by Chloe Neill
Reed couldn’t have heard the byplay, but his gaze said he realized it was there. “Fortunately, you have no control over me. Which must irritate you greatly.”
“What irritates me is your arrogance.”
Reed smiled easily. “You want to hit me, don’t you?”
Ethan’s expression was grim. “More than anything else.”
It was an obvious ploy. But Ethan would have known he was being baited, and wouldn’t have cared.
“Then take your shot, vampire. I dare you.”
Ethan stepped forward.
The air suddenly buzzed with steel and guns. Cops appeared at our sides, weapons drawn. “Step back!” said one of them to Ethan. “Step back, and get your hands in the air, very slowly.”
Reed had cast the bait, and Ethan had taken a bite. Now we’d pay the price.
Ethan’s jaw clenched with unmitigated fury, but he didn’t move. “Whatever you may be, whomever you may have in your pocket, you are, at heart, a coward.”
Reed shook his head ruefully, put a protective arm around Sorcha’s waist. “As we expected, Officer, they continue to stalk and threaten my family.”
“Hands in the goddamn air,” the cop said again, tension rising as Ethan and Reed stared at each other.
I could see Ethan wanted to move. He wanted to ignore the cops, step forward, and give back some of the pain Reed had caused us. But that wouldn’t have helped. It wouldn’t have done anything but land us in even more trouble.
Step back, Ethan, I said. Now.
I will have my chance at him, Sentinel. For all that he has done to us, I will have my chance at him.
Not here, and not now.
It took Ethan a long moment to weigh justice against consequence, honor against action.
He is mine, Ethan said, but took a step back, lifted his hands into the air.
The cop stepped forward, pulled Ethan’s arms behind him, forced him to his knees. A second cop did the same thing to me. I winced as I hit the ground hard, my bare knees scraping across the rough stone of the path. My arms were wrenched behind me, my wrists zip-tied together, because I was obviously a threat in a ball gown and stilettos.
“You should use two ties,” Reed said. “I understand that’s more effective on vampires.”
The cop was last on the list of people I hoped to battle tonight. Reed, for being an unmitigated monster, was number one on the list. Sorcha, for just watching as the officers cuffed us, was second. And Ethan, whose stubborn ass had gotten us into this, fell in at third.
“We were, of course, prepared,” Reed said as they pulled Ethan to his feet, hands cuffed behind him. “I was afraid you’d show up and cause a scene, so we requested the additional security. The CPD was happy to oblige.” He looked at the officers. “If you’ve got them in hand, I’d like to get my wife to safety.”
For the first time, the cops looked unsure of their steps. “We’ll need to talk to you and your wife,” said the one who’d cuffed Ethan. “Formalize the report.”
“Of course. We’ll just be in the main building. My wife becomes distressed by these two. I just want to get her away from them. I’m sure you understand.”
“Well, all right,” he said after a moment, gesturing to his partner. The other cop stepped aside so Reed and Sorcha could walk past him. The humans who’d gathered nearby to watch nodded as they walked by, offered supportive words.
“You disgust me,” said the first cop as I was pulled to my feet. Then they escorted us in the same direction Reed and Sorcha had gone, past the same gauntlet of humans.
When we passed beneath an overhead light, the second cop happened to glance at me. “Oh, shit,” he said, pulling me to a stop. “You don’t know who they are?”
Ethan’s cop looked at him, then back at me. “No. Should I?”
“These are those Cadogan vampires. The ones who are always in the news. I think one of ’em’s related to a cop, too.”
“Chuck Merit,” I said, uttering the first words I’d said in many long minutes. And when Ethan and I were alone, they wouldn’t be the last. “He’s my grandfather.”
The second cop shook his head ruefully. “I know Chuck Merit. He’s a good guy. You doing this? Putting him in this position? That’s a damn shame. You need to change your ways, ma’am. You need to get your shit together, and change your ways.”
“I have my shit together,” I muttered as we were led back toward the main building.
But right now that felt like a complete lie.
• • •
When we reached the visitors’ center, they called my grandfather, agreed to wait until he arrived. He was the city’s supernatural Ombudsman, after all. That put us squarely in his jurisdiction.
It took half an hour for him to arrive with Jeff in tow. No sign of Catcher, but Jeff and my grandfather looked irritated enough to fill Catcher’s usual quota.
“I don’t believe they need to be cuffed, gentlemen,” my grandfather said. “It’s your call, of course, but these two aren’t violent. They may not be especially smart, but they aren’t violent.”
The cops looked at each other; then the first cop looked at my grandfather. “You’ll vouch for them?”
“I will. She’s my granddaughter, and he’s her beloved. They both usually have more sense than this.”
There was a pause before the cops reached some agreement, stepped forward, and cut the zip ties. My wounded arm sang with pain, and I rolled it to release some of the tension.
“Might I have a word with my granddaughter?” my grandfather asked, and the cops shared a glance and stepped away.
My grandfather stared down at us, the disappointment clear in his face.
