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"I'm sorry?" I glanced down at the card, which bore her name beneath the heading CHICAGO ARTS MANAGEMENT.
She was an agent.
I nearly dropped my glass.
Jennifer cast a cautious glance at Ethan, then back at me. "You've got a great look, a good family, and an interesting story. We could work that."
"I - uh - "
"I'm not sure about your experience or interests - modeling, acting, that kind of thing - but we could definitely find a niche for you."
"She'll call you," Ethan said, and Jennifer, all smiles and thank-you's, walked away. "I'm not surprised by anything anymore," he said.
"Seconded." I flipped up the card between two fingers, showed it to him. "What the hell just happened?"
"I believe, Sentinel, that you're being wooed." He laughed softly, and I enjoyed the sound of that laughter a little more than I should have. "That didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would."
"I'm amused that you thought it was inevitable."
"Yes, well." Another waiter approached, and this time Ethan picked a curl of endive from the tray. "Things have become decidedly less predictable since you came on staff. I believe I'm beginning to appreciate that."
"You appreciate having a chance to bolster your social connections."
"That helps," he admitted, biting into his endive. He chewed, then, his face contorted in displeasure, sipped his champagne. Glad I wasn't the only one.
Without warning, my main social connection suddenly appeared at my side and touched my elbow.
"We'll use Michael's office," my father said by way of greeting, then walked away, apparently confident that we'd follow. Ethan and I exchanged a glance, then did.
My father strutted through the halls of the Breck estate as if he'd traveled them a million times before, as if he were strolling through his own Oak Park mansion and not someone else's.
Papa Breck's office was located in a back corner of the first floor. It was full of furniture, books, globes, and framed maps, the detritus of wealth collected by the Breck family. It smelled comfortingly familiar, of cigars and ancient paper and cologne. It was Papa Breck's respite from the world, a secret sanctuary that Nicholas and I had only occasionally dared to violate. We'd spent a handful of rainy days in the office, hiding amidst the antiquities, pretending to be castaways on a nineteenth-century ship of the line, sprinting down the hall when we heard his father approaching.
The door closed behind us. I blinked my way out of the memory.
My father turned to us, hands in his pockets. He bobbed his head at me, then looked at Ethan. "Mr. Sullivan."
"Call me Ethan, please, Mr. Merit," Ethan said. They shook, the guy who made me, and the vampire who made me something else. That seemed fundamentally wrong.
Or maybe discomfortingly right.
"I read about your acquisition of the Indemnity National Building," Ethan said.
"Congratulations. That's quite an achievement."
My father offered a manly head bob of acknowledgment, then slid a glance my way.
"You've gained a Merit property of your own."
I nearly stepped forward to wipe that smug smile off my father's face, at least until I remembered my pretty party dress.
"Yes, well," Ethan said, a hint of dryness in his voice. "Vampirism does have its benefits."
My father made a sound of agreement, then looked at me over the top of his glasses.
"Your mother informs me that you want to, to use your words, rebuild some relationships. Meet the right people." He used the same tone he'd adopted when, as a child, I'd finally made my way to his office to apologize for some presumed transgression.
"I've reconsidered your request to assist Robert."
He seemed to freeze for a moment, as if utterly shocked by the offer. Given our interaction the last time he'd asked me - I'd all but thrown him out of Mallory's house - maybe he was.
"What, exactly, did you have in mind in that regard?" he finally asked.
Let the acting begin, I thought, and prepared to lay out the script that Ethan and I had prepared - details that might be useful as Robert attempted to build connections among the city's supernatural population. A few words about that population (which was, but for the vampires, unknown to the populace), House finances, and our connections to the city administration - leaving out, of course, the fact that my grandfather was playing Ombud to the city. It would be enough, or so Ethan hoped, to make my father believe we were offering bites of a much larger apple.
But before I could speak, Ethan handed over the entire Red Delicious.
"Celina has been released by the Presidium."
I turned my head to stare at him. That was so not the plan.
I didn't think I could activate the mental connection between us - the telepathic link he'd initiated when I'd been Commended into the House - but the sarcasm was boiling me from the inside, so I had to try. That's your "tidbit"??
If he heard me, he ignored it.
And Ethan's gift was only the first surprise.
"When?" my father asked, his tone as bland as if we'd been discussing the weather.
Apparently, the loosing of a would-be serial killer - a woman who'd arranged to have his daughter killed - wasn't any more interesting than the day's high temperature.
"Within the week," Ethan answered.
My father made a motion with his hand, and Ethan followed him to a group of chairs, where they sat down. I followed, but stayed standing behind Ethan.
"Why was she released?" my father asked.
Ethan covered the ground we'd already discussed. But unlike the surprise I'd shown, my father reacted with nods and sounds of understanding. There was a familiarity with sups and the workings of the Houses and the GP that surprised me. It wasn't so much that he had the information that was surprising - the Internet was chock-full of vamp facts. But he also seemed to understand the rules, the players, the connections.
The Ombud's office had a secret vampire employee, a source of information about the Houses. Maybe my father had one, too.
After Ethan finished his explanation, my father glanced at me.
"You've certainly piqued my curiosity," he said. "But why the change in attitude?"
Okay, so I'd been wrong to assume that if we offered information that might help Robert, my father wouldn't ask questions.
Go ahead, Ethan mentally prompted, and I delivered my lines.
"I'd like to become more involved in the family's social activities. Given my new position in the House, and the family's position, my becoming more involved could be, let's say, mutually beneficial."
