Twice Bitten

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GOTV (GET OUT THE VAMPIRE)
Even as the sun descended again, I lay in bed for a good fifteen minutes. Have you ever noticed that however uncomfortable you might have been when you first went to bed - the room too hot or too cold; the pillows not quite right; the mattress lumpy; the sheets scratchy - by the time you should get up, your bed has transformed itself into the Platonic ideal of beds? The room is cool, the bed is soft, and the pillow may as well have been God's Own Headrest. The transformation inevitably happens, of course, when you're obligated to get up and out, when nothing sounds better than hunkering down in a pile of cool cotton
- especially when facing your recent fling and his former lover is the other option.
But even Sentinels have to act like grown-ups, so I sat up and threw off the covers.
It had been a good week since I'd gone for a run. Since I had a couple of hours before we'd meet to go to the convocation, I pulled on a running bra, tank, and running shorts so I could kick out three miles through Hyde Park. Training with Ethan or the guards was a workout, certainly, but not the kind that loosened up your bones and mind, cleared away everything but the pounding of the pavement, the rhythm of your breathing, and a good old-fashioned sweat. But first, I needed some fuel for the gas tank. I wasn't ready to face down the rest of the vampires in the House, or risk the possibility of a Sheridan-Sullivan meeting. So I opted to avoid whatever drama might be awaiting me downstairs and scavenge breakfast on the second floor. I headed down the hallway and through a swinging door into the tiny rectangular kitchen. Granite-topped maple cabinets lined both long sides of the room, and a refrigerator and other appliances were built into the cabinets in the same maple wood. The countertops held baskets of napkins and the like and smaller appliances. The refrigerator was covered in magnets and take-out menus from Chinese, Greek, and pizza places in Hyde Park. That was the advantage of living near U of C - the undergrads kept food delivery in business at all hours, and that was good for the rest of us.
I went for the refrigerator and pulled it open. It wasn't unlike something you might have seen in an office building - a lot of leftover takeout, yogurt containers, and half-eaten desserts with initials marked on the top. It was all the detritus of prior vampires' meals and dates, labeled to keep other fangs away. But there were also House-supplied goodies, including lots and lots of blood in pourable pint bags and smaller drink boxes. I took a second to appraise my need and decided it was time to stock up. I grabbed two drink boxes, shook and poked in the attached straw, sipped . . . and grimaced. Biting Ethan had been like drinking a rare vintage - rich, complex, intoxicating. Drinking from a plastic box now tasted exactly like that - flat, plasticky, sterile. It tasted dead, somehow, as if the blood had lost the infusion of energy you got from drinking from the tap, so to speak.
But since that particular supply had been cut off, I knocked it back, then did the same to the second box. This wasn't the time to let personal preference stand in the way of biological need, especially in light of the physical and emotional challenges I could be facing in a couple of hours. I tossed the empty boxes in the trash and out of curiosity opened a couple of the upper cabinets. They were stocked with healthy snacks - bags of granola, nuts, high-protein cereals, natural popcorn.
"Blech," I muttered, then closed the cabinet doors again and headed through the swinging kitchen door.
When they stocked the cabinets with Twinkies, I'd be back. I made a note to talk to Helen, the House's den mother, about that.
Breakfast in the bag, I headed outside. It was a warm and muggy June night. Not terribly late, but the streets were still quiet. I thought avoiding the paparazzi altogether risked making them a little too interested in vampire activities, so I headed down the street to the right and toward the group at the corner. I smiled and waved, flashbulbs snapping and popping as I moved nearer.
"Hey," one called out, "it's the Ponytailed Avenger!"
"Good evening, gentlemen."
"Any comment on the bar shooting, Merit?"
I smiled thoughtfully at the reporter, a youngish kid in jeans and a T-shirt, a laminated press badge around his neck. "Only that I hope the perpetrators are caught."
"Any comment on the stakings in Alabama?" he asked.
My blood ran cold. "What stakings?"
The man beside him - older, pudgier, with a mass of frizzy white hair and similar mustache - gestured with his small, reporter-style notebook. "Four vamps were taken out at a, well, they're calling it a 'nest'
of vampires. Apparently part of some kind of underground, anti-fang movement." Gabriel's concern about rumblings, then, had clearly been real. Maybe it was only an isolated incident.
