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"Ego of a god," I put in, and watched them walk right past the newbies and toward the stairs. Ethan was apparently done playing the interested Master, and was back to playing chill and aloof. "He is pretty, though."
Lindsey giggled, a laugh that came out kind of adorably snorty. "I knew you had a thing for him. Your eyes melt when he's nearby."
I rolled my eyes. "My eyes do not melt."
"They silver."
After a pause, I allowed, "Not every time."
Lindsey snickered, and this time the sound was a little evil. "You're whipped, toots."
"I'm not whipped. Can we talk about something else, please?" Lindsey opened her mouth, and I added, "Something else that doesn't have to do with me and boys of the vampire persuasion?" When she snapped it shut it again, I was glad I'd taken the offensive.
A hand at my elbow stopped us before we could switch to a more pleasant topic. "Come out with us."
I looked over, found one of the new vamps beside me, and had to pause to remember his name. Tallish, youngish, curly, cropped brown hair, cute in a vague, East Coast blue-blood kind of way. Connor - that was it.
"What?" I asked.
"We're going out to celebrate." He inclined his head toward the knot of Novitiates heading collectively down the stairs. "You have to come out with us."
I opened my mouth to give a wavering answer, an "I don't know" that would have captured the fact that I knew I wasn't really one of them. But he stopped me with a hand.
"I'm not going to take no for an answer. It's our first official night as Cadogan vamps. We're going to Temple Bar to celebrate. There's twelve of us, and it would be wrong for only eleven to show up." He gave Lindsey an endearing smile. "Don't you think?"
"I definitely do," she agreed, and slipped her hand in the crook of my elbow. "We'll meet you at the bar."
Connor looked back at me, grinned boyishly. "Wicked. We'll see you then. And I'll have a drink ready." He stepped back, fisted hands on his hips, and looked me over. "Gin and tonic?"
I nodded.
"I knew it. You looked like a G and T girl. We'll be waiting for you," he said, then clucked me beneath the chin. Flipping his suit jacket over his shoulder, he bobbed down the stairs and out of sight.
Lindsey sighed audibly. "He's cute."
"He's a child." I hadn't meant chronologically - he was probably twenty-five, twenty-six. But he carried that sense of wealth-bred optimism shared by lots of the kids I'd grown up with. I was a little too cynical for that. Give me the jaded, slightly disillusioned boy instead.
"A little too pampered," Lindsey agreed, getting to the heart of it. "But that doesn't mean he can't pay for our drinks." She took a step forward and tugged at my arm. "Come on.
Let's go spend a few hours pretending that being a vampire means partying and couture and being twenty-five forever."
We trotted down the stairs, and walked by the parlor, where Malik and Ethan were still deep in discussion. Ethan's brow was drawn, hands on his hips as he stared at Malik, who looked to be explaining something. Lindsey and I paused in the doorway, watched Ethan shake his head, then deliver instructions to Malik, who nodded obligingly and tapped on a PDA.
"Come on, ladies! The alcohol awaits!"
Ethan's gaze flicked from Connor, to Lindsey, to me, and his expression blanked. Tomorrow. My office. We'd only just concluded the ceremony, and he was already making use of the mental connection he'd opened between us
"Come on, Merit," Lindsey said, tugging me away. I nodded back at him, and let her lead me away.
Temple Bar was housed in a narrow building squeezed into a corner in Wrigleyville. It was owned by Cadogan House and stocked with Cubs gear; it made a killing, no pun intended, during baseball season.
It was just after midnight when we arrived, and the bar was packed. A mix of vampires and humans (apparently oblivious to the predators surrounding them), filled the narrow space, the right side of which was lined by a memorabilia-laden bar, the left by a series of booths and tables. A small loft was perched in the back, which gave a handful of customers a bird's-eye view of the room and its supernatural patrons.
We saw Connor and the rest of the Novitiates around a long, narrow bar table at the edge of the seating area, drinks in their hands.
"Merit!" Connor yelled out when we made eye contact, pushing through the crowd to get to us. "I was afraid you were going to stand us up."
I started to clarify that it had only been minutes since we'd seen each other, but got an elbow in the ribs from Lindsey. I gave her a dirty look before smiling back at Connor.
"We made it!" I lightly said, and accepted the gin and tonic he handed me. He followed suit with Lindsey, and she immediately pulled the lime off the rim of her glass before taking a big sip of the drink. I bit back a smile, guessing she needed the liquid patience to get through an evening with baby vamps.
Randomly, I also wondered, given Catcher's theories about my physical and psychic strength, if I could form the same kind of bond with her that Ethan had formed with me. I stared at her, tried to reach out, to push through a mental tunnel between us, but all I got for my trouble was the beginning of a sinus headache and a weird look from Lindsey.
"What are you staring at?" she asked.
"How does Ethan do that mental connection thing?" I asked back, as we followed Connor through the throng to the other new Novitiates, holding our drinks aloft to avoid dumping them onto the people around us.
"I don't know the mechanics of it," Lindsey said, "if that's what you're asking. It's what Masters do. It's a connection to the vampires they turn."
We cut a path through prettily dressed men and women, finally emerging at the end of the bar table. The vamps who gathered there - women perched cattily on high stools, men standing between and around them - immediately stopped talking.
"Folks," Connor announced into the relative silence, "I bring you the Sentinel of Cadogan House." He lifted his glass toward me. "Merit, your brethren."
They stared at me, looked me over, evaluated, and questioned. Waiting for judgment, I raised my own glass and offered a tentative smile. "Hi."
A woman with a gleaming bob of sable hair slid a glance to the blond woman beside her, then smiled at me. "Lovely to meet you, Merit. You've made quite an impression."
Her diction was perfect, her words precise, her snug black suit cut into a low runway- worthy V. She looked vaguely familiar, and it took a moment before I realized that I'd seen her before - that I actually knew her. This was Christine Dupree, daughter of Dash Dupree, one of Chicago's most famous, most notorious criminal defense attorneys. Our fathers were friends, and Christine and I had been introduced years ago at a reception for a private school my father wanted me to attend. I'd begged him to keep me in public school, and he'd ultimately given in - both to my begging and to what he'd believed had been a two-day hunger strike. (I hadn't mentioned the stash of Oreos my grandfather had helped me sneak into my bedroom.)
