She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I'm not having a lusty, sordid affair with a hot, nubile Novitiate. That was my dry cleaner on the phone."
I resisted the urge to ask how she was going to explain "latex" the next time she talked to her dry cleaner. . . . On the other hand, that actually kinda worked.
"Thank God," I said. "I was having Mallory and Catcher flashbacks." She pushed me back out the door, then closed it behind us. We began the trek to the first floor and the Cadogan buffet. "Was it really that bad? I mean, Bell is hot. H-A-W-T hot."
"So hot you lost your appreciation for spelling?"
"Yeppers. Surface-of-the-sun hot."
"You know who else is hot?" I asked her.
"Don't say 'Luc.' "
"Oh. My. God," I said, putting my hand against my chest in mock surprise. "You are psychic." She grumbled, as she was wont to do every time I brought up the name of the boy she should have been chasing. Not that I was nosy . . . but they'd be so good together.
And then she brought out the big guns.
"I'll be ready to discuss Luc with you," she said as we trotted down two flights of stairs to the main floor, "when you're ready to talk about your plan to ensnare the second-prettiest blond vampire in the House."
"Is Luc first in that calculation?"
Lindsey snorted, then tugged at her own blond ponytail. "Hello?"
"Well, however you calculate it, I have no plans to ensnare anyone." We took the long, main hallway to the back of the House, where the old-school cafeteria was located. Wooden tables and ladder-back chairs were placed in front of a stainless-steel buffet where vampires could help themselves. There was not a slice of processed cheese or a cellophane-wrapped snack cake in sight.
"Uh-huh," Lindsey said, leading the way to the buffet. She got in line behind a dozen or so Cadogan vampires—all dressed in the requisite black. The room was filled with them, vamps preparing for an evening of work in the House or a night out in the Windy City. Cadogan House was akin to a company town, so some of the vamps were employed by the House—like the guards—while others worked in the Chicago metro area and contributed a portion of their income back to the House. (Cadogan House vamps got a stipend for being House members, so the work wasn't technically necessary, but vamps liked to be productive.) Of the House's three hundred eighteen vampires (having lost Peter and Amber), only about one-third actually lived in the House. The rest lived elsewhere but retained their affiliation, having sworn their oaths to Ethan and his fanged fraternity.
Lindsey and I moved slowly through the line, pushing our plastic trays along the steel rack and nabbing food and drink as we passed. Since I'd fought yesterday, and would be fighting again in a few minutes, I didn't want to overdo it, but there were a few essentials I needed: a pint of Type O; a mess of protein (satisfied today by sausage links and patties); and a solid dose of carbs. I plucked a couple of biscuits from a warming pan and arranged them on my tray before grabbing a napkin and silverware and following Lindsey to a table.
She picked a seat beside Katherine and Margot, two vamps I'd first met in Lindsey's room during a night of pizza and reality television. They smiled as we approached, then adjusted their trays to make sure we had room to sit down.
"Sentinel," Margot said, pushing a lock of gleaming, short dark hair behind her ear. She was absolutely gorgeous, with a bob of dark brown hair that curved to a point across her forehead, and long, whiskey-warm eyes that would have been equally well suited on a seductive tiger. "Training tonight?"
"Indeed," I said, sliding into a chair and popping a chunk of biscuit into my mouth. "After all, what would a day in Cadogan House be if Sullivan couldn't humiliate me?" Lindsey nodded. "Lately, that would be very unusual."
"Sad but true," I agreed.
"Were you serious about the barbecue?" Katherine asked, her long brown hair falling around her shoulders, a lock at the top pulled back with a small barrette. Kat was pretty in an old-fashioned way—with the big eyes and fresh face of a girl from a different time. She'd been born in Kansas City when the town was thick with stockyards and cattle. Her brother, Thomas, was also a member of the House.
"Aspen-stake serious. Folks have been asking for a mixer," I said, nudging Lindsey with an elbow. She snorted, then sipped orange juice from her glass.
"I'm not sure if you're aware," she said, "but I'm not up for a mixer." We all stopped and looked at her. Margot tilted her head. "Is that because you've dumped Connor, or because you're an official item?"
"Please say 'dumped,' " I murmured. "Please say 'dumped.' " This time, she elbowed me. "We are no longer an item. He's just so . . ."
"Young?" the three of us asked simultaneously.
"Sometimes," she said, "I wonder what life as a vampire would be like without all these other vampires around."
Margot stuck out her tongue at Lindsey.
"You'd miss us terribly," I reminded her. "And you'd miss Luc." She got quiet.
"I'm not responding to that," she finally said.
Margot, Katherine, and I grinned at one another, figuring that was answer enough.
Ethan was already in the Sparring Room, already in his gi pants and a white jacket belted with a purple sash. He was barefoot in the middle of the tatami, unsheathed katana in hand, sparring with an invisible opponent. He thrust the sword behind him, then turned and pulled it back, wrenched it upward, and swung it around his head. When the sword was down again, he executed a butterfly kick, legs flying parallel to the ground, the tip of the sword following, a deadly punctuation to the move. He was fast enough that speed blurred his movements, making him a haze of white and gleaming steel amidst the antique weapons and wood of the room.