Dark Debt

  “The House is secure?” Ethan asked, his gaze on the men moving into his office.

  “It is,” Luc said.

  “Let’s keep it that way,” Ethan said. “Grab Malik and join me in the office.”

  “Roger that,” Luc said, sending Lindsey back downstairs, then jogging toward Malik’s office, which was just past Ethan’s.

  He glanced at me. “Would you like to get cleaned up first?”

  “Please, yes. Give me five minutes? And don’t start without me. I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

  He nodded. “If you’ll be quick about it. And then we’ll find out precisely what’s rotten in Navarre House.”

  * * *

  I cleaned up and pulled on jeans and a fitted, scoop-neck Cadogan T-shirt. I’d done my part for Cadogan couture already tonight; it was time for comfortable clothing. My hair had lost most of its wave, so I pulled it into a high bun. If they ever made vampire paper dolls, this would be the “Sentinel after a night of ass-kicking” ensemble.

  The remains of the dress, in its tangled pile on the floor, looked nothing like the pristine gown Helen had delivered earlier.

  “More’s the pity,” I said quietly, and had a terrifying mental image of Helen walking into the apartments, finding the dress, going utterly ballistic about its current condition.

  So I stuffed it back into the bag, and stuffed the bag into the back of the closet—on Ethan’s side. Because I was mature like that.

  Chapter Nine

  WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW . . . IS A WINEGLASS OF UNUSUAL SIZE

  There were a lot of people in the office, and a lot of tension. Ethan, Morgan, Malik, and Luc, along with Catcher and my grandfather, watched as Margot parked a food tray in the middle of the office, blazing a delicious trail of coffee scents.

  Ethan, who’d ditched the tie and rolled up the sleeves of his battered shirt, moved to pour the coffee into a mug, offered it to my grandfather.

  He walked over without his cane, which was parked beside the door, and took the mug with both hands.

  “Thank you. Sugar, by chance?”

  “Like granddaughter, like grandfather,” Ethan said, moving aside so my grandfather could spoon sugar cubes into the mug.

  Ethan took a bottle of blood, offered one to me. When I accepted it, but skipped delicately layered pastries for a protein-laced granola bar, he looked at me dubiously.

  “Did you take a knock to the head?”

  “Har-har,” I said, and ripped the package open when I could feel hunger awakening with the ferocity of a starved panther. “This isn’t a time for taste,” I said, taking a bite. And thank God for that, since the bar tasted like a very unpleasant ménage à trois of malt, chalk, and dates. “It’s a time for nutrition.”

  “Color me proud,” Ethan said, and uncapped the bottle of blood, sipped. “If everyone’s ready, we should probably begin.”

  We looked at Morgan, who stood across the room near the bookshelves, which had already been repaired, the displaced contents neatly rearranged.

  “My people?” he asked.

  “They’re in the CPD’s new full-dark facility,” my grandfather said.

  Morgan nodded.

  “Let’s sit,” Ethan said, and we followed him to the sitting area, took seats. All except Morgan, who hadn’t yet moved from his spot across the room. Not an unusual position for him—separate from the rest of us.

  “What happened, Morgan?” Ethan asked.

  Morgan walked to the cart, took a bottle of water, uncapped it. But as he walked to the seating area, he twisted the cap back on and set it beside the chair he lowered himself into.

  “They weren’t playing vigilante. They were trying to protect the House.”

  “From what?” Ethan asked.

  Morgan closed his eyes, rubbed his hands over his face. He looked so young, and so tired. He was, I thought, the victim of time and circumstance, of having been given control of his House—the leadership of his House—before he was ready.

  On the other hand, he’d had every opportunity to succeed, and could have asked us for help. I suppose that meant the blame fell on him.

  “It’s better if I start at the beginning. Well, not better,” Morgan said. “But you’ll need the whole story.”

  For the second time in as many nights, Ethan nodded him on. “Then tell it.”