Maybe it was a horrible, but random, act of violence that didn't signal the turning of the tide for the rest of us.
But maybe it wasn't.
"I hadn't heard," I said quietly, "but my thoughts and prayers go out to their friends and families. That kind of violence, the kind that grows from prejudice, is indefensible." The reporters were quiet for a moment as they scribbled down my comments. "I should get going.
Thanks for the update, gentlemen."
They called out my name, trying to get in additional questions before I trotted off into the night, but I'd done my duty. I needed the run, the chance to clear my head, before heading back into Cadogan House and the drama that undoubtedly awaited me there - political or otherwise. The first mile was uncomfortable; doable, especially as a vampire, but painful in the way first miles often were. But I eventually found a rhythm, my breathing and footfalls aligned, and made a circle around the neighborhood. I skirted U of C, the wound of no longer being enrolled in my would-have-been alma mater still a bit too raw.
A breeze had stirred up by the time I made it back around to Cadogan House, and I nodded at the guards as I reentered the grounds, trying to slow my breathing, hands on my hips. I had to run faster as a vampire to get my heart rate up, and I wasn't really sure how much good it did, but I felt better for having done it. It felt good to escape the confines of Cadogan House for a little while, to focus only on my speed and rhythm and kick. Figuring cleanliness was next on my to-do list, I went back to my room to grab a shower.
I made it as far as my door.
There was a smallish bulletin board on every dormlike room in Cadogan House. A flyer was tacked to mine - a thick bit of cardstock bearing an announcement in fancy script letters: Greet the Master!
Join us Saturday at 10:00 p.m.
to welcome Lacey Sheridan,
Master of Sheridan House.
Cocktails and Music.
Casual Attire.
Rolling my eyes, I pulled the invitation off the door, then stepped back to glance down the hall. The same black-and-white flyer was posted on every door I could see - a GOTV effort that had nothing to do with voting or democracy. I wondered if this had been his idea - a chance to show the Novitiates of Cadogan House whose team he was on?
Maybe more important, how mandatory was something like this? Was I required to make an appearance? Toast Lacey Sheridan? Bring a gift?
I crushed the card in my hand, then opened my door and stepped inside, but before I could close it again, I heard footsteps in the hallway. There were rarely vampires moving through this part of the building, so I nosily peeked through the crack . . . and got an eyeful. Ethan and Lacey were walking side by side down the corridor. Ethan wore jeans and a snug, long-sleeved T-shirt in a pale smoky green. His hair was pulled back, the Cadogan medal at his neck. The ensemble was casual enough that I assumed he'd be wearing it to the convocation. Lacey wore a gray tweed dress with a modern, folded neckline and a pair of patterned black stilettos. Every strand of blond hair was in place, and her makeup was as perfect as that of any airbrushed cover model.
"It should worry you," Lacey was saying.
"Meaning?" Ethan asked.
"Sentinel or otherwise, she's common, Ethan. A common soldier. And I have to say, I really don't get all the fuss."
My lips parted. Did she just call me common?
"I'm not sure that 'common' is a word I'd equate with Merit, Lacey. I don't deny she's a soldier, but I don't think 'common' gives her due credit."
"Still - brawn doesn't make a Master."
"Well, either she'll Test one day, or she won't."
Lacey chuckled. "You mean, either you'll nominate her or you won't." Lacey was the only other Master vampire Ethan had nominated in his nearly four hundred years as vampire. He hadn't even taken Testing. Masters like Ethan and Morgan, who'd risen to the ranks when their own Masters were killed, were allowed to skip the exam. She sounded irritatingly confident that Ethan wouldn't nominate me.
"Admittedly, she's young," Ethan said. "She has a lot of learning to do before she's ready - a lot of immortality to get through before she's ready. And only time will bear it out. But I believe she'll prove capable."
He chose that moment to glance up - and meet my eyes through the crack in the door. I made a split-second decision and pushed the door open as if I'd been on my way out.
Ethan lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Mer - Sentinel?"
Lacey stepped behind him.
I played innocent. "Oh, hello. I was just on my way out." They both looked over my sweaty workout ensemble, and I felt like the heroine in a John Hughes movie, all awkwardness and deer-in-the-headlights eyes.
