UPSTART COUNTRY

I trekked back upstairs, dumped the shoes into the closet, and peeled off the dress. Getting out of it was much less classy than getting into it, without an extra pair of hands to help with the zipper. Many contortions later, I managed, leaving the silk in a heap on the floor while I searched for something to wear.

It didn't take long.

My leathers had taken a beating in the Grey House riot, including the slash across the front of my jacket. But they'd been neatly repaired and were hanging in my closet again. The seams were virtually invisible, and the jacket looked brand-new.

I slipped them on, reveling in the feel of well-worn leather, which felt cloudlike compared to the fitted dress I'd been wearing. Boots and thick socks followed, and then my scabbarded katana, which was belted around my waist. Just in case.

Since I was now all business, I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, which would keep it out of my face in the event of a battle. Unfortunately, the hairstyle also provided a handle for attackers, but other than shaving my head, there wasn't much to be done about that.

I checked my watch. There was time yet before my shift started, so I decided to head to the basement. I wasn't anywhere near hungry, but I could at least say hi to Saul.

The entire basement smelled like oregano and garlic, not that I minded.

The tatami mats in the training room had been rolled up, revealing a hardwood floor that was currently dotted with round tables. A long table had been set up against the far wall, covered with white pizza boxes. Cadogan and Grey House vampires moved through the line, chatting as they selected pizza and sodas from a cooler at the end.

Saul himself, wearing dress pants, a button-down shirt, and a long black coat, chatted with Ethan.

"There she is," he said, patting my cheek when I wandered over. "There's a couple of Saul's doubles under the table for you."

"Thanks, Saul," I said, although I really hadn't done anything to deserve the treat. I'd just asked Luc to ensure my grandfather and the CPD kept an eye on Saul's; they'd done the rest.

"Why are you so dressed up?" I asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you without a Saul's shirt on."

"Granddaughter had a dance recital earlier tonight. 'Snowflake Revue' they called it. Lots of glitter and that white material that looks like window screen?"

"Tulle?"

Saul snapped his finger and pointed at me. "That's it. Tulle." He checked his watch. "I should get back. She's having a slumber party tonight, and her momma promised I'd stop by with a pizza and a kiss. I think I've gotten you all taken care of here."

"You did, Saul, and we're much obliged," Ethan said, extending a hand.

They shook on it. Saul picked up a couple of red insulated bags from the table, and Helen escorted him back into the hallway.

"Nice spread," Scott said, sidling up to us. He didn't have pizza in hand, and he looked exhausted. I'd seen Ethan in the same condition before. We might not have been human, but we weren't immune to human stresses. Fear, anger, and exhaustion ate away at us, too.

"It's all thanks to Saul's generosity," Ethan said, glancing at Scott. "How are your vampires faring?"

"The injured are nearly healed, but weak. There were pretty significant burns and internal damage there. The rest of us are feeling . . . displaced."

"Are repairs under way?" I asked.

"They are. Crew's already cleaning up the water and smoke. And glass, which there's a lot of. All the individual rooms have to be cleaned - the walls scrubbed, every sheet and pillow and piece of clothing aired out. Actually, it's the same company that cleaned up Bryant Industries," he said.

I supposed it was worth considering whether the rehab companies had any connection to the rioters - were the riots an attempt to get rehabbing work in a bad economy? But I quickly discarded the theory. After all, there was no guarantee the victims would actually hire the same rehab company.

"And the atrium?" Ethan asked.

"They're replacing and glazing the glass," he said. "Slow going considering the temperature - but it's in process. The mechanics are going to take longer. The water and heat did a number on the sensors."

"That's the trouble with technology," Ethan said. "Helluva lot easier to break."

"And so inconvenient when it does," Scott said.

"Have you found an interim place to stay?" I wondered aloud.

"So eager to kick us out, are you, Merit?"

"Just asking," I said. "Cots in the ballroom can't be all that comfortable."

"We make do," he said, sounding as much like a coach as a Master vampire. "We've got feelers out in the neighborhood, but we're getting a lot of 'no room at the inn' responses."

"No room for vampires?" Ethan asked.

"Precisely. We found an apartment building being remodeled; they're finishing up the interior work, and we offered a short-term lease for two of the floors. I think there's a possibility there, but the owners are going to have to get over their hesitancy about renting to vampires."

