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When I was done, I slid it back into the sheath with a zing of sound, and placed it on the top of the bureau beside Ethan’s sword, already scabbarded. They made a beautiful pair, artisanal weapons of death, handcrafted protectors of honor.
As I patted myself on the back for my mental poetry, a knock sounded at the front door.
I opened the bedroom door and peeked into the living room.
For the first time tonight, it wasn’t bad news. A teenager with pink cheeks stood in the doorway wearing a Loring Park Pizza cap, and the siren’s call of roasted meat spilled into the air from the four steaming pizza boxes he carried. The scent was nearly tangible; I could practically see the wavy lines of meat smoke rising off the box.
A victim to my hunger, I marched into the living room.
“What’s this?” Catcher asked.
“Dinner, I guess.” The kid shrugged. “Guy at the house paid for it, sent me out here with it.” He grinned. “Said you should tip me really well.”
“I’ll just bet he did,” Catcher mumbled, pulling his wallet out of his back jeans pocket. He snatched out bills, then exchanged the cash for pizza and watched the kid head back down the driveway—as if there was a threat the pizza delivery boy might change his mind and attack.
After a moment, Catcher closed the door and put the pizza on the table. “I guess the Pack felt bad about last night’s grub.”
“Or tonight’s hostage situation,” Ethan said, throwing open a box and grabbing a steaming slice. Without napkin, fork, or plate, he dove into the slice, earning openmouthed stares from Mallory, Catcher, and me.
“I’m not that pretentious,” he said over a mouthful of a pizza that looked like a butcher-shop special. I recognized pepperoni; the rest of it was a hearty, delicious mystery.
“You are,” the three of us said together, but we were smiling when we said it. We all grabbed slices and took seats on the sofas.
“You find anything in your magic box?” Mallory asked.
“Receipts and ephemera. In other words, a big, fat nothing. You get anything else about Baumgartner or Simon?”
Catcher chewed, shook his head. “Simon is in South America. Decided a change of scenery was a good idea. I’m not crying that he’s on a different continent. I told Baumgartner what we saw. He denied they were really elves—probably fairies or humans dressing up like elves—and said the magic sounded like vampires.”
“Baumgartner is a royal sack of crap,” Mallory said.
“And still prefers to keep his head in the sand,” I suggested, then glanced at Ethan.
He’d opted for the forkless slice and was now swabbing his hands with napkins. I predicted fork in his future.
“The pizza’s good,” Mallory said. “It’s not Saul’s, of course, but it’s not bad.”
“You’re a pizza snob,” Catcher said.
She elbowed him. “No, I was raised right. Don’t deny a Chicagoan the right to pick her favorite slice. It’s un-American.”
I was inching into my second when my phone beeped. The slice went back to the plate, and I scrubbed grease from my hands before pulling it out of my pocket. I checked the screen . . . and my stomach curled with icy-cold nerves.
It was Lakshmi.
She was reminding me—as if I’d somehow forgotten—of the favor I owed and the message she wanted me to pass along. And she’d carefully drafted her message to ensure I recalled her larger point.
THE HOUSES DESERVE A MASTER WHO CAN TRULY LEAD THEM, she texted. DO NOT LET SELFISHNESS DEPRIVE THEM OF THAT.
Was it so selfish to want him close? To keep on the same continent the man I’d come to love, to need, to depend on? Or was it selfish of her to ask, to demand sacrifice of others instead of putting herself forward as a candidate, taking her own stand against tyranny?
“Sentinel?”
At the sound of his voice, I remembered I was sitting in mixed company—and with him. I plastered on a smile I didn’t feel and tucked the phone away again.
“It’s nothing,” I said, and grabbed a piece of pizza as if hunger was my only concern.
But of course it wasn’t nothing, and the curiosity didn’t disappear from Ethan’s gaze.
Sunrise found us tucked into the bedroom. The house was locked, the guards outside, Mallory and Catcher curled up in the living room. While Ethan showered, I plumped pillows and folded back the covers, climbed into cool sheets.
And then I obsessed about the GP.
My phone was in hand, Ethan on my mind, Lakshmi’s text under my squinty gaze. Jonah had tattoos on each arm—a devil on one side, an angel on the other. I thought of both, miniature devils and angels sitting on my shoulders, offering contradictory advice. But in my case, the angel looked like Seth Tate, Chicago’s former mayor, a former angel of peace who’d become magically linked to his identical twin, Dominic. Dominic had been an angel of judgment, a devil, and was as fallen as they came.
The devil derided me for even considering giving in to Lakshmi, a member of the GP, which had caused so much trouble for Cadogan House we’d been forced to quit it.
The angel shared Lakshmi’s fire, promising that I would be doing the right thing.
And all the while, as they debated, I still had to keep Ethan out of prison.
The bathroom door opened. Ethan, wearing only a towel, looked out. He’d brushed his hair, which was water-slicked back from his face.
Guilty and torn, I stuffed the phone hastily under the covers. But not so quickly he didn’t see me do it.
I’d never been a good liar, and this wasn’t an exception. “Arranging a secret rendezvous, are you, Sentinel?”
“No. Just checking in.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re a miserable liar.”
“Actually, I can usually bluff pretty well. But apparently not to you.”
“Is this about the message you got during dinner?”
“It is.”
“And would you like to tell me about it?”
There were things I could have said. You’d be the best GP leader. You should run. Take your position as the sire of vampires. Challenge Darius. But seconds passed and the sun inched higher toward the horizon, robbing me of the ability to debate. And I wasn’t going to take on something this serious when I wasn’t at full capacity.
“Nothing big,” I drowsily said. “Just a personal concern.”
“A personal concern?” he asked, a spark of green fire in his eyes that I recognized as jealousy. He probably imagined the personal concern involved Jonah and the RG, as that was the only thing I normally wouldn’t discuss with him in detail. But Ethan was the only man on my mind.
