Dark Debt

  “Yeah,” I agreed as we passed a framed line drawing of what looked like a particularly unpleasant erotic coupling. “Not in a good way.”

  * * *

  When we returned to the room, Ethan, Morgan, and Scott sat in the middle of the table. Jonah had joined Malik and Irina at the end. I gave the bottle to Ethan and took the seat beside him, across the table from Jonah. He looked at me, nodded, and I did the same.

  “The Circle will come back again,” Ethan said, beginning the grim conversation. “King is still alive, as is Nadia, and the debts are outstanding. Tonight is not the climax of the Circle’s aggression toward Navarre. It is the beginning.”

  Scott nodded. “We believe it’s best if the Navarre vampires go to safe houses.”

  Irina’s response, at least, was quick and angry. “Navarre vampires will not be forced out of this House.”

  “Irina,” Morgan warned, but she paid him no heed and lifted her chin defiantly.

  “We won’t go into hiding like cowards.”

  Morgan’s eyes fired dangerously. “Navarre vampires will do as they’re directed, as I deem best. In case you’ve forgotten, I stand Master of this House.”

  “If it weren’t for your failure—”

  He held up a hand. “I’m going to cut you off there. It’s been a difficult night, and there are guests in our midst. Because of that, I’m going to ignore your tone.”

  “You should have protected this House.”

  “You know how this started, and why. Celina did this. She indebted us—and severely—to the mob. Do you understand that?” He gestured at the room around him, filled with expensive furniture and décor. “This, all of this, was bought with Navarre blood. And those debts, my dear, as Malik has undoubtedly informed you by now, have come due. That’s why Nadia was injured. That’s why they’re here. Because of her mess.”

  Irina looked away. “The result could have been avoided with care.”

  “It couldn’t have been avoided. She has destroyed us, Irina. She rammed the ship into the iceberg, and we’re left to rearrange the chairs.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look around you. Look at what’s happened, at what she has reduced us to. Be angry if you must, but don’t be oblivious. Don’t play coy when lives are at risk.

  “And for right now, apologize to our guests. I also suggest you leave the room until you’ve regained your senses. Otherwise I can have you escorted out.”

  Magic burst into the room from both directions, filling the air. This was as awkward to watch as a couple fighting at a dinner party. And just as secretly entertaining. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, and Irina’s obnoxiousness so deplorable considering the circumstances, I’d have asked for popcorn.

  Irina rose. “You should never have been her Second.”

  Morgan’s smile was thin but grim. “It wasn’t up to you to decide, but her. And since you’re so eager to beatify her, I’d think you’d respect her decision. Regardless, she is not here, and we are. Your apology?”

  “Your guests are responsible for her death.”

  That raised my hackles.

  “You bring them here, flaunt them in our faces, as if they’ll help us. Do you know what that does to us? To those of us whom she made?” She gestured at me, her hand flung wildly. “It feels like a betrayal.”

  “She made me, too. But that does not negate her bad acts. And that wasn’t an apology.”

  Irina’s eyes silvered and her fangs descended. She put a hand on the handle of her katana. She was ready to fight. And if the look in her eyes was any indication, she was aching for it. “I will not apologize to them, or to you.”

  The Masters stayed seated, but their bodies went on sudden alert. Sharper gazes, squarer shoulders, just in case action was necessary.

  “You do not want to start a fight with me, Novitiate,” Morgan said. And he didn’t just use words to convince her. Glamour flowed through his words, through the room, streaming like water across a dry creek bed.

  It overwhelmed me.

  The sensation of fluid magic, of intrusive magic, raised a cold sweat on my arms, down my spine. I put my hands flat on the tabletop, trying to focus on the cold of the glass to distract me from the memory of Balthasar. I tried to breathe through pursed lips, slowly in and out, just as Ethan had shown me.

  The magic wasn’t even directed at me, but it affected me as if I’d been targeted by a maelstrom. Was this what my life would be like from now on? No longer immune to glamour, but unable to be in the same room with it, even if it wasn’t directed at me? I’d be a magical creature that couldn’t stand magic.

  Just keep breathing, Sentinel. I’m right here.

  I glanced up at Ethan, and his expression was utterly calm.

  It’s his magic. It moves—it feels like it’s going right through me.

  Your body is new to glamour, so you’re sensitive to it. Be still and breathe, he said, his voice soothing even psychically. You’re feeling anxious, and it’s normal. The distress will pass. I promise you that.

  I had to keep it together. Had to stay calm, had to hide this reaction. There were too many enemies around us, too many threats toward Ethan.

  The others—, I began.

  Can’t tell you’re fighting it, Ethan said. You’re doing fine. Keep breathing. And when we get back to the House, talk to Lindsey. She’ll help you with techniques.

  I nodded infinitesimally, kept breathing. Watched as two vampires rushed into the room in black shirts and cargo pants, swords unsheathed.

  “Sire,” the guards said, hurrying to Irina with swords pointed, so it seemed we weren’t about to witness a coup d’etat on top of the dissolution of the House’s senior staff.

