Midnight Marked (Chicagoland Vampires, #12)(78)

“How, exactly, do you think that’s going to happen?”

He shifted into Master vampire. Mouth slightly quirked in a grin, one eyebrow arched imperiously as he looked back at me. “I’m fairly certain you know exactly how it happens, Sentinel.”

What was it with people and the conception jokes? “You know I didn’t mean that. I meant, you know”—I circled a finger toward my lower half—“the unproven mechanics of vampire gestation. To not put too fine a point on it, what’s going to keep him or her in there?”

His face went utterly serious. “Sentinel, I honestly do not know.” He pressed his lips to warm skin. “Shall we try to let nature take its course?”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




SALEM’S FIRE


Jonah’s message was waiting the next evening, a single question mark that somehow managed to query and chastise at the same time.

It was so easy to have opinions, and so much harder to actually do things. Which was one thing I planned on talking to the RG about.

I offered a time that would give me a chance to get dressed, changed, and fed. I still felt low after the past night’s battle, despite the good that being on the same page with Ethan had done.

After grabbing a breakfast wrap in the cafeteria with Lindsey and Juliet, I stopped by Ethan’s office. He, Malik, and Luc were chatting when I walked in.

“Did I miss a meeting?” I asked.

“No,” Ethan said, Malik and Luc splitting apart to let me join their circle. “We were reviewing the photographs of last night’s perpetrator.”

Ethan extended the portrait-sized color photograph to me, and I could feel him watching my reaction.

Luc had been right last night. The video was grainy, but it was definitely him. The brooding eyes, the beard, the muscles.

“Yeah.” I looked at Ethan first, nodded just a little to assure him that I was okay. “Recognizable enough. Does he look familiar to either of you?”

“Not to me,” Malik said. “Not as a Novitiate or an attacker. It was dark that night, and he moved quickly.”

“No dice for me, either,” Luc said.

“Nor me,” Ethan said. “You’re going to talk to Noah?”

“I’m working on a meet, yeah. Can I borrow the photograph?”

“Take it,” Luc said. “I’ve printed a few more, and we’ve alerted the Houses. We’ll also run it against the database of Housed vampires, just in case. It’s always possible he was a Housed vampire once upon a time and left.”

“Not unlike Caleb Franklin, who was an official Pack member once upon a time,” I said. “Thank you again.”

“Think nothing of it,” Luc said. “He threatens you, he threatens the House.” He patted my arm. “You’re one of us, Sentinel. For better or worse.”

“Some nights I presume it definitely feels worse,” Malik said sympathetically, then glanced at Ethan. “I’m going to get back to fielding calls.”

“And I’m going back to the Ops Room.” Luc put a collegial arm around Malik’s shoulder. “Hey, did I ever tell you about Calamity Jane?” he asked as they walked to the door.

I looked back at Ethan. “I’m shocked I hadn’t heard that story before now. Seems like he enjoys telling it.”

“It’s in the rotation,” Ethan agreed.

“What calls is Malik fielding?”

“Press,” Ethan said, and walked to his desk, then behind it. There was a stack of papers there, and the light on his phone was blinking fiercely. “The Tribune, the Sun-Times, the Chicago World Weekly.”

The first two were legit. The Chicago World Weekly was the city’s gossip paper.

“Who reads the Weekly?” I asked, taking the paper from the stack. I was in the color photograph on the front page, Hailey Stanton in my arms. VAMPIRE SAVIOR? was the headline.

“Not the worst headline I’ve ever read,” I said. “Overblown, but generally positive.” It had been a crappy week for vampires, but a pretty good week for vampire press.

“It’s not bad,” Ethan agreed. “The print media are generally positive. The Internet is the usual mix of praise, condescension, idiocy, and trolls.” He glanced at his computer. “And, at last check, four marriage proposals for my Sentinel.”

My mood brightened, and I leaned toward the desk, trying to see around to the screen. “Really? Any good candidates?”

“I don’t find that amusing.”

“I don’t find fake proposals amusing.” I grinned and spread my hands. “And yet here we are.”

Ethan’s gaze went so immediately sly that my heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

“At any rate,” he said, smiling as he looked at the screen again, “there are several requests for statements, for interviews, for information about the perpetrator and the reason you chased him.”

“They’ll find out sooner or later who he is and what he did.”

“They may,” Ethan agreed. “You don’t have to talk about that unless you want to; Malik won’t respond to any questions in that regard. But at the risk of sounding overly strategic, should you decide to discuss it, it would help build the case against Reed.”