my body with a warmth that curled my toes. That warmth was delicious, and yet the emotion felt strange - separate, somehow. As if it wasn't my anger, but an anger inside me. Whatever the source, it was pervasive, strong, and thrilling.
I stood up and asked him, my voice huskier, lusher, "Would you like to test that theory?"
Ethan's gaze dropped to my lips, and he wet his own, but when he responded, seconds later, his tone was chill. Composed. The tone of Master-subduing-rebellious-peon. "You forget yourself, Initiate. You're two days old. I've three hundred and ninety-four years. Do you really want to test your mettle against me?"
I wasn't completely stupid. I knew my answer to that question should have been a resounding no. But that didn't stop my body, which I was beginning to learn was operating on a completely different frequency from the rest of my brain, from responding with all the bravado it could muster, "Why not?"
A heavy silence descended, the only sound penetrating it the solid thud of my heart. Ethan pushed back his chair. "Come with me."
"What did you just do?"
Mallory and I followed Ethan back through the first floor of Cadogan House.
"I don't know," I whispered back. "Vampire Merit's a lot braver than People Merit."
"Yeah, well, you better figure out a way to reconcile the genetics, 'cause Vampire Merit just landed you in some serious shit."
We took a right, descended a flight of stairs, and followed Ethan through another hallway to a set of antique wooden doors. The room we entered was huge and bright, the center of its wooden floor covered with a set of tatami mats. Half the height of the twenty-foot-high walls was covered in gleaming wood; the remainder, up to an overhanging balcony supported by massive wooden columns, showcased an impressive collection of antique weaponry, including swords, maces, bows, axes, and wicked-looking knives.
This was a room for sparring.
It took a moment for the implication to settle in.
"You're kidding, right?" I asked, turning to him. "You can't actually think I'm going to fight you?"
Ethan regarded me coolly and began unbuttoning his shirt. Question answered, I thought, and averted my eyes after the first peek of toned chest.
I walked into the middle of the floor, thinking I'd feel better if I had a better grasp on my surroundings. Ethan's arsenal was impressive - a set of crossed pikes, blue ribbons hung from their ends; a hefty broadsword; a black wooden shield bearing a golden oak tree, the acorns painted red; rows of unsheathed katanas.
"Experience?" Ethan called out behind me.
"Ballet and jogging. And whatever extra strength two days of being fanged will give me." I made the mistake of turning around just as he was pulling the button-up shirt over his head. My mouth went dry. His shoulders were broad and perfectly sculpted, as was the rest of his torso. His chest was firm, his stomach flat and lean, dotted only by the pucker of navel and a thin line of dark blond hair that disappeared into the waist of his trousers. Around his neck was a thin gold chain, on which hung a tiny oval of gold with a design stamped into it. It looked like a saint's medal, although I doubt any saints would have approved of a Master vampire wearing it.
Ethan caught me staring and lifted a brow, and I looked quickly away. Mallory yelled my name, waving me frantically toward where she stood at the edge of the mats. When I reached her, she shook her head at me.
"You cannot seriously think you're going to fight this guy. He could kick your ass with one arm tied behind his back, much less with all his voluminous vampire powers. He's probably stronger than you, faster than you. He can probably jump higher. Hell, he can probably glamour you into making out with him right there on the mats."
We simultaneously looked over to where Ethan, half naked, was toeing off black leather loafers. The muscles in his abdomen clenched as he moved. So did the lines of corded muscle across his shoulders.
God, but he was beautiful.
I narrowed my gaze.
Beautiful but evil. Wicked. The repugnant dregs of foul malevolence. Or something.
"Jesus," Mallory whispered. "I want to support your quest for revenge and all, but maybe you should just let him glamour you." She looked at me, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. "Either you're fucked, or you're fucked, right?'
I rolled my eyes at her. "You're not helping."
The shuffle of footsteps rang through the room. We looked up. Vampires were filling the balcony, all dressed in black, all throwing hateful looks at me and Mallory. As I took in their obvious disdain, the weight of the risk I'd taken settled into my bones. According to the aptly named Canon, vampire society was based on antiquated notions of feudalism, including unfailing loyalty to a House and its Master. I'd walked into my House - into Ethan's House - spouted off, and challenged him to a fight. Twenty-seven years of trying to live under my parents' radar, of never causing enough trouble to raise their notice, and I'd made two very big mistakes in a matter of days. Walking across campus had nearly killed me. Challenging Ethan . . . Well, we'd find out soon enough.
