"So you've gotten assurances from Chicago's big three. You think that's gonna calm these people down?"
"Doubtful," Ethan said. "They're going to want specific information as to the threat, as to who made the phone call, as to who sent the e-mail."
"So if we don't figure it out, we're fucked," Morgan concluded. "He'll publish this story, and we're fucked. They'll restart the hearings, pass whatever shit legislation they've been considering, and lock us inside our Houses for the duration of the night."
"One step at a time," Ethan calmly said. "There's no need to jump to conclusions."
"Oh, don't pull that 'I'm the expert' Master bullshit on me, Sullivan. I'm not as old as you, but I'm not a newbie, either."
"Greer," Scott warned. Scott, I'd learned from my research, was a relatively new Master.
But he still had more pull, more experience, than Morgan, and the tone of his voice was an obvious reminder of that fact. It was the first time I'd heard Scott pull rank, and that made it much more effective.
Morgan bit back whatever retort he had planned and sat back in his chair, eyes narrow, gaze on the table in front of him. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wasn't handling transitions well. Mine, from human to vampire. His, from Second to Master.
"We can offer assurances as to the Houses," Ethan said, recapping the deal we'd reached so far. "What else?"
"Actually," Scott said, "I've got a question." He glanced at Morgan. "While I mean no disrespect to you, we've got a new slate of raves, threats against us, someone spreading some nasty information about how manipulative we are. It's leading to this - our getting irritated with each other. What are the odds on Celina's involvement?"
Morgan's jaw clenched.
Ethan and I shared a glance. "I don't believe we have hard facts either way," he said, apparently deciding not to raise the circumstantial evidence we'd discovered in the library. "Although she has demonstrated that she's not above spreading discord among the Houses."
"And how much of that discord is personal, Sullivan?" Morgan sat forward, turned his head to Ethan. "Can you really be neutral about Celina?"
Ethan arched a single brow. "Neutral? About Celina? Have her actions to date suggested that she should be afforded neutrality?"
Agreed, I thought, given that the woman had tried to kill Ethan and had tried to have me killed. I had very specific, and very concrete, feelings about Celina Desaulniers.
Neutrality wasn't even on the menu.
"Look," Noah said, "her previous acts notwithstanding, before we get too involved in personal vendetta, I'm with Greer. If we have no evidence either way, then let's leave out assigning blame to anyone in particular. The GP released her, so we'll be overstepping our bounds if we take too close a look - you know how that goes." I didn't, but the comment made me wonder. I added that to my library to-do list.
"So the only thing that focusing our attention on Celina is likely to accomplish is pissing off Greenwich or wasting our limited time on a direction we don't have the political capital to pursue." Noah shook his head, leaned back in his chair. "No. It's not that I think she's a saint, but without specifics, I say we keep the investigation open at this point."
Scott shrugged. "Definitely not a saint, but I agree. I threw it out there to test the waters.
If we don't have evidence, we keep our focus broad."
"That's decided, then," Ethan said, but that line of worry was settled between his brows.
The comments didn't suggest that Scott or Noah was blindly supportive of Celina, but they were going to have to be convinced of her guilt. That burden, apparently, lay on us.
"It comes back to the Breckenridges," Luc suggested. "There must be something we're missing. Why this family? Why now? If the perp had information on Jamie, and they're using it to get something out of the Brecks, why involve us? What's the connection between the Brecks and vamps? Why the animosity?"
Animosity.
That was the word that did it, that forced the puzzle pieces into place.
I thought about Nick's questions outside the House, then the labyrinth.
The tingle of magic, the hatred in his eyes.
The movement in the underbrush, and the animal that stared back at me through the trees.
The selfsame tingle I'd felt in Papa Breck's office.
The obvious prejudice, the hatred of vampires.
Circling the wagons around Jamie, protecting him.
"They aren't human," I said aloud, then glanced up, met Ethan's gaze.