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FIRST, KILL ALL THE VAMPIRES
The House’s lawyers arrived—a bevy of men and women in smart black suits (of course) who assured me everything would be fine.
They asked me to relay what had happened; four of them took notes while one asked the questions. They explained the process, promised I’d be out on bail in no time, and told me to sit tight, that they’d get the wheels of justice moving.
Having gotten my mandated meeting with counsel, I was then placed in a holding cell for supernaturals. Ethan was already there, sitting on a bench that cantilevered out of the wall. He jumped to his feet when I entered, checking me for injuries.
You’re all right?
I’m fine, I said, taking a seat beside him on the bench. Arthur Jacobs’s daughter, Jennifer, came by to explain how unhappy she is that we’re involving her father in supernatural affairs.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. What?
She’s an attorney. He asked her to look in on us. She decided to take advantage of the situation.
I wasn’t aware we controlled his behavior. His voice was flat as a windless sea.
I’m sure she realizes that. And yet . . .
And yet it’s easier to blame the monster in front of you than the human with free will. I have apologies to make, Ethan said, but they are not to her.
I didn’t disagree with that, and since he had plenty of apologizing to do to me, I wished him luck with it.
He was going to need it.
• • •
We waited another hour, sharing the cell with a drunk shifter who was snoring on the floor, the smell of cheap booze obvious even a few feet away, and two River nymphs with torn dresses and black eyes. River nymphs managed the ebb and flow of the Chicago River. They were petite and busty and favored high heels, short dresses, and candy-colored convertibles. Nymphs ran hot and cold, and not much in between. The heat probably explained the injuries. But whatever animosity had been between them faded when we walked in. At the sight of us, they huddled together, enemies bonding to dish about the disheveled vampires in party clothes.
At the end of that hour, hard-soled shoes clapped toward us. A female officer with pale skin and dark hair pulled into a messy bun pointed at us, then unlocked and slid open the barred door. “You’re free to go.”
“Bond was posted?” Ethan asked, rising and walking forward.
“No bond necessary. Mr. Reed isn’t going to press charges.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but I wasn’t surprised in the least. Reed couldn’t torture us if we were locked away. He’d get more enjoyment from having us freed, forcing us to watch his ascendancy.
We signed some paperwork, picked up our personal effects, and headed outside. Jeff stood in front of the Audi, which he must have driven over from the Botanic Garden. Shifter or not, he was a stand-up man. And by his expression, still very irritated.
“You all right?” he asked, looking us over.
“We are,” Ethan said. “Thank you for bringing the car, and for coming earlier. Especially considering . . .” Ethan didn’t have to mention the item in consideration—the fact that we were currently fighting with Jeff’s alpha.
Jeff nodded. “Pack’s still a democracy. I didn’t know about the Circle; obviously, I’d have mentioned it.” He sounded mildly perturbed about the fact that he hadn’t known. Understandable, since he’d been among the group of us who’d had to track it down.
“And I’m not saying I agree or disagree with Gabe,” he added, lest we think he was completely on our side. He looked pointedly at Ethan. “Being a leader means making decisions that, in hindsight, look regrettable.”
A smile was not appropriate, so I bit it back. Jeff was usually too agreeable for his alpha side to pop out, but it would be wrong to forget he was still, literally and figuratively, a tiger.
“It’s worth saying again that we appreciate your help. And perhaps I should get Merit back to the car before she decides to leave with you.”
“It’s a close call,” I agreed.
Jeff nodded, handed Ethan the keys.
“Do you need a ride?” Ethan asked.
