TWO MASTERS AND ONE BAD ATTITUDE
I was halfway to Navarre House when the phone rang again. It was Jonah, so I flipped it open and nestled the phone between my ear and shoulder.
"Hi, Jonah. What's up?"
"Just checking in. How's the investigation progressing?"
"Well, we were able to ID the short man Sarah saw outside the bar. Found video with his car on it. Guy named Paulie Cermak. I just paid him a visit."
"Get anything interesting?"
"Not really. He's got a crappy house and a fabulous vintage Mustang. He's not exactly shy about his work, but his story is that he's a bit player. He says he's got management running the show. The police didn't find anything to pin on him, so I don't think we'll have much luck, either."
"Any chance McKetrick's in charge?"
"He seems to have no idea who McKetrick is.
He also says V stands for veritas."
"Truth?"
"The very same."
"That's awfully deep for a pill pusher."
"That's exactly what I thought."
"Great minds and all," he said, with an amusing tone in his voice. "You coming to the shindig tonight?"
"I am. You?"
"With bells on . . . and a fine Italian suit I have no choice but to wear."
"Just be glad you only have to pull it out on special occasions," I told him. "You guys get jerseys - we get fine Italian suits every night."
He chuckled. "Very true. Hey, speaking of Ethan, a headsup - my story is that we met for the first time outside Temple Bar after the incident."
"Fine by me. Have you talked to Darius this trip?"
"Not yet. I've been with the guards today. We were training. Why?"
"Just a heads-up, he's kind of an ass." I regretted the words the instant they were out of my mouth. Sure, Jonah had done me a solid, but did I really know anything about him? Other than his pretty-boy looks and ridiculous overabundance of graduate degrees?
"Well aware," Jonah said. "He and Scott went a round about the jerseys, actually. Darius found them unbecoming of Housed vampires."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "That does sound like something he would say. I guess Scott won the battle eventually?"
"I wouldn't say he won it per se. More like he wouldn't give in and Darius eventually lost interest in the argument."
"That's a risky strategy with an immortal," I said. "They've got all the time in the world to argue."
"Speaking on your own behalf?"
"Me? Of course not. I'm not at all stubborn and completely flexible."
"Liar," he slyly said. "Well, I'll stop harassing you and let you get back to it. Call me if you need me."
"Will do. Thanks."
I tucked the phone away again, a little weirded out by the phone call. It was nice of Jonah to check in - to work from the assumption V was a problem vamps needed to face together. All hands on deck, as it were, instead of the Sentinel going it solo.
On the other hand, the conversation had sounded a little . . . datey. He was checking in, asking what I was doing later. Maybe he hadn't meant anything by it. Maybe he really was warming up to me and my various charms. But there was a flirty, friendly edge to his voice that I hadn't heard before . . . and I wasn't entirely thrilled to hear now. Flattered? Yes. But I didn't need the complication.
I also wasn't thrilled that I'd just given Jonah an update I hadn't yet provided to Ethan. I didn't like deception, especially not when it came to deceiving someone who'd saved my life once upon a time. I knew why I was withholding information from him, but that didn't make it any more comfortable.
The irony? I'd railed against Ethan for withholding information from me. Not that it had stopped him, but it still drove me crazy. And here I was, doing the same thing. Were my reasons any better? Had his been any worse?
And although we weren't a couple, the dishonesty felt wrong. Like a breach of the trust we'd earned, a kind of trust that went beyond Sentinel and Master. I was also missing out on using Ethan as a sounding board about Jonah and the RG. If there was any possibility he could be neutral, a second opinion would have been helpful.
But as a Master, he couldn't be neutral. So as much as I didn't like it, there was no clear path to the truth right now.
I nibbled on that conclusion for a while, working it over and over in my mind. I lost myself in my thoughts and the drive.
It wasn't that vampires were antithetical to mansions. The vampire design aesthetic was far from chains, skull candles, and black lace, and it wasn't as if Cadogan House was a hovel. It had been elegant before the attack, and it was becoming elegant again.