That hesitancy, I thought, might not be about the biology, but the risk of violence. We weren't exactly a good risk right now.

"Merit, your father's in real estate, isn't he?"

I gave Scott a faux smile, not looking forward to the question I knew was going to follow. Of course I wanted to help Grey House. But being indebted to my father was a bad idea; he always called in his debts. "Yeah, he is."

"Do you think he'd have any leads, or pull in terms of helping us nail down a location?"

I'll take this one, Sentinel, Ethan silently said.

"Joshua Merit can be a prickly sort," Ethan said. "And his prices are usually very, very high. We'll make inquiries as we can."

"I'd appreciate that," Scott said, gesturing toward the food. "I think I'm going to grab a bite. I'm starving."

"Do that," Ethan said with a smile, and we watched as Scott joined the rest of the vampires in line.

"I suppose I should have seen that coming."

"Me, too," Ethan said. "It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to make an inquiry. Although asking your father for a favor is only going to lead him back to his offer about the House."

"I hate to break it to you, but he's going to keep at it regardless of what you say to him in the meantime."

"I know," Ethan said. "Recall this isn't the first business arrangement he's proposed to me."

That was a chilling reminder of my father's last proposal - offering Ethan money to make me a vampire. Ethan declined, and that I'd become one anyway was a perfect bit of irony.

My phone beeped, so I pulled it out. An image of Luc's face flashed on my screen, his finger waggling. "Time to go outside!" it said. "Time to go outside!"

I tried to silence it, reduce the volume, and turn off the phone, but to no avail. Luc had definitely created a reminder for our outdoor guarding duties - and there was no way to turn it off.

I grimaced at the phone and showed it to Ethan. "We have a monster on our hands."

"I rue the day I authorized those study-at-night programming classes," Ethan said. "Perhaps you should get to it."

I nodded. "On my way," I said, leaving the vampires to their business.

-

I'd gone to college in California and done grad work in New York City. Both could have nasty weather, but neither city was as temperamental as Chicago.

It felt even colder outside now than it had a few hours ago. Cold enough to make fingers stiff and lungs tight and cramped.

I nodded at Kelley as she headed back into the House, arms crossed and teeth chattering. "Cold" was all she said.

Not exactly pleasant foreshadowing, but at least my phone stopped screaming when I reached the gate. Luc must have managed to tap into the phone's GPS. Which was just one more reason why his newfound programming skills were disturbing.

Two human guards stood at the gate, and others were posted every twenty feet along the perimeter. The guards at the gate were both men. Both broad-shouldered and tall, both with moustaches that cops and military men seemed to favor. Their clothes were head-to-toe black, thick, and quilted against the cold.

I'd brought out two extra travel mugs of hot chocolate and handed them over. "Thought you could use a drink."

"Appreciate it," said the one on the left, whose coveralls were stitched with "Angelo" in the top left-hand corner.

"Ditto," said the one on the right. He was apparently "Louie."

"Anything interesting out here tonight?"

"Not even a little," Angelo said. "Couple of dog walkers. Couple of passersby with cameras. Most of the paparazzi are indoors for the winter."

We'd been rushed with photographers a few months ago, but the novelty of vampires had worn off. Now we were a threat to public safety.

"The dogs were cute," Louie said. "Little white thing and some kind of skinny greyhound."

"It was an Italian greyhound," Angelo said. "I told you that."

Louie gave me a downtrodden look. I guessed Angelo and Louie had these conversations often.

"You think rioters will try to hit the House?" I wondered aloud. I was at the limit of my insight, after all. Might as well see what the experts thought.

"The rioters?" Angelo asked. "Hard to say. We're an obvious target, and they don't really seem bright enough to hit obvious targets."

"Right?" I agreed. "I just said the same thing a little while ago."

"Harder to get in the gate here," Louie added. "No gate at the other House - what was it? Green?"

"Grey," I said.

"Grey," Louie agreed. "No gate there, so it's easier to get in. No gate at that business at Wicker Park, either. If I can be frank - "

"You can't," Angelo muttered.

" - you don't have security at your place, you're asking for trouble. Here?" He gestured at the gate behind him, and the posted guards. "Here, you've got plenty of security. Obstacles. Live guards, and the closed circuit. It's a good setup."