"Probably this wasn't the best decision I've ever made," I admitted.
"No," Mallory agreed, but when I looked at her, her eyes shone bright with appreciation. "But it's ballsy. And you've needed to make a ballsy decision."
"Just a minute ago you said - "
"Forget it. I know what I said," she interrupted. "I've changed my mind. Geniuses are entitled. This is the right thing to do. This is the new Merit." She hugged me quickly, then stepped back. "Kick his ass, dead girl."
Ethan joined us, and made a gallant bow. When he straightened again, he clucked me beneath the chin. "Don't lose that courage now, Initiate."
"It wasn't my courage - the vampire challenged you."
"You are the vampire, Merit, now and forever. But sometimes the mind needs a chance to catch up with the genetics," he allowed.
I cast a worried glance to the balcony. "I hope that happens soon."
He chuckled. "I'm not going to hurt you, and despite the fact that you've broken virtually every rule in the Canon, I'll make you a deal."
I faced him again, forced myself to meet his green eyes, despite the trembling of my hands. "What?"
"If you manage to land a blow, I'll relieve you of your obligations to me."
It was the opposite of what I'd have predicted - which was something of the "If you survive this, I'll let you heal before punishing you for challenging me" variety. By those standards, it was a good deal, if improbable-sounding. I searched his face, not sure if he was serious. "How do I know you'll keep your word?"
Ethan lifted his gaze to the balcony of vampires above us. "They know."
When our gazes met again, I nodded. I handed the crumpled death threat, which I'd been too busy being stupid to bring up, to Mallory, tugged at the bottom of my T-shirt, and followed Ethan into the middle of the room. He turned and bowed slightly. "One hit. That's all you need to do."
With no further ado, he kicked, an elegant roundhouse that would have brought his bare foot across my face had I not fallen back. I hit the mat on my back, my breath rushing out with the impact.
As I lay there, the gallery tittering above me, I wasn't sure which scared me more: the fact that he'd nearly kicked me in the face, or the fact that I'd been fast enough to avoid it.
I had changed.
"Nice reflexes."
I looked up to find Ethan a few feet away, peering down at me curiously. He wasn't the only one with questions. I wondered how much more I could do, so I pushed my palms flat behind me, brought up my legs, rolled back, and popped onto my feet in a quick bounce.
"Very nice."
I shrugged off the compliment, but I was thrilled by the motion. I hadn't danced classically in years, but I'd always relished the few seconds of being airborne in a grand jete - the brief sensation of fighting gravity . . . and winning. This was similar, but infinitely more satisfying. My body felt even lighter, sprightlier than when I was in top dancing form. Maybe there were advantages to being a vampire.
I grinned back at Ethan. "Just taking her for a test spin." Then I circled, looking for a weakness. Ethan bounced on the balls of his feet and crooked his hand at me in invitation. "Then let's see what you can do."
Someone started music, and Nine Inch Nails' "The Hand That Feeds" spilled into the room.
"Apropos," he muttered, and crooked his hand again.
NIN was an interesting choice for a nearly four-hundred-year-old vampire. Whatever his issues, I couldn't fault his taste in music.
Back to the challenge at hand, I tried a punch. I swung forward, rotating my wrist as I tried to catch him in a jab, but he avoided it, followed the motion of my hand, and swung his leg into a low sweep that nearly brought my feet out from under me. But I jumped just in time and arched my back into a handspring, which put me a few feet away and out of his range.
Or so I thought, until he rushed forward so quickly, the motion was blurred. I flipped back again, then again, the motion nearly effortless, but he kept coming. When I popped up the last time, I instinctively crouched, which put the cross he'd directed at my jaw out of range. He struck air, and I reached out arms to grab his knees, but he flew over me, landing behind me with a gentle thud.
I pushed to my feet again, and turned to see him grinning wildly, his eyes blazing green. "I'm impressed. Let's do it again." Then his expression went solemn, and he bounced on the balls of his feet and crooked a hand again in invitation. Rolling my eyes at the Matrix replay, I tried a butterfly kick. I'd once seen a kick-boxing instructor try it, but as a human I hadn't had the power or stretch to execute it.
