I asked.
“Fine,” Ethan said, but he stopped and looked between us. He must have caught the hint of tension in the air. “Is everything okay here?”
“Everything’s great,” Michael said. “We’re just testing each other’s defenses.”
So we were, I thought.
“It’s in your natures,” Ethan said, then put a hand on my arm. “We’ve got work to do, Sentinel, if you’d like to head to the Ops Room and update Luc on the Rogues.”
I could tell when I was being dismissed. I gave him a mild salute. “Of course, Liege.”
Ethan rolled his eyes.
“Merit,” Michael said. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
If he was here to guide Cadogan House through the final stages of the transition, there seemed little doubt of that.
* * *
On the way to the stairs, I found a message from Mallory on my phone, asking if I wanted to grab pizza.
I missed her, truly. Lindsey was a great girl, and I was glad I had friends in the House to commiserate with. But Mallory and I had history, and the comfortableness that had come from a long friendship.
I was suddenly struck with melancholy, missing my former life, when my only worry would have been whether I was ready for the next day’s classes at U of C. I’d worried about due dates and dissertation chapters and grading papers, about whether my car would last through another Chicago winter (it had) and the Cubs would win another pennant (they hadn’t).
These nights, I worried about murder, the safety of my House, and whether my best friend could keep her hands out of the black magic cookie jar.
But with those supernatural hassles came Ethan and the thrill of knowing I was truly helping the vampires of my House.
Tonight, that House came first.
CAN’T TONIGHt, I texted back. MIDINVESTIGATION. RAIN CHECK?
OF COURSE, she said.
I put the phone in my pocket. Someday, hopefully, Mallory and I could get back on track.
CHAPTER SIX
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE REPLACEMENTS!
The Ops Room was the headquarters of Cadogan’s guard crew, the place where we strategized about supernatural problems and looked for solutions. It was also the hub of House security, where guards at closed-circuit televisions and computer monitors kept an eye on the House and its grounds and any activities that might pose a threat.
The room was high tech, outfitted with computer stations, a large conference table, and state-of-the-art technology. It was also right down the hall from the House’s training room and arsenal, giving us access to practice space and weaponry if the need arose.
I wasn’t exactly a guard, but I generally played one when things went bad. And they’d been going bad with some frequency lately.
There were three veteran guards on staff—Juliet, Lindsey, and Kelley, Luc’s temporary replacement. There were also a handful of temp guards, hired by Luc to fill the guard corps’ vacancies.
Tonight, the Ops Room was quiet. Kelley was gone, probably on patrol, and Juliet, lithe and redheaded, sat at the bank of monitors that displayed the House’s security feeds.
Lindsey sat at the table in front of a tablet, a cup of yogurt and a plastic spoon in hand. Luc sat at the end of the table, reading a newspaper, ankles crossed on the tabletop. It was like walking into their breakfast nook.
“We need to give you two a couple name,” I said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Lucsey, perhaps?”
Luc didn’t bat an eyelash; he simply turned a page of the newspaper. “Call us what you want, Sentinel. We already have a name for you.”
That was alarming. Not that there was a way to avoid it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted them discussing my relationship around the Ops Room table. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” Lindsey stirred her spoon noisily around the walls of the yogurt cup to get the remaining drops. “You’re Methan.”
“We’re what?”
“Methan. Merit and Ethan. Methan.”
“Nobody calls us that.”
Every vampire in the room turned back to look at me, sardonic expressions on their faces. They nodded simultaneously, and I sank back into my chair a little bit.
“Yes, we do,” Luc said, speaking for them. “I mean, we try not to talk about you constantly. We all have more important things to do than dissect your relationship—”
Lindsey held up her spoon. “I don’t.”
“Okay, everyone except Lindsey has more important things to do, and I’m not going to take that personally. Anyway, since we skipped over it before, good evening, Sentinel.”
I humphed. “Good evening. The security auditor’s here. Ethan’s talking to him.