"I'm sure Luc appreciates that."

"I'll tell you what he appreciates," Louie said. "He appreciates not having crazy people throwing bottles of Smirnoff through his fancy front door and into his fancy house."

"I have no doubt of it."

"It's a shame, too," Louie said. "People minding their own business, bothering no one, and then the rioters hit."

"Makes you wonder what the world's coming to," Angelo quietly agreed.

"But then, if the world was perfect, we'd all be out of jobs, am I right?" Louie asked, nudging Angelo for effect. Very little effect.

Having talked himself out, Louie went silent. For a few quiet minutes we sipped our hot chocolate. I swayed back and forth just to keep my blood circulating. I didn't think vampire blood was so organically different that it would freeze in my veins, but neither did I want to test the theory.

When the hot chocolate was gone, and I had nothing else to focus on but the nose-numbing cold, I put down the container and looked back at Angelo and Louie, who'd begun to argue about the Bears' failure to make the Super Bowl. Again.

Angelo said the team's offensive line was shit; Louie said the problem was coaching.

I could think of nothing else but the thirty-mile-per-hour wind that was seeping in through the fibers of my jacket.

"Guys, I'm going to take a walk around the block. I need to keep moving."

They nodded. "Good for the circulation," Louie said.

"Keeps you healthy," Angelo agreed.

Cadogan House took up a lot of space, but I wasn't sure walking the handful of blocks around the perimeter was really going to accomplish much from a cardiovascular perspective. But at least I'd be moving.

I stuck my hands into my pockets and tightened the scarf around my neck, then set out down the street. The streetlights reflected off the snow and a bank of low clouds above us, which made the evening unusually bright. It was bright enough to read by, if I didn't think Luc would have my ass for reading a novel while on guard patrol.

I walked down the block, being careful to avoid patches of ice, my sword slapping my thigh beneath my coat as I walked. I hadn't yet figured out exactly how to arrange coat and sword, and figured I could spare a second or two to rip off my coat and draw it if the need arose.

I nodded to each human guard I passed. They all seemed less miserable than I was. Most, but not all, were brawny men who, like Angelo and Louie, looked like they'd done time in a weaponized uniform. They all looked focused, with earpieces in place and weaponry shined and polished. I was out here because I'd drawn the duty; they were here because their jobs involved keeping us safe, even in freezing weather. I had to respect that.

I rounded the corner and headed around the block, the fence extending the entire block on my right. On the left side of the street, nice houses where nice families lived glowed in the darkness, the families having dinner or watching television or preparing for another day of work or school.

Cars occasionally passed, but the streets were quiet enough that I could let my mind wander, and I could think about the problems before us with clarity.

It all came back to the riots.

The riots inconvenienced us and injured us, but they were almost secondary attacks. They hit structures, not vampires. If McKetrick was involved, it was a change from his last round of attack. He'd hired Michael Donovan to assassinate vampires and destabilize the Houses.

This time, he'd skipped killing vampires outright. Maybe this was another attempt to destabilize? Try to interrupt our blood supply, try to destroy our Houses, and motivate us to leave Chicago?

I kept coming back to that - if he meant to kill us all or kick us out of town, surely there were faster and more effective methods.

It all came back to the riots.

I reached the front of the House again and found Juliet standing at the gate, waiting for me. She was packed into even more outerwear than I was, including a full-length camouflage coverall. And because I was usually waiting for the other shoe to drop, seeing her standing there made me nervous.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

She smiled. "Check your phone."

I pulled it out and checked the screen. Luc had taken it over again, this time his caricature waving a small white flag. TIME'S UP, PARTNER! HEAD INSIDE! TIME'S UP, PARTNER! HEAD INSIDE!

"I guess that means I'm relieved," I said. "Short shifts tonight."

"It's the cold," she said. "These guys prep for it, and they have the gear." She nodded toward Angelo and Louie, who nodded seriously. "Us?" she said, sticking out a foot in a designer sheepskin boot. "Not so much."

"Stay warm," I said, then collected the empty travel mugs for the return trip indoors.