"Out?" he repeated.
Think! I silently demanded, and when genius struck, I nodded, reached behind me, and pulled up my right foot, imitating a stretch. "I just got in a run, so I was heading to the stairs to do some stretches." Ethan's brow furrowed, worry suddenly in his eyes. Did he care if I'd heard? Would it bother him if she had hurt me?
"Are you going to introduce us?" Lacey asked.
For a split second, just enough for him to glimpse but not so long that she caught it, I tilted my head at him, letting him see the snarky question in my eyes: Yes, Ethan. Are you going to introduce us?
"Lacey Sheridan," she said, not letting Ethan make the choice. She didn't extend a hand, but just stood there smugly, as if the mere mention of her name was supposed to knock me back a couple of pegs.
"Merit. Sentinel," I added, in case she needed the reminder that I was the one in Ethan's House now. I bit back a smile at the twitch in her jaw.
"I was a guard, as well," she said, her gaze scanning my body as she sized me up, an opponent preparing to do battle. Were we battling for Ethan? For some kind of in-House superiority? Whatever the reason, I wasn't going to play the game. I'd already gone all-in, and I'd lost my entire stack of chips in the bargain.
"That's what I've heard," I politely said. "I'm friends with Lindsey. You two were guards together, I understand, before you took Testing."
"Yes, I know Lindsey. She's a solid guard. Particularly good at ferreting out motivations." She offered Lindsey's evaluation as if, rather than discussing a friend or colleague, she'd been asked for a professional reference.
I shifted my gaze back to Ethan. "I assume you heard about Alabama?" His expression clouded. "I did. Gabriel's rumblings?" I nodded. "That was my guess."
He blew out a breath, then nodded. "It is what it is. I'd like to leave for the church within the hour."
"Liege," I said again, obedience in my voice.
He didn't growl, exactly, but the acquiescence clearly irritated him. I smiled as I walked away.
I was showered and dressed - jeans, boots, and a tank top beneath my leather jacket - and on my way downstairs to Ethan's office when my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the screen. It was Mallory.
"Yo," I answered.
"I know you're heading out, but I'm about to pull up in front of Cadogan House. Catcher wants to talk to Ethan, and I have something for you."
"Something tasty?"
"Do you only love me for my choice cooking?"
"Well, no, but I'll admit it's one of the reasons."
"As long as the reasons are many and varied. Get your butt down here." Knowing when to take an order, I closed and repocketed the phone, then completed my trip to the front door. The foyer was Master vampire free, so I headed outside with a pleasant lack of drama.
Mall stood at the front gate in stovepipe jeans and a long tank, hands at her hips. She looked to be interrogating the guard. I hopped down the steps, then took the sidewalk to the gate. Catcher stepped beside her just as I approached, probably having just parked the car, a mix of amusement and defeat in his expression.
"And I'd heard you folks were really great at the Third Key," she was saying. "Do you have any advice for me?"
The mercenary fairy at the gate stared down at her with maliciousness in his eyes. " 'You folks'?" Mallory grinned. "Sorry, it's just, your traditions are so interesting. So natural. So woodsy. Would you be willing to sit down with me and maybe you could share - "
"Okay," Catcher interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her toward the House.
"That's enough of that. My apologies," he offered to the guard, then guided Mallory up the sidewalk.
"Making new friends?" I asked her.
"They're a really fascinating people."
"I bet they like being called by their names."
Mallory slid Catcher a flat stare. "Do you know his name?" He looked at me. I shrugged. "I just work here."
"Species-ism among supernaturals really is the last bastion of acceptable prejudice in this country," Mall said, then seemed to realize I was dressed in leather and holding my sword. "You look ready to chase down some shifters."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. You're not in Schaumburg tonight?"
She shook her head. "I have practicum again tonight, which means I'm supposed to be at home making potions and whatnot."
"Good luck with that."
"Good luck with your shifters. And that's why I'm here." She stuck her fingers into the snug pocket at her hip and fished around. "Hold out your hand."
I arched a skeptical eyebrow, but did as I was directed. Mallory fished something out, then deposited it into my palm. It was an antique bracelet - a gold link chain, dark from wear, that bore a circular locket. I held it up. The image of a bird was engraved in the top.
"It's an apotrope," she proudly said.
