Twice Bitten

HIDE-AND-SEEK

"I've loaned you to Gabriel," he added by way of explanation.

I could only blink. "I'm sorry; it sounded like you said you've loaned me to Gabriel?"

"Well, well," said a voice at the threshold. "Aren't I lucky, getting a loaner Sentinel?" Without so much as a sound, Gabriel Keene, Apex of the North American Central Pack of shape-shifters, had made his way into Ethan's apartments. He stood in the doorway, hands still on the knobs, light from the hallway spilling around him into the room.

Gabe walked inside, then shut the doors behind him. "Your second in command ushered me up. I told him no introductions were necessary."

"Gabriel," Ethan said, extending a hand and walking toward him. Gabriel shook it, his heavy black boots clunking on the hardwood floors as he moved. They were an interesting contrast: Ethan - blond, rangy, and dressed in a crisp shirt and suit pants; Gabriel - tousled brown hair, broad shouldered, and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. Ethan was no slouch, but Gabriel was just so masculine, and all that shifter energy practically sucked the air from the room. I considered his very pregnant wife, Tonya, a very lucky girl.

When he and Ethan had finished their manly handshaking, Gabriel looked over at me. "What's the going rate for a loaner Sentinel these days?"

"Patience," said Luc and Ethan at the same time.

A hint of a smile crossed Gabriel's face. I rolled my eyes.

"You remember Luc, Captain of my Guards?" Ethan said, gesturing toward Luc. "And Merit, of course?"

Gabriel nodded at each of us in turn.

"Help yourself to the food," Ethan said, extending an arm toward the cart.

Gabriel shook his head, then gestured toward one of Ethan's tailored sofas. "Can I sit?" Ethan nodded graciously, then joined Gabriel at the seating area. Luc followed. I grabbed a cracker and did the same, but sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Just finished training," I told Gabriel with an apologetic smile, then pointed at the empty Louis XIV chair beside Luc's. "I'd prefer not getting a lecture about ruining the antiques."

"My Sentinel is currently high on a mix of cheese and carbohydrates," Ethan chummily told Gabriel.

"Respectfully, I'd ignore her if I were you."

"I'll leave that job to you. Perhaps we should get to the point?"

"Feel free."

Gabriel frowned, then crossed his right ankle over his left knee. "It might be best if I started at the beginning. Shifters are an independent bunch. I don't mean that we live a solitary existence - quite the opposite. We are organized into Packs, after all. But we tend to live in the margins of human society.

Vamps tend to think of us as a tent and Jeep crew, a hog and Harley crew, a rock 'n' roll and straight Jack Daniel's crew."

Although I'd heard that description, the only shifters I knew other than Gabe - Jeff Christopher, a shifter/computer genius and one of my grandfather's employees, and Chicago's Breckenridge family, who were as rich and well-heeled as they came - were exactly the opposite. On the other hand, the Brecks had tried to blackmail us. . . .

Gabriel shrugged, and his voice softened a bit. "That description isn't entirely untrue. And that means that from a temperament standpoint, Pack members are generally uninterested in humans, in other sups.

They aren't interested in strategy."

"What are they interested in?" Luc asked.

"Family," Gabriel said. "Their families, their children, the unity of the Packs. They're loyal, and to a one, they'll follow as the Pack decides. But that attitude can make them, let's say, insular." Ethan wet his lips, as if preparing to broach an uncomfortable subject. "There have been rumblings about the Pack's returning home to Aurora."

Aurora was the ancestral home Ethan had mentioned earlier, a remote town in the wilds of northern Alaska. From what I understood, it was where shifters congregated when they needed to get away from human machinations. It was also a place to hide out - to disappear to when things got rowdy . . . or when vampires got into trouble. It was their collective retreat when supernatural life got too sticky.

I'd been a vampire for less than three months. The drama was occasionally overwhelming, so I understood the urge to retreat. But I wasn't thrilled about the idea of being left behind.