Being a vampire changed the rules. Now I had the strength to push myself into the air and swing my legs around, to spin my body horizontally.
Still, Ethan's reflexes were faster than mine, so I missed him again. He threw his torso back nearly 180 degrees, all the while keeping himself upright, and completely avoided my extended legs.
"So close," he offered breathily.
"Not close enough." But I grinned when I said it, thrilled that I'd managed the move. It pleased the crowd, too, and they hooted appreciatively. "Careful, Liege!" someone called out. "She might scar that pretty face."
Ethan laughed good-naturedly. "God forbid," he told the gallery. "Then I'd only have fabulous wealth and canny instincts to rely on." The vampires chuckled together, and he tipped his head up to smile at the crowd.
That was my chance, and I took it. Ethan was distracted, so I rushed him, but the sneaky bastard anticipated my move. He edged to the left just before I could take him down. I braced my arms to hit the ground as I flew past him, but before I made contact, he grabbed my arm, spun me around midair, and pushed me to the ground. I landed flat on my back with Ethan above me, his body stretched atop mine. He neatly captured my wrists in his hands and pushed them - despite my squirming - to the mat above my head.
The crowd erupted into catcalls and lewd suggestions.
"You baited me!" I accused.
His lips scant inches from my face, he smiled wolfishly. "And so easily." I squirmed, but he pushed me harder against the mat and slid a knee between mine. "Initiate, you can guess exactly where that's going to lead."
I growled in irritation.
At least, I told myself it was irritation, and not at all the fact he smelled delicious, a clean combination of linen, cotton, and soap. Not the fact that the weight of his body on mine felt completely natural - a languid heat suddenly flowing through my chest, like the union of our bodies had closed a circuit.
I tried to tune out the sensation and, embarrassed at the silvering of my eyes - I have to admit, I had a sudden, new sympathy for men faced with hiding their arousal - I squeezed them shut. Ethan let me calm, and when I finally opened my eyes, his face was blank.
"Do you agree that you failed to land a blow?"
I paused, but nodded. "Unless you're willing to give me a freebie?"
For a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to my lips. I wondered if he'd kiss me, if he thought about it, if he felt the pull like I did. But he looked away, then loosened my wrists and pushed himself up. He offered me a hand, which I took, and let him pull me to my feet . . . to the boos and general disappointment of the peanut gallery.
"Is this why you came?" he asked when we were both upright again. "To fight me?"
Mallory must have heard the question over the mumbling of the crowd, as she stepped forward, the note in her outstretched hand. "We came for this."
Ethan wiped his brow with the back of a hand, then took the note. He read it, his expression blanking. "Where did you get this?"
"It was wrapped around a brick that was thrown through our living room window," I said.
His gaze snapped up. "Were you hurt?" He scanned my body, looking for injuries.
"We're fine. There were three of us in the house, and we're all fine."
"Three?"
"Mallory's boyfriend was there."
"Ah."
I thumped the note with a finger. "What's this about? Is there a vampire war I don't know about? Did changing me piss someone off?"
He frowned as he perused the note again. "Perhaps your initial attacker is bitter about not having finished the job, or about my having finished it for him. We believed he, the one who bit you, was a Rogue - a vampire living outside the House system. The note would suggest that's true. It's also possible there's a connection between your attack and the attack that killed Jennifer Porter."
It wasn't the first time I'd considered that connection, but the idea was more unnerving coming from his lips. It gave legitimacy to the possibility that I was the intended victim of a vampireturned-serial killer. But it also raised other questions.
"You know, it's quite a coincidence that you were trolling across campus at the same time I was attacked by a vamp."
He lifted deeply green eyes to mine. "There was a considerable amount of luck involved."
We looked at each other for a moment.
"Ethan," I softly said, "you didn't kill Jennifer Porter, did you?"
His lashes fell, crescents of long, dark blond against golden skin. "No, I didn't kill her. Nor did anyone from my House."
I wasn't sure if I believed him, although I had no reason to doubt his honesty, not when he'd dealt with me, even I could admit, generously. I'd openly challenged the head of my House, and all I'd suffered for it was a little embarrassment before a cadre of vampires I didn't know. I opened my mouth to ask about the note, but before I got anything out, something set off the gallery. They began to yell down at us, the general consensus being that I deserved a beating.
"Liege!" one yelled. "You can't let her get away with challenging you!"
