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And I had a guess why that had been the case.
"I wasn't going through it again," I told him. "This was the first full time, the completion of it, anyway."
His gaze snapped to mine, a question in his eyes. And I answered it, offering the conclusion I'd reached. "I was drugged the first time I went through the change. After you bit me, drank me, fed me, you drugged me."
His expression blanked, eyes muting to forest green.
I continued, my gaze on his. "I know other vampires' changes were different from mine.
I don't remember the things they remember. I was groggy when you sent me back to Mallory's house. It was because I hadn't fully shaken off whatever you'd given me. And whatever happened today, I remember more than I did the first time."
Including the fact that I'd taken his blood. That I had, for the first time, taken blood straight from another. I'd taken blood from Ethan, gripping his arm like it was the ballast that would anchor me to earth. I'd searched his silvered eyes as I drank, as I cried, as I shivered from the inescapable pleasure of it, of the whiskey-warm essence that still flowed through me, that healed the wounds he'd inflicted and erased the lingering pain of Celina's attack.
Erased the pain, but not the memories.
"You drugged me," I repeated, not a question.
He respected us both enough to nod - barely a nod, more a closing of the eyes in answer - but it was enough.
And then he stared at me for a long, quiet moment. This time it wasn't the House Master who stared back, but the man, the vampire. Not "Sullivan," not Liege, just Ethan and Merit.
"I didn't want you to feel it, Merit." His voice was soft. "You'd been attacked; you hadn't consented. I didn't want you to have to go through it. I didn't want you to have to remember it."
I searched his eyes and found that to be truth enough, if not the whole of it. "Be that as it may," I quietly said, "you took something from me. Luc told me once that the change, all three days of it, was like a hazing. Horrible, but important. A kind of bonding.
Something I could share with the rest of the Novitiates. I didn't have that. And that's put distance between us."
His brows lifted, but he didn't deny it.
"I'm not like them," I continued. "And they know it. I'm separate enough from them already, Ethan, with the strength, my parents, our weird relationship. They don't see me the same way." I looked down, rubbed my sweaty palms across my thighs. "They didn't before, and they certainly won't after tonight. I'm no longer human, but I'm not like them, either. Not really. And I imagine you know what that's like well enough."
He looked away. We sat quietly together, gazes everywhere but on each other. Time passed, maybe minutes, before I looked at him and he looked away again, guilt in his eyes. Guilt, I assumed, for his forcing me to relive the experience, but also for precluding, however well-intentioned, the complete change the first time around.
Still, whatever the reason, there was nothing to be done about it now. Whatever his motivation, it was done, and we had more immediate problems.
"So what do we do now?"
He looked up, green eyes instantaneously widening. Surprise, maybe, that I wouldn't push the issue, that I would let it be. And what could I do? Blame him for trying to ease the transition? Berate him for the sin of omission?
Most importantly, wonder why he'd done it?
"About this, I've no idea," he finally said, his voice the flat tone of the Master vampire, whatever had passed between us fracturing again. "If it truly was related to your incomplete change and the process is now complete, we'll deal with your strength, assess it. As to Celina, this would have been an added bonus of her Breckenridge game. Start a war between shifters and vampires, manage to capitalize on the fact that the Sentinel of Cadogan House is biologically... unstable." He shook his head. "You can't give her too much credit for being organized, for orchestrating plans. The woman is a master manipulator, a composer of vampiric drama. She knows how to set the stage, arrange her Goldberg machine, then release the trigger and let the rest of us run the game on her behalf." He glanced back at me. "She'll keep doing it. Until she brings us to the brink of war, whether with humans or shifters. She'll keep doing it."
"As long as she's here, until we can put her away again, she'll keep doing it," I agreed.
"And we can't put her away until the GP understands who she is, what she is."
"Merit, you should resign yourself to the fact that, like Harold, the rest of them fully understand who and what she is. And that they accept that fact."
I nodded and rubbed my arms.
Ethan sighed and returned to the armchair. He sat down again, crossing one leg over the other. "And why, in this particular scenario, did she send you back to me?"
"To finish you off? So you or Luc would finish me off?"
"If you'd killed me, I'd be out of the picture - a Master out of her way. It would be convenient for her if I was gone. If you weren't strong enough to best me, she may have imagined that whatever punishment I offered would keep you out of her way."
More silence while I avoided asking exactly what he had in mind re: punishment.
Ethan broke the silence. "So, Sentinel, what's the next question?"
"Identifying her allies," I finally said. "She must be staying somewhere, maybe had financial or other connections who got her back to Chicago. We need to figure out who she's working through, and why they're allowing her to do it." I looked over at him.
"Blood? Fame? A position in whatever new world order she has in mind? Or are these people who've always been her allies?"
"You're thinking Navarre."
His tone was soft, unusually gentle, and he was right. I was thinking very discomforting thoughts about the current Master of Navarre, but without more proof I wasn't going to offer him up to Ethan as a sacrifice.
"I don't know."
"Perhaps we need to rethink your position."
I looked up at him. "How so?"
"To date, you're guarding the House from the House. Patrolling the premises, working with the House guards, studying the Canon. We've given you the roles and responsibilities that, historically, a Sentinel would have had. They'd have been tied to the castle, physically guarding it, but also advising the Master, the Second, the Guard Captain, on issues related to security, politics, maneuverings."
He shook his head. "The world is a vastly different place now. We're governed by a body situated a continent away, and we interact with vampires at a distance of thousands of miles. We're no longer merely defending our own ground, but trying to establish ourselves in the wider world." He looked up at me. "In this project, we've expanded your role, at least socially, to include a broader swath of the city. It's unclear what we'll reap from that strategy. Although we seem to have forestalled the immediate Breckenridge crisis, Nicholas remains a concern. His animosity is obvious, and I don't think we can assume that we've put that problem safely to bed."
