House Rules (Chicagoland Vampires #7)(16)
Author: Chloe Neill

Fortunately, I was athletic enough then that my weight stayed manageable. I’d danced ballet for many years, and had the toes to prove it. Also fortunately, my speedy vampiric metabolism now meant I could eat all night with no ill repercussions. Not that I had time for that kind of grazing. Not when vampires were possibly being abducted and our House was facing an uncertain future. And not when Lacey Sheridan was on her way.

Yes, I believed in me and Ethan, but I was still a girl. The last thing I needed was for her to find me wrist-deep in a bucket of Frank’s Finest fried chicken.

Although that did sound delicious. I made a mental note to grab a celebratory Cluckin’ Bucket after we found Oliver and Eve safe and sound. I really hoped we’d do that.

When I emerged into the main hallway with breakfast in hand, the House’s tension was palpable. We were forty-eight hours away from the severing of our GP ties, and they’d already made an appearance. The hum of nervous magic was becoming a torrent of full-on worry. I could feel it in the prickly air, the haze of anticipation that flowed through the House. The vampires of Cadogan House might trust both their Masters – Ethan and Malik – but they were entering unknown political territory.

I held the bagel with my teeth and fished the keys to my ancient Volvo from my pocket. Unlike last night, it was bone-chilling cold outside, the kind of cold only a hot bath or a roaring fire could cure.

Tonight the lawn was bereft of fragrant food trucks and revelry, but the nearly identical mercenary fairies still stood watch in front of the House. When I walked through the gate, their expressions were typically stoic, but they both nodded in acknowledgment. That was a recent development – and a hard-won victory. Fairies bore no strong love of vampires, but we’d had interactions recently with Claudia, the fairy queen, that seemed to have bridged the gap between us.

Windshield wipers flapping against the glass, I drove south to my grandfather’s modest house. Traffic wasn’t bad, but the drive still took a few minutes. I used the opportunity to check in with Jonah.

It took four rings for him to answer the phone, but his handsome, auburn-haired visage eventually popped up on the screen.

"Busy?" I wondered.

"Unfortunately, yes. Your House drama has spread. We’ve got already aggressive vampires mouthing off about the GP and talking about seceding."

"Already aggressive?" I asked.

"Jocks," Jonah said with a smile. "They spent their human lives lifting weights and destroying linemen. The adrenaline doesn’t fade."

"Why do they want to secede?"

"They want to drink."

Vampires or not, that was actually surprising. Most American Houses had sworn off drinking from humans or vampires. Their only source of blood was Blood4You, and they drank only from the bag or cup. Banning drinking from another person was supposed to help vampires assimilate; it kept their less endearing behaviors hidden from human view. Cadogan was one of the few Houses that still allowed drinking, and we took crap around the country – and from the GP – for doing it.

I was still a relative novice when it came to drinking, but I was experienced enough to know that nothing made me feel more like a vampire – and less human – than drinking from Ethan, or letting him drink from me.

"You should join us," I said. "It’s hard to be the only target in this game of GP dodgeball."

"You couldn’t pay me to be in your position."

"We manage," I dryly said.

"For now. But you should know we’re hearing things about the GP and the Decert that aren’t exactly promising."

"Such as?"

"Such as the GP wants to cause you as much trouble as possible."

That revelation made my stomach flip uncomfortably, even if it wasn’t entirely surprising. Ethan and the others had centuries of experience with the GP, and had previously trusted that it operated with the Houses’ best interest in mind.

I’d been a vampire for just a few months, but I knew it operated with only one thing in mind – its own interest. It seemed to me keeping power in the GP’s hands was its number one priority.

"Unfortunately, that squares with the fact that they’re here a day early."

Jonah whistled. "That’s not promising."

"I know."

"I hate to say Cadogan House is screwed. . . ."

"Then don’t say it. It would be considerably more helpful if you could give me any details about what you think they’re going to pull so I can adequately prepare my House."

"Reason and logic will only get you so far. All I know is, the GP’s contract with Cadogan House is key."

I wasn’t sure which contract he meant, but I’d figure it out. "Your information comes from other RG members?"

"From our communications network," he said, "which I can’t loop you into until you’re official. Which you will be tomorrow night."

The night of the GP ceremony. The timing for the RG ceremony could hardly be worse, although I appreciated the irony. I would be joining the RG – and thereby promising to watch over the GP – even as we left the GP because of its tyranny.

"Where and when?" I asked.

"I’ll let you know. I’ve got to make sure I can get out of here, too. I’ll try to message you later tonight."

"Okay. FYI, I’m heading to my grandfather’s. We picked up glass and Eve’s cell phone last night at the reg center they visited, and I asked them to take a look."

"Does your grandfather have that kind of facility?"

"Not unless he’s remodeled the rumpus room," I said. "But he’s got friends in high places, and it’s the only lead we’ve got so far."

"Good thinking. I hope the investigation gets some momentum."

"You and me both. The night is young. I’m hoping against hope Oliver and Eve will call Noah and tell him they had to make an emergency trip to KC or something."

"It would be a happier ending," Jonah agreed. "Good luck with it."

"Thanks. I’ll let you know if there are any developments."

"Do that. And in the meantime, I’ll do my part to keep Grey House on Darius’s good side."

I made a sarcastic sound. "Since the well-being of your House is clearly at the top of my list, that comforts me."

"That’s my girl," he said, and ended the call.

I wasn’t, but he hung up before I could argue. Probably better for both of us.

* * *

My grandfather’s house was small and quaint – white clapboards, metal storm door, stubby concrete porch. As I drove up, the lights were on and half a dozen cars were parked in the driveway and on the street. Most of them were tiny roadsters, which meant only one thing.