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"He didn't know. He wasn't there when the vote was taken, probably by design. The Presidium is a majoritarian body, and she's in the majority, as this should demonstrate.
The Presidium" - he paused and shook his head - "they're vampires, Merit. Predators, who were born at a time when that meant more than it does today. When it wasn't flash, but substance. When humans were..."
I could tell that my being newly and somewhat controversially changed, he was looking for a polite way to explain something that could be easily summed up in a single word.
"Food," I finished for him. "They were food."
"And little else. The politics of it aside" - was it disturbing that the perception that humans were upright cattle was mere "politics" to Ethan? - "the other members could have been glamoured, and yet be completely unaware of it. She's that powerful."
Having felt the slow sink of her glamour, her ability to pour herself into your psyche and manipulate it at will, I understood. I'd been able to resist it, but that was a personal skill, apparently. Some weird quirk of my makeup.
"As we've discussed, I expected that Celina would be confined for her crimes. That was the agreement your grandfather negotiated between Tate, the district attorney, and the GP. The Presidium has a short memory for Clearings. Although I didn't doubt that she would receive four-star treatment, I expected she would lose her House, which she did, and would remain confined in London." He shook his head, then closed his eyes in apparent exhaustion. "At least humans aren't aware of her release. Yet."
Whether humans found out or not, Celina's release still threatened to make a liar out of Mayor Tate and everyone else in Chicago who had attested to the justness of her extradition, including Ethan and my grandfather.
Jeez. And I'd thought relations with the Ombud's office were awkward before.
"How could they do something so politically stupid?" I wondered aloud.
Ethan leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together over his chest.
"GP members tend to be polarized on issues like this," he said. "Many credit their longevity to staying under the radar, living as humans, assimilating. They're happy to stay that way. Others feel they've spent centuries in hiding, and they hold no little bitterness about that. They want out, and Celina offers them an option. She has given them life among humans. She offers them a new kind of leadership. Besides - their strength aside, you've seen Celina, Merit. You know she has certain... charms."
I nodded. Her dark-haired beauty was undeniable. Still. Since when was hotness an excuse for irrational decision making? "Okay, but we're talking the Presidium here. The strongest vampires. The best. The deciders. Hot or not, how could they not have known what she was doing?"
"They're strong, but not necessarily the strongest. Amit Patel is, by all accounts, the strongest vampire in the world, and he avoids politics altogether. He has successfully avoided membership on the Sabha for many, many years."
There was a change of tone in his voice, from fear to noticeable admiration, something Ethan wasn't generous with. His voice held that same note of reverence that human men used when talking about Michael Jordan or Joe Namath.
"You have a man crush on Amit Patel," I said, mouth lifting into a smile. "A bromance.
That's almost charming." And humanizing, I thought, but didn't say it aloud, knowing he wouldn't consider that a compliment.
Ethan rolled his eyes disdainfully. "You are much too young to be as strong as you are."
I took that not to be a reference to chronology, but some Ethan-sense of vampire maturity.
I hmphed, but frowned back at him for a different reason. "She'll come to Chicago," I predicted. She'd tried to have me killed as part of her plan to take Chicago's Houses, and she'd been thwarted in killing Ethan by a stake I'd thrown. Whatever her other motivations, her other reasons, she would come to Chicago to find me... assuming she wasn't here already.
"It's not unlikely," Ethan agreed. He opened his mouth to speak again, but paused, seemed to think better of it. Then, with a frown that pulled down both eyebrows, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I expect that any information you gather from other Houses regarding Celina will be passed on to me."
It wasn't a question, or an "expectation," regardless of his phrasing. It was an order. And since there was only one House source from whom I even could arguably gather information, it was a pretty obnoxious order. Avoiding conversations like this at four in the morning was exactly why I hadn't wanted to move into the House.
"I'm not spying on Morgan," I told him. While I wasn't sure how far I wanted my relationship with Morgan to go, I was pretty damn sure "far" didn't include espionage.
Besides, I'd already gone too far in mixing the personal and the professional by agreeing to help Ethan with the rave issue. I was, at least symbolically, bringing Ethan home; that was as far as I was willing to go.
Predictably, given my challenge to his sovereign authority, he tensed, his shoulders squaring. "You will report the information that you are instructed to report." His voice was crisp, chill.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a reaction to the spill of magic that vampires leaked as our emotions rose - magic that was currently spilling into the room as our discussion heated. Vampires weren't able to perform magic, but we were magical beings, magical predators. Add that dust of magic to the silvering eyes and the fangs, and you had a pretty good survey of vampire defense mechanisms - defense mechanisms that were beginning to fire up.
I clenched my hands into fists and tried to slow my breathing. I assumed my eyes had silvered, but I was trying to keep my fangs from descending. She wanted something else, though...
I'd noticed over the last couple of months that when I was stressed or afraid, when the fight-or-flight instinct was triggered and my fangs dropped down, I could feel the vampire inside me, something separate inside me, like we hadn't quite fused together.
My three-day genetic change was supposed to turn me - fully and completely - into a vampire, fangs and silvering eyes and all. I didn't understand it, how I could be vampire - the craving for blood, the nocturnal schedule, the fangs and heightened senses - and still feel the separateness of the vampire, a ghost in my machine. But that's what it felt like.
I'd mentioned it to Catcher once; his lack of recognition, of reassurance, had shaken me. If he didn't know what was going on, how was I supposed to know? How was I supposed to deal with it?
More important, what was I supposed to be?
