And he knows it.”
Both good facts to file away, I thought with a smile.
When we reached the stairs, I handed my clutch to Ethan.
He gave it the same look he might have given bad fish. “I’m not going to carry your purse.”
“Then you’ll have to carry me down the stairs.” I took the handrail in my right hand, picked up the skirt’s flare in my left. Took one careful step, then the next, sensed him descend with resignation behind me.
“Yes, a Master has to occasionally carry a purse,” I said, anticipating his objection. “Just as a Sentinel must occasionally wear a very expensive dress.”
“Did you make contact with Jonah?” he asked, catching up to walk beside me.
“He’s going to keep an eye out for Balthasar.” I opted not to tell him about Jonah’s request. Both of us being angry at him wasn’t likely to accomplish much.
Luc was alone in the foyer when we reached it, the supplicants already gone for the evening. He worked on his phone, tongue poked at the corner of his mouth, and looked up at the sound of our footsteps.
His eyes widened appreciatively as he took in my dress, heels, hair. “You look beautiful.”
Ethan beat me to a response. “Thank you. But you should compliment Merit as well. She cleans up nicely.”
Luc snorted, glanced at me. “And you don’t look half-bad yourself, Sentinel.”
“Thank you, Luc. He’s just jealous. He prefers to be the arm candy.”
“I think you’ll both do,” Luc assured.
“Anything?” Ethan asked, the question clear, even if unspoken.
Luc shook his head. “Quiet as a mouse, still as a rock.”
I knew that line, had played the game in elementary school, a ploy to keep children still and quiet.
“I have an idea,” Ethan said, “and I’d like your thoughts, your analysis.”
Luc put his phone away, put his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”
“Disavowal.”
“All right, all right, all right,” Luc said with a grin. “I like an aggressive strategy.”
I actually recognized that movie reference—an unusual win for Luc—but let the applause pass, since we were short on time.
“I’ll talk to Malik, have the Librarian look into it.”
Ethan nodded. “Brody’s driving?”
“He’s the best defensive driver we’ve got. He’s waiting at the gate. I’m glad to see you’ve got weapons,” he added, gesturing toward the katanas. “Although I do wonder about the purse.”
“It’s hers,” Ethan said, handing it back to me. I supposed he expected I’d make the steps in front of Cadogan House single-handedly.
He must have guessed the line of my thoughts. I’ll hoist you over my shoulder if you can’t make it down three steps.
I’d make it just fine.
“Be careful,” Luc said. “And, Sentinel? Try to have a good time.”
I’d be at a fancy party in a fancy dress with my father and his fancy friends, while my boyfriend’s narcissistic creator roamed Chicago. What could possibly go wrong?
* * *
The Reed house was a mansion of the old-school Chicago variety, located in the city’s Prairie Avenue Historic District, a neighborhood south of downtown that housed some of the city’s finest architecture. Reed’s house, a monolith of stone with a sharply pointed red roof, had been built in 1885 for the owner of a successful mail-order company based in Chicago. The house formed a squared, elongated C, the open side closed with a long stone wall, creating a courtyard in the middle.
Tonight, limousines lined the neighborhood’s streets. Brody plodded along in stop-and-go traffic, his frustration evidenced by occasional grunts.
“Eyes on the road,” Ethan said when Brody checked the rearview mirror again to catch a glimpse of me.
I bit back a smile, but gave myself a mental high five for being utterly fly.
“She just looks so . . . fancy,” Brody said, which deflated my ego just a bit.
“Fancy,” I decided, wasn’t the equivalent of “astoundingly beautiful.” And the dress had been too much work to get into for anything less complimentary than the latter.
“She can hear you,” I reminded him. “And she outranks you. Eyes on the road.”
“What did you say to me last night?” Ethan murmured with amusement. “Down, girl?”
I made a vague sound as Brody reached the front of Reed’s house, where a human in a black shirt, vest, and pants opened the door.
“Stay close,” I told Brody. “Find a spot, no more than two blocks, and keep your phone on.”
“On that,” he said, and merged back into the slow crawl of cars after Ethan and I had disembarked. I tucked hair behind my ear, adjusted the dress so it fell properly around my feet, noticed Ethan’s