House Rules (Chicagoland Vampires #7)(37)
Author: Chloe Neill

I’d danced ballet for many years, and that certainly helped me keep my balance. But the leather soles of my boots weren’t made for slick rocks, and I was only ten feet into the journey when I lost traction. I went down on my knees, which sent a shock of pain right up my spine.

"Mother lover," I muttered, wincing there on my knees for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. When it felt slightly less like someone had taken a mallet to my kneecaps, I rose and continued the journey.

After a few minutes of half walking, half crawling, I reached the ladder that led up to the concrete platform surrounding the lighthouse.

"You made it."

The words, quietly spoken, seemed tremendously loud in the silence of the lake. I glanced up.

Jonah stood at the top of the ladder, hands tucked into the pockets of a black, calf-length wool coat. He wore jeans and boots beneath it, and his auburn hair swirled around his face in the wind. His cheeks, honed like sculpted marble, were pink from the cold.

"Merit." He gestured me up, and I climbed the ladder – which was cold, rusting, and rickety – hand over hand until I reached the platform at the top. Jonah helped me scoot onto the platform.

"Nice location," I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets against the chill. It was colder on the water, with no protection from the wind or elements.

He smiled at me, Buddha-like in his calm. "The RG path isn’t easy, and that lesson shouldn’t be forgotten."

"My knees will remember," I assured him.

We looked at each other for a moment, magic and memory sparking between us.

Jonah and I had complementary magic – magic that operated on a similar frequency. A supernatural kinship, of a sort. He’d also once confessed that he’d had feelings for me, but had gracefully withdrawn when I’d told him of my feelings for Ethan.

Now we were partners, and we were about to make that official. Ironically, only hours before Cadogan’s political breakup with the GP.

"Let’s go inside," he said.

"Inside?" I hadn’t imagined I’d be out here on the lighthouse platform, much less actually going inside it. It excited the nerd in me.

"Membership has its privileges," Jonah said, as I followed him around the platform to a red wooden door on the other side. He flipped aside a brass plate that looked like a doorbell, revealing a small scanner. He pressed his thumb to it, and the door unlocked with an audible thump.

"Fancy," I said.

"Only the best at RG headquarters."

"This is RG headquarters?"

"It is," he said, closing the door behind me as I took a look around. The building consisted of two small rooms that flanked the central lighthouse like bookends . . . or something decidedly more genital. The floors were tile, and all the walls were marked by windows with views of the water or the city. The decor was sparse and probably last updated in the 1970s. A spiral staircase split the middle of the room in half and led, I presumed, up to the actual light.

"Well, such as it is," he said.

"So this is what the inside of a lighthouse looks like."

"At least in 1979, when this place was last staffed," Jonah said.

"That explains the faux wood and brass."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It’s not like we’ve filled it up with equipment, so I guess it’s more of a safe house than a headquarters. But it serves its purpose. Excuse me a minute." He walked to the spiral staircase, put a hand on the rail, and called up the stairs, "We’re here! Come on down."

With a cacophony of shoes on metal treads, eight men and women came down the stairs, most wearing some version of Midnight High School gear. MHS was the unofficial (and secret) calling card of RG members.

Jonah joined me again, and the group assembled in front of us. A few of them looked familiar; I’d probably seen their faces in crowds at events the RG had seeded with members.

One of them looked more specifically familiar. Horace, the Civil War veteran from the warehouse, stood beside a shorter, curly-haired girl with dark skin and smiling eyes. He still wore antique-looking clothes; she favored Converses and jeans, which made me like her immediately. Their hands were intertwined, their feet just touching as they stood beside each other.

They gave off a good vibe, and they weren’t the only ones. All eight of the members stood together in pairs, presumably by partners. Another of the couples held hands, and from the closeness of their bodies, it was clear they weren’t just being friendly.

Jonah had once confessed he’d had feelings for me. Seeing these vampires together, I wasn’t sure which had come first – whether RG members had sought out their partners because of their skills and the romance had followed, or romantically intertwined couples simply made good RG spies. Whatever the reason, there seemed to be more than just business between the partners. And here Jonah and I were, the only noncouple in the group of obvious couples.

Awkwardness growing, I gnawed my lip.

"Everybody," Jonah said, "this is Merit. You’ve got a big evening yet," he said to me, "so we’ll save the formal introductions for another time. Suffice it to say, these are Chicago’s Red Guards."

I waved a little weakly as my heart thudded uncomfortably. Jonah had bowed out when he’d learned I was in love with Ethan . . . or had he? Was he holding onto hope that we’d somehow end up together? Because as far as I was concerned, and much like Lacey and Ethan, that just wasn’t in the cards.

That would be such an uncomfortable discussion, but there was no way around it. There was no way to avoid the issue, not if I was going to fully commit. To put it frankly: I could commit to the RG. I could commit to Jonah as my RG partner. But I’d already committed my heart to Ethan, and I wanted to make that crystal clear.

I turned to him. "Could I speak to you for a moment? In private?"

Jonah smiled a little, as if he’d been anticipating the request. "Of course."

He shifted his gaze to the vampires behind us. "All right, show’s over."

There were good-natured grumbles, but every vampire made a polite good-bye to me and Jonah before they headed up the spiral staircase or out the door.

He waited until we were alone before looking at me again. "I’m not propositioning you."

I felt simultaneous embarrassment and relief, and my cheeks flamed hot enough to light up the room.

"I know. I mean, I didn’t think you were. I just . . ." I cleared my throat, the sound just as awkward as the moment. "I just want you to know where I am."

"I know where you are," he said. "It’s not unheard-of for RG partners to become romantically involved. We call it the Moonlighting effect."