he made no move to acknowledge me as we passed.
That did not bode well.
This time, Ethan's door was open. That was strange, but worse was the fact that he stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, gaze on the floor, that line of worry between his eyes. And he'd changed clothes, too - his tidy black suit jacket was gone.
He was in shirtsleeves, no tie, only the glint of the gold Cadogan medal around his neck breaking the expanse of pristine white shirt that hugged his torso. He'd even changed his hair; it was now pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. The kind of move a girl might make when she had to get down to business.
My stomach knotted uncomfortably. In the time that I'd gone up to my room and returned to the first floor again, something had happened.
I rapped my knuckles against the threshold.
Ethan glanced up. "I was about to page you," he said. "Come in and shut the door."
I did as ordered, then figured I might as well get the good news out first. "I called my mother. There's a charity cocktail thing at the Breckenridge estate Friday night. She's going to messenger over an invitation."
Ethan lifted approving brows. "Well done. Two birds with one stone, and all that."
"FYI, she also said she hasn't heard about Jamie being involved in any kind of journalism work. I didn't tell her anything," I added, when Ethan's gaze snapped up. "I just asked a very vague question. If he was working, especially in Nick's field, she'd have heard. Mrs. Breck would have been thrilled. She wouldn't have kept that kind of thing from my mom."
He paused, looking perplexed. "Hmm. Well, be that as it may," he said, walking around his desk and taking a seat, "given the nature of the damage a story could cause, we're going to err on the side of caution on this one. There's undoubtedly some kernel of truth to the information we've received, specific as it is." He gazed down at his desktop for a moment before lifting clouded eyes to me. "Have a seat, Merit."
There was concern in his tone. My heart thumped disconcertingly, but I did as directed, holding my katana aside and slipping into one of the chairs in front of Ethan's desk.
"The Presidium has released Celina."
"Oh, my God." I knew my eyes had gone silver, maybe with anger, maybe with fear, maybe with the adrenaline that was beginning to rush my limbs. "How - when? When did this happen?"
"Three days ago. Darius just called. I spoke briefly with Luc; he'll update the dailies and inform RDI and the other Chicago Houses." In Cadogan speak, that meant Luc would update our security reports, inform the mercenary fairies (yup - fairies) who worked for RDI, the company that oversaw security at the House during daylight hours and who stood guard at the front gate, and call Morgan and Scott Grey.
"He just called?" I repeated. "You only talked to him a few hours ago. He didn't mention then that they were releasing crazy into the world?"
"He didn't know. He wasn't there when the vote was taken, probably by design. The Presidium is a majoritarian body, and she's in the majority, as this should demonstrate.
The Presidium" - he paused and shook his head - "they're vampires, Merit. Predators, who were born at a time when that meant more than it does today. When it wasn't flash, but substance. When humans were..."
I could tell that my being newly and somewhat controversially changed, he was looking for a polite way to explain something that could be easily summed up in a single word.
"Food," I finished for him. "They were food."
"And little else. The politics of it aside" - was it disturbing that the perception that humans were upright cattle was mere "politics" to Ethan? - "the other members could have been glamoured, and yet be completely unaware of it. She's that powerful."
Having felt the slow sink of her glamour, her ability to pour herself into your psyche and manipulate it at will, I understood. I'd been able to resist it, but that was a personal skill, apparently. Some weird quirk of my makeup.
"As we've discussed, I expected that Celina would be confined for her crimes. That was the agreement your grandfather negotiated between Tate, the district attorney, and the GP. The Presidium has a short memory for Clearings. Although I didn't doubt that she would receive four-star treatment, I