"Isn't it a little weird for a Navarre vamp to leave a welcome gift for a Cadogan vamp?" I asked, while checking out the doors on the right side of the room. The first door opened to a small closet, inside of which hung a dozen wooden hangers. The second opened to a small bathroom - claw-foot tub with shower, pedestal sink.
"Not if she's the prettiest Cadogan vamp."
I snorted and closed the door again, then moved my bags to the bed. "You can't think that line's gonna work."
"Did we finish off a deep-dish pie Saturday night?"
"That's my recollection."
"Then my lines work."
I made a sarcastic sound, but the boy had a point.
"I need to go. I've got a meeting in a few," he said, and the Master around here is a real administrative bastard."
" Mmm-hmm. I bet he is. You enjoy that meeting."
"I always do. And on behalf of Navarre House and the North American Vampire Registry, we hope your days in Cadogan House are many and fruitful. Peace be with you. Live long and prosper - "
"Goodbye, Morgan," I said with a laugh, flipping my phone shut and sliding it back into my pocket.
It was fairly debatable whether Morgan had manipulated me into our first date, which was the result of a political compromise (in front of fifty other vampires, no less). But we'd passed that official first date a few weeks ago, and as he'd pointed out, we'd shared a pizza or two since then. I clearly hadn't done anything to quell his interest; on the other hand, I hadn't really tried to encourage it. I liked Morgan, sure. He was funny, charming, intelligent, and ridiculously pretty. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was dating him from behind a wall of detachment, that I hadn't fully let my guard down.
Maybe it was chemistry. Maybe it was a security issue, the fact that he was from Navarre and that, as Sentinel, I was supposed to be always on guard, always on call, for Cadogan House. Maybe it was the fact that he'd gotten date number one because he'd forced my hand in front of Ethan, Scott Grey, Noah Beck (the leader of Chicago's independent vampires), and half of Cadogan House.
Yeah, that could be it.
Or maybe it was something even more fundamental: However ironic, the thought of dating a vampire - with all the political and emotional complications that entailed - didn't thrill me.
I guess any of those could have been the reason it felt strange, the reason I enjoyed his company but couldn't seem to just sink it, Morgan's enthusiasm notwithstanding.
Since I wasn't going to find resolution today, I shook the thought from my head and headed back to my bags, still zipped atop the small bed. I opened them and set to work.
I began by pulling out books, writing supplies, and knick- knacks, then organized them on the bookshelf. Toiletries went into the bathroom's medicine cabinet, and foldable clothes went into the bureau. Shirts and pants were hung from the wooden hangers in the closet, beneath which I unceremoniously dumped my shoes.
When I'd emptied the bags, I began zipping them up again, but stopped when I felt something in an interior side pocket of my duffel. I reached in and found a small package wrapped in brown paper. Curious, I slipped the tape and unfolded the wrapping. Inside was a framed piece of cross-stitched linen that read: VAMPIRES ARE
PEOPLE, TOO.
Although I wasn't sure I believed the message, as surprise housewarming presents went, it wasn't bad. I certainly appreciated the thought, and made a mental note to thank Mal the next time I saw her.
I'd just folded the empty bags into the bottom bureau drawer when the beeper at my waist began to vibrate. Beepers were required gear for Cadogan guards, intended to ensure that we could quickly respond to fanged emergencies. Now that I was an official resident of the House - instead of twenty minutes north - I could respond in record time.
I unclipped the beeper and scanned the screen. It read: OPS RM. 911.
Not much for poetry, but the message was clear enough. There was some kind of emergency, so we were to mobilize in the House's Operations Room, the guards' HQ in the basement of Cadogan House. I reclipped my beeper, grabbed my sheathed katana, and headed downstairs.
"I don't care if they're taking your picture, asking for your autograph, or buying your