Wild Things (Chicagoland Vampires #9)(59)
Author: Chloe Neill

Andrew nodded. “The firm has contacts in Homeland Security, and I’ve contacted them, requested they make contact with the mayor’s office, provide some oversight. I don’t know how far that will go, but I prefer to have the protections in place rather than leaving an ambitious politician with no evidence and less foresight in charge.”

“Our opinions align,” Ethan said.

“The interview will take place at the Daley Center,” Andrew continued. That building held the city and county offices. “I won’t be in the interview room with you—no right to a lawyer as a suspected domestic terrorist—but I’ve arranged for the room to have two-way glass. I’ll be outside. They’ll keep you there until they’re satisfied they’ve gotten the answers they want, even if it means the sun’s in the sky.”

“They have a dark room?” Malik asked.

“They do. They understand you’re essentially unconscious, not by choice, when the sun comes up. They’ve arranged for a room without windows so you can bed down. And the interview room doesn’t have windows, either, just in case they decide to get creative around sunrise.”

We were capable of being conscious during the day, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I’d been kept forcibly awake once and preferred not to repeat it.

I started to speak, found my voice trembled, and started again. “And if they assault Ethan?”

Andrew leveled dark eyes at me. “Then we take the city for everything they’re worth, and we have evidence to expose Chicago for the tragedy that’s occurring here.”

We looked at each other for a moment. He was giving me, I realized, time to consider him, to evaluate him, to trust that he would care for Ethan as I did. I wasn’t eager to give Ethan up to anyone, but I was immediately glad he had this man in his corner.

I nodded, breaking the spell and offering my trust. “How long will they hold him?”

“Under current law, until they’re satisfied he isn’t a threat. There’s an obvious self-defense argument here, especially considering Monmonth’s violence against the humans before he even got inside the gate. And we have the security video of all the above, although Kowalcyzk’s office has rejected it.” The flat tone of his voice left little doubt about how much he respected that particular decision.

“We’ll push to get him released after twenty-four hours,” he said. “And the entire firm is on call, so if the House needs anything, wants an update, they can contact us. I think that’s everything for now, unless you have other questions?”

Ethan blew out a breath, shook his head, stiffened his shoulders. “I believe that’s it.” He looked at Malik. “Lakshmi?”

“Still standing by,” Malik said. “Considering her willingness to delay presenting the GP’s demands, I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve actually made any.”

I worked studiously to avoid looking at Ethan, afraid my expression would give something away. I hadn’t actually told him that Lakshmi was the vampire to whom I’d owed a favor, or the one who supported him, but it probably wouldn’t be difficult for him to ferret that out. Especially if he could read it in my face.

“I’ve no doubt she has her own agenda,” Ethan said. “But there seems little doubt she’s also here as an envoy. If they hadn’t sent her, they’d have sent someone else.” He frowned, scratched his temple absently, glanced at Malik.

“If she gets impatient, meet with her. Better to give her a meeting of some type than have her declaring war.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else?” Ethan asked, glancing around, but no one said anything. “In that case, Malik, you have the House,” he said. As often happened, something quiet passed between them, a ceremonial transfer of power, or perhaps a quick, silent prayer for the safety of themselves, the House, and the Novitiates who dwelled within it.

Ethan buttoned his suit jacket, adjusted his pocket square. “I believe we’re ready.”

Ethan emerged from the room as he had three days ago, to nervous looks of vampires waiting outside his office. Last time he was running from the very thing he’d committed to do tonight.

He took my hand in his, and together we walked down the hallway, Cadogan’s vampires sharing their support.

“We love you, Liege,” they said as we passed.

“You’ll get through this.”

“The House will get through this, Liege.”

They patted his back, touched his arm. Two offered embraces, then quickly stepped back into line. They’d lost him a few months ago and had miraculously gotten him back. They weren’t eager to give him up again.

When we reached the foyer, the crowd thinned to give him access to the front door. He squeezed my hand, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that filled my eyes.

“You’re ready?” Andrew asked, opening the door to escort him out.

“A moment,” Ethan said.

And there in the foyer, with half the House’s vampires looking on, he put his hands on my face, and he kissed me. The kiss was soft but insistent. Ethan Sullivan did not hesitate to demonstrate to the House exactly how he felt about me.

The magic in the room transmuted, became less about fear than hope. Somehow, because they’d seen Ethan kiss me, they calmed. Perhaps because of the reminder that he had every incentive to come back healthy and whole.

After a moment he pulled back, his hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking my jaw.

Be careful, Sentinel, he silently said. The kiss had been for the House; the words were just for us. Guard Malik, the House, yourself.

You be careful, too.

I’ve every intention of it, he said with a smile. He pressed another kiss to my lips—softer, sweeter—before releasing me and walking toward the door.

There, with his hand on the frame, he turned back and faced his vampires.

“What happens outside these doors is not relevant,” he said. “It is how you respond to them, how you move forward, that reveals your character.

“You are Cadogan vampires. You are honorable, brave . . . and more stylish than most.” He got the chuckle he’d undoubtedly wanted. “To that end, and to remind you who you are, we have something to share.”

Malik walked forward with a box in hand, one that I recognized from our apartments. He opened it, pulled out a silver pendant on a chain, which gleamed like quicksilver beneath the foyer chandelier. Our previous House medals, circular disks inscribed with our positions and the House’s GP registration number, were outdated since we’d ditched the GP. These pendants, silver droplets with the House’s name and our positions etched into the back, would be the new reminders of our vampiric family.