agreement. "At this point, I'd tend to agree with you."
"Tate indicated the supposed incident was violent?"
"Exceptionally so, according to the firsthand account," Ethan said.
Once we were in Ethan's office and he'd closed the door behind us, he got to the heart of it. "The story is, the vamps lost control and killed three humans. But Mr. Jackson's description rang more of uncontrolled bloodlust than of a typical rave."
"Mr. Jackson?" Malik asked.
Ethan headed for his desk. "Our eyewitness.
Potentially under the influence, but sober enough that Tate was apparently convinced. And by convinced, I mean he's threatening my arrest if we don't fix the problem, whatever it is."
Malik, eyes wide, looked between the two of us. "He's serious, then."
Ethan nodded. "He's had the warrant drawn.
And that makes this problem our current focus.
Tate said the incident occurred in West Town.
Look through your rave intel again. Any connections to that neighborhood? Any talk about violence? Anything that would suggest the scale the witness talked about?"
That assignment given, Ethan looked at me.
"When the sun sets, talk to your grandfather.
Ask him to track down what they can about the Jackson incident - the vampires involved, Houses, whatever - and any new information they've gotten about the raves. This may not actually be one, but at the moment it's the best lead we've got. And one way or the other," he added, looking between us, "let's close these things down, shall we?"
"Liege," I agreed with a nod. I'd definitely visit my grandfather, but my circle of friends had grown a little wider over the last few months. I'd recently been asked to join the Red Guard, a kind of vampire watchdog group that kept an eye on Master vamps and the GP. I'd declined the invitation, but I'd made use of the resource, calling on the RG for backup during the attack on the House. This might be the time to make that call again. . . .
"And this McKetrick fellow?" Malik asked.
"He'll wait," Ethan said, determination in his eyes. "He'll wait until hell freezes over, because we're not leaving Chicago."
I'd visit my grandfather when the sun set. But first, I had a couple more hours of darkness and many hours of daylight to get through.
All the bedrooms in the House, which accommodated about ninety of Cadogan's threehundred-odd vampires, looked like small dorm rooms. A bed. A bureau. A nightstand. Small closet, small bathroom. They weren't exactly fancy, but they gave us a respite from vampire drama. Given the messes we tended to get into, drama free was definitely a good thing.
My second-floor room - just like the rest of the House - still smelled like construction. New paint. Varnish. Drywall. Plastic. It smelled good somehow, like a new beginning. A fresh start.
The storm broke overhead just as I shut my door, rain beginning to pelt the shuttered window in my room. I peeled off my suit and toed off Mary Jane heels, then headed to my small bathroom, where I scrubbed my face. The makeup washed off easily. The memories, on the other hand, weren't going anywhere.
Those were the tough things to ignore - the sounds, the expressions, the sensation of Ethan and his body. I'd tried to lock the memories away, to keep my mind clear of them in order to get my work done. But they were still there.
They stung a little less now, but you couldn't unring the bell. For better or worse, I'd probably always have those memories with me.
When I'd dressed again in a tank top and shorts, I glanced back at the clock. I had two hours to kill until dawn, which meant I had an hour to kill until my weekly date with my other favorite blond vampire.
My first task - taking care of basic vampiric necessities. I walked down the hallway to the second-floor kitchen, smiling at a couple of vaguely familiar-looking vampires as I passed them. Each of the House's aboveground floors had a kitchen, a very handy thing since vampiric emergencies didn't respect cafeteria hours. I opened the fridge and plucked out two drink boxes of type A blood (prepared by the lamely named Blood4You, our delivery service), then headed back to my room. Most vamps were fortunate enough to retain a pretty good hold on their bloodlust, me included. But just because I wasn't ripping at the seams of the boxes didn't mean I didn't need the blood. Most of the time, bloodlust in vamps was kind of like thirst in humans; if you waited