  “She’s threatened mutiny, insulted our guests, and refused to obey orders.” He gestured vaguely at us. “They can verify if need be.”

  It occurred to me that Morgan had wanted us there—in the House, in the room—because he suspected, or hoped, Irina would cause a scene and he’d have to act. We were his witnesses. We could verify that she’d been disruptive, and that whatever punishment he doled out to her—and to Celina’s faction—would be justified.

  Maybe he was cannier than I’d given him credit for.

  “Take her to her room. Stand guard until I get there.”

  Their hands on her arms, Irina nailed Morgan with a glare. “We’ll take the House back, one way or the other.”

  “In that case,” he said, “I look forward to the challenge.”

  I thought that was true. But I still wasn’t certain he wanted to win it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  BECAUSE THE NIGHT

  It was a full ten minutes before the room was clear and calm, before the magic dissipated like clouds after a deluge.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Morgan said, at a bar tucked into a cabinet, where he’d poured himself two fingers of amber liquid, drained it in an equal number of drinks. That Irina had sent me out of the room for a bottle of water made me dislike her a little more.

  “Are you?” Ethan asked. “Or are you glad you had witnesses?” He’d also apparently guessed it wasn’t a coincidence Morgan picked that moment to bait Irina.

  “Let’s say both.” Morgan came back to the table. “She wanted to air her grievances, and I wanted evidence of her insubordination. Two birds, one stone. And a House that’s falling apart.”

  He sighed heavily. “I’m pretty well convinced she’s the one who told Will about King, about what the Circle wanted us to do. He’d have seen King as an enemy to Chicago, and it probably wouldn’t have taken much for her to convince him to act.”

  “You haven’t questioned him yet?” Ethan asked.

  “Oh, I questioned him,” Morgan said, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. “He wouldn’t give her up. Played the dutiful soldier.”

  “You think he
supports Irina’s faction?”

  “I don’t know,” Morgan said. “And I haven’t yet decided how or whether to play that particular card with her. I’m not political,” he added, throwing the word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Ethan let that pass. “We were discussing rehousing the Navarre vampires? We need to reduce the risk they’ll be targeted, used by the Circle to punish the House, or you.”

  “We propose to divide them among the safe houses by blind lottery,” Scott said. “They’re the only ones who’ll know where they’re going. That reduces the likelihood they’ll be found, targeted.”

  Morgan shook his head ruefully, tapped fingers on the table. “It will take time to get that arranged. We’ve got nearly one hundred and twenty in residence.”

  “We’ve got our Novitiate liaisons working together on it,” Scott said. “Our hope is to arrange the housing and transportation tonight, possibly move a first group of vampires. The rest would go at dusk. We’re now unfortunately skilled in the mass transport of vampires.” Grey House had been targeted by vampire-hating firebombers, forcing the vampires to move. They’d sheltered temporarily at Cadogan before taking up residence in a high-rise.

  He looked at Ethan. “We propose to handle the transportation. While Cadogan handles the Circle.”

  I wasn’t sure how much “handling” we could do of the Circle, but Ethan nodded his agreement. “Acceptable terms.”

  “I don’t see any way around it,” Morgan said, looking briefly around the room, perhaps realizing that he had no Navarre vampires to commune with. His Second had mutinied, his captain and one of his guards were in custody, and there was apparently a faction of vampires eager to see him dethroned.

  “And Morgan will come to Cadogan House,” Ethan said.

  Morgan looked torn between argument and praise. “Because?”

  “Because you’ll need to be involved in the negotiations.”

  “For what?”

  “The Circle wants something from Navarre House,” Ethan said. “They’ve decided they have a right to it. We determine what they want, and we figure out how to get it to them.”

  “And you don’t think it will be money?” Morgan asked.

  “We don’t,” Ethan said, then gestured at me, apparently willing to let me share my previous realization.

  “Navarre has money,” I said. “Even if not liquid, there are antiques, art, property. And the Circle has legal and accounting connections to the House.”

  Scott didn’t react to that announcement, so Ethan must have filled him in. But Morgan scowled, probably irritated the House’s dirty laundry was becoming ever-more public.

  “If the Circle had wanted money,” I continued, “they could have simply taken it. They’ll want something else. Power or blood, or possibly both, like with Sanford King.”

  Ethan let heavy silence descend, then leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s get your vampires safe. And then we’ll deal with the Circle.”

  * * *

  It was nearly two by the time we made it back to the House, but paparazzi still waited outside the door, supplicants in the foyer. A few of the faces looked familiar—vampires from the night before Ethan hadn’t had a chance to get to.

  One of the temp vampires manned the desk, and he smiled apologetically at Ethan. There was a silent pause while, I guessed, they communicated telepathically.

  They’ve been waiting since we left, Ethan reported silently, and even his silent voice sounded tired. I need to give them time. They have earned it.

  That gave me an idea, so I nodded. “Let me walk you to your office first.”

  I waited while he gave the temp instructions, held up a hand to his subjects. “Your patience is appreciated. I’m going to get organized, and you’ll be escorted in.”

  Thank-yous sounded as we moved down the hallway.

