House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,55

a result I had a sensitivity to metal.

Jonah lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a piece of crimson velvet, was a striking dagger. Made from a single piece of gleaming steel, the blade was twisted from its base to tip, creating three hundred and sixty degrees of deadly.

“That’s beautiful,” I said.

“Hold that thought,” he said with a small smile. He held the blade up, letting the light slink down the steel like a trailing ribbon.

“We walk a knife’s edge between worlds—vampires and Houses—and rarely feel fully a part of either. We see things most vampires prefer to ignore, but that knowledge gives us power. It is a curse and our greatest weapon. It can be cruel, and it can set us free.

“As a member of the Red Guard, you stand for honor, not pride. You stand for vampires, not associations. You stand for those who cannot speak for themselves, and for honoring what we are.”

Jonah touched the point of the blade, pricking his finger. A droplet of blood appeared there, sending a sweet, metallic scent into the air.

“You stand for me,” he said. “And I stand for you.”

He swept the droplet across the curve of the blade, which shimmered from the magic of spilled vampire blood, just like my sword had done.

“Your turn,” he said.

Cringing in anticipation of the pain, I pricked my finger, as well, then touched my fingertip to the blade. The dagger, already marked with Jonah’s blood and magic, glowed faintly red.

“May this blade never spill your blood or mine again,” he said. “And may the steel always remind us of the strength of friendship, of honor, and of loyalty to our comrades.”

He looked at me. “Do you swear your loyalty to vampires, irrespective of House, irrespective of allies, irrespective of affiliation? Do you swear to be a guardian of order, fairness, and moderation, and to rise up against any authority that threatens those who cannot defend themselves?”

I swallowed hard, knowing that this was the moment. This was my final chance to say no to the Red Guard . . . or to commit myself to two decades of service.

The calling was honorable, and my choice was clear.

“I swear,” I said, knowing that I had made the right choice.

He reached out and kissed me on the cheek, a peck that was unquestionably collegial, but still carried the magical spark. “In that case, we’re partners, and you’re stuck with me, kid.”

I smiled at him. “I’ll do my best. Not that I could do much worse than the GP right now.”

“Truth,” he said.

He put the box and the knife back on the table, then pulled open a drawer and reached inside. “There’s one more thing,” he said, handing me a small silver coin.

It was about the size of a quarter, and it was engraved with the image of a man on a horse and the caption SAINT GEORGE.

“Saint George?” I asked.

“The patron saint of warriors,” Jonah said. “We’ve adopted him for the RG, too. It’s a token, a reminder that you aren’t alone, and there are more of us out here willing to help.”

“Thank you,” I said, and tucked the medal into my pocket.

“You know, your life is about to get a lot more complicated.”

“Oh, good,” I said lightly. “I was getting bored with the status quo.”

“Yeah, it seemed that way. I’m actually rescuing you from tedium and despair.”

“I haven’t seen tedium since I became a vampire.”

“Well, it’s certainly not going to start now.” He put a hand on my arm. “I know it feels overwhelming, but you can do this.”

I nodded, and let him have confidence for both of us.

“Let’s get you back to the House. Ethan would throw a fit if you were late for the ceremony.”

“Lake Michigan isn’t large enough to hold the fit he would throw.”

“We’re done,” he called out, and there were hoots of pleasure from the vampires who’d gone upstairs.

We walked back outside, and he closed the door and tugged the doorknob to ensure it was locked. I looked out across the harbor and the twinkling lights of Streeterville.

“Jonah, of all the places in this city, all the spots you could have put a safe house, why here?”

“Listen,” he said quietly.

We stood in a narrow outcropping of concrete and rock two hundred feet into Lake Michigan; the world was quiet here, even the lap of waves all but silenced by the water’s freezing. There were no distractions. Nothing but quiet and stillness and winter’s chill.

“Ah,” I said. “The seclusion.”

Jonah nodded and smiled a