To his credit, Gabriel managed not to squirm under Ethan's scrutinizing stare. But a low wash of magic filled the room, like a silent growl, unpleasantly acerbic. I fought the urge to roll my shoulders against the uncomfortable tingle. I also opened the telepathic connection between Ethan and me to offer up a silent warning.

He's getting angry, I told him. Tread carefully.

I'm willing to test the waters, Ethan answered back. That answer was surprising - Ethan was generally strategically conservative. I also used to think only he could trigger the connection between us.

Apparently, he'd just been ignoring me.

"My intent is to have the Packs convene; the ultimate decision on that will be made by the Pack leaders.

But assuming that conversation goes well, we'll convene, and we'll decide whether to remain among humans, or return to the woods. And if the Pack decides that we go," Gabriel weightily added, "then we go."

"Why now?" Ethan asked.

"We know the sorcerers are beginning to see things, that prophecies are beginning to bubble up.

Prophecies of war. Of coming battles."

Ethan nodded. We'd heard Catcher offer up just such a prophecy.

"Have you heard talk about underground groups?"

Ethan leaned forward. "What underground groups?"

Gabriel donned the expression of a man about to impart bad news. "Anti-fang groups. Humans who think vampires showing themselves is the first sign of some coming apocalypse . . . or the second American Civil War."

Ethan went quiet.

"We hadn't heard," Luc put in. "No rumbles, no chatter."

"Like I said, the movement is still underground. We've heard about meetings in eastern Tennessee, but it sounds like they're still rural, publicized by word of mouth, handwritten flyers, that kind of thing. But sooner or later, they'll go electronic. We'd prefer not to be here when that happens." Ethan sat back in his chair, but not before sharing a meaningful glance with Luc. I assumed they were talking silently about some strategy for getting information on the anti-fang groups.

"You'll understand my concern," Ethan said, "about your leaving. If you take your numbers, your skills, your power, if you merge back into the wild, then you leave us here."

"Alone" was the word Ethan didn't say - alone against a tide of human opinion that was, if Gabriel was right about the underground rumblings, already beginning to shift against us.

Gabriel shook his head. "If we stay, what's to become of us? I understand your fear - " Ethan held up a hand, stopping him. "With all due respect, Gabriel, you don't understand our fear." That caused another spike of adrenaline, this time emanating from Ethan's direction. Tensions were rising, the collective burden of years of animosity between these two men and the people they sought to protect.

Gabriel stood, then paced to one end of the room. He leaned back against the far wall, putting space between himself and the rest of us, then raised his gaze to us again.

"You're lucky, in a sense, that humans think they understand vampires. They may have believed you were myth, but they also believed they understood your biology. Humans have alternately sought to join you, or to exterminate you. But us? We'd be seen as animals. Research subjects." Although Catcher had once told me that Jeff could handle himself, I had the suddenly ferocious urge to find and embrace him, to ensure that he was safe from anyone who'd try to do him harm.

"If we stay," Gabriel said, his gaze on the floor, "then outing ourselves, or being outed, is inevitable. And nothing pleasant would follow."

The weight of his words hung in the ensuing silence.

"Then perhaps," Ethan said after a moment, "it's time that we come to understand each other as we are, without unrealistic expectations between us."

"I'm not sure we can clear the slate," Gabriel said. "Too much history." I saw the quick flare of disappointment in Ethan's eyes, and my heart clenched. I also saw my opportunity, so I took it. I stood up, then glanced between them, and used a little of that speechifying technique Ethan was so very good at.

"We have a window of opportunity," I told them, then looked at Ethan. "The majority of humans, at least for today, think vampires are cool. The animosity may be building again, but for today, we're safe." Then I turned to Gabriel. "If this convocation happens, it will be to talk, right? To decide what to do?" At his nod, I continued. "Then you have time to make a decision. You have the luxury to chart a course, instead of just reacting to a crisis, when stepping away to protect your people feels like the only real option."

