by Chloe Neill
He didn’t hesitate. “On it,” he said, and double-timed it to Ethan’s desk, picked up the phone.
One night before our wedding, and we had a hell of a mess on our hands.
• • •
Brody called my grandfather and Luc, so everyone headed back to Cadogan House. He stayed with me and the vampire in Ethan’s office. We asked the human guards to do an extra sweep of the grounds, and Juliet and Kelley, also guards, started a top-to-bottom search of the House.
Ethan practically ran into the room, Malik behind him, the scent of cigar smoke trailing them. “Sentinel,” Ethan said, scanning the room, then focusing his gaze on me. “What the hell happened?”
“He was in your office. I turned around, and he was standing there, talking about hearing someone screaming. He kept hitting his head, staring at things that weren’t there.”
“Paranoid?” Ethan asked. “Schizophrenic?”
“I don’t know. Strong, and irritated, and I think afraid.”
“Irritated?” Malik asked.
I frowned. “Like the voice was an itch, something he couldn’t get rid of. He was afraid.”
“He attacked you,” Ethan said.
“He attacked at me. I don’t know if he was aware of who I was. And then he tried to kill himself—stab himself with a letter opener.” I pointed to where it still lay on the floor. “I knocked him out with your paperweight.”
“I’m glad it was handy.” He narrowed his gaze. “What were you doing in here?”
“The light was on. Given Helen’s memo, I was going to leave you a note, say good night.” I glanced down at the vampire. “I didn’t quite get that far.”
Luc ran into the room, eyes darting from the vampire to Ethan to me. “What happened?”
“That was my question as well.” Ethan’s eyes were hard. “An unfamiliar vampire gained entry to the House and attacked my Sentinel. And I will damn well know how that happened.”
• • •
We waited for my grandfather, Catcher, and Jeff Christopher, my grandfather’s computer ace, to arrive with a pair of CPD uniforms and a medical squad. The medical squad restrained the vampire, lifted him onto a stretcher, and removed him from the House.
I felt some of the tension finally leave my shoulders when he was gone, the House clear of him and his delusions. My grandfather, in his grandfatherly slacks and short-sleeved button-down, patted my back. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said, taking another drink from the bottle of Blood4You Ethan had pulled from the small fridge built into his bookshelves. It was the vampire version of comfort food. “Got my adrenaline going, but mostly because he took me by surprise.”
“His name is Winston Stiles,” Catcher said. He was taller than my grandfather—not to mention younger and bulkier—with a shaved head, pale green eyes, and a muscular body. He wore jeans and a well-worn T-shirt with MAGIC IS AS MAGIC DOES across the front. “Wallet was in his pocket.”
“Where will you take him?” Ethan asked.
“The ceramics factory,” my grandfather said. The former industrial site near the lake had been turned into a holding facility for supernaturals that normal jails weren’t strong enough to contain. “He’ll stay there, at least until he’s evaluated.”
“We’ll talk to him,” Catcher said.
Jeff, his tall, thin frame belying the white tiger that lived within, pushed his light brown hair behind his ears. He wore khakis, Converse, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. It was his favorite look, and there was something comforting in the familiarity of it. “And check out his background,” Jeff said.
“If you don’t mind,” my grandfather said, gesturing to the chairs, “it’s late, and I’m going to sit. Would you join me?”
“Happy to,” I said, but I knew it wasn’t really “late” for my grandfather. He worked with supernaturals, so he worked long, late hours. He just wanted me to sit, to relax. Since I didn’t disagree that I needed a moment, I took the chair across from him, and the finger of amber liquid Ethan extended in a short crystal glass.
I glanced up at him, brows lifted.
“Good Irish whiskey,” he said. “It’ll take the edge off.”
I wasn’t sure I needed to take that much edge off, but I could see the worry in his eyes, so I indulged him, too, and downed it in a throat-searing gulp.
“Take me through it,” my grandfather said, and I walked them through the event from beginning to end.
“He kept talking about hearing a screaming voice, that he didn’t want to hear it anymore. He seemed confused, afraid, and angry.”
“At me?” Ethan asked. “At Cadogan?”
That was logical, since the vampire had been in Ethan’s office. “He didn’t mention you. I thought he was a supplicant, but not one that I saw tonight. And he didn’t say anything else specific.” I closed my eyes, tried to replay what he’d done, what he’d said.
“I’m not sure if he was capable of being that specific. You saw him—it looks like he’s been living on the streets for a while. Hard to say if that’s because of his demons, or if being on the streets created the demons. But it was all about the voice he was hearing—he wanted me to stop it, and when I told him I couldn’t, that I needed to get help, he grabbed the letter opener. And that had been closer than I’d wanted it to be.”
“How did he get in here?” Ethan’s voice was low, and his dangerous gaze settled on Luc. Luc’s expression wasn’t any friendlier.
“I don’t know. And I’m going to find out.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Merit.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t angry he’d gotten in; I’d handled myself. But if he’d found a vampire who hadn’t been able to protect himself? That would have been bad.