I hopped up the steps and managed again to finagle the door open with mugs in hand. The foyer was empty but for one vampire who was heading for the door. It was Scott, all by his lonesome. He wasn't wearing a coat, so I assumed he didn't plan to be outside long. Either way, I was glad I'd met him going out. I didn't care for the thought of a Master vampire running around outside on a potentially lethal night. If I'd had a chance to pull out my phone, I'd have called Jonah. But I had to suffice for the moment.

"Heading out?" I asked, dropping the mugs on a side table.

He glanced back. "Merit. Yes. I needed some fresh air. Are you leaving?"

"Just heading back in. But if you want to go out, I can accompany you."

"Do you really think that's necessary?"

"I think covering my ass is necessary. And if anything happened out there after I watched you leave and didn't offer an escort, there'd be hell to pay."

"So I'd really be doing you a favor?"

"If you want to think about it that way, sure."

He seemed distracted and didn't put up much of an argument, although that made it easier for me. We stepped outside.

If the cold bothered Scott, he didn't show it. He leaned against the side of the arch that covered the portico and stared into the darkness.

I looked up at the sound of heated discussion. A group of people walked through the gate, undeterred by the human guards and vampires.

I reached for my katana, ready to strike.

But it wasn't rioters.

It was the GP, Harold Monmonth leading the charge. He was swarthy and packed like a sausage into a very snug three-piece suit. His history with the House left much to be desired, and there wasn't much to recommend him in person, either.

He'd brought three of his closest vampire friends behind him, two men and a woman. I recognized them as lower-ranking members of the GP - vampires who hadn't done much but play Follow the Leader and Threaten Cadogan House during my tenure as a vampire.

Behind them on the icy concrete lay the bodies of Louie and Angelo, their limbs splayed in awkward angles, the scent of blood in the air. I was too far away to tell if they were still alive, but the positions of their bodies didn't leave me much hope.

Juliet was nowhere to be seen, and I feared for her; she wouldn't have allowed the guards to be taken without a fight, unless she hadn't been capable of fighting herself. . . .

A thousand exclamations of shock and grief ran through my head, but my throat was tight with fear. As the adrenaline began to speed the processing in my brain, the thoughts congealed and condensed into one central goal: Get in front of Scott.

I unsheathed my sword and stepped in front of him, offering my body as a shield. There wasn't even time to be afraid or to fear the consequences of what I'd done. There was only the act - protecting my partner's Master, and my Master's friend - from the obvious danger in front of us.

"Well, hello, dear," Harold said.

Ethan, Harold Monmonth is here. The guards are down, and I don't see Juliet. I'm outside with Scott. Gather the guards and get your ass out here. And call an ambulance.

"You're trespassing," I advised him. "The authorities have been notified."

"I seriously doubt that, Merit. You haven't had the time, and I doubt the authorities would be terribly concerned about more infighting among Chicago's vampires."

"What do you want?" Scott asked.

"We are here to take what's ours. GP vampires are not to intermingle with trash who've rejected our authority. By being here, you are rebelling against the GP, and we take that as an act of war. Leave this House now, or we will be forced to act."

"As I advised you on the phone," Scott said, "if the GP wishes to give us orders, Darius can contact me directly. I take orders from him, not from you."

"Ah," Harold said, lifting a finger, "but Darius is incapacitated. And while he is, we cannot simply allow this rebellion to go on without reprobation."

He looked at me, and the hair on the back of my neck lifted. McKetrick's hatred may have frightened me, but at least he was guided by principles, disturbing though they might have been. This man was utterly without moral compass. He was motivated only by his own avarice.

"I advise you, child, to step aside."

I refused to move. "Whatever rebellion you think has occurred has nothing to do with us. You're on the property of vampires not associated with the GP. You have no authority here."

Monmonth looked me over from head to toe, and I felt dirtier for it. "You are charming. It's unfortunate we didn't have an opportunity to get to know each other better the last time we met."

Get here fast, I warned Ethan, or I will pummel this guy and enjoy doing it.

I heard footsteps behind me, but they weren't fast enough. Harold Monmonth may have looked out of shape, but he was so fast I didn't even see him move, just felt the bone-jarring impact of my ass on the sidewalk as he kicked my feet out from under me.

"That was disappointingly easy," he said, his face registering his disapproval.

He wasn't the only one disappointed.