He raised his gaze to his vampires. "You're right. I'll send her to her room without dessert and take away her cell phone!"
The crowd snickered, but Ethan raised a hand again, and as if he was conducting the symphony of their voices, they quieted immediately. Whatever my issues with his authority, they were clearly much less reticent.
"Friends, she made a good-faith effort to best me. And since she hasn't yet taken the oaths, she hasn't" - he glanced at me - "technically breached the Canon. Besides, she rose a mere two days ago, and nearly managed to catch me. She will make an undeniably important addition to the House, and we all know how . . . delicate our alliances are."
There were fewer titters now, mixed with reluctant nods.
"More important, she came here in fear for her life." He held up the note. "She rose a mere two days ago, and she's been threatened."
The redhead who'd accompanied him in the parlor stepped to the edge of the balcony. "Are you sure she hasn't brought war to us, my Liege?"
If I had any question as to what she was to him, her cannily cocked hip and bedroom eyes were answer enough. Girlfriend. Lover. Consort, if we were sticking with feudal terms. I expected to see Ethan's emerald eyes on her lush curves, but when I turned back to him, his gaze was on me, his smile cocky, like he knew I'd been appraising his mistress.
I shrugged. "She seems nice enough, if you like the busty, voluptuous, gorgeous type."
"Much to my dismay" - and that rang clear in the irritably flat tone of his voice - "I find I have a sudden taste for stubborn, lithe brunettes with horrible fashion sense."
He might as well have been parroting lines from Pride and Prejudice, for all the disdain that rang through his voice, his obvious aversion at being attracted to a woman so declasse. Self-conscious again of my casual clothes - but cognizant of the fact that I looked good in them - I managed not to tug at my T-shirt or jeans. Instead, I slipped thumbs into my belt loops and tapped fingers against my flat hips. Ethan watched the movement intensely. When his eyes lifted again, I arched an eyebrow. "Not even in your dreams, Sullivan."
He only grunted in response.
I smirked.
The door to the sparring room opened, and Malik entered with a tall man. This one wore his slacks and dress shirt with discomfort, and from the strong set of his jaw, broad shoulders, and tousled sun-kissed hair, I guessed he'd be more comfortable in jeans and cowboy boots. I let my gaze drop, checked his shoes. Sure enough, they were black alligator with silver-tipped toes. Called that one.
It also occurred to me that I hadn't yet seen an unattractive vampire. They were all fit, tall, impeccably groomed, undeniably handsome. Flattering, I guess, that they'd made me one of them, unless you thought too hard about the circumstances.
Ethan approached the men and handed over the note. They reviewed it in turn, chatting and occasionally glancing over at me and Mallory. She linked an arm through mine.
"I've decided this is going to be a treat to watch."
I slid her a dubious glance.
"I've known you for three years. That entire time, you've been puttering around the little ivory tower you built for yourself. You need to be rescued. And if you can't be rescued by Prince Tall, Sexy, and Alive" - she looked over at the trio of deliberating vampires and scanned Ethan's half-naked body - "he's certainly the next best thing." She made an evil-sounding chuckle. "And you complained about your oral exams. This boy's gonna be the biggest challenge of your life."
"Calling him a 'challenge' assumes I'm interested. And I wasn't puttering around. I was writing a dissertation."
"You're interested," she declared. "And given that possessive look in his eyes, I'd say he's interested, too."
"He thinks I'm unsophisticated."
She looked over at me. "You're you. Unapologetically you. And he can't do any better than that."
I kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mal."
"Yup." She released me and ogled the threesome of vamps, who stood in a tight knot in front of us, discussing our fate. Then she rubbed her hands together. "Now. Which one do I get? How about Cowboy Pete?"
I was saved formulating an answer (which, incidentally, would have been something along the lines of "Don't you have a boyfriend?") by Ethan, who motioned us closer with a single crooked finger. When we reached the group, he gestured to his comrades. "Malik, my Second, who I believe you've met, and this is Luc, Captain of my Guards." He motioned toward us. "Merit, two-day-old Initiate, and Mallory, her roommate, who likely has the patience of a saint."
Mallory chuckled, the traitor, but then got exactly what was coming to her. Although Malik and Luc nodded in greeting, Luc then frowned down at her from his towering six feet and change.
"You have magic."
Mallory blinked. "What's that now?"