I paused for a moment, blinking as I figured out what to say next. When nothing flowery came to mind, I just told the truth. "I don't envy either of you the decision of what to do next. And I haven't been a vampire long enough to have the same sense of history that you do. But maybe it's time to try something different?" I looked at Gabriel. "Convene. Talk to your people about Aurora. But think about asking something more of them. Something more than what they've given before." I looked at Ethan, whose head was tilted thoughtfully - appreciatively - as he gazed back at me.

"Vampires are well connected," I reminded him. "If shifters stay and they're forced out of the closet, what can we do about it? How can we help? If they sacrifice for us, how can we make sure they aren't going it alone?"

I opened my mouth to continue but, realizing I'd said everything that needed to be said, snapped it closed again. The next steps would have to be their own. There was another long moment of silence, broken when Gabriel finally nodded. "Maybe I will grab something to eat," he said, then walked toward the cart. With that simple gesture, the tension evaporated.

I couldn't help but share with Ethan the victorious grin that lifted one corner of my mouth. He rolled his eyes but rose from his chair and walked toward me.

"Impressive," he whispered when he reached me.

"All in a night's work."

He bobbed his head toward the Apex currently perusing the spread of cheese and meats and crackers.

"He's a man after your own heart."

"He's not the only one who appreciates my love of food. I mean, you might consider how well I've trained you."

He arched a dubious eyebrow, and his voice could hardly have been more sarcastic. "Excuse me?"

Luc chuckled from his chair, chin on his hand, as he watched us with obvious amusement. "Oh, I got this one, Sentinel. Liege, respectfully, you had this meeting catered." Ethan's expression went a little wan.

I considered that a victory, too.

By the time we'd reconvened, Gabriel and I had eaten our fill of Cadogan snacks. We were gathered in the sitting area once again. I sat cross-legged on the floor; Ethan, Luc, and Gabriel sat on the chairs and couches.

"Now that we've discussed the philosophy," Ethan began, "how can we assist with your projects?" Gabriel popped a wedge of summer sausage into his mouth. "First off, we're meeting tomorrow night - the leaders of the American Packs." He glanced over at me, amusement in his eyes. "Bonus points, Kitten, if you can name the other Pack leaders."

"You should know this from the Canon," Ethan put in. I rolled my eyes, but played the part of the dutiful pupill. . . and thanked God I'd actually read the reference guide's chapter on supernatural populations (Chapter 7: "Sup's On!").

"Oh, uh, Jason Maguire, Consolidated Atlantic. Robin Swift, Western." I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to mentally flip back through the pages of the Canon to find the final name. "Great Northwestern . .

. Um."

"Here's a hint," Luc said. "His name is half cartoon tiger, half football player." The lightbulb went on. "Tony Marino, Great Northwestern." Gabe nodded. "Well done. Anyway, the point of this meeting will be to make sure the alphas are on board. The Packs will take their cues from their alphas. I don't need Robin and Jason and Tony to make a decision on staying, but I need them to agree that taking the question to the Packs is the right course of action."

He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped before him. "I need them to accept the possibility that the status quo will undergo a profound change by the end of the week, one way or another."

"Do you expect them to refuse the convocation?" Luc asked.

Gabriel frowned, his gaze on the small plate in his hand as he picked over its contents. "I'm not expecting a lot of drama from Jason or Robin," he said, "but Tony's another story. The Great Northwestern is headquartered in Aurora, and he's quick to hit the panic button. He likes playing king of the castle. And if he thinks there's any argument that we should go home, he'll try to send us there, and without a convocation first." He shrugged. "Alphas don't issue dictates from on high, nor do we simply follow our own agenda. We make the best decision for the Pack; we embody the collective voice, in a manner of speaking. Well, we'll find out when we find out. I'll get you the address of the meet. When you get there, find Berna. You can hardly miss her." Ethan nodded in understanding. "And after the meet?"

"Assuming all goes well, we'll convene on Friday."

Today was Tuesday. "Are three days enough time," I wondered aloud, "to get all the Pack members into Chicago?"

"It won't be all the Pack members, just the activists. Some are here already; some are waiting for directions. You know the Breckenridges - the kind of lifestyle they lead. They're very tied down to the land. Most of us are more mobile."