"It's a what?"
"Apotrope. It's a charm for luck, to ward off bad juju." She leaned forward and pointed at the inscription. "That's a raven. It's a symbol of protection. I found the bracelet in a shop in the Scandinavian District."
I frowned at her, puzzled. "Chicago has a Scandinavian District?"
"Nope," Catcher said. "But the store was next-door to a restaurant that sold pickled herring. She decided that was the Scandinavian District."
"First you're moving furniture; then you're moving neighborhoods."
"I'm an up-and-comer," she said. "Anywho, I worked a little Second Key action of my own, and there you go."
"Well, that was very thoughtful, even without the gratuitous urban planning. Thanks, Mal." She shrugged. "I wanted to give you a tincture of wolfsbane, but party pooper over here said no."
"Wolfsbane?" I asked, looking between them.
"It's poisonous to shifters," Catcher said, mid-eye roll.
I nodded in understanding. "Yeah, might be bad form to wear wolf poison to a shifter convocation."
"I only would have put a little in there," Mallory said. "Not enough to give anyone a stomachache, much less actually kill somebody. And no one has to know about it."
"Still better to stick with the raven. Thank you for bringing it." I held out my right wrist so that she could clasp on the bracelet, but I glanced up when Catcher made a low whistle of warning.
"Company," he said, and since his gaze was on the door, I guessed who that might be.
"Ooh, she's pretty," Mall whispered, looking up once she'd secured the bracelet. "Who is she?"
"That would be Lacey Sheridan."
Mallory blinked at me. "Lacey Sheridan? The vampire Ethan - " I interrupted her with a nod.
"Were you going to let me know that his former girlfriend was in town?"
"I figured you'd already had a good dose of Merit humiliation for the week." She patted my arm. "Don't be silly. Vampire humiliation is like a fine wine. It should be shared between friends."
I stuck out my tongue, but Catcher shook his hand. "Here they come," he warned. "Put on your happy face."
I plastered on a fake smile and turned to greet them. His katana in one hand, he used the other to gesture toward Lacey.
"Mallory Carmichael and Catcher Bell," he said. "Catcher, I believe you and Lacey met when she was in the House."
"Yep." That was all Catcher said. He didn't bother extending a hand.
"It's nice to see you again, Catcher."
He barely acknowledged the greeting, and my heart warmed. Catcher was gruff, sure, but that usually didn't involve outright snubbing people, at least in my experience. I may have given him and Mallory a lot of crap about their naked shenanigans, but he knew which team he was on.
"Mallory is Merit's former roommate," Ethan told Lacey, "and a newly identified sorceress. She's currently training with an Order representative in Schaumburg." Lacey cocked her head. "I thought the Order didn't have representatives in the Chicago area." Mallory put a hand on Catcher's arm before he could growl at Lacey, but you could see the urge to step forward in his expression. Catcher had been kicked out of the Order under circumstances that weren't altogether clear to me, but the lack of an Order office in Chicago had something to do with it.
"That's a long story," Mallory said, "and it's nice to meet you." She glanced at Ethan. "Are you going to take care of my girl tonight?"
"I always take care of my vampires."
Mallory smiled sweetly. "All evidence to the contrary." Catcher put a hand on Mallory's shoulder and looked gravely at Ethan. "We actually came by here for a reason other than skewering you, and it's not good news. A body was found in a warehouse about eight blocks from the bar. It was Tony."
Ethan blew out a slow breath. "I'm bothered by that on a number of levels, not the least of which is the fact that he was our prime suspect."
"He still could have been behind the hit," I pointed out. "But someone else might not have been happy about that - or wanted to keep him quiet."
Catcher nodded. "At the very least, there's more than one person involved in whatever shifter mess is going on."
"Does Gabriel know?" Ethan asked.
Catcher nodded. "Jeff made the call a little earlier."
"This is not the kind of information I like having two hours before the convocation."
"No," Catcher agreed, "it's not. And it's probably not the last of your problems tonight."
"I'd expect trouble," Lacey said, apparently joining the conversation. "It's highly unlikely the first attack was random, and since the perpetrators haven't managed to forestall the meeting, I'd predict that a second strike is imminent."