Ethan ran a finger delicately over her hair as she flinched beneath it. "Ah," he said, nodding. "I'd wondered."
"Wondered what?" she asked.
"Who brought in the magic," Malik said so casually you'd have thought he was discussing the weather.
Mallory put hands on her hips. "What the hell are you people, and I use that term loosely, talking about?"
Luc inclined his head toward Mallory, but looked at Ethan. "Is it possible she doesn't know?"
"Doesn't know what?" I asked, irritation rising. "What the hell is going on?"
As if I hadn't spoken, Malik shrugged at Luc. "If she's not union yet, it's possible the Order hasn't yet picked up on her post-adolescence. This is Chicago, after all."
"True," Ethan said. "We should call the Ombud, tell him there's a new witch in town."
"New witch?" Mallory asked, paling. "Time out. Who's a witch, hoss?"
Ethan glanced at her, brow arched, and his tone couldn't have been more bland. "You, of course."
While Mallory came to terms with that little revelation, Ethan and his staff filled me in on the current state of vampire relations in Chicago. While most vampires in the world - all the registered vampires - were affiliated with Houses, a minority were categorized as Rogues, vampires who had no ties to a House and no loyalty to a particular Master. There were a number of ways this could happen - being bitten by a vampire who wasn't a Master and thus wasn't strong enough to command the newly changed; by defecting from a House; or by being bitten by an unaffiliated vampire who required no oaths of loyalty or fealty.
Because of the implicit danger they posed to the House structure, they were treated as outcasts. And because they were rarely strong enough individually to take on House vampires, they were usually ignored by the Houses unless they'd chosen, somewhat ironically, to band together into anarchistic units.
Chicago's vamps believed Jennifer Porter's death was the work of a Rogue, maybe one unsatisfied with living in the shadow of Chicago's Houses. This possibility posed two problems.
First, humans didn't know Rogue vampires existed. They knew about the Houses, and seemed to take some comfort in the fact that vampires were organized into political bodies, were supervised by their Masters, and lived by a code - the Canon. That was a kind of existence that humans could relate to. And that was why vamps were tight- lipped about Rogues, about the fact that vampires with no House ties, no supervision, and no laws were living in their midst.
Second, as the vamps in the press conference had pointed out, a Cadogan medal, identical to the one Ethan (and, I belatedly realized with a glance around the room, the rest of the Cadogan vamps) wore snug around his neck, had been found at the site of Porter's death. Ethan was confident no one from his House was involved, and he'd agreed to cooperate fully in the Chicago Police Department's investigation. The CPD had interviewed him, and he'd agreed to interview each and every vampire in residence at Cadogan House to assure himself and the CPD detectives that his House, and his vampires, were innocent. He suspected, as did the representatives of Navarre House with whom he'd spoken (including Celina Desaulniers, its Master), that a Rogue was to blame for Porter's death. But that didn't explain why she'd been killed, especially since the Greenwich Presidium, the organization that regulated vampires in North America and Western Europe, would mete out its own punishment to the offender. Before the death of Jennifer Porter, the possibility of death-by-aspen-stake had been strong enough to protect humans. Now - who knew?
Whoever the perpetrator, the threesome believed my attack was the second attempt by the killer, and the note evidence of his bitterness at having failed to kill me.
"My name was in the paper today," I reminded them, "so the person who threw the brick wasn't necessarily the one who bit me."
"But it was only your last name," Malik said. "It's doubtful he'd have been able to figure out who you were simply because of that."
Ethan shook his head. "She's a Merit. For better or worse, as often as the family appears in the papers, he'd have been able to figure out which Merit was involved. Robert and Charlotte are older and have children. They're not the typical candidates for change."
Disturbing, I thought, that he knew so much about my family. "But if he meant to kill me," I asked, "why the note? The language suggested a choice, like I picked Ethan over the vampire who attacked, picked Cadogan over whatever group he was affiliated with. If he was going to kill me, why would it matter?"
Luc frowned. "So maybe this isn't related to the Porter girl's death?"
"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't," Ethan unhelpfully pronounced. "Without more information, we can't discount either possibility. What we do know is that we were the second vampires at the scene of the attack. The language of the threat suggests that whatever plans had been made for Merit - death or otherwise - they'd been unable to follow through. They blame that on her and, to a more general extent, us. Given the tone of the note, maybe the House system more generally."
