Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires #11)(54)
Author: Chloe Neill

Thank-yous sounded as we moved down the hallway.

The lights were on in Ethan’s office. A cold bottle of water, condensation patterned along the sides, sat on a coaster on his desk, waiting for him.

“Bless you, Helen,” he said, sitting down, uncapping the water, and taking a heady drink. When he was done, he held it out to me, but I shook my head.

“I’ll grab something in a minute and go downstairs. But before I do that, I think I have an idea about Balthasar. About how to call him out.”

“I’m listening, Sentinel.”

“He wants an opportunity to show himself, show off his power. And I don’t think he’s the only one—the vampires outside, they come to you for help, for reassurance, for advocacy. They trust you as much as the vampires of your own House. But they haven’t seen you formally Invested.” I smiled cannily. “I think we need to fix that.”

But Ethan frowned. “The AAM hasn’t decided if there will be an Investiture.”

“You’re an AAM member, and you’re all equal, according to Nicole. Tell Nicole it’s important in Chicago to acknowledge the Master’s new roles. Call it an Investiture, a coronation, a GP Independence Day celebration. Whatever the name, make it a very big deal—something the media outlets will pick up on. And don’t tell Balthasar. But let him find out.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Nicole might tell him directly.”

“She probably will. And that will only tempt him further.”

“You think he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“You said earlier he’d want the ceremony, and I think you’re right about that. The ceremony, the excitement, the media coverage. And this would be on our turf, with our players and our rules.”

Ethan considered, then began to smile slowly.

I didn’t care for that smile. “What?”

“You, Sentinel, are also the House’s Social Chair.”

My gaze flattened. “You gave me that position as a punishment.”

“And it’s still in place. I won’t make you plan it,” he assured me, and I relaxed incrementally. “But it’s a good thought. I’ll talk to Malik, Scott. If we can figure out the play, it might be worth the risk.”

When my stomach growled again, I remembered our interrupted errand. “What happened to the pizza?”

“I tossed the boxes down when I went to help Nadia. They didn’t survive the trip.”

I didn’t mourn the beets, but I nodded. “I’m going to grab something to eat, then head to the Ops Room.”

“There are many irons in our fires,” Ethan said, then glanced up at me. “Take care, Sentinel.”

I promised I would, and left him to his supplicants.

*   *   *

The dining room was empty, but light seeped beneath the kitchen door, as it usually did. I peeked inside, found Margot in front of the stove, bouncing to Beyoncé. Definitely not the same atmosphere as the Navarre kitchen.

Margot was gorgeous, with a curvy figure and beautiful face, her seductive eyes accented by her bob of dark hair and bangs that fell to a point in the middle of her forehead. She wore a black chef’s jacket over leopard leggings and the heavy rubber clogs chefs seemed to favor.

She looked up but kept swirling a small saucepan with the other. “Hey, Mer,” she said, then frowned. “Looks like you got nailed pretty well.”

I touched fingers gingerly to my cheekbone, which had dulled to an ache. “Is it still bruised?”

“It’s a little purple, yeah. How’s Navarre?”

It always surprised me when word of our off-campus shenanigans traveled, and I had no idea why. Vampires loved to gossip at least as much as humans, and since this particular gossip involved a vampire attack, Luc would have advised the House just as a precaution.

“At the moment, not great. Internal conflict, external conflict. It’s kind of a mess.”

“I ever tell you I applied there?”

I drew my gaze away from neat square tins of chopped vegetables at the station next to her stove to her face. “No. Before Cadogan?”

“Same time as. I wasn’t sure which House I liked better—Cadogan was in my gut, but I had a friend in Navarre.”

“And why’d you pick Cadogan?”

“I trusted Ethan more than I trusted Celina.”

“Good instincts.”

“No kidding, right? Ethan was—still is—very practical about vampirism, about being a Novitiate. Our responsibilities to the House, his responsibilities to us. Celina was more . . . I don’t know. Particular. I mean, Ethan’s particular in his own way, sure. But he’s particular about things that matter. She was particular about our being vampires with a capital “V.” Seeming, at all times, the best vampires in town. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah. That’s the vibe I got tonight. Lot of expectations about how to ‘be’ a vampire.”

She nodded. “That hits it pretty well. What brings you by?”

“I know it’s between meals, but could I grab something to eat?”

“Sure. Just a second while I get this where it needs to be.” She swirled the pan for another moment or two, and when she decided it was done, she poured the contents—caramel-colored liquid—into a nearby glass dish.

“I’m browning butter,” she said, then put the pan in the sink, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a small take-out container. “Ham and a very nice white cheese on baguette. Sides of Dijon and mayo, pickle, chips.”

I took it from her, smiled. “You made me a to-go box?”

She closed the refrigerator again. “Ah. You must not know about Executive Order Two Hundred Eleven.”

“What’s that?”

“Basically, we’re required to keep sack lunches ready for you. Ethan thinks you get hangry.”

I was torn between irritation and admiration, as the order was both incredibly apt and utterly insulting. “That’s ridiculous. I do not get hangry.”

“Are you hangry now?”

I paused. “Maybe,” I said with resignation.

She flicked a hand toward the box. “And there you go. Eat your regulatory sandwich and be happy about it. I threw in two chocolate chip cookies.”

That was something anyway.

*   *   *

I was hungry/hangry enough that I didn’t think company was a good idea. It also wasn’t often I found myself with a few moments to sit quietly, so I sat in the dark cafeteria for a few quiet minutes, eating my take-out dinner with bottles of blood and water I’d grabbed from the cooler.