"Where will you meet?" Ethan asked.

"We've nailed down a spot in Ukrainian Village - some of our members have connections to the neighborhood from the Old Country." He shrugged. "It's lower profile than renting out a ballroom at the Hyatt."

Ethan nodded. "And where do we come in? You said you wanted to speak about security arrangements. Was that in reference to the convocation or to the meeting, or both?" Gabe gestured with a cracker. "Both. And I actually had both you and Merit in mind. You're both skilled, capable. You bring something extra to the table." Something fanged, I silently wondered, or something involving samurai-quality steel?

"You remind them why we're meeting," Gabriel said, as if in answer to my silent question. "You remind them what's at stake, and why I've asked them to travel from Aurora or Charleston or the Bronx to Chicago. You remind them of the consequences of deciding to resettle, of leaving human and vampire affairs behind. And besides," he added, looking at me with humor in his gaze, "you have the attentions of one of my favorite Pack members. I understand you and Jeff Christopher are friends?" My cheeks heated with a warming blush. Jeff was a friend; he also had a magnificent crush on me. More important, he'd done vampires some pretty serious favors, helping us figure out that Peter had been the saboteur assisting Celina from within the halls of Cadogan House.

"Jeff is a fabulous friend," I agreed.

"He was an integral part of our resolution of the Breckenridge threat," Ethan added.

Gabriel nodded. "Jeff's good people, and your grandfather, Merit, has done right by him. Jeff's in a good situation, and he's not into playing the politics of a vampire-shifter conflict. But I'm not sure he's in the majority. I'll be honest, Ethan. I think the odds they'll decide to head home are pretty good - sixty, seventy percent maybe. And if that's what they decide, I'll abide by that decision. My responsibility is to give voice to the debate, to let them reach the best decision for the Packs, however that might be defined."

"I understand," Ethan said quietly. "I appreciate your candor, and that you're taking the question to the Packs at all." But it was easy to tell that was not what he wanted to say, and that he had more choice words for the possibility that the shifters wouldn't, for once, make the right call. Gabriel looked at Ethan.

"I know you have a security staff, and that they're probably capable of doing this on their own. But I'd consider it a personal favor if you could be there. Having a Master in attendance shows the Packs that vampires are prepared to listen, not just judge. That's important."

Ethan let the weight of those words hang in the air for a moment. "At this point, do you anticipate violence?"

I assumed he asked because shifters, like sorcerers, seemed to have some kind of tap into the future.

"I'll be honest - it wouldn't surprise me. We're talking about folks with a lot of pent-up emotion and some very specific ideas about whether they should head out for a long vacation or suffer through a summer in Chicago because vamps aren't playing nice. I'm paraphrasing there, of course." Gabe's tone couldn't have been drier.

"I don't have an objection to participating," he said. "But since we're effectively asking her to risk herself for the sake of those who may, ultimately, forsake her, I think it best that Merit be allowed to decide for herself whether she'll assist." He glanced at me, probably saw the shock on my face, and lifted his brows in question. "Merit?"

It took me a moment to gather myself, not because of the question - I was oath-and honor-bound to help protect Cadogan House, and this surely counted amongst those duties - but that he trusted me enough to ask the question.

"Of course," I said, sliding my gaze to Gabriel and nodding to let him know the deal was done.

He blew out a slow breath, then leaned forward and put his snack plate on the tray-topped ottoman that sat between him and Ethan. "One more thing," he said.

"In terms of the rules of engagement, I need to request that you not take action unless you're acted upon. I think the benefits of your being there outweigh the risks, but you make an unsolicited move on a shifter in front of four Packs, and we won't be hypothesizing about a war. We'll be in the goddamned middle of one."

"Point taken," Ethan said after a moment.

With that, Gabriel stood up, then glanced between Ethan and me. "I know this isn't the kind of thing you normally sign up for. I appreciate your help, even if you are playing the token vampires." He glanced at Luc. "I assume you'll want advance materials?"

