on the table, then glanced up at Nick. "That said, in the interest of goodwill between our respective organizations, we are willing to consider a trade. We will provide this information to you, upon your word that this information does not leave the room. That the information would not be provided to other shifters, other humans, advisors, officials, etc. Nor, of course, would it be provided to the press in any form."
Nick barked out a laugh and looked away before raising his gaze to Ethan's again."I'm a journalist. Do you honestly expect me to agree to that?"
"I expect that if you agree to that, we will have no need to further investigate why the Breckenridges generally, and Jamie specifically, were targeted for this particular incident. We will have no reason," Ethan said, "to further investigate why your family was so eager to jump to young Jamie's defense."
Nick's nostrils flared. Clearly, even if we didn't know the details, something was amiss with Jamie. "Blackmail, Sullivan?"
Ethan smiled back at Nick, with teeth. "I learn from the best, Breckenridge."
There was silence in the room.
"Agreed," Papa Breck said into the silence, "on the terms you specified." When Nick opened his mouth to speak, Papa Breck silenced him with a finger. "We will close this down, Nicholas," he said. "We will close it down, and we will close it down tonight. We have lived peacefully in Chicago for three generations, and while I love you, I will not allow your pride as a journalist to bring that to an end. Family wins this one, not career."
He returned his gaze to Ethan. "This is done."
Ethan nodded. "In that case, we are all witnesses to the terms of the agreement that we have reached."
There were nods around the room.
"Before we end this ridiculous lovefest," Nick said, sarcasm thick in his voice, "could we get to the meat of it? Who sent the e-mail?"
Ethan looked at him. "Peter," he said. "One of our House guards. As to the instigator, we have circumstantial evidence, albeit only circumstantial at this point, that the scheme itself was concocted by Celina."
"Celina?" Nick asked, eyes suddenly wide. I gave him points that he understood having Celina as an enemy was a cause for concern. "How did - "
"She was released," Ethan smoothly finished. "And in light of the fact that she has unfinished business" - he bobbed his head toward me - "we expect that she will return to Chicago. We have, however, no evidence that she bears any particular ill will toward your family. You appear to have been chosen because you were, let's say, strategically convenient."
"What evidence do you have that she's involved?" Scott asked, his head tilted curiously to the side.
"E-mails were sent from an address we believe to be her alias. And Peter confessed to the fact," he matter-of-factly added.
Scott made a low whistle. "This does not bode well. Not well at all."
The room went silent. Morgan, surprisingly, kept quiet, but a glance in his direction showed an abnormally pale cast to his cheeks. His eyes were wide, his gaze intense and centered on the tabletop in front of him, as if he contemplated grave things. I supposed more crimes perpetrated by your former Master, the vampire that made you, were pretty grave things to contemplate.
"Well," Papa Breck said, rising from his chair, "I believe that concludes this matter."
Nick interrupted the silence. "Wait - I want to say something."
We all looked in his direction.
"Chicago has three Houses," he said. "More than any other city in the United States. It is where vampires announced their existence to the world, and it is becoming the center of vampire activity in the United States. Chicago is the locus, the focus, of American vampires.
"I know about the raves," Nick continued, and the room went quiet enough to hear a pin drop. "Maybe you had an excuse before. When you were still in hiding, when vampires were myth and horror-movie fodder, maybe it was appropriate to pretend that raves were nothing more than the subject of some lonely human's overactive imagination. But things have changed. This is your city. The Presidium knows it. The vampires know it.
The nymphs know it. The fairies know it.
"Shifters know it," he quietly, gravely, said, then lifted his blue eyes to mine. I don't know exactly what I saw there; I'm not sure I have words for the emotion. But it was bottomless - a well of experience, of life, of love and loss. A wealth of human history,