"So we're definitely thinking Rogues, then," Malik summed up, "or a House with some unspoken animosity toward us. Grey?"
Luc snorted. "Opening day was last week. Scott's attention is on completely different things right now, namely the Cubs' chance at a pennant. It's unlikely he'd be involved in this even if they cared about House politics, which they don't. What about Navarre?"
Ethan and Malik shared an undecipherable glance. "Doubtful," Ethan said. "As old and prestigious as Navarre is - "
"Or so they think," Malik interjected.
With an amused expression, Ethan finished, "Navarre would have little to gain from warring with us. Celina's strong, the GP loves her, and she's positioned herself as poster child for Chicago vampires. There's simply no reason for her to worry about Cadogan."
"Which means we've got investigating to do," Luc concluded.
Ethan nodded at me. "Luc will station sentries at your house. We'll continue looking into the threat, and perhaps as we gain information about the Porter death, we'll learn more about this. If you see anything suspicious, or if you're attacked again, call me immediately. He pulled a card from his trouser pocket and handed it to me. It read, in tidy block letters:
CADOGAN HOUSE
(312) 555-2046
NAVR NO. 4 | CHICAGO, IL
"NAVR number four?" I asked, card between my fingers.
"That's our registry number," Malik explained, and I remembered the NAVR tag under the announcement in the Sun-Times. "We were the fourth vampire House established in the United States."
"Ah." I slid the card into my pocket. "Thanks. We'll call if something comes up."
"Not that this visit hasn't been educational," Ethan said, eyes on Mallory, "but we need to get back to work. I believe we've had plenty of excitement for one evening." He dismissed Malik and Luc and motioned us toward the training room door.
The gazes of the vampires we passed still edged toward hostility, but at least they were tempered with curiosity. On the other hand, I'm not sure if that was better or worse; I generally preferred staying under the radar of people-sucking predators.
Or I would have, if I'd given that kind of thing any thought.
Ethan escorted us back through the House. When we reached the front door, he put a hand on my arm. "Mallory, could I have a word with Merit, please?"
"It's your pitch," she replied, and bounced through the doorway to the steps below.
He looked at me. "My pitch?"
"It's a soccer thing. What did you need?"
His mouth tightened into a grim line, and I could tell he was preparing to speechify. "What happened tonight is unusual," he said. "For an Initiate to challenge a Master is virtually unheard of, as is the Master not punishing an individual who has challenged his or her authority. I'm giving you a break because you didn't choose to rise as a vampire, because our laws mandate consent, and you weren't in a position to offer it." He gazed down at me with frigidly green eyes.
"That said, should you ever pull a stunt like this again, you will be disciplined. If you ever raise a hand to me again, you'll rue that decision. I am the Master of this House and in command of three hundred and eight vampires. They look to me for protection, and they give me their loyalty in exchange for it. Should any not understand that bargain, I'm fast,
I'm strong, and I'm willing to demonstrate those qualities. Next time, I won't pull my punches. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
The chill in his glare tamped down my instinct for sarcasm. I nodded.
"Good." He held out his hand toward the sidewalk, inviting me out of the House. "You have five days yet before the Commendation. The Canon will explain the oaths, the ceremony and the manner in which I will call you to service. Prepare yourself."
Giving him another acquiescent nod, I stepped down to the sidewalk.
"And do something about your clothes," he ordered, just before closing the heavy oak door behind me.
We silently walked back to the car, where I found a club flyer beneath my windshield wiper. I lifted the wiper, scanned the sheet, which advertised Red, a club in River North. I got into the car, unlocked Mal's door, and stuffed the flyer into the glove box. Partying wasn't really on my agenda right now.
The ride back home was quiet as we both, I imagine, mulled over the night's events. I certainly did, especially the enigma of Ethan Sullivan. For the few seconds I hadn't known who he was, I'd been awed by his face and form, intrigued by his nearly tangible sense of power and determination.
Thinking he was pretty was one thing. Infinitely more disconcerting was the fact that after I discovered who he was - and even knowing what he'd taken from me - I could admit to a lingering attraction. His arrogance was irritating, but he was handsome, intelligent, and respected by his subjects. Ethan wore his power - his mantle of confident self-possession - as well as his designer clothes. But danger, I knew, lurked underneath that perfect facade. Ethan demanded complete and utter loyalty with no exceptions and, it seemed, had little willingness to compromise. He was skilled, strong, fast, limber, and confident enough to prove his mettle against an unknown opponent in front of a gallery of observers. And while he might have found me attractive - his flirting was proof enough of that - he wasn't thrilled about the attraction. Quite the opposite -  he seemed as eager to be rid of me as I was of him.