“I’m going to look at the security tapes right now,” Luc said.
“If he came in as a supplicant,” Ethan said, “he’d have had to sign the log. But I don’t recognize him. Did you?”
My grandfather shook his head, looked at Catcher and Jeff, who did the same. “He hasn’t been to the office.”
“Did he give you any details about the person or thing he was hearing?” my grandfather asked me. “Vampire? Human? Male or female?”
I shook my head. “Just that it kept saying hello, that it was screaming and wouldn’t stop. I can imagine how that would make someone feel crazy.”
“Sounds like he needs some help,” my grandfather said, rising. “We’ll go, help get him processed.” He pressed a light kiss to my cheek. “Make sure you get some rest. You’ve got a big night tomorrow.”
“That’s what they tell me,” I said, offering a smile I hoped would lift the shadows from Ethan’s face.
“We’ll be in touch if we find out anything,” Jeff said. “And we’ll let you know.”
Catcher didn’t say good-bye, but squeezed my arm as he passed. Coming from him, that might as well have been a bear hug.
They’d been gone only a minute when Luc knocked at the threshold, his agitated magic clear even across the room. “The House is clean,” Luc said. “We’ve started pulling the tapes, and we’ll review them and present a report to you tomorrow. It would be sooner, but dawn’s on the way.”
“No objection,” Ethan said.
Luc waited for a moment, opened his mouth to say something else, but then turned and disappeared again, irritation in every step.
“Are you and Luc going to be okay?” I asked, when we were alone in the office again.
“I’m irritated because I’m the boss,” Ethan said. “It’s my job to be irritated. And he’s irritated because he doesn’t like screwing up. That’s why he’s good at his job. Or one of the reasons. Did you know he can wrestle a steer?”
“I did not. Good to know.” I looked back at the remains of the bookshelves, the glass and books and mementos scattered on the f
loor. “This night took an ugly turn.”
Ethan put his hands on my cheeks, drawing my attention back to him. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine. It was just . . .” I took a deep breath, blew it out again. “A lot to come home to. I’d expected a very lighthearted night, and got it, for the most part. Kind of a weird ending to my singledom.”
Ethan brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “You single-handedly dispatched an intruder without a weapon in a very lovely party dress. I’d say that’s an appropriate ending.”
“Better. But still unsettling.”
I had sudden sympathy for Mallory’s feeling of existential dread, for the interminable sense that life was never going to be easy, that we’d never really be safe.
Cold feet, I told myself. It was the night before my wedding, and I was understandably anxious, and this weird incident wasn’t helping. But I didn’t have time for it right now, so I pushed the thoughts away.
“I doubt this was personal,” he said. “Not an attack against you or me, but an individual who needs help—and now can get it.”
I nodded. “You’re right. Not a harbinger. Just a lonely soul.”
“And we’ll do what we can to set him to rights.”
The clock chimed five, each peal ominous in the silence of the room. Dawn was approaching.
“I should get to my room,” I said. “Try to get some sleep.”
“Oh, you won’t be leaving my side tonight, Sentinel.”
I felt instantly relieved. But considered the repercussions. “But tradition—the whole thing about not seeing each other?”
“I am Master of this House,” Ethan said, and, as if intent on proving it, pulled me against him, melding his mouth to mine. His kisses could be sweet or tender, teasing or incendiary. This one was possessive and promising—that he was here and I was safe.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said when the kiss was done, burying my face in his shirt, in the scent and feel of him. “Let’s leave this night behind and get started on tomorrow.”
“I’ve no objection to that, either, Sentinel. None at all.”
• • •
Our apartments on the top floor of Cadogan House were dark and cool, a few golden lamps burning away the darkness. There was no bedtime basket from Margot tonight—she’d been out of the House and probably thought I was sleeping in the small dorm room that had been my first home in the House.
I followed Ethan to the enormous closet, where my dress and his tux hung from valet bars in matching black bags, waiting for the sun to rise and fall again.
“Are you ready?”
I glanced at Ethan. He smiled at me while working his nightly ritual, taking off watch, removing keys and wallet.
“I think everything’s ready for the ceremony and the reception, if that’s what you mean.”
“You know it isn’t.”
“I guess you’ll have to see if I show up.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me while unfastening his cuff links. “I am confident that’s a joke, since you know I would hunt you to the ends of the earth if you failed to show up.”
“I’m pretty sure I can outrun you.”
His smile went sly. “Let’s test that theory,” he said, and launched toward me.
• • •
After he’d hauled me into the bathroom over his shoulder, we brushed our fangs like good little vampires. When we climbed into the bed, the blankets fluffy and cool, the automatic shutters shushed softly over the windows, locking into place to protect us from the murderous sun.
I curled against the side of his body, his arms enclosing me.
“Much preferable to sleeping alone,” he said. “Even if it comes with a little bad luck.”
I wasn’t sure how much “a little” would change the already sizable pile of it.
“And how was your bachelorette party, at least before the darker turn?”
