Midnight Marked (Chicagoland Vampires, #12)(58)

“I should have listened to you. I didn’t, and I should have. I may be wise in the ways of supernaturals, but you’re better with humans.”

In fairness, I’d been one about four hundred years more recently than him.

“Now you’re just kissing my ass,” I said.

“I am trying my damnedest.” He paused. “Is it working?”

“No.”

He glanced at me, reached out to push a lock of hair behind my ear. “You know I lost my family once. You are my family now, Merit. I will not lose you.”

“I still have a family, Ethan. They certainly aren’t perfect, but I won’t lose them to a man like Reed.” I looked at him. “And I won’t have them used.”

I could practically see his frustration rising again. “It was one phone call,” he said. “Your father owes you that much and more.”

“That was my decision to make. Not yours.”

“As you reminded Jennifer Jacobs, no one forced him to do as I asked.”

I nearly punched him. Right then and there, I nearly plowed a fist into that gorgeous face for turning that around on me. Even if he was right.

Ethan started the car, backed onto the road. “Be angry with me if you must, Sentinel. I can bear it. But Adrien Reed will not lay a hand on you.”

? ? ?

It was past midnight when we rolled back into the Cadogan garage.

Ethan went to his office to update Malik and Luc.

I went upstairs to update my ensemble. The gown had done its part, whatever that part might have been. I placed it on the bed, where laundry or dry-cleaning elves (or a vampire directed by Helen, more like) would attempt to clean and repair it.

I changed into jeans and a navy T-shirt with CADOGAN in white block letters across the front to head back to the library.

My phone beeped as I was closing the door. I found a message from Jonah: HEARD ABOUT ARREST. CALL IF YOU NEED TO. AND PHOTO NOT FAMILIAR.

Word of our near incarceration had apparently spread. Jonah hadn’t been in a hurry to get back to me about the Rogue, and I hadn’t thought to follow up. But I’d have to deal with him and the RG’s baggage later.

I made it down the flight of stairs before my phone buzzed again, this time with a phone call. I pulled it out but didn’t recognize the number. “This is Merit.”

“Hi, Merit. It’s Annabelle—the necromancer. You told me to call if I found something alchemical.”

My heart began to pound with anticipation. “Hi, Annabelle. What did you find?”

“I’m not entirely sure. But you might want to get here sooner rather than later.”

My phone beeped again, signaling the receipt of an image. I scanned the screen and the photograph she’d forwarded—and the dozens of alchemical symbols pictured there.

“We’ll be right there,” I promised.

Once again, the library would have to wait.

? ? ?

Ethan was Master of the House and one of the twelve members of America’s reigning vampire council.

But there was nothing vaguely obedient—or even very polite—in the angry stares Luc and Malik sent him from their unified front in Ethan’s office. They stood side by side, a wall of frustration matched against the Master who’d endangered himself. As much as they hated Reed, they were pissed at Ethan.

Ethan hadn’t changed clothes, but he’d taken off the bow tie and jacket, unbuttoned the top of his shirt. The coiffing he’d done earlier had loosened its grip on his hair, and it waved like golden sunlight around his face, highlighting sharp cheekbones and firm mouth.

“We’ve taken a big enough hit tonight,” Luc said. “You and Merit, particularly, don’t need to take another risk by going out again.”

“And there are supplicants in the foyer,” Malik pointed out.

“There are,” Ethan acknowledged. “And I will apologize to them personally. But we can’t ignore another instance of alchemy. Especially since it seems what we have upstairs is only part of the story.”

“You could send someone else,” Luc pointed out.

Ethan shook his head. “Merit found the first alchemy, and she’s familiar with the symbols. She has a rapport with Annabelle, and she can defend herself if the sorcerer shows up.” He slid his gaze to me, over the invisible wall between us. “And she’s not leaving without me.

“Yes, I let Reed provoke me, and he’ll almost certainly try again. We can’t stop that until we stop him. But if we stay here and put our heads in the sand—we also play into his hands. That’s what has allowed him to gain as much power as he currently holds. That’s what he’s counting on.”

Malik and Luc looked at each other, and then Luc slid his gaze to me. “Sentinel, your analysis?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.”

“Not entirely flattering,” Ethan murmured, rolling up one of his shirtsleeves.

“Wasn’t meant to be,” I assured him, the tension still heavy between us. I looked at Luc and Malik. “He knows how to provoke us, how to play with emotions. That’s what he does. It’s what he’s good at.”

“Balthasar,” Malik said, and I nodded.

“Exactly. And yeah, he likes to wax poetical about the game we’re playing, the chess match, whatever. He likes to screw with people. But we know he has a bigger plan. Lore admitted it. Reed admitted it, with all that messiah complex nonsense about saving Chicago. Whatever he has planned, we aren’t the focus. I think moments like this—this drama he orchestrated at the Botanic Garden—they’re part of his sideshow. He had CPD officers waiting for us. There’s no way they’d have gotten there so quickly otherwise. But they weren’t the main event, because we aren’t the main event. The alchemy, the plan. That’s the main event. That’s why we have to go tonight, because that’s what Reed cares about. That’s what he’s trying to distract us from. If we don’t go, we help him win.”