  “It’s all about money,” Morgan said. “Goddamn money.” He cleared his throat nervously, like a man about to enter confession.

  “Celina had very good taste. Her spending habits didn’t match her assets, even the stipend she received from the GP. She borrowed extensively to fund her lifestyle, her tastes, her desire for the finer things. Clothes. Art. Food. Parties. Everything had to be big. Everything had to be perfect.”

  “Borrowed from whom?”

  Morgan looked away, stared at the opposite wall. “The Circle.”

  Ethan and Malik shared a look, and my grandfather sighed heavily. I didn’t recognize the name. It wasn’t a supernatural group; if it had been, I’d have seen it in the Canon.

  “What’s the Circle?” I asked.

  “A criminal enterprise,” my grandfather said. “Based in Chicago, although they have roots internationally.”

  “You’re talking about the mob?” I asked.

  “Only in the mob’s wildest dreams,” Catcher said. “Bigger, more capital, more connections. And for all that, much more secretive.”

  Ethan looked at me. “Do you remember the murders in Lakeview a year or two ago? The alderman and her family?”

  I searched my memory, recalled a black-and-white photograph, a tiny body on a square of grass that posed as a front yard. “They killed her, her husband, her children.”

  Malik nodded. “Because she wouldn’t help the Circle push something through the Zoning Board. She’d apparently owed them a favor and hadn’t delivered.”

  That didn’t exactly lighten the mood in the room.

  “That’s how the Circle operates,” Ethan said, then glanced at Morgan again. “What does tonight have to do with them?”

  Morgan scratched nervously at the knee of his jeans. “Celina’s notes are coming due because we’ve only been able to pay down the interest, which is high. Loan shark high.”

  “And they want repayment,” my grandfather said.

  Morgan nodded, adjusted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “The Circle came to me with a proposition—we take out King, the Circle wipes away some of the House’s debt.”

  “And if you didn’t agree?” Ethan asked.

  “They start taking House assets. And taking out Navarre vampires.”

  Silence fell heavily in the room.

  “Mother of God,” Ethan murmured quietly, likely as aghast at the proposition as at the fact that Navarre was so far in the hole—and we were only just now hearing about it.

  “Why didn’t you come to us?” he asked, frustration barely veiled.

  “My House, my problem. And I didn’t say yes, so I assumed that was the end of it.” The tightness around his eyes showed how wrong he’d been. “I get that your Houses operate differently. Mine doesn’t. And for better or worse, I inherited the House I inherited.”

  I saw it in Ethan’s eyes, the speech he wanted to give Morgan. Something about the Master making the House, and not vice versa, but he held his tongue. Morgan wasn’t easily teachable, and he didn’t take well to criticism, no matter how constructively intended.

  “Keep going,” Ethan said.

  “I said no, obviously. But word got out.”

  “Word got out,” Ethan said dryly, “of the Circle’s attempted extortion and solicitation of murder?”

  “Apparently,” Morgan said, the word fierce not because of the House’s apparent rumor mill, but because of Ethan’s imperious tone. Having been on the receiving
end of that tone, I understood the frustration. Not that I disagreed with Ethan here. “And I’m attempting to trace back that line.”

  “One way or the other,” my grandfather said, “these guards found out, took it upon themselves to help.”

  “Yeah,” Morgan said.

  My grandfather nodded. “They probably imagined they were doing the city a favor, two birds with one stone. King’s no Prince Charming.”

  “Why King?” Ethan asked. “Why did the Circle target him?”

  “I don’t know,” Morgan said. “I mean, they tried to sell it like I was doing Chicago a favor. But it’s not like they’re interested in keeping the streets clean.”

  “King’s got his own underworld connections,” my grandfather said. “I hadn’t heard he was involved in the Circle, and maybe it’s because he said no. Perhaps this was an attempt to punish or take out King as a competitor.”

  “Why at Reed’s party?” Ethan asked Morgan.