My turn, I thought, arching my back, hopping onto my feet, and readying my sword. I gripped it in two hands, the leather cording tight beneath my fingers, my eyes now silvered with lust for battle.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to hit a girl?"

Scott also called out to grab his attention, but Harold didn't care. He'd deemed me his enemy, and he didn't waste any time. He moved forward, unsheathing his sword and spinning it like a dervish.

Move, I silently told myself, aiming for the only spot he wasn't guarding - his ankles. I made a low spin, bringing my own sword around in a perfect arc that sent him flipping backward to avoid it.

He hit the ground and spun the sword around his body. "You think I need weaponry to best you? You are a child, with the strength of a child. I am centuries old, with the strength of centuries." He dropped his sword to the ground, and it hit the ground with a clang. I winced sympathetically for the steel but readied myself for another attack.

"You, like the rest of your House," Monmonth said, stretching out his arms, "are garbage. You are the refuse of legitimate vampires."

"Screw you," I said, moving forward and slashing downward. But Monmonth had already moved, and the sword caught only air.

"Garbage," he muttered again, shifting his weight and executing a side kick that hit me square in the back with the force of a concrete block.

I fell to my knees, my brain registering only pain. I retched air as my body coped with the sensation, and I opened my eyes to see the other GP members spread out and begin the attack. The battle began.

"Monmonth!"

Ethan's voice roared across the yard.

Sentinel? he silently asked.

I'm fine, I told him. I put a hand on the ground to push myself up, but my body wasn't yet ready for movement. Pain radiated from my back, muscles spasming in waves.

I tried again to get up, to warn Ethan back, but as vampires battled around me, I couldn't find my footing. And I was too late anyway. Ethan had already advanced on Monmonth, with two katanas in hand.

Monmonth bent his knees, then leaped toward Ethan.

Ethan grunted as he spun out of the way, bringing both swords around and pressing the handles together at the blunt ends, the points out, like a staff Darth Maul would have appreciated.

As Monmonth hit the ground in a crouch, his sword poised in front of him, Ethan roared a sound of battle and advanced, spinning the knife-sharp staff back and forth around his body in a complicated pattern.

It was like staring into the blade of a psychotic steel turbine. Even Monmonth froze for a moment, as if not sure how to react.

He nudged away, but not quite fast enough. The chiseled tip of a katana just grazed his arm, sending a bright stripe of crimson to his skin, and sending the spicy scent of powerful blood into the air.

"You son of a bitch!" Monmonth roared. "Do you know who I am?"

He didn't wait for Ethan's response but answered his own question with moves that proved why he'd been chosen for the GP. He became a dervish of kicks and strikes, a martial arts machine. Monmonth was faster than Ethan, but Ethan managed to hold his own. And two blades of finely honed steel didn't hurt.

Ethan spun the staff in a low arc, which Monmonth jumped to avoid. He flipped backward, but upon landing went immediately on the offensive. A spinning kick and series of punches had Ethan moving back and forth to block them. As they fought, they traversed the yard, moving into deeper snow that slowed them down.

Ethan stumbled and dropped one of his swords. Harold kicked the other a few feet away. I was too far away to help, and clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming my fear.

"You have held court here for too long," Harold said, picking up the weapon Ethan had dropped. "You believe you are a king among the American vampires, but you are nothing more than a slave to humans who'd as soon have you dead as look at you. It is the Presidium that rules vampires, not an upstart soldier in the middle of an upstart country."

Harold raised the sword and lifted it, intending to strike downward, slicing Ethan from neck to groin.

"Ethan!" I screamed, jumping to my feet and running for the pair.

But as Harold's sword fell, Ethan managed to grab his. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and struck.

With a single slice of Ethan's sword, Monmonth's head was divorced from his body. It landed, unceremoniously, in the snow beside him.

Ethan tumbled to the side as the rest of Harold Monmonth, the former, fell to the ground.

Ethan climbed to his feet, bloody sword in hand. For a moment, clearly shocked by what he'd done, he stared down, wide-eyed, at Harold Monmonth's lifeless body. His chest heaved, and his body steamed in the cold.

I watched from my spot in the snow, still too shocked to move. I wasn't the only one; the other battles stopped. Grey and Cadogan vampires who'd fought the other members of the GP stepped back, holding their enemies at sword point.

