“We aren’t entirely sure,” Ethan said, and began to lay it out. “Victor Cabot called a short while ago.” Victor was the Master of New York City’s Cabot House, one of the nation’s oldest, situated in a grand dame of a building on the Upper East Side.
“Darius was in New York but didn’t advise Victor. He was at dinner, happened to look out the window and see Darius across the street.”
“Well,” Malik said, crossing his arms. “I bet that’s not something Victor sees every night.”
“No, it isn’t,” Ethan agreed. “And he and Victor are friends, I’d say, which makes it even more curious. Victor followed him a bit, feigned a random meeting.”
“On turf he’d probably already scoped out,” Luc said, then glanced at me. “Victor has a history in, let’s say, international espionage.”
Vampirism took all kinds. I nodded, looked back at Ethan. “And what did Darius say?”
“Apparently very little. Their interaction was very brief, but Victor said he was acting oddly. Seemed, he said, dazed.”
“Dazed?” Luc said. “What does that mean?”
Ethan lifted his hands. “I’ve no idea.”
“Were any other GP members with him?” Malik asked.
In addition to Darius, there were five remaining members of the GP: Dierks, Danica, Edmund, Lakshmi, and Diego. Ethan counted Lakshmi and Diego as allies. Edmund had helped Harold Monmonth attack the House, so he was clearly an enemy. I didn’t know Danica and Dierks to be enemies per se, other than because they were members of the GP. Which was probably enough.
“None, Victor said.” Ethan crossed one leg over the other. “Nor was Charlie with him.” Charlie was Darius’s majordomo, and usually his travel companion. “But he had muscle. Three solid men.”
Luc leaned forward, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Because of the challenge? Or because of the response?”
“Victor didn’t know. He didn’t tell Victor either way.”
“If he’s here to take you on, to respond to the challenge, why would he make a pit stop in New York?”
“That, Sentinel, is part of the question. Darius only told Victor he had business in the city. That same business, reportedly, is what’s bringing him to Chicago.”
“When is he scheduled to arrive?” I asked.
“He’s already here.”
I blinked. “He’s here? And Victor just got around to telling you?”
“Like I said, they’re friends. I think he didn’t necessarily want to spill any pertinent details to Cadogan House, Darius’s self-professed enemy. But he also knows we get things done. Victor used his own channels to investigate, whatever those might be, and wasn’t satisfied by what he found. The only specific information was his plan to visit Chicago, and he only learned that because a member of the hotel staff overheard the muscle mentioning it.”
“Espionage,” Luc said, pointing at me, an I-told-you-so gesture.
“So Darius is in New York for reasons unknown,” I summarized. “He didn’t tell Victor Cabot, the resident Master and his buddy, that he was coming to town, barely spoke when Victor saw him on the street, didn’t mention the challenge at all, and then hightailed it to Chicago.”
Ethan nodded. “That appears to be the warp and weft of it.”
“It’s not necessarily surprising Darius didn’t detail how he intends to respond to Ethan’s challenge,” Malik put in. “Loose lips sink ships, and all that. But it is odd he didn’t mention the challenge at all. The GP is in a time of chaos—Darius’s reign is in a time of chaos. He’s facing a coup d’état, and in the home of an ally. You’d think he’d have at least broached the issue, griped about the challenge, leaned on Victor’s shoulder.”
“It is odd,” Ethan agreed.
I blew out a breath. “So what do we do? Batten down the hatches? Get the House ready for a fight?”
Ethan rose, paced to the window across the room, used a fingertip to push aside the silk curtain. I wondered what he thought as he looked outside, if he weighed the future as he surveyed his domain.
“If I’m to be head of this organization—and I aim to be head of this organization—I cannot lurk in shadows waiting for others to make their moves. We strategize, we act, we move forward.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, Sentinel, that if Darius will not respond to our challenge, we’ll take our challenge to him.”
