House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,92

whenever possible.”

I couldn’t disagree with that.

“They’re all there,” Ethan said, his gaze tracking the screen as he counted the GP members. “No one’s missing.”

“Patience,” I said, hoping that I was right and wasn’t wasting his time.

In the video, Ethan and Darius faced off, and the fairies arrived for their show of strength.

That was when I saw it.

“There,” I said, pointing to the video. In the back corner of the “goose,” Harold Monmonth, Celina’s GP buddy, disappeared from view.

“That little shit,” Ethan said. “Move the video forward.”

Luc fast-forwarded the video, and it skipped ahead. Four minutes later, Harold Monmonth popped back into the V like he’d never been gone.

“Check his hands,” I said, and Luc zoomed in closer.

His hands were empty.

“Can we be sure he went into the House?” Ethan asked.

“We can,” Luc said. “Camera on the back door, too.”

Luc switched the view and rewound a bit, and sure enough, Harold walked inside . . . and four minutes later walked back out again, empty-handed.

“He went into the House; he came out again,” I said. “The egg was taken, but it’s not in his hands when he leaves.”

I glanced at Ethan. “The GP knew they’d have to come right back to Cadogan House with the egg to pay the fairies, kick us out, and take control. In fact, they were counting on the possibility we’d give up and walk away rather than risk bloodshed. They also had to think we’d comb the city looking for it . . . and the last place we’d look would be right here, under our feet in Cadogan House.”

“The dragon’s egg is in the House,” he said, astonishment in his voice, looking at me with awe, then wrapping me into a giant hug that soothed my heart . . . and every other part of me. “He left it in the goddamn House!”

“Damn, Sentinel,” Luc said, standing up and clapping me on the back. “You have been listening to me.”

Him, and a renegade GP member, and a shifter. But sure, him, too.

“One problem,” Luc said, checking the clock on the wall. “We don’t have much time until they arrive, and it’s a big House.”

Ethan looked at me. “Did your, er, source provide you with any clue about where it might be?”

“High regard,” I said, and luckily thought to disguise my pronoun: “They said it was in a ‘place of high regard.’”

Ethan and Luc exchanged a glance. “My apartments,” Ethan said. “Perhaps the library?”

Luc shook his head. “The librarian didn’t leave for the ceremony. He’d have known if someone came in. The ballroom?”

Ethan nodded. “You stay here. I’ll check the ballroom. Merit, check the apartments.”

I nodded and dashed back to the stairway and up three flights of stairs. I tore open the doors to our apartments and began combing the room. I pulled open cabinet drawers, pushed back curtains, pushed clothes aside in closets. I unzipped pillows, checked beneath ottomans, and crawled under the bed.

I tossed the rooms, but I found nothing.

Defeated, I walked back into the hallway just as Ethan bounded up the stairs, chest heaving.

“Anything?”

I shook my head, just as his beeper sounded.

Blowing out a breath, he looked at it. “They’re here,” he said. “The fairies are outside.”

I shook my head. “This isn’t the end. It’s here, Ethan. I know it.”

“I cannot allow them to bloody this House,” he said, his posture and expression beaten. He turned back to the stairs . . . but I refused to give up.

“High regard,” I muttered, taking only a single step farther toward the stairs. “High regard. High, like prestigious? High, like on drugs? High, the opposite of low?”

I stopped. “High, like the opposite of low.”

Ethan glanced back. “Merit?”

“It’s high, as in height,” I said, realization and memory coalescing together. “I know where it is. Go, go downstairs. I’ll come to you. I promise.”

He looked dubious, but I didn’t wait for an argument. I ran back to the door at the end of the hallway that led not just to a room, but to an attic . . . and onto the Cadogan roof.

The room was empty but for the set of fold-down stairs, already unfolded. Air from the attic, cold and stale, rushed through the opening, and I climbed through it and emerged into rafters and insulation. I glanced around, but saw nothing.

But the window outside, which led to the House’s widow’s walk, was open.

“Hot damn,” I said, rushing to the window and climbing outside into the night and onto the tiny balcony ringed by a