  Morgan shrugged. “It was the designated location. They said they wanted to make an example of King.”

  “In front of Reed?” Malik asked.

  “Reed’s a very powerful man,” my grandfather said. “His wealth, his access, would be very attractive to the Circle. Perhaps the Circle made overtures, and Reed didn’t bite.” He considered, nodded, pulled his earlobe methodically as he concentrated. “I don’t know. I’ll want to think about it.”

  “They might try again,” I said, looking at my grandfather. “If they went to this much trouble to take King out, he’s undoubtedly still on their agenda.”

  He nodded. “Jacobs is talking to King about protective custody. He might refuse—did refuse during his criminal trial when they wanted him to give up his colleagues.”

  “Did he?” Ethan asked. “Give them up, I mean?”

  My grandfather released his ear, crossed his arms as if to avoid the habit. “As it turned out, there wasn’t anyone to give up. He was prince of his particular syndicate. When you’re at the top of the pyramid, there’s nothing to be gained by giving over the muscle. ”

  My grandfather glanced at Morgan. “It’s unlikely this is the last time you’ll hear from them. They gave you a task, and they’ll believe you failed to complete it.”

  “I refused it.”

  “But your people said yes,” Ethan said. “And someone from the Circle will have seen the news reports by now, will know that an attempt was made, and it failed.”

  Morgan scrubbed his hands over his short hair. “This is going to destroy us. The media, the accusations, all of it.”

  “It was attempted murder,” Ethan said, as if to remind him Navarre wasn’t just having a spot of bad luck.

  “I know that.” This time, Morgan just sounded defeated. “You think I don’t know that? They thought they were helping me, protecting their brothers and sisters, just as they’re supposed to do.”

  “You cannot be blasé about this.”

  Morgan lifted irritated eyes to Ethan. “Do I seem blasé? Because I’m not. I’m aghast, sad, worried, completely at a loss. But I’m not at all blasé.” He sighed, look at my grandfather. “Can I talk to them?”

  “That’s up to the CPD,” my grandfather said, “but probably not until after they’re processed.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “How did the Circle contact you before?” my grandfather asked.

  “They called my cell or my office phone, the same way they did with Celina. They used throwaway phones. A different number every time.”

  “Who called?”

  “I don’t know. They used a computer or a voice modulator or something.”

  “They’ll know what did and did not happen tonight,” my grandfather said, “and they’ll make contact again. I can have the CPD trace the House phone, your phone. We can put security on the House. The organized crime division will be very interested in the possibility of getting closer to the Circle. They’re very evasive, and this presents a unique opportunity.”

  “I don’t want that,” Morgan said. “I don’t want to turn our House into a military state.”

  “Morgan,” my grandfather said, “I’m going to be frank. We are well past the point of what Navarre House wants. Murder was proposed to you, and you didn’t report it to the police. Two of your members attempted, at a very crowded event with hundreds of witnesses, to kill a human. Getting an indictment against them will be child’s play.

  “But we’re also talking about very dangerous people, as you’ve seen. They are powerful, manipulative, and very, very resourceful. Considering the scope of the House’s apparent debt, I’m frankly surprised they haven’t caused more trouble for the House in the past.”

  Morgan just looked away.

  I thought miserably of Shakespeare, of his advice not to be a debtor. Particularly when the debt was as dark as this.

  Ethan leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Morgan, take Chuck up on his offer. Do what it takes to keep your people safe right now. In the meantime, have someone you trust—someone outside Navarre—look at your books and evaluate the House’s connection to the Circle. Once you have that information, you can figure out a plan to move forward.”

  “And who can do that?”

  “We can,” Malik said, he of the numbers and figures and general math wizardry.

  Ethan nodded in agreement. “We are not your enemies, and we’ve no incentive to lie to you. We have no ties to the old guard, and we aren’t interested in disguising the depth of the problem or the sacrifice you’ll likely need to make to fix it. If you don’t want us involved, talk to Scott. Or another Master that you trust.”

