I couldn’t stop the flush that warmed my neck, but nodded. “I don’t know how he’s cooking up that glamour, but he’s very, very good at it.”
“Where’s he been?” Catcher asked Ethan, who took a seat on the couch, gestured for them to join us. Mallory squeezed my hand again before releasing it, moving to sit in the chair beside Catcher’s. I took my now-familiar seat on the couch next to Ethan.
“According to him, he was kidnapped by a cult, tortured, incapacitated by extract of aspen.”
“You have doubts?”
“About his identity? I hardly could after tonight’s display. For the period in between? Well, he’s never been terribly well acquainted with the truth.”
That was very diplomatic, I said silently to Ethan, and felt his answering warmth.
I am trying to remember, as a wise vampire once told me, that I am more than he tried to make me.
I’d been that vampire and appreciated the shout-out.
“So, what’s the next step?” Mallory asked.
“I told him to leave the city,” Ethan said. “I suspect he won’t.”
“And why’s he here?” Catcher asked.
Ethan sighed, draped an arm along the back of the couch. “Hard to say at this early point, but add power, revenge, and possessiveness to the list. He said he wouldn’t leave, but I’m not yet sure if that’s because he wants to irritate me, finagle his way into our House and finances, or both.”
“That’s comforting,” Mallory said, and Ethan nodded.
“He’ll be well monitored, but to some extent we’ll have to wait for him to make a move.”
“You could,” Catcher said. “Or you could provoke him into making one.”
When Ethan’s expression didn’t change, I guessed he’d already considered that particular strategy.
I glanced at Ethan. “You’ve come up with a plan.”
“I’m considering disavowal.”
“Damn,” Catcher said, shifting in his seat. “I haven’t heard that word in a while.”
I’d never heard it, but I had seen it in print in the Canon, the collection of vampire lore and laws. Every House Initiate got a desk reference, and the entire set of books—dozens of volumes—were stored in the House’s second-floor library, one of its most spectacular rooms.
“What’s disavowal?” Mallory asked.
“It’s when a vampire publicly repudiates the one who made him,” I said, earning Ethan’s approving nod. “Being given immortality, whatever the circumstances, is considered a gift. It creates a bond—magically, biologically, politically—between the vampires. Disavowal severs the bond. It’s considered an extreme action, an action of last resort, and ethically questionable.”
“So, technically,” Mallory said, “you could have disavowed Darth Sullivan?”
The question—and the nickname we used for him—was out before she’d realized what she’d said. She mouthed a curse, squeezed her eyes closed. “Crap.”
Ethan sat up straight, slowly turned his gaze to me. “Darth Sullivan?”
I inwardly cringed, opted for defense. “You’re so handsome.”
“Merit.”
“And really tall.” I cocked my head at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you resemble David Beckham?”
“Merit.”
There was no avoiding it now. “We made up the name before we got to know you. In fairness, we only did it because we really, really didn’t like you.” I grinned. “But we really like you now.”