Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires #11)(19)
Author: Chloe Neill

Tonight, limousines lined the neighborhood’s streets. Brody plodded along in stop-and-go traffic, his frustration evidenced by occasional grunts.

“Eyes on the road,” Ethan said when Brody checked the rearview mirror again to catch a glimpse of me.

I bit back a smile, but gave myself a mental high five for being utterly fly.

“She just looks so . . . fancy,” Brody said, which deflated my ego just a bit.

“Fancy,” I decided, wasn’t the equivalent of “astoundingly beautiful.” And the dress had been too much work to get into for anything less complimentary than the latter.

“She can hear you,” I reminded him. “And she outranks you. Eyes on the road.”

“What did you say to me last night?” Ethan murmured with amusement. “Down, girl?”

I made a vague sound as Brody reached the front of Reed’s house, where a human in a black shirt, vest, and pants opened the door.

“Stay close,” I told Brody. “Find a spot, no more than two blocks, and keep your phone on.”

“On that,” he said, and merged back into the slow crawl of cars after Ethan and I had disembarked. I tucked hair behind my ear, adjusted the dress so it fell properly around my feet, noticed Ethan’s soft smile.

“What?”

“You think you don’t fit here, Sentinel,” he said quietly, offering me his arm as we strolled the red carpet through lines of reporters who’d gathered to snap photos of the rich, famous, and infamous. “But you fit better than many of them, because you know exactly who you are.”

The lucky photographer who snapped me after that compliment got a grand smile for her trouble.

After several slow minutes of walking, we reached the front door, where a petite girl with dark skin and hair piled in a voluminous topknot stood with a clipboard.

“Ethan and Merit,” he said. “We’re guests of Joshua Merit.”

She scanned the list, nodded. “Welcome to the Reed house,” she said, and gestured us inside.

The house opened immediately into an enormous two-story room, with marble dominating the first floor, including a large marble staircase bound in curvy marble balusters that marched to the second floor. The second floor formed a balcony around the first, surrounded by a railing of thick, dark wood.

The house’s décor matched its large scale. Baroque furniture, paneled walls, heavy sconces, all of it oversized. There was something Old World about the tone, but the effect was jumbled, as if Reed had simply plucked items at random from an antiques store.

Adding to the heaviness, the furniture had been draped in jewel-toned silks and was speared with tall candelabras and dripping pillar candles. Reed had even hired performers. A couple in teal silk jumpsuits juggled painted clubs. Dancers in velvet ball gowns and harlequin ensembles, their identities concealed behind papier-mâché masks with large dark tears painted beneath diamond-shaped eyes, danced in pairs through the crowd. Most of the guests wore black, which offset the deep burgundy, gold, and crimson velvets of the performers’ costumes.

“And the theme is,” I murmured, glancing around, “Venetian masquerade.”

“Very theatrical,” Ethan said.

“It is.” A man in a black jumpsuit spun past us, his face covered by a mask with round eyes and a beaklike nose.

And a little creepy, I added silently. Very Eyes Wide Shut.

And very Venetian. That’s a medico della peste, he said. It’s based on a mask that was used by doctors to protect them from the plague.

It’s disturbing.

Some find that to be part of the appeal, Ethan said, but sidled closer as the masked man circled us, his eyes trained on us like a ballet dancer even as his body spun.

“That was creepy,” I said as he finally moved away.

“It was,” Ethan said, grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. He handed me one, then tapped his glass delicately against mine. “Sentinel, I’ll say it again: You look ravishing.”

Because I agreed with him, I shared his smile. “You have excellent taste. And I’m not just saying that because we’re dating.”

“But it doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I agreed, and sipped. The champagne was smoky and peachy at the same time. An odd combination, but it worked. I hadn’t yet seen a snack tray, but the drink gave me hope they’d also be good.

“Do you see him anywhere?”

I glanced back at Ethan. “Reed or my father?”

“Either. I’m surprised Reed isn’t making the rounds—and your father isn’t at his side.”

“What do you know about this Towerline project?”

“Not a lot,” Ethan said, shifting to avoid the swoop of a juggler snatching an errant baton. “I’ve read about it, seen the plans in the paper. It’s reportedly the biggest deal your father has ever closed.”

“And he wants Reed as an investor?”

“That would be my guess. A project that large will take a lot of financing.” Ethan touched my arm, nodded toward the other side of the room. “And I believe we’ve just received our summoning.”

I followed his gaze. A man on the other side of the room—also tall and lean, but with dark hair and pale blue eyes that matched mine—gestured with two fingers, beckoning me to him in the same fashion he called his servants.

I managed not to growl.

“Beware, Sentinel. Humans are the fiercest predators of all.”

“Well aware,” I said, using one of Ethan’s favorite phrases.

With Ethan’s hand at my back, we crossed the ballroom.

“Joshua,” Ethan said when we reached him.

He offered Ethan a handshake. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you.”

“Merit,” he said to me, without pleasantries.

“Dad.”

Always charming, Ethan said silently, then gestured to the room. “This is quite an affair.”

“Adrien enjoys a good show. He’d like to meet you. I’ll take you upstairs.” He turned on his heel, headed toward the staircase. My father was undeniably absorbed by business, but for him to act as majordomo for anyone was utterly out of character. And oddly sycophantic.

The deal must not be done if he’s doing Reed’s business, Ethan said silently.

My thoughts exactly. But we’d come here for a purpose, so we followed him to the stairs, climbed treads of pink marble warped with age and the wear of thousands of footsteps. Thankfully, going up was a lot easier than going down, so Ethan didn’t have to bear the burden of my purse.