  “I don’t want this leaving Chicago.”

  Was he not familiar with the Internet? Two vampires in Venetian masks crashing a party at sword point? There were probably base stations in Antarctica that knew about this. The rest of the AAM wouldn’t be far behind.

  “It’s undoubtedly too late for that,” Ethan said crisply, obviously beginning to lose patience. “And I agree with Chuck: This isn’t over. You did not do as they asked, nor were your guards successful. If you don’t get to the root of this particular decay, they’ll only want more. And it will be more than the murder of one man.”

  Morgan was silent again, gnawing the inside of his cheek as he considered.

  If only he’d been older—less human and more vampire—when he took the House, or when Celina had forced our hands, and lit the fuse that ended with her own destruction. He was such a canny, witty, confident man. But he’d seemed to struggle with being a vampire, and certainly holding the reins.

  How much of that, I wondered for the first time, was because of the Circle? Because of the mess he’d inherited from Celina? Sometimes a vampire was dealt a really shitty hand. Pity replaced the irritation I usually felt when thinking about Morgan’s command failures.

  Finally, Morgan looked up at Ethan, my grandfather. “We’d appreciate eyes on the House. I’m not comfortable having the House phones tapped, but I won’t hide any future contacts. I’ll come to you, directly.” He looked at Malik, Ethan. “You can come by tomorrow night to look at the books.”

  Ethan looked at my grandfather, who nodded.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Ethan said, rising. “You should get back to your House, your vampires. I’m sure they’re worried.”

  “Since you’re down two guards,” Luc said, “we can lend you one, have Grey give you one. They’d be working for us, but living with you. It would give you some extra bodies, some different perspectives.”

  Morgan nodded, resigned.

  “You’re doing the right thing here for your people, for your House,” my grandfather said, “getting Cadogan involved, letting them help you.”

  “Maybe,” Morgan said. “But Celina is rolling in her grave.”

  * * *

  “There is not enoug
h alcohol in the world to fix this nightmare,” Ethan said when Morgan and my grandfather were gone.

  “It’s not Navarre’s finest moment,” Malik agreed, rising to grab a bottle of Goose Island root beer, a personal favorite, from Margot’s cart. He remembered that, held up another bottle for me, and at my nod, popped the caps. Margot had stored them in a silver bucket of ice, and a tempting little puff of frosty carbonation rose from the open bottle.

  “Thanks,” I said when he walked back and handed it to me.

  “You’ve been quiet,” Ethan said to Catcher.

  Catcher crossed an ankle over the other knee, adjusted the hem of his jeans over the booted foot. “That woman has been the root of much misery. I hate to say that I’m not surprised she’s screwed her House again, but if the shoe fits . . .”

  “If Morgan’s grasp of the situation is correct, she sounds like she was an addict,” I said after a bubbling sip.

  Ethan rubbed his temples. “She had no need of any of it. She was lovely. The House is beautiful. She was well connected, and very much a part of the GP’s inner sanctum. I don’t understand it.”

  “Respectfully,” Malik said, taking a seat again. “We don’t need to understand it. We just need to examine its depth and help them figure out a way to get them out of it.”

  “Best-case scenario?” Ethan asked.

  “A manageable sum certain the AAM decides to pay off?” Malik suggested.

  “I don’t know,” Catcher said. “I don’t see the Circle being satisfied by any reasonable sum. You’ll gauge the damage, of course,” he said to Malik, “but what incentive do they have to turn off the faucet? I don’t see them walking away from this. Not with a catch this large.”

  “Which means you don’t see them backing off unless the entire organization is broken down,” Ethan said.

  Catcher nodded. “Morgan’s got an opportunity to do that, which I suspect is why Chuck wanted to walk him out. It would be a coup for the CPD to bring down the Circle.”

  “If they’re so big, so powerful, how are they still operating?” I wondered. “I mean, surely there are screwups, snitches, search warrants.”