Luc nodded, blond curls bobbing around his face. "That'd be appreciated."

"Done. Once we're sure this thing's a go, I'll send directions to the location, some interior maps in case you want to think about protocols, exits, whatever. And do me a favor - no Armani. It won't work for this crowd."

"No Armani," Ethan agreed.

"Then I'll send you the pre-meet address in a bit, and I'll see you tomorrow night." He slid his hazel-eyed gaze my way. "Leather, maybe, Kitten?"

"I'm sure she'll find something appropriate," Ethan darkly interjected, holding out a hand. "You have my contact information. We'll await the details."

They walked toward the door, the leader of vampires and the leader of shifters, the fate of thousands in their hands. They shook, and when Ethan opened the doors, Helen - the House's den mother - was waiting there, presumably to take Gabriel back downstairs. Ethan must have used his telepathic mojo to give her instructions.

When he'd closed the doors again, Ethan headed straight for the cart and popped open a box of Blood4You.

"And they say vampires are dramatic," Luc intoned.

Ethan finished the box of blood in a single gulp, then crumpled the container in his hand. When he looked at us again, his normally green eyes swirled with remnants of quicksilver. He'd gone a little vampy, and I wasn't sure if that was because of the blood, or because the blood was bringing him back down from full-vamp mode.

Luc plucked his own box of blood from the cart and popped in the attached, disposable straw. "Nice little speech you gave there, Sentinel."

I shrugged. "I'm a Merit. We can give good talk when the need arises."

"It was well done," Ethan agreed.

I crossed my arms and tilted my head at Ethan. "If they leave, is it really such a loss? I mean, we've survived, and they've never taken our side before, so why does it matter? Even if worse comes to worst - if Celina manages to start some kind of internal war amongst vampires or if humans turn against us, what would it matter if they're gone?"

"Vampires are predators," Ethan said. "Humans walk the line between predator and prey. But shifters are kith and kin of the earth itself. They have powers that would put even Catcher's abilities to shame.

We leak magic. Sorcerers can use that magic, funnel it, mold it to their wills. But shifters are magic. They are part of all that is around them. If they retreat, we lose that connection to the world, to the earth, to Chicago, and we'll all be less for it. We lose their strength. We also lose their numbers. We lose potential allies who could help stand up for us - and as you pointed out, who could rely upon us to stand up for them."

"If they forsake us again," Luc quietly said, "the stakes could be much worse - we won't just be fighting an army of French peasants with muskets and the occasional bayonet."

"Well, let's not continue to beat the poor dead horse," Ethan said after a moment. "The pre-meeting is tomorrow night. We'll show up, wield our steel, and probably learn a good deal more about shifters.

That's all we can do for now." He looked at me. "I'm a bit concerned about your sparring should the need arise for it. You still haven't managed to beat me one-on-one."

"But she works the Katas like a master," Luc said, taking his drink box back to the couch. "At least she's half skilled."

"I'd prefer to be good at both," I said, in between bites of sausage. It was good stuff - meaty and savory, with just the right amount of kick.

"It will come," Ethan said, his tone all quiet confidence. "Given the piecemeal nature of your change, let's be patient. Well, at least until we train tomorrow evening."

"Maybe tomorrow will be the big day," I said, hoping we wouldn't have much longer to wait. And speaking of issues that awaited resolution . . .

"Since we're here, what can you tell me about the Red Guard?" Both Ethan's and Luc's heads jerked up so quickly, and with such alarm in their expressions, you'd have thought I'd suggested vampiricide. Ethan sat down on the sofa, then rolled his shoulders as if the tension there had suddenly become unbearable. "Where did you learn about the Red Guard?" I pulled a corner from a square of cheddar and popped it into my mouth, aiming for nonchalance. "There were some references in a couple of vampire history books I found in the library." When Ethan arched an eyebrow at Luc, he stuttered out an answer.