I hadn’t gotten in trouble much as a kid. I hated the feeling of it, the violation of trust, the sickening sense that I’d disappointed someone, the humiliation that came with having done something wrong. I hadn’t been the type of child who handled it well.
I felt doubly sickened tonight by the fact that I’d disappointed the relative I trusted most of all, and that disappointment was compounded by anger at Ethan. I wasn’t especially surprised, because I’d predicted right down the line exactly what would happen. But I was furious that my grandfather’s reputation had been impugned, and that we’d put that look in his eyes. And Jeff didn’t look so happy, either.
“Would you like to tell me exactly what happened here?”
“Words,” Ethan said. “Only an exchange of words.”
For the first time, Jeff spoke, and his tone wasn’t any more pleasant than my grandfather’s. “Nothing physical?”
“No,” Ethan said ruefully. “I didn’t get that far. The cops showed up first.”
“He told them we were stalking and threatening him,” I explained.
Jeff and my grandfather exchanged a glance.
“Reed’s already called the CPD once,” my grandfather said. “That adds credence to his contention this is a pattern of bad behavior.” He looked at Ethan. “Did you come here specifically to piss him off? Specifically to get arrested? Because if that was your plan, I’d say you accomplished it.”
“We had our reasons,” Ethan said.
My grandfather lifted his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.
“He sent her a note,” Ethan finally said. “A threatening note.”
“A direct threat?”
“Implicit.”
My grandfather didn’t roll his eyes, but that looked like a close call. “Goading you to act, just as you’ve done?”
“I did what I thought was best.”
My grandfather sighed, patted Ethan’s arm. “I don’t doubt that, son, but there are times to fight, and times to wait. This was one of the latter.”
There was something odd about my grandfather, a man in his seventies, referring to a four-hundred-year-old vamp
ire as “son.” But the dynamic worked.
“You know this is part of a bigger plan,” Ethan insisted.
“I know what kind of man Reed is, and I’m not alone. There are others on the force—Detective Jacobs, for one—who agree with us, who understand. But, by God, you’re playing right into his hands. You’re proving the point he’s apparently decided to make—that he’s a businessman who’s doing right by this city, and you’re unstable monsters with a personal vendetta. You’re too smart for antics like this, and I’d say the same thing about your trip to Hellriver last night.”
“We wanted to get out before the CPD arrived,” Ethan said.
My grandfather looked dubious. “While I’m sure that was part of the motivation, I doubt that was all of it.”
Ethan had to know my grandfather was goading him to answer, but he obliged. “I was hoping Cyrius Lore would get away, tell Reed.”
“You thought you’d provoke him to act.”
“I want him to come at me.” Ethan pushed his hands through his hair. “I want him to come at me like a man with some courage.”
“And there’s the fault in your logic,” my grandfather said. “A man like Reed doesn’t have courage, not in the way you mean. He has soldiers. He has men who fight his battles for him.”
Ethan took a slow, heavy breath. “It was my call, not hers, and I take responsibility for it.”
My grandfather nodded, acknowledging the admission, then looked at me. “You’re unusually quiet.”
Because I was seething with anger. But there was nothing to gain in airing that anger in front of Jeff and my grandfather.
I settled on “It’s been a long night.”
My grandfather watched me for a moment before nodding. He could probably read my face, understood Ethan and I would have words later.
“Did you find anything in Hellriver?” Ethan asked, bringing my grandfather’s attention back to him.
“No. They’d cleared out the entire building other than a few pieces of furniture. If there was anything that tied the building to Reed, it was gone by the time we got there.”
“Damn,” Ethan said. “There’d been file boxes in the dock area. Dozens of them. Merit had suspected it was paperwork, maybe records of improper business dealings by Reed.”
My grandfather’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you that we might have gotten to it if you’d phoned us earlier.”
“You do not,” Ethan said. “That was also my call.”
“Next time,” my grandfather said, “make better calls.”
The cops walked back to us again. “Mr. Merit, we need to get these two to the station, get them processed. You know how it goes.” The CPD might have given my grandfather some deference, but we were still criminals.
“I do,” my grandfather said, then glanced at Ethan. “I’ll warn Malik. And have them put the House on alert. Just in case.”
• • •
We were driven to the nearest station in the back of a cruiser, processed, and separated, stuck in separate rooms for interviews.
My room was small, with a hard tile floor and a small table with four chairs. The wall beside the door was mirrored. Probably two-way glass so people in the hallway could look in on the woman in the fancy party dress who was mentally kicking her boyfriend.
I was a well-dressed cautionary tale.
I’d been sitting alone for fifteen minutes when the door opened. Instinctively, I sat up straight.
The woman who walked in was tall and slender with dark skin, wavy brown hair, and very serious brown eyes. She wore dark trousers, and a cream silk top beneath a fitted taupe blazer that curled into pleats across the bottom, showing long and elegant legs. There were pearls at her ears and throat, and a no-nonsense handbag on her arm. She set down the bag and a leather padfolio on the table, pulled out a chair for herself, and sat down.
