Biting Cold - By Chloe Neill Page 0,80

lowered her sword again. “Okay, Sentinel. You feel okay about this, I’m going to trust you. But one false move, and he gets it.”

And now Lindsey was stealing lines from movies. Maybe she and Luc dating wasn’t such a great idea.

I looked back at Seth and gave it to him frankly. “By ‘it,’ she means thirty-two inches of honed steel. And she’s no slouch with a weapon. I’d believe her.”

Seth nodded. “I’m here to talk. Not make trouble. There’s been far enough of that.”

I was fine with talking, but—given the curious and worried looks around us—it seemed we should do it somewhere else. I glanced at Lindsey. “We need a room. Any thoughts? I assume the bigwigs are in Ethan’s office.”

She frowned. “Training room? Ballroom?”

I didn’t like the training room idea. There were too few exits in the basement in the event I was wrong about Seth. I didn’t think that was likely, but they didn’t pay me fancy Sentinel wages to take those kinds of chances.

The ballroom was on the second floor. Closer to our living quarters than I would have liked, but it was a big, mostly empty room, and it was right beside the stairs.

I glanced around, looking for Luc or Malik or Ethan or anyone actually in charge of the House. But it was just us. Me and Lindsey and the other Novitiates in the foyer. I was the highest-ranking person in the room, and I was going to have to make the call.

God willing I’d make the right one.

“Ballroom,” I decided.

Lindsey nodded, then looked around the room. “Show’s over, everyone. Get back to business.”

But they didn’t move, either too curious or too worried to simply turn around and walk away.

“Okay, let me try this another way,” Lindsey said, her voice firmer now. “Get back to work before Darius feels the magic, comes out here, sees this one lounging around our foyer, and strokes out.”

It still took a moment—they seemed loath to leave Seth here with us or me here with him—but they finally got moving and filed back down the hall and up the stairs.

Lindsey, Juliet, Seth, and I were left in the foyer.

Lindsey pointed at Seth. “You, follow me. Cause any trouble and you’ll be wearing steel in very uncomfortable places.”

“Duly noted,” Seth said.

She looked at me and Juliet. “You heard him. Any funny business and you have his consent to skewer him like a kebab.”

I wanted to laugh, but this didn’t seem like the time. “I’ll take the rear,” I told her, then looked at Juliet. “Can you find Ethan?”

Juliet nodded gravely and disappeared, and Lindsey started for the stairs. His hands crossed before him obsequiously, piously, Seth followed her, the rough fabric of the cassock thrushing as he walked. It didn’t sound especially comfortable. I imagined stiff, starched fabric rubbing raw skin, and the thought gave me cold sweats.

Had he found religion? Did he feel guilty for what he’d done, or for what Dominic had done? Was the garment, as itchy as it sounded, some kind of personal punishment?

We rounded the stairs at the second floor. Lindsey opened the double doors to the Cadogan ballroom, watching suspiciously as we filed in. When we were well inside, she shut the door behind us.

The room was large, with oak floors, golden walls gilded with framed mirrors. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling above us. They’d once held hundreds of candles, but those had been replaced with lightbulbs after an attack by a group of rebel shifters. The bulbs didn’t offer as much ambience, but one less fire hazard in a building reviled by people who’d once carried torches to flush out monsters seemed like a good precaution.

Seth walked into the room. He stopped beneath the chandelier, then turned a half circle as he looked up at it. “This is a beautiful space,” he said.

“Your approval is appreciated,” Lindsey said. “Start talking.”

Seth looked at me, and I nodded. He began to talk, less a discussion than a monologue. A sermon.

“Millennia ago, the world was a different place. The divisions between humans and others were…less rigid. Humans were aware of supernaturals. We, the messengers, bridged the gap between them. Messengers like me arbitrated for peace. Messengers like Dominic administered judgment. At first, humans called us angels and deemed us virtuous.”

“And then what happened?” I asked.

“The angels of judgment, the others, grew to love violence,” Seth said. “They satisfied their lust for it, their compulsion for it, by meting it out for any perceived slight. Humans, so