Christine, a lithe and pretty vampire, stepped forward. She wore workout gear in vibrant shades of purple, and her sable hair was pulled into a perfect ponytail. Her makeup was also perfect despite the three-mile run; she looked like she’d just stepped out of an ad for VitaBite, Blood4You’s new line of vitamin-enhanced drinks.
“What should we do?” she asked me.
I glanced around. A few of the human spectators had been injured in the chaos, and Catcher and Jeff helped the CPD calm and stabilize them while waiting for the EMTs. And with Luc and Ethan gone, I figured that made me the Cadogan vampire in charge.
I gestured toward the human crowd. “Mallory, Brody, why don’t you give Catcher and Jeff a hand with the humans?”
Mallory nodded, squeezed my arm, and set off at a jog. Brody followed.
I looked back at the rest of the Cadogan vampires. They weren’t guards or staff, but House civilians. They needed to get to safety.
“For now,” I said, “until we figure out what’s going on, get back to the House. That’s the best option until Ethan gives us orders.”
At least I hoped it was the best option. But they agreed without argument, nodding and pulling off racing bibs as they headed for vehicles or the El.
That left Jonah and me alone together.
“Merit, what the f**k was that?”
“It was about the GP,” I said, looking up into his worried blue eyes. “The driver said Ethan had to stay in Chicago and out of London.”
“Jesus,” Jonah said, eyes wide. “Did you recognize the driver?”
“He was in the crowd—I saw him before the race. Vampire, no obvious accent, presumably someone who doesn’t want Ethan to challenge Darius. But he said he was just the messenger.”
“Because he works for Darius?”
“Maybe. Or for someone who has a vested interest in control of the GP—and doesn’t think Ethan would be sympathetic.” I scanned my mental list of the other eleven Houses’ Masters; the driver didn’t match any of them. But he did have one noticeable feature.
“The driver had a crescent-shaped tattoo near his left eye. That mean anything to you? Symbolize something vampirey?”
“Is ‘vampirey’ a word?”
I just looked at him.
“Sorry,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You’re not the only one who uses sarcasm to cope. Unfortunate tendency.”
“My tendency isn’t unfortunate. And I’ll take that as a no.”
Jonah nodded. “That’s not a marker that’s familiar to me. There are some Rogue subgroups on the West Coast who use ink to mark their lack of affiliation.”
“Ironic.”
“Very. But they’re the only ones I know of. Anyway, I can check the RG archives. That’d be the way to go.”
“The RG has an archive?”
He rolled his eyes. “As partners go, you’re not terribly impressive.”
“Thanks, darling. I appreciate you, too.” But the comment hit home. Most RG partnerships were intimately close—physically and emotionally. I couldn’t offer that kind of relationship to Jonah, but I hadn’t been great with the business end of things, either. I always seemed to be dealing with some vampire drama or other.
“Don’t take it personally,” he said, knocking me playfully on the shoulder, a grin in his almond-shaped blue eyes. “We knew when you came on board that you’d be a different kind of guard.”
I blinked at him. “I really want to discuss that at length, but maybe at a more appropriate time.”
“You need to go back to the lighthouse,” Jonah said. “It’s past time.”
I couldn’t argue with that. The RG was headquartered in the lighthouse that stood sentinel at the harbor in Lake Michigan. In the several months I’d been an RG member, I’d visited only once.