I followed Ethan, Andrew, Luc, and Malik to the office, squeezing Lindsey's hand as we pa.s.sed her on the way.

"Glad you got home safely," she whispered, and I nodded.

The decor in Ethan's office matched the rest of the House. European furniture, careful accessories, built-in shelves of beautiful wood, and vases of flowers. His desk filled the front right side of the room, a conversation area the left. There was a conference table across the back.

Luc headed directly for the bar tucked into the built-in bookshelves on the far side and poured amber liquor into a short gla.s.s. He downed it immediately.

"Rough week, Lucas?" Ethan asked with a smirk.

"Yes," Luc said, drinking another finger of Scotch before putting the bottle away again.

"Navarre's status?" Ethan asked.

"The vampires are back in the House, but they're basically under House arrest. Grey took in six vampires-folks who were away when the raid happened and didn't want to go back."

Ethan looked at Andrew. "They'll release Navarre House if I go in? And please take a seat, or have a drink if you'd like. The bar is open."

"I'm fine, and I'd rather stand if you don't mind."

Ethan nodded, and we all stayed standing. This didn't seem like the time to get comfy on the couch. I certainly wasn't in the mood to relax.

"To your question, yes: Kowalcyzk's representatives have advised the units will have no further interest in Navarre if you go in."

I guess that confirmed Kowalcyzk's extortion.

"We're communicating with Navarre's lawyers, so we can ensure she actually keeps her promise. They're relieved that you're here."

"Understandable," Ethan said. "And when I go in?"

"You'll be interviewed about the death of Harold Monmonth," Andrew said. "But not by the CPD. They still have a warrant for your arrest, but the mayor is using her domestic terrorism task force to conduct these interviews. That takes them outside the purview of the CPD, which is unfortunate, as I understand you have allies there."

"Some," Ethan said. "Although likely enemies as well."

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 gla.s.s. 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 a.s.sault 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 pa.s.sed 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 b.u.t.toned 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 pa.s.sed.

"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 trans.m.u.ted, 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.

There were sparks of excitement in the hallway.

"We'd hoped our provision of these medals would be in a slightly more formal occasion," Ethan said. "But it is the symbol that matters, not the pomp and circ.u.mstance."

Ethan leaned forward, and Malik clasped the first pendant around Ethan's neck, which shined like a droplet of silver blood at the base of his throat. There was something nearly sensuous about the curve of it and the way it settled perfectly there.

Helen, the House's den mother, appeared at Ethan's side in her typical tweed suit, a basket of small crimson jewelry boxes on her arm. She began handing out the boxes to the Novitiates in the foyer.

"Be strong," Ethan said, glancing across the room and meeting my gaze with a short and decisive nod. "I'll be back soon enough." He stepped outside and pulled the door closed, disappearing from view.

Fear tightened my chest.

Lindsey stepped beside me, put an arm around my waist. Luc took point at my other side.

"He'll come through this," Luc a.s.sured me. "He's a soldier. He is trained and can endure much."

"I don't want him to endure anything. I don't want his life, his well-being, to be fodder for someone else's political career." Keep him safe, I thought, pleading to the universe and whatever G.o.ds inhabited it. Please keep him safe.

"We know you don't," Luc said, patting my back tenderly and a little awkwardly. "But he is Master of this House, and he does what he must to protect it. It's the life he chose to lead."

"Because he can handle it," Lindsey said.

"He definitely can. There are stories I could tell you."

"Your stories are always disgusting," Lindsey said, reaching around me to poke him in the shoulder. "And they usually involve bordellos. I don't think that's really going to help Merit."

It actually did help Merit, and I chuckled a little in spite of myself. "Bordellos? Really?"

"Chicago had its share once upon a time," Luc said with a s.h.i.t-eating grin that earned an eye roll from Lindsey. "There was this one, Ruby Red's. Every single girl was a redhead, natural or otherwise."

I held up a hand. "I don't need the specifics. I just want Ethan to be okay."

