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We took the central staircase to the third floor. When we reached Ethan's apartments, Luc grasped the handles of the double doors in both hands, then pushed them open.
I'd been in Ethan's rooms before, but only briefly. As far as I could tell, Ethan's chunk of the third floor had three rooms - the main living room, a bedroom, and presumably a bathroom somewhere in the back.
It was as elegantly appointed as the rest of the House - from the hardwood floors to the warmly painted walls; from the onyx fireplace to the expensive, tailored furniture. It looked more like a suite in a fine hotel than the home of a vampire in the prime of his (immortal) life.
This trip, I gave the room a careful look, scanning for hints into the psyche of the Master of the House.
And there were plenty of details to peruse - the detritus of his four hundred years of life dotted the room.
A bow and arrow hung on one wall. A campaign chair and desk that looked like it would fold for travel, maybe remnants of Ethan's time as a soldier, sat in one corner. A low buffet-style chest was centered on another wall, a spread of objects on top of it. I ambled over, hands behind my back, and surveyed the goods. There were two silver trophies styled like giant cups, a picture of men in early-nineteenth-century garb (but no Ethan amongst them), and a flat stone with symbols carved into the top.
After I'd given them a once-over, I glanced up and checked out the rest of the room. That was when I spied it in a corner - in one corner, inside a tall glass case, sat a gleaming Faberge egg.
"Oh, wow," I said, walking toward it to get a better look. A pendant light shone above it, illuminating the lustrous, spring green enamel and the snarling, golden dragon that wound around it.
"It was Peter's," Luc said.
I glanced back at him. "Peter's?"
"Peter Cadogan." Luc walked toward me, arms crossed, then gestured toward the glass case. "The Master vampire who founded Cadogan House. It was a gift from a member of the Russian royalty." He tapped a finger on the glass. "Peter was from Wales, and it's a representation of the Welsh dragon. See the eye?"
I nodded at where he pointed. A round red gem was placed at the dragon's eye. Six white lines radiated from its middle.
"It's a star ruby," he said. "Incredibly rare."
"And incredibly expensive," added a voice behind us. We both stood straight again and glanced around.
Ethan walked in, still in his gi pants, around his neck a navy towel bearing a silver monogrammed "C."
"Shower," he said. "Make yourselves at home." Ethan walked toward the doors that led to his bedroom. He opened one, slipped inside, and closed it behind him again.
"I could have used a shower," I pointed out.
"I know. I can smell you from here."
I was halfway to discreetly sniffing my armpit before I realized he was just trying to rile me up. "You're funny."
"You're easy."
"You were telling me about the egg?"
"Oh," Luc said, then scratched absently at his temple. "So Peter met this Russian duchess, and they bonded. Completely Platonic, from what I understand, but he did her a favor of some kind. She wanted to repay him, so she commissioned the egg and threw in the ruby for good measure."
"I suppose it pays to have friends," I concluded, then dropped my tone to something a little more serious. "Speaking of Peters, any developments on a replacement for our former colleague?" Peter Spencer had been excommunicated from the House for betraying us to Celina, for assisting in her blackmail plans and her ploy to create more anti-shifter fervor amongst vamps, and anti-Cadogan fervor amongst humans. Luc busied himself by picking at a bit of dust on the egg's glass case. "Not really ready to talk about that, Sentinel."
I nodded, not entirely surprised by Luc's reaction. He'd punched a divot into the Ops Room conference table when he'd discovered Peter's treachery. The hole had been repaired, but the table hadn't yet been refinished. It was like a stain marking Peter's betrayal. And it wasn't surprising Luc wasn't eager to invest in someone else.
I wanted to say something - to offer my condolences or even a simple "I'm sorry" - but a knock on the hallway doors stopped me short.
"Preparations for our guest," Luc said as the doors were opened by a man in a white chef's jacket. He smiled politely at Luc and me, then moved aside so that a second chef, this time a woman in white, could wheel a cart into the room.
The cart was piled with trays, and the trays were topped by silver domes.
It was room service.
"What guest?" I asked as, with hotel-like efficiency, the woman began removing the domes and stacking them one atop the other. She revealed a spread of food: crackers; cheeses; a rainbow of fruit, from lush berries to slices of buttercup yellow mango to spring green coins of kiwi; and tiny sausages speared by toothpicks. I had a pang - Mallory loved those things. But we were still on the outs, and thinking about her still hurt. So for now, I focused my attention back on the movable feast . . . and the tray of small pastries arranged around a poppy-seed-dotted pink dip.
"The guest is Gabriel Keene," Luc said. "He's dropping by to talk to your liege and mine." I gave a soft snort. "I assume that means you're involving me in shifter shenanigans this week?"
"I'm surprised at you, Sentinel."
Ethan walked back into the sitting room. He was in black suit pants and a white button-up, no tie. The top button was unbuttoned, and he'd skipped the suit coat. Luc and I were still in workout gear, so it was practically business casual in here today.
"We so rarely involve you in shenanigans," Ethan said, then nodded at the woman who'd wheeled in the cart. "Thank you, Alicia. My compliments to the chef." Alicia smiled, then collected her stack of steel covers. She turned and left the room, and the man who'd held open the doors gave us a final smile before he walked out again, closing the doors behind him.
"You involve me in shenanigans at every opportunity."
"She has a point, Liege."
Ethan clucked his tongue. "Captain of my Guards and he carries the standard of my Sentinel. Oh, how quickly they turn."
"You're first in my heart, Liege."
This time, Ethan snorted. "We'll see. Well, at any rate, we'll see where Gabriel's allegiances lie." He looked over the trays before nabbing a bottle of water, twisting off the top, and taking a drink.
"Nice spread," I told him.
He nodded. "I thought it polite to offer Gabriel something to eat, and I assumed I'd have a greater chance of keeping your attention if I fed you first." I'd have to give him that one. I loved to eat, and the non-stop vampire metabolism hadn't done much to dampen my appetite - quite the opposite. "Let's just remember, Sullivan, that I want you for your smoked meats and your smoked meats only."