  The lights were on in Ethan’s office. A cold bottle of water, condensation patterned along the sides, sat on a coaster on his desk, waiting for him.

  “Bless you, Helen,” he said, sitting down, uncapping the water, and taking a heady drink. When he was done, he held it out to me, but I shook my head.

  “I’ll grab something in a minute and go downstairs. But before I do that, I think I have an idea about Balthasar. About how to call him out.”

  “I’m listening, Sentinel.”

  “He wants an opportunity to show himself, show off his power. And I don’t think he’s the only one—the vampires outside, they come to you for help, for reassurance, for advocacy. They trust you as much as the vampires of your own House. But they haven’t seen you formally Invested.” I smiled cannily. “I think we need to fix that.”

  But Ethan frowned. “The AAM hasn’t decided if there will be an Investiture.”

  “You’re an AAM member, and you’re all equal, according to Nicole. Tell Nicole it’s important in Chicago to acknowledge the Master’s new roles. Call it an Investiture, a coronation, a GP Independence Day celebration. Whatever the name, make it a very big deal—something the media outlets will pick up on. And don’t tell Balthasar. But let him find out.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Nicole might tell him directly.”

  “She probably will. And that will only tempt him further.”

  “You think he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “You said earlier he’d want the ceremony, and I think you’re right about that. The ceremony, the excitement, the media coverage. And this would be on our turf, with our players and our rules.”

  Ethan considered, then began to smile slowly.

  I didn’t care for that smile. “What?”

  “You, Sentinel, are also the House’s Social Chair.”

  My gaze flattened. “You gave me that position as a punishment.”

  “And it’s still in place. I won’t make you plan it,” he assured me, and I relaxed incrementally. “But it’s a good thought. I’ll talk to Malik, Scott. If we can figure out the play, it might be worth the risk.”

  When my stomach growled again, I remembered our interrupted errand. “What happened to the pizza?”

  “I tossed the boxes down when I went to help Nadia. They didn’t survive the trip.”

  I didn’t mourn the beets, but I nodded. “I’m going to grab something to eat, then head to the Ops Room.”

  “There are many irons in our fires,” Ethan said, then glanced up at me. “Take care, Sentinel.”

  I promised I would, and left him to his supplicants.

  * * *

  The dining room was empty, but light seeped beneath the kitchen door, as it usually did. I peeked inside, found Margot in front of the stove, bouncing to Beyoncé. Definitely not the same atmosphere as the Navarre kitchen.

  Margot was gorgeous, with a curvy figure and beautiful face, her seductive eyes accented by her bob of dark hair and bangs that fell to a point in the middle of her forehead. She wore a black chef’s jacket over leopard leggings and the heavy rubber clogs chefs seemed to favor.

  She looked up but kept swirling a small saucepan with the other. “Hey, Mer,” she said, then frowned. “Looks like you got nailed pretty well.”

  I touched fingers gingerly to my cheekbone, which had dulled to an ache. “Is it still bruised?”

  “It’s a little purple, yeah. How’s Navarre?”

  It always surprised me when word of our off-campus shenanigans traveled, and I had no idea why. Vampires loved to gossip at least as much as humans, and since this particular gossip involved a vampire attack, Luc would have advised the House just as a precaution.

  “At the moment, not great. Internal conflict, external conflict. It’s kind of a mess.”

  “I ever tell you I applied there?”

  I drew my gaze away from neat square tins of chopped vegetables at the station next to her stove to her face. “No. Before Cadogan???
?

  “Same time as. I wasn’t sure which House I liked better—Cadogan was in my gut, but I had a friend in Navarre.”

  “And why’d you pick Cadogan?”

  “I trusted Ethan more than I trusted Celina.”

  “Good instincts.”

  “No kidding, right? Ethan was—still is—very practical about vampirism, about being a Novitiate. Our responsibilities to the House, his responsibilities to us. Celina was more . . . I don’t know. Particular. I mean, Ethan’s particular in his own way, sure. But he’s particular about things that matter. She was particular about our being vampires with a capital “V.” Seeming, at all times, the best vampires in town. It was exhausting.”

  “Yeah. That’s the vibe I got tonight. Lot of expectations about how to ‘be’ a vampire.”

  She nodded. “That hits it pretty well. What brings you by?”

  “I know it’s between meals, but could I grab something to eat?”

  “Sure. Just a second while I get this where it needs to be.” She swirled the pan for another moment or two, and when she decided it was done, she poured the contents—caramel-colored liquid—into a nearby glass dish.

  “I’m browning butter,” she said, then put the pan in the sink, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a small take-out container. “Ham and a very nice white cheese on baguette. Sides of Dijon and mayo, pickle, chips.”

  I took it from her, smiled. “You made me a to-go box?”

  She closed the refrigerator again. “Ah. You must not know about Executive Order Two Hundred Eleven.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Basically, we’re required to keep sack lunches ready for you. Ethan thinks you get hangry.”

  I was torn between irritation and admiration, as the order was both incredibly apt and utterly insulting. “That’s ridiculous. I do not get hangry.”

  “Are you hangry now?”

  I paused. “Maybe,” I said with resignation.