Wasn’t I trying to keep him safe?
I stared at the fire until the sun rose, watching the forks and tendrils rise and shift and move, letting it blank my mind and send me to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
THIS MAGIC MOMENT
The sun set again, and I awoke on the floor beside the fire, curled into a ball with the crook of my elbow as a pillow, the fireplace still crackling, the empty bottle beside me. I sat up and stretched, working out the kinks of spending ten hours asleep on a hardwood floor, then flipped off the fire and put the bottle on the tray the kitchen staff would eventually collect.
“Another night in paradise,” I mused, and turned to the shower.
As part of the miracle that was Cadogan House, I found my leathers clean and shiny and ready to wear again. I dressed for war, belting on my katana, my hair in a ponytail, and the new Cadogan pendant around my neck. It felt differently than the last one had, the medal colder and thicker. But no less meaningful, and I was glad the tradition was under way again.
Now that I was back in Chicago and back on the clock, I grabbed my phone, texted Jonah. ALL WELL AT GREY HOUSE?
SO FAR, SO GOOD. MORGAN ON A TEAR ABOUT NAVARRE RAID.
That thought actually made me smile. Although Navarre was the origin of most of our troubles, the House rarely had to deal with the unpleasant consequences. Maybe now Morgan would appreciate the spot Celina had put us in all those months ago by announcing our existence to the world.
WORD ON ETHAN? he asked.
NOT YET. I’M ABOUT TO HEAD DOWNSTAIRS. ALSO GOING TO VISIT GRANDFATHER. MAY NEED YOU ON MISSING SUP CASE.
ROGER, Jonah responded. KEEP ME POSTED.
Taking Luc’s advice, I called the hospital, confirmed visiting hours, and prepared to head out. But I had two quick stops to make before I left.
The first was to the Ops Room. It seemed only fair that I’d check in with Luc before leaving campus, even though he’d given me permission the night before.
I made my way downstairs, and Helen stopped me on the first floor, a scrap of paper in hand. She extended it with perfectly manicured fingers, a silver charm bracelet dangling from her wrist.
“What’s this?” I wondered.
“Your garage code,” she said, smiling mirthlessly. I guessed she wasn’t thrilled that a peon so far down the chain of command had won access to the garage. Helen was adept and capable at her job. But she was the growly sort, and she had very specific opinions about who deserved the spoils of Cadogan House . . . and who did not.
But I wasn’t going to look a gift Helen in the mouth. I glanced at the code, memorized the numbers, and tucked the paper into my pocket.
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
She grumbled something about “waiting list” but headed down the hallway at a brisk clip.
I walked downstairs to the Ops Room, found Lindsey, Luc, and Kelley, another permanent House guard, at the conference table. Juliet, the last of the permanent guard crew, was gone, still taking it easy after her run-in with McKetrick.
The television wasn’t on, but the mood was as grim as it had been in the parlor last night.
My stomach flipped. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing in particular, Sentinel. Just the usual bullshit. City’s on our case. Shifters are on our case. GP’s on our case. I’m knee-deep in complaints and I’m running out of fucks to give.”
I glanced at Lindsey.
“That’s not from Die Hard,” she said. “He’s just improvising.”
I smiled, took a seat at the table.
“Why are you so chipper this morning?” Luc asked.
“Oh, I’m not. But I had my first day of sleep in three days without sups pounding on my door or alarms ringing me awake. It made a nice change. Did you see Ethan’s bruise last night?”
“On his cheek? Yeah,” Luc said. “Wasn’t thrilled with it, but he’s in Andrew’s hands now.” He smiled. “I’ve seen him in action. And trust me—Law & Order has nothing on this guy. I will guarantee you he’s making a note of every time Kowalcyzk’s people so much as look at Ethan the wrong way. And he’ll nail them for it.”
“He might have a long list by the time Ethan gets released. Did he give you an update on when that might be?”
“He did not. Said they put him in the dark room during the day, but they kept him up after sunrise and roused him before the sun set again. Rendition tactics—they’re trying to make him slip up, change his story, give them some doubt to pin an arraignment on.”
Grim as that sounded, it made me smile. As Luc had noted yesterday, there were few as stubborn as Ethan Sullivan. And while he did his unenviable job as Master, I had to do mine.
“Do we have anything on the carnival?”
“Nothing else so far.” He took in my zipped-up jacket, my belted sword. “You going to the hospital?”
“I am. I have my phone if you need me. And I checked in with Jonah—he said things are calm at Grey and Navarre, all things considered.”
Luc nodded. “So we have a momentary lull, at least until we come up with something.”
I took that as a dismissal. “Do me a solid,” I said, heading for the door. “Find me a carnival.”
• • •
The amount of grinning I did at the basement door as I typed in my code, heard the hearty click of the tumblers shifting, was probably inappropriate. But I was from Chicago, and I had not only an off-street parking spot, but a heated, indoor parking spot. It was a luxury few of us even bothered to imagine. Like Moneypenny, it was another silver lining from the rioters’ beating of my poor, departed Volvo.
Moneypenny sat, sleek and silver, in her appointed spot. The “Visitor” designation had been painted over, and “Sentinel” stenciled over the white rectangle in vibrant blue.
“This does not suck,” I murmured, and pulled Moneypenny into the cold Chicago night.
The Ops Room had been my first stop en route to visit my grandfather, but I had one more errand before heading south. My grandfather had a sweet tooth and a favorite cookie, and I could only imagine that the food he was served by the hospital didn’t offer much in the way of sugary treats. I grabbed a bag of Oreos from a quick shop along the way and drove to the south side hospital where he was being treated.
I was half surprised my father hadn’t yet transferred my grandfather to their home in Oak Park, the neighborhood where my parents lived. That’s where he’d recuperate when he was discharged. But they hadn’t moved him yet, so I pulled into a visitor’s spot in the garage and followed the stream of families with balloons and flowers into the hospital.
The hospital smelled the same as it had when he’d been admitted a few days ago: like disinfectants and flowers.
My grandfather was muttering when I stepped into the doorway, a remote control in his hand, his eyes on the small television that hung on the opposite wall. He looked like I expected many grandfathers did—caterpillar eyebrows and a halo of hair that didn’t quite cover the bald spot on the top of his head. He usually preferred plaid shirts and thickly soled shoes, but tonight he wore a blue hospital gown.
At the sound of my knock, he glanced up and smiled, then held out his arms. “Come on over, rover.”
I did, offering him a gentle hug. “I’m glad to see you’re up and awake.”
“Awake, anyways,” he said. “Up’s going to take a little longer. My gams aren’t going to be the same.”
I nodded. “Probably no stilettos for you for a while. But you’ll manage.”
“I will,” he agreed.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, atop white sheets, and put a hand over his. His skin was thin and bruised, although I wasn’t sure if that was from his injuries or the tubes and wires that still ran from his body to machines at his sides.