Luc looked earnestly at me. "Merit, of all the vampires in the world, who else is stubborn and pretentious enough to stand up to a self-righteous prig like Diane Kowalcyzk?"

He had a point there.

Since there was no use in spending the hours of Ethan's incarceration staring at the door like loyal hounds waiting for him to return, we received our House medals, clasped them on, and walked back downstairs to the bas.e.m.e.nt, where the Ops Room was located. Much like the Brecks', Cadogan's Ops Room was where Luc and his guards held court and monitored security. It was also, appropriately enough, where we planned operations against House enemies, and it was home to the whiteboard we used to work through our investigations.

Like the ops room in the Breck house, it was all about tech. A conference room where we could plan, a large screen on the back wall for videos, monitoring, considering evidence. Computer stations lined the walls, where vampires could keep an eye on the House's security cameras or do research.

I walked to the conference table, prepared to take a seat, but stopped, trying to make sense of what I saw on the tabletop.

A bag of kettle-style salt-and-vinegar potato chips had been slit down the middle and lay in the middle of the table. The chips had been pushed to one side, and the other bore a puddle of ketchup. I had, as I a.s.sumed did most people, a love-hate relationship with salt-and-vinegar potato chips. But the ketchup was new. And, frankly, a blasphemy.

"What's this?" I asked, swirling a finger in the air above what I a.s.sumed was intended to be a "snack."

"That," Luc said, "is a bit of a miracle. Brody introduced us. Say hi, Brody."

Brody, blond, thin, and as tall as a skysc.r.a.per, sat at one of the computer stations that lined the room. He was one of the Novitiates Luc had temporarily hired to help with House security since we were down a couple of full-time guards. He'd been a member of Cadogan House for fourteen years, a Yale graduate and former Olympic swimmer whose athletic career had been ended by a drunk driver. He'd applied for House membership in the hopes of finding a new kind of team.

Brody turned and waved with a charming smile. "'S'up."

"We're thinking about bringing him on board full-time," Luc said, gesturing toward the snacks. "He shared this little nugget in his interview."

"It's pretty good," Brody said. He stood up-I nearly winced at the possibility he'd knock his head on the ceiling-then walked over and dipped two chips in the ketchup, popped the concoction in his mouth. "You're missing out."

I was an adventurous eater, but pairing potato chips and ketchup was going to require a paradigm shift I wasn't currently prepared to entertain.

I sat down at the conference table, put my hands flat on the tabletop. "Let's talk about the carnival."

Luc and Lindsey joined me. Luc dipped a chip into the ketchup, ate it with a grin while I looked on. "Mmm," he said, earning an elbow from Lindsey.

"Maybe you'll want to skip the noshing and ask the rest of the gang to join us?"

"You're no fun, Sentinel," he said, but pushed the dials on the phone and conferenced them in.

"This is Luc in the Cadogan Ops Room," he said with faux gravity, "dialing you in to discuss the carnival investigation by direct order from the Sentinel of Cadogan House."

I glanced mildly at Lindsey. "Did you spike his blood with caffeine?"

"Die Hard marathon was on TV last night," she said. "He's been weaponized since then."

Jeff, Catcher, and Paige offered their h.e.l.los through the conference phone.

"No librarian?" Jeff asked, when he didn't say h.e.l.lo.

"He's back in the stacks looking through newspapers," Paige said with amus.e.m.e.nt. "And not to be disturbed."

"You're a better woman than I am, Paige," Luc said, earning curious glances from all of us. Thankfully, he moved on. "Let's talk carnival, folks."

As if optimism and preparation would be enough to make developments happen, I moved to the whiteboard, marker in hand.

"We've identified not so much a pattern, but a path," Paige said. "The carnival basically treks back and forth across the upper Midwest once a season. They go out as far as Montana, then come back as far east as Ohio. They ignore the seasons-hold carnivals year-round."

"I suppose the hunt for supernaturals doesn't have a season," Luc grimly said.