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“How do I play this?” Morgan asked, looking around the table.
“We’ve got two goals,” Jacobs said. “Addressing the situation with your House and, if possible, acquiring enough information to identify the Circle’s key players and shut them down.”
“The latter being the only real way to ensure that the former happens.”
“Frankly, yes.”
“When they call back, you’ll be matter-of-fact, but polite. In their minds, Navarre owes them a substantial debt, and they want to collect. They’ll have a demand, and you want to know what it is. You don’t have to negotiate with them, argue with them. You just need to know what they want. There’s a chance they won’t want to make that demand on the phone. That’s fine, and we can cross that bridge when we come to it. The key is to engage them in communication so we can move forward.”
Jeff looked at Luc. “Can we use your earbuds? I can dial them in so we can all hear the call.”
Luc nodded, pulled the box of earbuds from a locked desk drawer, lest his vampires should steal the tiny plastic nubbins.
Juliet beat me to the teasing. “You afraid we’re going to borrow those without asking, Dad?”
“You take my car, you stay out after curfew, you don’t call your mother regular,” Luc said in his best Chicago accent. “Bet your ass I’m locking up the silver.”
Luc passed the box around the room, and we took earbuds, slipped them in.
“We work long hours,” Luc said to Morgan. “Many of them are hard. We try to keep the tone light—but that’s no reflection on the work quality.”
Morgan nodded, but there was weariness in his gaze. Too many nights spent worrying, instead of commiserating with his vampires, his Novitiates and staff. And now those vampires were spread across the city like cottonwood seeds in the wind.
“We’re ready if you are, Morgan.”
He nodded, pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, tapped in the numbers, lifted the phone to his ear.
The room went silent.
“Gold star,” Morgan said after a moment, and then hung up the phone again.
“Gold star?” Ethan asked.
“That’s the code for our account.”
“How long will it take them to respond?” Ethan asked.
“I don’t know,” Morgan said, and we all prepared to wait.
* * *
It took less than five minutes.
Morgan’s phone rang, the ring tone a soft, alternative song I recognized, the vocalist mourning the end of a relationship. My chest squeezed sympathetically, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Morgan wouldn’t have appreciated the sympathy, especially not from me.
“Give me three . . . two . . . and one,” Jeff said, then pointed at Morgan. “You’re a go.”
Morgan blew out a breath, lifted the phone to his ear. “Navarre.”
The answering voice—deep and slowly and clearly affected by a voice modulator—echoed in my ear. “You were not instructed to call.”
“And you were instructed in the beginning not to touch my people. You did it anyway.”
“You first refused your assignment, and then botched it.”
“You came to my House, assaulted one of my vampires. They are not on the table.”
Merit, Ethan said silently, and I nodded my understanding, did my part.