All eyes looked toward Ethan and took in with shock the body on the ground. A chilling silence fell over the yard.

"You've killed him!" yelled out one of the male GP members, a vampire from Canada named Edmund, who rushed toward his fallen colleague and wailed in what seemed earnest despair.

"Murderer!" he yelled, looking back at Ethan and pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

The show of drama seemed to break Ethan from his trance. "Enough!" he bellowed, and silence fell over the yard again.

He pointed his sword at Monmonth's body. "This man came into my House and brought violence, and for the second time. He has killed and threatened our friends and colleagues, to say nothing of his history of violence to the humans who came before us. He forfeited his life in the name of power and ego."

Ethan lifted his silver-eyed gaze to the remaining members of the GP faction who'd trespassed at Cadogan . . . and would be wearing the scars of their journey back to England.

Ethan pointed at Edmund. "Take home a message to Darius West. He gets his House in order, or we do it for him."

-

We found Juliet on the sidewalk, knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. Her sword was on the ground, and by the position of her body, it appeared the GP had snuck up behind her, probably using their glamour to keep their arrival a secret.

While Helen and Delia, Cadogan's resident doctor, attended to Juliet, Ethan, Scott, and I stood outside with a handful of CPD cops in uniform. Fighting among supernaturals was one thing; the death of two humans on our watch was something entirely different.

I stood on the portico, watching Ethan and Scott point across the yard, diagramming for the cops the chain of events. I'd been numbed by the violence, by the GP's remarkable intrusion, and its grisly end. We were all capable of killing, and we'd all been in battles before. But I couldn't recall a time in which death had come so quickly to the House. And not just any death. Two innocent humans were dead. And a member of the GP was dead, and by our hands.

I stared out at the scene, the investigators who took photographs of the crime scene in front of the gate, the swirling blue and red lights of the ambulance that had arrived for Louie's and Angelo's bodies.

An arm slipped around my waist, and I nearly screamed in surprise. I found Lindsey beside me, circles beneath her eyes. She'd been crying.

"This is awful," she said, putting her head on my shoulder. "They were really nice. They had grandkids - both of them. They were talking about soapbox derby cars, how crappy their entries usually were, but how they had big plans this year." She swiped at tears beneath her lashes. "Stupid soapbox derby cars. Totally lame."

I put an arm around her, the sentiment bringing a new wash of tears to my eyes. "I talked to them a little during my shift. They seemed like good guys."

"They were," she confirmed. "Good guys. And not worthy of this end by that goddamn narcissistic GP nightmare."

We looked back at the spot where Ethan had killed Monmonth, his body removed but the snow stained by blood.

We stood silently together, sharing our grief. A few minutes later, the cops walked back through the gate, the ambulance drove away, and the investigators snapped their final photographs.

Ethan and Scott walked back to us.

"They're calling Monmonth's death self-defense," he said, and I felt a vise loosen around my heart. "Considering the violence already done by Monmonth, and the fact that he attacked you, they don't anticipate the prosecuting attorney will want to press charges."

"What about the other GP members?" I asked. They'd split at the sound of ambulances and police cruisers.

"They have private jets," Scott said, "and enough money to get them into the air, law enforcement be damned. They won't stop flying until they reach London."

Ethan put a hand on my shoulder. "It's freezing out here. Let's go back inside."

-

We moved back into the House, and Ethan called the vampires to the ballroom. Members of Grey and Cadogan stood alongside one another, sharing a moment of silence for Angelo and Louie, who'd given their lives in protection of the House. The swelling sense of worry was tangible, the magic that flowed from the roomful of vampires heavy and despondent.

When the ceremony was over, we returned to Ethan's office. The room was utterly silent, the mood and magic grim. In another time - perhaps in the era Ethan had been made a vampire - the mood might have been different. Vampires reveling in their victory, sharing mead and women and song in honor of having vanquished a foe, instead of mourning their losses and dreading the repercussions.

The Grey House guards, Scott and Jonah among them, stood in one corner of the room. They undoubtedly discussed their future, and the ramifications of our actions on their lives as GP vampires.

Our concern was just as great. The GP already thought us enemies. Although their act tonight - or at least the act of Monmonth's faction - had been one of naked aggression, there was no telling how Darius would react.

Ethan had already tried to call, but he hadn't been able to get through.