But Navarre House set a new standard for vampire opulence. First, it was tucked into the Gold Coast neighborhood, one of Chicago's ritziest areas, full of Gilded Era mansions and celebrity retreats. Second, the interior was awe inspiring. Giant spaces, weird art, and the kind of furniture you saw in design magazines. (The kind of furniture you thought was neat in a museum kind of way, but wouldn't actually want to sit on when watching a game on the flat screen on a Saturday afternoon.)
Did I mention Navarre had a reception desk?
Having parked the Volvo and freshened up as much as possible in the rearview mirror, I went inside and prepared to face the three dark-haired women who controlled access to Navarre and its Master.
Ethan and I had dubbed them the three Fates, a la Greek myth, because they exercised a similar amount of power. They looked petite, but I had the sense that one false move - or one unauthorized step past the reception desk - and you'd be in trouble.
Today they mostly seemed overwhelmed. The House's lobby was swamped with people. None fit into obvious categories - no reporters, no vampires, no one who seemed like a member of McKetrick's crew doing a little in-House surveying. Most wore standard black suits, more of the accountant variety than the Cadogan House variety, and they carried notepads or nondescript black bags.
I maneuvered through them to the reception desk and waited until I got the attention of the Fate on the left.
After a moment, she looked up at me, obviously frazzled, her fingers flying across the keys even as she made eye contact.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Merit, Sentinel, Cadogan, here to see Morgan if he's available?"
She blew out a breath, finally glanced down at her screen, and continued her marathon typing. A man bumped beside me at the desk and looked down at her.
"I had an appointment fifteen minutes ago."
"Nadia is working as quickly as possible, sir.
She'll be with you shortly." She pointed a long-fingered nail at the benches behind the desk.
"Have a seat."
The man clearly didn't like her answer, but he bit his tongue and squeezed back through.
I leaned forward a bit. "What's going on in here today? I thought Tate wasn't allowing humans in the Houses?"
She rolled her eyes. "He's offered an exception to that rule. We're in the process of selecting our vendors for the next calendar year.
The mayor suggested Nadia talk with representatives of the human businesses in town to get their bids."
Nadia was the Navarre Second, Morgan's vice president. She was also supermodel gorgeous, which was a shocking thing to learn the first time you walked into your ex-boyfriend's abode.
The Fate cast an unhappy glance out across the crowd. "I seriously doubt they can meet our needs."
I'd assumed we had a cleaning crew and a grounds staff, and I knew one of the House chefs. But it hadn't occurred to me that vampires needed vendors. But someone had to stock the House kitchens, keep folders and highlighters in the Ops Room, and ensure the crystal decanters in Ethan's office were filled with fine liquor.
Here, that duty fell to Nadia and a boatload of vendors vying for the privilege of selling their wares.
I wondered if Malik did the same thing for Cadogan House, interviewing vendors, considering bids and quotes, and reviewing contracts. It certainly would have made sense.
Ethan was the House's chief executive officer, which made Malik its chief operating officer.
A blonde with tightly hot-rolled hair and a lot of black eyeliner stepped up to the desk. "Is Mr.Greer available? Perhaps I could just speak with him if Nadia is too busy?"
Expression flat, the Fate glanced at me. "Do you remember where his office is?"
"I can find my way up," I assured her, walking away to the unhappy squeals of the woman I'd displaced in line.
Not that she'd had any chance.
I walked across the House's gigantic first floor to the arching staircase that led to the second floor. Morgan's office was there, a modern suite with a garden view. The door was closed, so I rapped my knuckles against it.
"Come in."
I stepped inside . . . and nearly lost my breath.
Morgan was half-naked, clad only in black trousers, pulling a short-sleeved white undershirt over his head, the muscles in his stomach clenching and bunching with the effort. When he was clothed, he pulled his dark, shoulder-length hair back and tied it at his nape.
It wasn't until then that he glanced over at me.
"Yes?"