We didn’t know how long Darius would be in town, so we took a chance, climbed into Lindsey’s SUV, and headed downtown. Luc drove, because he’d decided he was the only one who could “handle” the car in the event of “exigent circumstances.”
That explained the aviator glasses, considering it was full dark.
In reality, I think Luc was hoping for a car chase that would have him spinning and drifting the vehicle like he was a stuntman in an action movie.
Fortunately for my nerves and my stomach, that did not happen.
According to Victor, Darius intended to say at the Portman Grand, a hotel on Michigan Avenue across from Millennium Park that practically reeked of old money. It had been built in Chicago’s gilded age, a time when cattle and steel barons ruled the city. Lots of marble, gold accents, and dark fabrics.
We circled the block twice looking for a spot, lucked out the third time around, and grabbed a spot in front of a Chinese restaurant wedged between a Starbucks and a jewelry store.
“I presume no swords?” I said, thinking of the chichi hotel and the fact we’d be utterly conspicuous wearing them. We’d also present ourselves as an immediate threat to Darius.
“No swords,” Luc agreed, then popped open Lindsey’s glove box. Half a dozen holstered blades had been stuffed inside, a mini-armory in the comfort of an SUV. Vampires didn’t generally care for small blades, but these were exigent circumstances. Since I hadn’t noticed those the night before, he must have just loaded them.
“Do you have enough knives there, hon?” Lindsey asked, picking through the stack for a specimen she liked.
“Better safe than sorry.” He reached over, pulled out a pink camouflage holster. “You like?”
“I do not.” She patted one of the knee-high black boots she’d pulled over jeans. “Not my style, but I’m already prepped.”
He nodded, glanced into the backseat at me and Ethan.
“I’m good,” I said. Ethan had given me a sleek dagger that was, like Lindsey’s, tucked into my boot.
But Ethan held out a hand. “Do you have anything slightly less pink?”
Luc pulled out a holster covered in rhinestones.
“I really feel like you’ve missed your target audience,” Ethan said with amusement. “Or you’ve a feminine side we really haven’t explored.”
“I prefer you not explore my feminine side,” Luc said, stuffing the rejected knives back into the box and pulling out a third. This one was much more Cadogan style: a glossy, curvy handle with nubby grips on the finger notches, and a sleek, double-sided blade honed to a gleaming and lethal point.
“Now, that will work,” Ethan said, appreciation shining in his eyes. “And not a bit of glitter in sight.”
“Not on that one,” Luc said, closing the glove box again. “But I have others.”
We climbed out of the car, checked phones and weapons. “You might want to go with him next time he stops for weapons,” I whispered to Lindsey. “I understand Jonah uses FaireMakers.”
“As opposed to Victoria’s Scabbards?” Lindsey said, tugging the tops of her boots.
“My point exactly.”
“All right, kids,” Luc said. “We ready to undertake what will solely be an informational mission in which we go inside the hotel and gather information? Informationally.”
“Wait,” Lindsey said. “Wait. You’re saying we shouldn’t run in, arms waving, and yell that we’re here to kidnap Darius?”
Yes. Vampires also used sarcasm to combat pre-op nerves.
“I think we play it more subtly,” Luc said. “This is a public place, and a fancy one. Darius may have no love of humans, but he loathes bad press. He won’t cause trouble in the hotel, so we aren’t going to cause trouble in the hotel. We’re going to keep an eye out for Darius, feign coincidence that we’re in the same hotel, and make nice. Victor thinks something’s odd about his manner. We’ll give that theory a ride.”
Lindsey raised her hand. “Shouldn’t that be hypothesis?”
“I will give you the rhinestone knife.”
The threat apparently was enough; she mimicked zipping her lips.
Luc developed the cover story, another feigned meeting with Darius: We were two couples out on the town, enjoying a night in Chicago, celebrating the approaching end of winter.
We walked inside the hotel, shoes clicking on the shiny stone floors. Giant vases of flowers sat inside the entrance on marble and gold tables, scenting the room with the fragrance of lilies and hyacinths. Men and women in impeccably tailored clothing sat in the lobby’s conversation areas, or spilled out with the jazz from the bar across the room.