"Oh, well, you're on a need-to-know basis, Sentinel," Luc said, then raised his eyebrows at Ethan, as if getting the okay to continue. "And right now you don't need to know." I took the axiom, assuming Luc was quoting some movie I hadn't heard of, and glanced over at Ethan.

He was staring back at me, his expression flat. I guessed he wasn't eager to discuss the RG. I knew he'd be conflicted about the organization and its purpose, but I'd expected vitriol, not silence. Maybe I'd actually managed to render him speechless. Given his vast love of speechifying, that was quite an accomplishment.

"Okay," I said, standing up. "In that case, if we're done for the day, I'm heading out." I glanced at Ethan. "I'll meet you first thing in the Sparring Room." Ethan nodded. "Dismissed."

"I'll walk you to the stairs," Luc said, hopping off the couch. He glanced back at Ethan. "I need to see a girll. . . about a girl."

"And speaking of things I don't need to know," Ethan said lightly, then waved him off with a hand. "Go see her."

Luc staked a toothpick of sausage and cheese before accompanying me to the door. When we were out in the hallway, the doors closed behind us, Luc began to spill.

"RG is the vampire version of a law enforcement internal affairs department," he said. "But with a regulator bent. They were created to guard the original French council members, but they stuck around.

Now they're more of a watchdog organization. That makes them controversial." We headed for the stairs, then trotted down to the second floor. "And that's why Ethan doesn't like to talk about them?"

"Sentinel, does Ethan Sullivan strike you as the type who appreciates challenges to his authority?"

"Not really his bag," I agreed. That was exactly why I'd held off giving Noah an answer. It wasn't that I thought keeping an eye on the Masters was a bad idea - case in point Celina - but I could appreciate Ethan's sensitivity.

We stopped in front of the door to my favorite room in Cadogan House - the library.

Luc eyed the door, then me. "You looking for more inappropriate information?"

"If I didn't keep you two on your toes, Luc, what fun would you have?" He shook his head in amusement, but then turned around and headed right toward the stairs . . . and toward Lindsey's room. "Gotta see a girl about a girl?" I called after him.

He answered with a gesture. That's what I got, I supposed, for baiting a vampire.

Grief was a miserable emotion. A friend once told me the hurt that came with the end of a relationship was painful because it was the death of a dream - the future you'd imagined with a lover, a loved one, a child, or a friend. That loss was its own painful, nearly tangible thing. You had to reimagine your future, perhaps in a different place, with different people, doing different things than you might have first imagined. In my case, it was imagining a future without my best friend - without Mallory.

We'd said hurtful things, things that put an obstacle between us. We'd talked since then, but that breach was still there, a barrier that seemed impassable, at least for now.

It was perhaps the most frustrating kind of breakup - when the person you loved lived down the street, in the same building, or across town but they were still inaccessible to you.

I couldn't bring myself to call her. It didn't seem right - like a call would have violated a silence we'd agreed upon. That's what put me in my car two hours before sunrise - two hours before the sun would send me deep into unconsciousness (and worse, if I wasn't careful)

- heading north from Hyde Park to Wicker Park, Mallory's neighborhood.

I swore to myself that I wouldn't drive past the brownstone we had shared; that seemed a little too stalkerish even for me. Besides - seeing the lights on, the glare from the television, the shadow of people in front of the picture window - would only make me that much more miserable. Her life wasn't just supposed to go on. I know it sounded petty, but this was supposed to be hard for her, too. She should have been grieving, as well. Instead, I stayed on Lake Shore Drive. I drove past her exit, the Lake on my right, then turned off the radio and rolled down the window. I drove until I'd run out of street. And then I pulled over.

I parked and got out of the car, then leaned back against it and stared out at the water. With much-needed space between me and Wicker Park and Cadogan House, I let down the defenses I'd erected, and let the sounds and smells of three million people, not to mention vampires and shifters and fairies and nymphs, take me over.

And in that noise and ocean of sensation, I lost myself for a little while, finding the blankness, the anonymity I needed. I stayed there, my gaze on the water, until I was ready to go home again.