One thing was sure: Of the seven members of the Greenwich Presidium other than Darius, Cadogan House was now responsible for the deaths of two of them. Harold Monmonth and Celina Desaulniers, both treacherous and egotistical, had taken on our Houses. Both had lost, giving their lives for the challenge. Yes, they'd both been the aggressors, but would that matter to the remaining members of the GP? Would they find Monmonth's death justifiable, or yet another act of treason on our part?

The Grey House group disbanded, and Scott stepped forward. "The events that transpired tonight were our fault, and I am sorry for it. I think, considering the circumstances, it's best we accelerate our search for alternative housing. We're simply putting you at too much risk."

"The events that transpired were solely the work of Harold Monmonth and his cronies," Ethan countered. "Neither your House nor your vampires had anything to do with it. We chose to let you stay here, and Harold chose his response of his own free will, and apparently without the consent of the GP proper. You bear no responsibility for that.

"But as for your vampires and their best interest, that is a choice only you can make. You are welcome to bed here as long as you need. But I understand your desire to find a home."

"They may seek retribution," Scott said.

"They may," Ethan agreed with a nod. "That is up to Darius or, more likely, an incestuous cabal of the remaining GP members."

I glanced up at Ethan. "This may sound cruel, but the faction that supports Darius might be appreciative of what went down tonight. They might be glad Harold's no longer a factor."

"They might," Ethan agreed.

"That's who?" Scott asked. "Darius, Lakshmi, Diego?"

"At most," Ethan said. "They're the only ones left." He shook his head ruefully. "We've saved Lakshmi's and Darius's lives," Ethan said. "That helps, although I don't presume their loyalty. Diego came to us when Darius was kidnapped, which suggests he sees us as an asset."

"That's three to three," Scott said. "Assuming Darius gathers the will to act."

I yawned, putting the back of my hand over my mouth to cover it up.

"Let's call it a night," Ethan said. "We can look at this with fresh eyes tomorrow."

"There's still pizza in the kitchen if anyone missed dinner," Malik said.

Everyone in the room looked at me.

"Seriously," I said flatly.

"Yes," most of them said.

"Apparently I've become predictable."

"At least something is," Jonah said, walking toward the office door. "I'm going to have a slice, then head upstairs, unless you'd like to talk, boss?"

But Scott shook his head. "Get some rest. We'll reassemble at dusk."

Jonah opened the door, offered a salute to everyone in the room, and headed into the hallway. The rest of the Grey House vampires followed, with Scott at the rear.

"We'll talk," he said, and Ethan nodded.

"The same order goes for the rest of you," Ethan said, glancing around the room. "Get upstairs, get some rest. It's been a long night."

"Too long," Luc agreed, and everyone filed out.

When the room was empty, Ethan put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned my head against him, breathing in his cologne, which for biochemical reasons I didn't understand, always calmed me down.

"You're all right?" he asked. He'd been asking that often lately.

"I have no idea."

"Nor do I, Sentinel. So let us say nothing. Let us just be."

-

A few minutes later, I headed upstairs alone; Ethan begged off for a few minutes to try Darius again and close things down in his office.

In my room, I discovered Margot had found our new digs. Several white taper candles in silver candlesticks glowed on the bureau and nightstand, and a small silver tray - smaller to actually fit on the limited bureau space not already filled with candles - held bottles of sparkling water and wrapped chocolates.

Six minutes later, I was on the bed with a clean face and pajamas, when the door opened and Ethan walked in.

"Honey, I'm home," he said, jacket slung over his shoulder. His hair was loose around his face, and he looked weary and not a little depressed. He hung his jacket over the closet doorknob. Silently, he began unbuttoning his vest.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I've been better. I'm looking forward to oblivion."

The sun was on the rise, and a coherent response escaped me. But it was unnecessary. Ethan slid into bed beside me, his body warm and ready.

"Yes," I said. And that was the end of all thought.

Ethan found me, prepared me, and took my body for his own, lust lingering with exhaustion, with sweat, love made tangible by palms and calves, with the curve of his spine and the apple of his shoulder, with my breasts and his fingers.

Love sparked and dissipated like sparks in the wind, and the sun rose high in the sky.

But night came again, because night, like death and taxes, was inevitable.