I opened my mouth, then shut it again, having completely forgotten the speech I was prepared to make. Honest to God, my mind was completely blank, all rational thought having fled at the sight of his body. God knew, physical attraction was never the problem. Nothing about Morgan was the problem. I was the problem.
Ethan was the problem.
I had to shake my head to clear it. His expression went smug; I assumed he was happy he'd been able to fluster me.
"Not expecting company?" I finally managed.
Morgan sat down on the edge of a chair, pulled on socks, then lifted fancy square-toed shoes from the floor and slid his foot into one. "I just finished a workout, and we've got the dinner in an hour. What do you need?"
Realizing I was still standing in the doorway, door askew, I stepped into the room and closed it behind me.
"I wanted to update you on the investigation."
Halfway through the second shoe, his hands stilled, and he looked up at me. That's when I noticed the blue shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. It couldn't have been easy for him to fill Celina's shoes, especially given the unrest.
I didn't envy a Second forced into the role of a Master . . . and I'd helped put him there.
"Then by all means, update me."
I managed not to roll my eyes, and repeated what we'd discovered in Streeterville, what we'd learned at the bar, and what we'd learned from Paulie. By the time I was done, Morgan was fully clothed and was sitting back in the chair, fingers linked across his stomach.
"You came across town to tell me all that?"
"We've identified the guy who's been selling V to vampires. His name's Paulie Cermak. I need to know if he looks familiar."
"Yeah, well, I don't generally hang around with addicts."
The attitude wasn't unexpected. That's why I'd asked Jeff for the picture - this was about evidence, not irritation. I pulled out my phone and called up Paulie's picture. "He's not an addict. He's a salesman, at least as far as I can tell."
I walked closer and held out the phone, then watched to make sure he glanced over at it.
I'd expected Morgan to roll his eyes and tell me he hadn't seen Cermak. I'd expected him to wax sarcastic about my investigation.
I hadn't expected the wide-eyed expression.
He tensed, his shoulders squaring, his jaw clenching. He knew something.
"You've seen him," I said, before he could deny it or make his features blank again. But it still took him a minute to answer.
"Six months ago. Celina never allowed humans in the House, even before Tate issued the mandate. I was on my way up here to talk to her - I don't remember what we were meeting about. He - Cermak - was on his way out of the office. I asked her who he was. It was . . . strange that he was in the House."
So Celina had met with the man who sold V in her own House. That was all well and good, but it was completely circumstantial.
Circumstantial or not, Morgan was clearly flustered, clearly bothered by the links he was beginning to put together. Morgan closed his eyes, then scrubbed his hands over his face and linked his hands over his head. "It really, really pisses me off when you're right."
"I don't want to be right," I assured him. "I want to be the one with ludicrous theories. I don't want Celina making your job - or mine - harder."
He grunted and looked away, not ready to share the details of whatever he knew. I gave him space, walking to the other side of the office where a giant window overlooked a smartly designed courtyard.
"What did Celina say about him?" I asked after a moment.
"That he was a vendor for the House."
And things had come full circle. "And as Second, selecting vendors was your job, right?"
Morgan glanced back and nodded ruefully.
"That's another reason it was strange that he was here. I just guessed it was a special project. I checked the books - they were fine. All the House's funds were accounted for. But there weren't any extra vendors listed."
"So she hadn't actually gotten anything from him. On the books, anyway."
Morgan nodded.
"What else would she want with Paulie Cermak? I mean, even if they were in the drug game together, why would she want to be involved in selling drugs to vamps? Does she need money?"
Morgan shook his head. "She gets a stipend from the GP for being a member, and she's been alive for a very long time."
"Compound interest?"
"Compound interest," he confirmed.
No dice there, then. "Maybe it's the drug itself," I suggested. "Cermak said it stood for veritas, which is Latin for 'truth.' He said it's supposed to make vampires feel more like themselves."
Morgan furrowed his brow, considering.