“Fancy,” Luc said.
“Any sign of him?” Ethan asked, lifting my hand to his lips.
“Not that I can see.” There were several humans and a possible River nymph, but not a vampire in sight.
Luc gestured toward the bar with his and Lindsey’s linked hands. “Couples in love hit the bar, have a drink, and survey these lovely surroundings for the man who may or may not want to end us.”
“Oh, I suspect he wants to end us,” Ethan said, as we followed Luc and Lindsey. “But he may not want to do it here.”
Lindsey ordered the drinks: gin and tonics for us, Scotch on the rocks for Luc and Ethan. And when she came back with a small bowl of steaming edamame dotted with flakes of sea salt, I decided not to complain that she’d assumed I’d be hungry.
We took seats beside men and women who looked like they’d spent the day cornering their respective financial markets. With our drinks and snacks, and a fabulous view of the Portman and its patrons, we awaited our former king.
It took seventeen minutes.
Darius emerged from the first elevator, tall and lean, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. From a distance, he looked completely normal. His head was shaved, his features strong, his eyes bright blue. He wore a button-down shirt that matched his eyes, tucked into slim black slacks.
Two vampires walked closely behind him, the muscle Victor had referred to.
The one on Darius’s left, the bigger of the two men, was an ugly son of a bitch. Bug-eyed, a nose squashed from one too many jabs, hard, square jaw. His was a face only a mother could love, but it was refreshing to have a bad guy whose soul matched his outward appearance. There’d been too many wolves in designer sheep’s clothing lately.
While the main man was noticeably ugly, his associate on the right was remarkably plain. Light skin, brown hair, brown eyes. Medium height, medium build.
But their status as security was obvious—they scanned the room with flat eyes and suspicious expressions, and they vibrated from an abundance of weaponry.
“Guns,” I said, sipping my drink. “Several of them.”
“They look like the type,” Luc said, his gaze on Lindsey, a hand on her shoulder, rubbing lightly as if they were two lovers anticipating a night of passion. “Shoulder harnesses, probably. And the classic tucked-into-the-back-waistband approach.”
“Always turns me on when a man has a magnum in his pants,” she said.
I barely bit back a laugh, so the sound came out as a strangled snort.
Ethan shook his head. “You two are no longer allowed on ops together.”
“This is barely an op,” Lindsey said. “It’s more like an exploratory committee.”
We watched as Darius took a seat in a low, square chair in the sitting area. His guards took up point beside him, each about six feet away.
“And I believe it’s time to explore,” Ethan said, sliding his glass forward and rising. “Merit, you’re with me. Lucas—”
Luc nodded before Ethan could finish the order. “We’re here, just in case. Do us all a favor, Liege, and try to keep yourself alive?”
“It’s the second-highest thing on my list right now,” Ethan grumbled. He straightened his jacket, his features transforming from operative to Master vampire. Haughtiness, arrogance, and utter confidence returned.
He strode toward Darius, and I fell into step behind him, the (ahem) meek Sentinel. The muscle watched us close in, lips curled in distaste. They let us approach to ten feet, then moved forward, hands outstretched like linebackers ready to stop Ethan’s forward progress.
Ethan ignored them, kept his gaze on Darius, who hadn’t yet seemed to realize that Ethan Sullivan, the Master vampire who’d challenged him for the throne, was standing only ten feet away.
That was, to say the least, odd.
“Darius,” Ethan said. “It’s good to see you again.”
Darius looked up at him blandly. “Is it?”
This man clearly looked like Darius, from the dent in his chin to the perfect posture. But the Darius West I’d met would never have looked blandly at an enemy.
Ethan was momentarily taken aback, but he covered it up. “It is,” he said, his tone unfailingly polite. “We’re old friends, and old friends who don’t get to speak as often as we might.”