“You’re Merit.” Her expression was as no-nonsense as the bag.
I nodded.
“I’m Jennifer Jacobs. Arthur Jacobs’s daughter.”
Arthur Jacobs was the CPD detective and ally my grandfather had mentioned. He’d actually been the cop who responded to Reed’s previous call.
“Did he send you?” I asked.
“He asked me to check in on you, make sure you’re all right. I’m an attorney,” she said, checking her phone when it buzzed, then sliding it back into a slim pocket on the side of her purse. “Not your attorney. I’m not offering you representation, nor am I representing you with respect to any criminal complaint that Adrien Reed may file. I’m just doing my father a favor.”
A favor, by her tone and lengthy disclaimer, that she wasn’t thrilled about. But since she was here, I could be gracious.
“Then thanks to you both. It’s nice to meet you, if under these circumstances.”
Jennifer didn’t respond, but took a good look at me, then linked her hands on the table.
“I’m going to tell you something, Merit,” she said, her gaze direct. “My father is a good cop. A good father and a good cop. He doesn’t need trouble.”
I was getting tired of this speech. “We haven’t brought him any trouble.”
“All evidence to the contrary.” She sat back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other. “He has some kind of affinity for supernaturals, probably because he’s friends with Chuck Merit. He should be captain right now. Was close to it, until he began involving himself in supernatural affairs.”
“In my eyes, that’s something to respect him for.”
“In my eyes, it’s something that could get him killed.”
And there it was. I sympathized, but I was sick of taking undeserved blame.
“We’re not troublemakers, although our enemies enjoy painting us that way. They also enjoy targeting us because of who we are, because we’re different. I have a great deal of respect for your father, because he understands that. I’m sorry you have to worry for him. I worry for my grandfather. But their involvement is their choice.”
“You’re frank,” she said.
“I don’t see the point of not being frank.” My voice softened, considering what her family had recently been through. “I’m very sorry about your brother. I understand he was a wonderful young man.”
Her brother, Brett, had been targeted by a serial killer whose latent crazy had been triggered by unrequited love.
Jennifer’s expression tightened. “That should help you understand my concern.”
“I understand it, but I didn’t cause it, and I’m not sure what you think I could possibly do about it.”
“Don’t involve him in your troublemaking.”
I linked my hands on the table, leaned forward. “Ms. Jacobs, I don’t know you. I don’t know your father very well, but like I said, I respect him. His intelligence, his sense of fairness, and his ability to think critically about supernaturals. I would suggest you spend a little less time accusing vampires and a little more time listening to what he actually has to say. Your attitude? It’s exactly what he’s fighting against.”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m not concerned about your people. I’m concerned with mine, as they aren’t immortal. Stay away from my father, and we won’t have any problems.”
She rose, slipping her handbag over her arm before grabbing the notebook. “I’ll advise my father that conditions here are fine, and you’re awaiting your attorney’s arrival. That should fulfill my part of the bargain.”
She walked to the door, glanced back. “Stay away from him.”
And with that, she walked out.
Much like the flowers at the Botanic Garden, nourished by the warmth of spring, our list of enemies was growing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FIRST, KILL ALL THE VAMPIRES
The House’s lawyers arrived—a bevy of men and women in smart black suits (of
course) who assured me everything would be fine.
They asked me to relay what had happened; four of them took notes while one asked the questions. They explained the process, promised I’d be out on bail in no time, and told me to sit tight, that they’d get the wheels of justice moving.
Having gotten my mandated meeting with counsel, I was then placed in a holding cell for supernaturals. Ethan was already there, sitting on a bench that cantilevered out of the wall. He jumped to his feet when I entered, checking me for injuries.
You’re all right?
I’m fine, I said, taking a seat beside him on the bench. Arthur Jacobs’s daughter, Jennifer, came by to explain how unhappy she is that we’re involving her father in supernatural affairs.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. What?
She’s an attorney. He asked her to look in on us. She decided to take advantage of the situation.
I wasn’t aware we controlled his behavior. His voice was flat as a windless sea.
I’m sure she realizes that. And yet . . .
And yet it’s easier to blame the monster in front of you than the human with free will. I have apologies to make, Ethan said, but they are not to her.
I didn’t disagree with that, and since he had plenty of apologizing to do to me, I wished him luck with it.
He was going to need it.
• • •
We waited another hour, sharing the cell with a drunk shifter who was snoring on the floor, the smell of cheap booze obvious even a few feet away, and two River nymphs with torn dresses and black eyes. River nymphs managed the ebb and flow of the Chicago River. They were petite and busty and favored high heels, short dresses, and candy-colored convertibles. Nymphs ran hot and cold, and not much in between. The heat probably explained the injuries. But whatever animosity had been between them faded when we walked in. At the sight of us, they huddled together, enemies bonding to dish about the disheveled vampires in party clothes.
At the end of that hour, hard-soled shoes clapped toward us. A female officer with pale skin and dark hair pulled into a messy bun pointed at us, then unlocked and slid open the barred door. “You’re free to go.”
