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I took the opportunity to message my grandfather and Jonah about events, and the possibility that I'd be heading to my grandfather's house for an extended stay in the guest room.
"There were days," Ethan said, "when I considered a minor dip in the House's investments a tragedy. Oh, how times have changed."
"Same issues," Lacey said. "Only the scale is different."
"Hoss, you want some blood?" Luc asked Ethan. "Or maybe a drink?"
"Two fingers of whiskey, please. No, f**k it. Just bring me the bottle."
I was closest to the apartment's small bar area, so I made the drink. I wasn't sure even a fifth of fine Scottish whiskey would soothe the sting of Darius's betrayal. I poured the amber liquid into a short glass, the potent smell tickling my nose. When the bottle was recapped, I offered it to Ethan, and sat down in the armchair near his.
"The fairies are gone," Luc said, looking at his phone again, "and we've got the backup firm on the line. They'll have a full contingent of guards here within the hour, and Michael Donovan's agreed to rendezvous with them."
"Who'll guard us now?" I asked.
Luc leaned against a console table nearby. "Humans. We've had a security firm on retainer for years as a backup, but we don't reveal the firm's name even to guards. Or Sentinels," he apologetically added.
"It's a sabotage prevention mechanism," Lacey said, eyes narrowed at me.
Okay, so she clearly wasn't going to let us focus on one crisis at a time.
"Ya," Luc agreed, oblivious to the undercurrent. "We'd preferred fairies, since they're stronger and generally less fickle." His eyes narrowed. "Generally."
Ethan sipped his whiskey, then put the glass heavily on the cocktail table beside him. "Who, in God's name, could have predicted this? That the GP would force us to fight? That they'd prefer to leave us homeless instead of simply accepting our graceful departure? Goddamned bastards."
"They can't really take the House, can they?" I asked, looking from vampire to vampire, but no one offered a response.
My heart sank low in my chest.
I felt for the apartment key in my jacket pocket and looked around the space I'd only so recently moved into. This House had become my home; I didn't want to give it up, especially not to Darius West and his ilk. Talk about adding insult to injury.
"Darius has made his gambit," Lacey said. "For better or worse, he'll follow it through if he believes it's in his vampires' best long-term interest."
"The key phrase being 'his vampires,'" Luc said. "And we've just defined ourselves as falling outside that group."
"We knew he'd label us as the enemy," Ethan said. "I'd merely hoped for more of a 'live and let live' approach. And the irony? Michael broached the possibility the fairies were dangerous last night."
He'd mentioned it to me, too. Not that we hadn't known of the risks before. But we'd weighed the benefits against the costs, and we'd kept them around because the math didn't seem so bad.
"And so it begins," Ethan said. "More strife between vampire and fae. And I'd thought we'd made significant inroads."
"We did," I assured him. I hated to see him so defeated. "We were actually communicating with Claudia. We can't just let them get away with this."
I looked around the room, but no one met my eyes.
"There has to be some way to deal with it, some way to fix it. And we'll figure it out. All of us, together. Right?" I smiled at Ethan, feeling suddenly - weirdly - like a Cadogan House cheerleader, sans pleated skirt and bloomers. "I mean, you did ask your transition team to come all this way. At least now you'll get your money's worth."
Ethan looked back at me, and I saw that familiar spark light in his eyes. He sat up, and looked at each of us in turn. "She's right. We work this problem like any other, and we find a solution. Is that understood?"
We all nodded.
Ethan looked at Malik. "Start a timer. I want it in my office within the hour, counting down the hours we purportedly have to fix this situation. Thank God it's winter, and we'll actually be awake for a good portion of that time."
"Liege," Malik said, a little smile at the corner of his mouth at Ethan's sudden sense of action.
Ethan stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, then put his hands on his hips.
"I say this one time, and you may spread the word to the House as you like. We are not leaving this House. Peter bade me captain his ship, and as long as I am alive on this earth and Master of this domain, I will captain it. They will take this House over my dead body. Call Paige, the librarian, and Michael Donovan. I want them in my office within the hour."
Ethan could be frustrating at times. Infuriating at others. But there was no doubt he was a Master among men.
* * *
The troops inspired, I waited while Luc, Lacey, and Malik left the apartments to begin the process of beginning the process, then looked at Ethan. "You're all right?"
He walked toward me and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "I've survived world wars, Sentinel. This is a drop in the bucket."
We both knew he was exaggerating, but I forgave him the boast.
I turned toward the door and held out a hand. "Then let's go downstairs and take care of this real quick."
He smiled a little, which was the point. "Real quick?"
I shrugged. "You know, since it's a drop in the bucket."
He put his hand in mine and we walked toward the door, pretending we had a solution. Pretending we had a fix.
And hoping to God we could find one.
* * *
We found Lacey in the doorway of his office, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Ethan and me together. I knew I had to tell him the truth about the RG - if nothing else to beat her to the punch - but this was not the time to add to his burdens. Hopefully she was mature enough to see that, too.
We walked inside to find Michael Donovan, Paige, the librarian, Luc, and Malik already in the room. On the wall was the timer Ethan had requested. It was large, with a black screen and squarish white numbers that ticked the seconds, minutes, and hours that we had left until the fairies tried to forcibly remove us from our home. Unless we figured out a way to stop them.
Luc had scrounged up another whiteboard and set it up near the conference table.
"This looks like a party."
We glanced back at the door. Gabriel Keene, head of the North American Central Pack, stood there with a black motorcycle helmet in hand. Memphis was his home base, but Chicago was, for all intents and purposes, his city. With sun-burnished hair and amber eyes, he looked like a force to be reckoned with. And was.