The House was still lit when I returned, the vampires inside not yet settled in against the rising of the sun.

The mercenary fairies who guarded the gate stood quiet and still outside it. One of them nodded when I walked past. After I made it through the gate and onto the House's blocks-wide grounds, I stopped and glanced up at the sky. It was still an inky indigo black. It was a little while yet until dawn.

My soul was quieter than it had been when I left, but I wasn't quite ready to go back inside. Instead, I stepped onto the lawn and headed across it, then around the House. Cadogan's backyard was like a playground for night-bound vampires - barbecue, pool, and fountain inside a neatly trimmed garden. It was empty now, the vampires - even if not asleep - already indoors.

I walked to the kidney-shaped pool, then knelt beside it and trickled my fingers across the surface of the water. I didn't look up when I heard soft footsteps.

"It's a nice evening," he said.

"Yes, it is." I flicked the water from my fingers, then stood up again. Ethan stood on the other side of the water in his suit pants and shirt, hands in his pants pockets, hair tucked behind his ears, gold Cadogan medal peeking from the triangle of skin at the hollow of his neck.

"You left?"

I nodded. "For a little while. Just to clear my head." He cocked his head at me. "Shifters?"

I assumed he was asking if they were the reason I needed space. "Sorcerers," I corrected.

"Ah," he said, then lowered his gaze to the water. "Mallory?"

"Yeah. Mallory." He knew we'd fought. I didn't think he knew that he'd been what we'd fought over - part of it, anyway. Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. "The transition can be a challenge for friends. For loved ones."

"Yes, it most definitely can," I agreed, then opted to change the subject. "What are you doing out here?

Shifters?"

"Yeah," he mimicked, a hint of a smile on his face. "Shifters."

"Maybe the shifters have it right," I said. "I mean, heading off into the woods, keeping to themselves."

"Your theory being that if you don't have contact with anyone, you can't be hurt by them?" That was a very astute conclusion for a four-hundred-year-old vampire who usually seemed clueless about human emotion. "That would be the idea, yes." This time, when he looked at me, there was sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to see you become cold, Merit."

"Not wanting to be hurt isn't the same as becoming cold."

"Not at first," he said. He walked to a low brick wall that surrounded the pool and leaned back upon it, ankles crossed in front of him, arms still crossed. And then he looked at me, the pool lights making his eyes glow like a cat's.

"Now that you've finally completed the change, beware the creep of insensitivity. Humans accept the concept of death; they may not wish for it, but they recognize that the decay of the human body is inevitable. Vampires, on the other hand, have the possibility of immortality. They implore strategy to protect it, and they often forget about the details of life between the change and the aspen stake."

He shook his head. "You are a wonder of vampiric strength, yet you treasure your humanity and care greatly about those who were in your life before your change. Stay that way," he said. "Stay just the way you are."

"Quit flirting with me, Sullivan," I said dryly, but I wasn't kidding. Ethan was seductive enough when he was being snarky; I wasn't prepared for complimentary Ethan.

"I'm being completely honest," Ethan said, lifting a hand and holding up two fingers. "Scout's honor." I made a doubtful noise, then glanced up at the sky. As the earth turned on its axis, the indigo of evening was beginning to shift and lighten.

"We should get inside," I suggested. "Unless you want to test your sunlight allergy defenses?"

"I'll pass," Ethan said, standing and holding out a hand. I walked past him, across the backyard and to the brick patio that spanned the back of the House, then to the back door. When we reached the door, he reached to grasp the handle, but then paused.

I glanced over at him.

"I'm not your father, you know."

It took me a moment to find words. "Excuse me?"

"I'm capable of giving you a compliment and being completely sincere about it." I opened my mouth to snipe back, but I realized he had a pretty good point. Offering a compliment to goad someone into doing something was just the kind of thing my father would do. I gave Ethan credit for recognizing the difference.

"Then thank you," I told him, a hint of a smile at my lips.

He nodded graciously. "You're welcome. I'll see you in the evening."

"Good night, Sullivan."

"Good night, Sentinel."