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The screaming and recitation of charges faded away as the cops and suspect moved around the House toward their waiting transportation.
I walked toward Ethan, took in the torn shirt spotted with blood, the bruise under his cheek, the blood on his face. “You kind of look like a disaster.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ethan burst into laughter.
“Are you all right?”
“At the moment, Sentinel, I’m not. But I’ve got you and my House, and I will be.”
Chapter Twenty-five
AVOWAL
It was done. With three more phone calls to Switzerland and Ethan’s excellent French, we verified Balthasar’s ignoble end. He’d used “Bernard” as his alias in order to distance himself from activities in London and any lingering members of the Memento Mori. Julien had stuck to the truth about much of Balthasar’s history, which Ethan verified with the safe house’s archivist.
And with that, the ghost who’d haunted our dreams—literally and figuratively—was finally gone. Yes, there was still Reed and his sorcerer to deal with. But this threat, at least, had been neutralized.
Most of the vampires had left the party, returned to their Houses. Our group—our Cadogan and Ombuddy family—still sat at a table beneath the tent looking utterly relaxed and sipping the rest of the champagne.
“What’s the saying?” Ethan asked. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here?” But he grinned at them, accepted the glass of champagne that Luc offered.
“We were just saying how gorgeous the garden looked,” Jeff said, “and how you’d probably agree to let them use it for their wedding.”
Since nobody at the table looked surprised, Mallory and Catcher must have shared the nuptial news. “I don’t want any fuss.”
“It wouldn’t be any fuss at all,” Luc said. “Right, hoss?”
“Of course not. I actually already offered her the garden, if I recall.”
“He did,” Mallory said, reaching out to pat his arm. “It was a very nice offer.”
“And it still stands.” Ethan grinned. “Hell, we’re all dressed in pretty clothes, and the garden will hardly get any better than this. We could just do it now.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but a weighty silence fell as Mallory and Catcher looked at each other.
“We couldn’t,” Mallory said. “Could we?”
Catcher scratched the back of his neck, looked at Mallory. “I don’t know why we wouldn’t, actually. There’s never going to be a perfect time. Isn’t that the point of love, or marriage, in the first place? Recognizing that perfection is irrelevant? That imperfection is sometimes kind of perfect?”
Mallory pressed her lips together, trying to will back tears.
“Oh my God, are you two seriously about to get married?” Lindsey drummed her feet on the ground like an excited child.
Catcher didn’t take his eyes off Mallory, but reached out and squeezed her hand. “I kinda think we are, yeah.”
Ethan looked at the group. “Anybody licensed to perform a ceremony?”
Grinning, Jeff raised a hand. “Actually, I am. River nymphs,” he explained with a shrug, and I was momentarily bummed I hadn’t been invited to that particular wedding. The nymphs knew how to party. “Do you have a license?”
Mallory nodded. “I got it yesterday.”
“Then we’re good,” Jeff said.
“Oh my God,” Mallory said, her excitement rising, her eyes glowing with love and happiness. “Oh my God.” She slapped Catcher’s arm. “We’re going to get married.”
“It does look like that.”
There was no regret in his eyes. No remorse. No hesitation. Just happiness, and maybe a bright edge of nerves.