"We've arranged backup," Ethan said, but his gaze was on the lawn, his expression blank, as if he were contemplating unpleasant things. "Guards from Grey and Navarre. We'll have communications open."
"Best you can do," Catcher said.
We stood there for a moment, all of us probably wondering what the night had in store.
"I'm going to get Lacey settled in so she can work in my office while we're away," Ethan said, glancing at me. "Meet me at the first-floor stairs in five."
"Liege," I said, dipping my head with perfectly Graceful Condescension.
His upper lip curled in dissatisfaction, but after a wave to Mallory and Catcher and some awkward goodbyes between Lacey and Mallory, he escorted Lacey back down the sidewalk.
"Liege?" Catcher repeated. "I bet I could count on one hand how many times I've heard you say that."
"I'm opting for acquiescent," I said, my gaze still on the Masters.
Catcher grinned a bit evilly. "I bet that's pissing him off." I gave him a grin. "I think he hates it. Which makes it all the more enjoyable."
"And since he's wanted Merit the Acquiescent since the day you stepped foot in Cadogan House," Mallory pointed out, "it's not even immature. You're just giving him what he asked for."
"Precisely," I agreed with a nod, although I didn't entirely agree - it was fun, sure, and appropriate in its way, but still immature.
"You know," Mallory said, her head tilted as she watched them walk, "she's all blond and fusty . . . like an attorney or something. And that's not a compliment."
"Bloodsuckers either way," Catcher muttered.
I patted his arm. "You know, that was very sweet, what you did. Being snarky to Little Miss Sunshine."
"Don't get too excited. It's not that I'm on your side," Catcher said, then nodded toward Mallory. "But I'd be sleeping on the couch for a week if I didn't take her side."
"And my side is your side," Mallory concluded, then held out her hands. "We need to run. I need to start cooking. You be good tonight, okay?"
I stepped forward and embraced her, then stepped back again. "I'll be as good as possible, and I'd ask the same thing of you two." I gave them my best motherly stare.
Catcher snorted. "If we're not playing naked Twister, we're wasting our waking hours."
"Yep," Mallory said as she tugged him down the sidewalk, "that's the love of my life. He's a romantic at heart."
True to his word, Ethan met me in the lobby five minutes later, sans the Master of Sheridan House. But he was followed by Luc and Malik. Luc was in jeans and a white T-shirt. Malik - tall, dark skinned, and green eyed - wore black suit pants, square-toed black shoes, and a crisp, white, button-up shirt, the top button of his shirt open to reveal his Cadogan medal. Malik, the only married vampire in my acquaintance, was also one of the most handsome - shaved head, wide, clear eyes, sharp cheekbones.
But he had the most solemn countenance of any vampire I'd met.
"I believe we're ready," Ethan said, glancing between them. "Malik, the House is left in your care and trusting. Luc, check in with our ground team. God willing, the need of them won't prove necessary. But just in case . . ."
"It's done," Luc said. "We liaised earlier, and we're all in contact. Grey and Navarre are on standby.
You both have your earpieces?"
Like obedient students, we pulled out our earpieces, which we'd both stashed in our pockets, and showed them to Luc.
"Good children," he said with a chuckle. "You don't need to put them in until you're on-site. You might want to do that in a private moment, and not with shifters breathing down your necks, lest they think we're even more conniving than they already believe we are. When you get 'em in, we'll be on the other end."
"Do you want me to try Darius again?"
We all turned to Malik. Darius was the head of the Greenwich Presidium, the Western European council. Ethan shook his head. "Not now. We've tried to reach him once, and he didn't get back to us.
At this point, it's better to ask for forgiveness later than permission now."
"You think he might say no?" I asked. Ethan slid me a glance.
"I think the GP is unpredictable in its current form. We tell them we're liaising with shifters - that we're offering strategic support to hundreds of shifters - and we push the GP panic button."
"We invite a shitstorm," Luc translated.
I nodded my understanding. Ethan blew out a breath. "If you're all comfortable with your respective stations, we'll head out."
"Good luck," Luc said, then gave me a pat on the shoulder. "Kick ass, Sentinel."
"I'm really hoping it doesn't come to that."
"That makes two of us," Ethan said. He and Malik whispered something together - the act was probably one of the rituals related to Ethan's leaving the House in Malik's care - then took the stairs to the basement.