“Good. There was poetry and chocolate. Mallory and Lindsey did a very good job of planning.”
“And no strippers?”
“And no strippers.” I glanced at him. “And you?”
“No strippers,” he said. “Although the liquor was ample and the cigars were very definitely Cuban.”
“What is it with bachelor parties and cigars? I mean, that’s a pretty phallic symbol for a pre-wedding celebration.”
“It’s a bachelor party,” he said with a wink. “We aren’t celebrating the wedding. We’re celebrating the bachelor.”
“You hardly need celebrating. I think your ego’s big enough.”
I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when he pounced, covering my body with his and pressing me back into the bed. Pitched forward on his elbows, he brushed the hair from my face.
“You had something to say about my ego, Sentinel?”
I smiled at him, pushed a lock of hair behind one ear. “You’re doing just fine, I think.”
Eyes closing, he lowered his mouth to mine, teased with kisses that were soft and sweet, hints of things to come. “You are mine, Sentinel. Bachelor party or not, that is an undeniable truth.”
“I think I was always yours,” I said, and his eyes darkened. “There’s something inside”—I put a hand over my heart, then his—“that was always waiting for you. I just had to get ready for it.”
He grinned. “You had to ripen.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. And even if that’s true, I’m not sure what it says about you.” I patted his cheek. “But four hundred years isn’t that long.”
He nipped playfully at my neck. “It’s nothing in vampire years.”
“Which are like dog years, but longer?”
He made a haughty sound, nibbled harder.
“I forgot,” I said. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Mmm-hmm.” One of his hands cupped my breast, sending shivers of anticipation along my skin.
“But you’re making it difficult to concentrate.”
“That’s the general idea,” he said, and applied those nips to my jaw.
“This is a serious talk, though. For real.”
He looked up at me, a lock of blond hair over his eye, so he looked very much like a pirate interrupted during a very interesting journey. Eyes narrowed, he sat up and looked at me consideringly.
I pushed up to sit beside him, legs folded beneath me. “It’s about our names.”
“Our names,” he repeated, expression blank.
“Only Master vampires use last names, which is a rule I’m technically breaking, since Merit is my last name. I guess, technically, I could play the ‘Caroline Merit Sullivan’ game, but that’s too much. There’s too much baggage, and it just—I don’t know.”
He lifted his eyebrows.
I held up my hands. “I’m not saying this very well. The point is, after we’re married, I’d like to stay ‘Merit.’ I want to keep that name.”
He smiled. “Ah. I see.”
“I’ve been putting this off. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He smiled at me. “You were born Caroline, and you made yourself Merit. I demand your love and your faithfulness.” He smiled slyly. “Your identity is yours to keep.”
That was it, exactly. The thing I hadn’t been able to put into words. I shouldn’t have doubted that he’d understand what it was to feel like you’d made your own identity. He’d done the same when escaping from Balthasar, the vampire who’d made him.
“Come here,” he said, pulling me against him as he lay down again.
I put a hand on his chest, felt his heart pounding beneath my hand. “You were born a soldier, turned into a monster, or so you feared. And you made yourself a Master. You made your identity.”
“That was more of an ‘it takes a village’ effort, but to your point, yes.” He
lifted my fingers to his mouth, pressed lips to soft skin. “Others wanted us to play certain roles. To be certain people. But we made ourselves. So keep your name, Merit of Cadogan House. I have your heart.”
He certainly did.
“Besides, I wasn’t born ‘Sullivan.’ And I don’t believe I’ve told you that story yet.”
Before being outed, vampires had changed names every few decades to avoid detection. “You haven’t,” I said, a little guilty I hadn’t thought to ask him before.
“Television anchor in the seventies,” he said with a grin. “Name was Sullivan Steele.”
“No.”
“Absolute truth. He wasn’t nearly as suave as the name suggested—I believe there was a double-knit suit in there, but I liked Sullivan.”
“And Ethan?”
“That was Aaliyah’s idea.” Aaliyah was Malik’s wife, a writer who tended to keep to herself. “Found it in a book of baby names, which is what we used back then for ideas.”
“In the days before the Internet tubes.”
“I don’t think they’re tubes, but yes. When the library was truly necessary.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “I hope you don’t mean to suggest it’s not necessary now. Because it is.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Easy, Sentinel. There are plenty of vampires who use the library, including us. The Librarian would certainly lead the charge for my assassination or dismissal in any event.”
“Good,” I said. I kissed him lightly. “Because that would endanger our relationship.”
He nodded. “Besides, what would I do with the space? Although a conservatory would be nice . . .” He smiled again, but there was still a troubled tightness around his eyes.
“You’re trying to calm me down,” I realized. “By lightening the mood.”
“Since we met,” he said, putting his chin atop my head, “I’ve been telling you to be still.”
“So you have,” I said, and let myself be drawn in by the warmth and scent of him, by the comfort of his nearness, of having him as a lodestar. “I love you, Ethan Sullivan.”
“And I love you, Merit of the Single Name.”
