He was right, but that only made it worse. There was no knight in shining armor who could rescue him, no trick of Chicago politics—and there were a lot of tricks in that particular bag—that would keep him out of prison. We’d already used the chit in our possession, the fact that Detective Jacobs didn’t blindly follow the mayor’s dictates, and the reprieve had been only temporary.
I nodded. “I know you’re right. I just want things to be different.”
He put his forehead against mine. “We cannot change the world, Merit. We do what we can in our small corner, and we act with honor. We rise to the occasion, and we do our best.”
He kissed me. “That is what we will do for now. Our best. Get dressed. Message Catcher and make sure he knows what’s going on. Message Jonah and let him know we’re coming back. I’ll talk to Gabriel. This is going to require some finessing.”
I nodded. “I’ll pack, get our stuff together.”
He looked at me, considered. “Actually, I think I’d prefer you go with me. You are his kitten, after all.”
I humphed. I was nobody’s kitten.
• • •
We found him in the kitchen with Tanya and Connor, who sat in a high chair with bright orange goo smeared across his face. He gargled happily when we walked in.
“Vampires,” Gabe said, offering Connor another spoonful of orange goo. “What brings you by?”
“Are you hungry?” Tanya asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. “The staff’s asleep, but we could find you something.”
“We’re good, thank you. We actually wanted to talk to you about leaving. Things have come to a head in Chicago—and we believe the carnival is headed there anyway. We’d like to return, as well.”
“A head?” Gabe asked.
“The mayor had roughed up Scott Grey. Tonight, they raided Navarre House.”
“She’s not playing around to get you back.”
“No, she is not. And others have taken the brunt of this particular experiment long enough.”
Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah, running isn’t really your style.” He smiled at Connor, who mawed the mouthful of goo with bright and happy eyes. “Kid loves carrots. Craziest thing. Tanya and I both hate them.”
He used the rubber edge of the spoon to clean up Connor’s mouth, then passed the utensil to Tanya and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel.
“The Pack is gone,” he said. “You upheld your deal to investigate while they were here. And when the elves were attacked in daylight, they knew it wasn’t your doing. The Brecks haven’t left, obviously, but solving a mystery isn’t going to change their minds about you.”
“No,” Ethan said. “I imagine it will not.”
“And you still have the elves to sate,” Gabriel said. “You owe them Niera, or we’ll all have hell to pay.”
I imagined Chicago overrun with androgynous bow-and-arrow-wielding elves. Considering the state of their technology, couldn’t the military handle them easily?
Ethan looked at me. “I know what you’re thinking, Sentinel. That they’d be no match for black helicopters. But locusts do not need weapons to constitute a plague. They only have to be themselves.”
A potent metaphor.
“Safe travels and good luck,” Gabriel said, standing and offering each of us a hand. “You do your species proud.”
“Call me the next time you’re in the city,” Ethan said, then slid his gaze to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss.”
Gabriel smiled wolfishly. “So we do, Sullivan. So we do.”
• • •
I let Ethan drive back to Chicago. Considering his looming incarceration, it seemed only fair.
I also let him select the channel, and he found a station playing hard-driving Chicago- and Delta-style blues. The songs were grim, their lyrics telling tales of love and love lost, of heartache and adversity. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his gaze on the road, but he seemed buoyed by the music, by the reminders that hard times were universal, but time always marched on. Usually in twelve bars.
Ethan pulled directly into the House garage and parked the car in the spot he’d given me—but solely for the protection of Moneypenny. Ethan keyed us into the House but paused before ascending the stairway to the first floor, clearly contemplating what he was about to do.
“Maybe we should take the back stairway,” I suggested. “We can put down our bags, and you can have a few minutes to collect yourself.”
He looked back at me, smiled. I caught a brief flicker of gratitude in his eyes, as if he’d had the same thought but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without appearing cowardly.
We walked to the other end of the basement and the service stairway, climbed to the third floor, and then walked down the hallway to our apartments. The House smelled faintly like cinnamon and flowers, and none of the faint animal tang that permeated the Brecks’.
We found the apartments just as we’d left them. Cool, dark, beautifully appointed. The furniture was European, the ceilings high, the walls painted in warm colors. A vase of hothouse peonies sat on a side table, filling the room with the smell of flowers and the spring that would soon be approaching.
Ethan put his bag on the bed and walked to one of the windows, then pulled back the lush silk and velvet drapes that covered it. I dropped my bag and followed him, let him gather me into his arms as he stared out into the night. Unlike at the Brecks’ estate, there was light aplenty in Chicago. We were in the middle of a residential neighborhood, with the lights of downtown in the distance. Snow still covered the grounds that surrounded the House, giving it an ethereal glow.
Ethan sighed, embraced me tighter.
“She can’t hold you forever. There’s no evidence.”
“She shouldn’t,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t try. Especially if she’s squawking about domestic terrorism and ignoring the city’s other problems in the meantime.”
“As long as she doesn’t mess up your pretty face.”
Ethan leaned back and peered at me. “My pretty face?”
“I’m dating you because you make good arm candy.”
He made a dubious sound, squeezed me one more time, and then let me go. “We have the city’s best lawyers,” he said. “We’ll hope that will be enough.”
I hoped he was right, but hope wasn’t going to bring him home again.
Chapter Fifteen
PARTING IS SUCH (BITTER)SWEET SORROW
Ethan changed from his jeans and shirt into a button-down shirt, black pants, and a suit jacket with modern lines and a fashionably snug fit. He pulled back his hair, then glanced at me.
“You’re incredibly handsome for a felon and terrorist,” I told him, hoping to get a smile. I got an arched eyebrow, which was good enough.
We descended the stairs together, fingers linked. The foyer was full of vampires, and I had a sudden sympathy for the wives of discredited politicians who’d made similar appearances, trying to maintain a pleasant smile while lawyers and vampires mingled at the bottom of the stairs like sharks preparing to feed.
The magic in the air was frazzled and nervous, flitting about the room like stinging bolts of lightning. Ethan’s vampires were nervous, and understandably so.
“Andrew,” Ethan said, extending a hand to the man in the very well-cut black suit who stood beside Malik and Luc. He had dark skin, short hair, and a French-cut goatee that joined the moustache above his lip. His eyes were dark and set beneath a dark brow. His expression was serious.
“Ethan,” he said, and they shook hands heartily. “You’re ready?”
Ethan nodded, put a hand at the small of my back. “Andrew, my significant other. Merit. She stands Sentinel for the House. Merit, this is Andrew Bailey of Fitzhugh and Meyers.”