For all that, I hadn't been able to banish the memory of my first glimpse of him. An after- image of green irises ghosted across my retinas when I closed my eyes, and I knew nothing would wipe away the visual. The impact had been that strong - like a crater furrowed into my psyche, leaving an empty space that a mortal man seemed unlikely to fill.
I muttered a curse when I realized the anatomical direction that line of thought was headed, and renewed my attention to Chicago's dark streets.
Mallory cleared her throat. "So that was Ethan."
I turned the Volvo down a side street as we neared home. "That was him."
"And you're thinking what?"
I shrugged, unsure how much I wanted to admit to my feelings, even to Mallory. "I should hate him, right? I mean, he did this to me. Changed everything. Took away everything."
Mallory stared out the car window. "You were due for a change, Merit. And he saved your life."
"He made me the walking undead."
"He said you aren't dead. It was just a genetic change. And there are benefits, whether you want to admit them or not."
Just a genetic change, she'd said, like it was a small, simple matter. "I have to drink blood," I reminded her. "Drink. Blood."
Mallory slid me an unpleasant glance. "At least be honest about it - you can drink whatever you want. You eat whatever you want, and you'll probably never gain an ounce on those mile-long legs. Blood's just a new" - she waved a hand in the air -  "vitamin or something."
"Maybe," I allowed. "But I can't put toe one in the sun. I can't go to the beach, or drive around with the top down."
And then something incredibly disturbing occurred to me. "I can't go back to Wrigley, Mallory. No Cubs games on a warm Saturday afternoon."
"You're Irish way back. You get splotchy in the sun, and you haven't been to Wrigley in, what, two years? You'll watch the Cubbies from your bedroom television set, just like you always do."
"I can't go back to school. And my family hates me."
"Hon, your parents have always been horrible. At least this way," she gently said, "you get to feed them a steady diet of inappropriate vampire behavior."
Pleasant as that thought was, it didn't completely assuage the grief. I knew I needed to buck up, to let go of what I'd lost and find a way to survive, to thrive, in my new world. But how do you let go of a lifetime of plans? Of assumptions about your life, about who you were and who you were going to be?
While Mallory was more than willing to dole out advice and urge me to get over "my little quibbles" about having been made a vampire, she wouldn't discuss the trio's bizarre conclusion that she'd brought magic to Cadogan House, that she was a witch. I knew nothing about magic beyond what I'd learned from television and in the tidbits Mallory, in her fixation with the occult, managed to slip into conversation. And it scared me that my normally chatty roommate was avoiding the discussion. So, as I pulled the car into the garage, I tried again.
"Do you want to talk about the other thing?"
"As far as I'm concerned, there is no other thing."
"Come on, Mallory. They said you have magic. Do you feel like you're . . . different? I mean, if they're right, you must have felt something."
She got out of the car and slammed the door shut, and I winced on the Volvo's behalf as Mallory stormed to the sidewalk. "I don't want to talk about it, Merit."
I closed the garage door and followed her, both of us ignoring the black-clad guards who flanked the front door. They were virtually identical to the guards who stood point at the Cadogan gate, tall and gaunt with sleek swords at their sides. Whatever Ethan's faults, he was damn efficient.
We went into the house, which was comfortingly quiet and, present company excluded, vampire-free. Mallory faked a yawn and trudged toward the staircase. "I'm going to bed."
"Mallory."
She stopped at the bottom stair, turned, and looked at me with very little patience. "What?"
"Just - try to be careful. We don't have to talk about it now, but if this threat thing continues, or if Ethan learns anything more about who you are . . ."
"Fine."
As she started up the stairs, desperate to comfort her as she'd done for me, I threw out, "This could be a good thing, Mallory. You could have some special powers, or something."
She stopped and glanced back, her smile sardonic. "Given how I feel right now, I can only assume that my giving you the same bullshit platitudes earlier didn't help you, either." She walked up the stairs, and I heard the slam of her bedroom door. I went to my room and lay on my back on the double bed, staring at the rotating ceiling fan until dawn claimed me.