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I looked over at Ethan, found I couldn't bear the sight of him, the bile rising in my throat. For him, I'd nearly killed someone, even if I had - thank God - failed the test in the crucial moment. Some soldier I made.
He stepped forward, but I shook my head. "Not now."
He looked at me, then looked away, and pushed a hand through his hair.
As Luc led me away, led me toward the black SUV parked along the street, the tunnel rushed me. I owe you my life.
My knees nearly buckled. I wanted none of it, just to be home, in my own bed, and certainly not to hold someone else's debt. You owe me nothing.
I wasn't sure you'd step forward. Not after last night.
I stopped, turned, looked back at him across Luc's broad shoulder.
Ethan's gaze was potent, his expression radiating incredulity that I'd protected him, reverence that I'd saved him, and that same bit of surprise I'd first seen in his office, when he'd discovered I wasn't thrilled to be a vampire of Cadogan House, that he couldn't buy my allegiance with money or art or well-tailored clothes.
He'd underestimated me again, hadn't taken me at my word even after I swore, in two oaths, that I'd protect the vampires of Cadogan House against all enemies, living or dead.
Against Morgan.
Against the Rogues.
Against Celina.
His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, and that nearly did me in again, but I held tight to the anger, to the rage, to the disgust, and sent back to him, I swore an oath. Last night, I proved my allegiance. You have no room to doubt me.
He nodded. I didn't. I don't.
A lie, but I nodded, accepted it.
Maybe he'd learn to trust me, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd know this would change me, this first battle, this first attempt on a life. Maybe he'd know that the seed of hatred he'd planted two weeks ago would blossom, watered by the things I'd done, and would do, in his name.
He said nothing else, but turned, and walked toward Morgan.
I went home, sobbed on Mallory's shoulder, and slept like the dead.
Which I'm pretty sure I wasn't.
EPILOGUE
She wanted control of the House. Of all the Houses. Of Chicago's vampires, San Diego's vampires. North America's vampires.
All vampires.
Celina confessed as much the next evening to the representatives of the Presidium who'd braved sunlight and crossed the Atlantic to face her. She was unapologetic. Not crazy, exactly, but without morals. Or, at best, operating on a set of ethical standards wholly defined by her own history, her hatred of humans and her paradoxical need to be loved by them.
She'd worked to establish Navarre as the House of Decent Vampires. The House of Nearly Human Vampires. And through the murders, she'd set up Cadogan and Grey as foils, the Houses of Evil.
Her plan, such as it was, had backfired. She'd been caught, and now the anger and distrust she'd created and directed toward Cadogan and Grey came to rest on Navarre. Morgan would have an uphill climb on that one.
But while she might have temporarily lost the PR war, she'd made enormous strides among vampires.
She as much as admitted she had no intention of killing Ethan. She'd bluffed, taken the offensive, knowing that someone - Sentinel or guard - would step in, defend him. Rescue him. She probably knew that I'd been there the entire time, but allowed the charade to progress.
The result? She'd martyred herself. She had given up her House, her rank, her vassals, for her cause.
Not all vampires would condone her acts. Many had assimilated, lived with humans for centuries, and would decry the publicity she'd inspired, the threat she'd created to their lives and livelihoods. To the relatively peaceful status quo.
But others - angry at being pushed aside, ignored, punished, executed, made to feel less than what they were - would agree with her. They'd rally quietly at first. Secret meetings maybe, outside the purview of the GP. But their numbers would grow. They would meet in her name, call her name, ascribe to Celina any ground they gained.
Because of her, war will come. Maybe now, maybe later, after the ties with humans are forged, after their guards are dropped. I'll be asked to defend Ethan again, despite his willingness to use and manipulate, despite my broken heart.
Until then, I'll bury the anger, the betrayal.
I'll smile.
I'll tap the pommel of my sword.
I'll hop up the steps of Cadogan House, and close the door behind me, and do my job.
I'm very, very good at it.
