Luc believed it was Jamie, not Nick, who'd taken up the reins of a vampire investigation was a surprise.
I leaned back against the conference table and checked out the picture of Jamie. Tall and brown-haired like his brothers, he had been photographed walking down the street in jeans and a T-shirt, cell phone in his hand. The picture was taken in front of what looked like a neighborhood bar, although I didn't recognize the location. Whatever the setting, the expression on his face was unmistakable - he looked, and this was a first as far as I was aware, determined.
I glanced over at Ethan. "How did he go from slacker to pounding the pavement for the journalistic equivalent of The Jerry Springer Show?"
"Luc," Ethan prompted.
"First of all, was that really such a leap?" Luc asked. He rose from the desk, went to the section of the bookshelves that I knew held a built-in liquor cabinet, and after a nod from
Ethan, poured amber liquid - Scotch, maybe - into a chubby glass. He raised his glass to Ethan, who looked vaguely amused by the gesture, and took a sip.
"We've heard Jamie is feeling some pressure from Mr. Breckenridge about making something of his life," Luc said. "Apparently, Daddy referred to Nicholas as a model of how to flourish outside the family fold, and young Jamie took offense. Our guess is he figured that if big brother could make a living as a journalist, he'd take a stab at it, too."
I frowned. "I guess," I said. "But that really doesn't sound like Jamie. He wanted to outpace Nicholas, so he hired on with a tabloid? And no offense, but to investigate vampires?"
"Not just vampires," Ethan noted, relaxing back into his chair. "Celebrity vampires."
"Or even better, bloodsucking vampires taking advantage of poor defenseless humans."
Luc lowered himself onto the buttery leather couch on the left-hand side of the room and cradled his drink in his hands. "Not the kind of headline we want inked across the city, but exactly the kind of headline that could make a name for young Breckenridge."
"Especially if he's the one to break the second-biggest story since our coming-out - if he gets to spill the beans about the inherent evilness of vampires," Ethan said, rising and making his own trip to the liquor cabinet. But instead of pouring a stash of undoubtedly expensive alcohol, he opened a small refrigerator and pulled out what looked like a juice box. As Ethan was the type to use fine china and silverware to eat a hot dog, I had a feeling it didn't contain juice. Blood4You usually sent its wares in plastic medical bags. I guess it had upgraded to convenience products.
"Not Nicholas with his Pulitzer," he continued, "but Jamie. The youngest Breckenridge, and a man who has little, academically or professionally, to his credit." Having offered his theory, Ethan poked in the plastic straw attached to his "juice" box.
"Cocktail," he said, his tongue flicking the edge of one suddenly extended canine. My heart skipped a disconcerting beat. His eyes stayed emerald green as he sipped, a sign of his ability to control his emotions, his hunger.
Ethan drank the blood in seconds, then crushed the packaging in his hand and threw it into a silver trash can. Apparently refreshed, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers and leaned back against the cabinet. "We won't be popular forever," he said.
"We got lucky with regard to the murders - lucky that most humans were willing to direct their ire toward Celina while embracing the rest of us. The idea of magic, of there being more to the world than meets the eye, remains very attractive to many."
Ethan's expression darkened. "But people fear what they don't understand. We may not be able to avoid that fear forever. And popularity invites criticism, fuels jealousy. It is, for better or worse, human nature." That's when his head lifted, and he looked at me. His eyes sparkled, orbs of emerald green ice, and I knew he was about to make his pitch.
Voice low, grave, he said, "We maintain alliances, Merit, form connections, in order to protect ourselves. To give ourselves what advantages we can - advantages that we need in order to survive, to safeguard ourselves, our Houses." He paused. "You have these connections."
"Shit," I muttered, squeezing my eyes closed, already knowing what he wanted me to do.
"You grew up with the Breckenridges. Your families are friends. You are, for better or worse, part of