"Celina has always believed relations between humans and vampires were going to come to a cataclysmic end. She just thought she'd come out on top."
"Which is why she'd worked to ingratiate herself to humans - to usher in the end of their reign?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. But as for V, I don't know. If she wanted 'truer' vampires, why not allow Navarre to drink?"
Because if she'd allowed drinking, I thought, she wouldn't have been able to demonize Cadogan. In any event, we could ferret out her motivations later. Right now, we needed evidence.
I stared at the floor for a minute, trying to figure out if I was missing anything. But nothing occurred to me, as much as I wanted there to be an ultimate answer to all my V-related questions.
When I looked up at Morgan again, I found his gaze on me, his expression surprisingly unguarded.
"What?" I asked him.
He gave me a flat look, the implication being that he'd been reminded of the affection for me that I didn't share. No time like the present to cut off that train of thought.
"I should get going," I said. "I need to get changed."
"You bringing a date?"
"Is there ever going to be a time that you don't ask me about Ethan?"
"Only when it stops irritating you to ask."
"Unlikely to happen."
"And there you are."
We stood there for a moment, and I caught the hint of a smile on his face. If he could manage to work through his anger, I could manage to have a good attitude about it.
I headed for the door. "You're such a comedian."
"I try, Merit. I really do."
"Good night, Morgan."
"Only for an hour," he reminded me as I closed the door and walked back to the stairs.
When I reached the first floor, the cadre of vendors still stood in the lobby, milling impatiently about as they waited for their turn with Nadia. I hoped they had more patience with the Navarre House staff than I did.
When I returned to the House, Ethan and Luc met me at the door.
I looked at Ethan, prepared to tell the tale one last time. Frankly, being a proactive Sentinel involved repeating the same information over and over and over again. But the tale needed to be told, so I sucked it up and did my duty.
"Paulie Cermak is probably involved in the drug trade, and he's not especially shy about it.
He says he's only a bit player. His digs are in pretty bad shape, but there's a shiny, vintage Mustang in the garage."
I almost spilled out the rest, but thought ahead enough to glance at Ethan, a question in my eyes: Could I tell him? Could I implicate a member of the GP after the tongue-lashing I assumed he'd received from Darius? Or was I putting him in an even worse position?
"At this point," he said quietly, "there's no harm in candor."
"In that case, I went to Navarre House and showed Morgan the picture of Cermak. Six months ago, Morgan saw Paulie coming out of Celina's office. She called him a 'vendor.'"
I watched Ethan's expression carefully, and I'm still not sure whether I saw relief or anxiety there. The news was equally bad and good - we had a witness who could link Celina to the man who sold V, but it was Celina. She was hands-off as far as the GP was concerned.
Luc glanced around warily, then lowered his voice, as if expecting Darius to come waltzing in at any moment, receivership papers in hand. "So Celina and Paulie are acquaintances," Luc said.
"That makes it more likely Celina was the 'Marie' seen by the human, and the woman in the car."
"But we can't prove that," Ethan said, tucking his hands into his pockets. "And as much as it pains me to say it, that Paulie and Celina had a meeting half a year ago doesn't mean she's actively involved in setting up the raves or distributing V."
"And it's unlikely she's going to come forward and offer the evidence on a platter," Luc said.
"True," I agreed, a plan already forming.
"Which is precisely why we need to draw her out."
Ethan's gaze snapped to me. "Draw her out?"
"Prove that Paulie and Celina are connected.
Use him to get to Celina, to draw her out, and to prove that she's involved in distributing V and organizing the raves to help that endeavor."
"And how do you propose to do that?" Ethan asked. "What bait could we offer that would entice Celina?"
The answer was easy. "Me."
Silence.
"You have certainly grown into your position," Ethan dryly said. "And your willingness to take risks on behalf of the House."
"I'm well aware that she can thoroughly kick my ass. That makes it less a risk - if more of an inevitability."
"You are stronger than the last time you met," he pointed out. "You've bested shifters since then."
"She knocked me out with a single kick to the chest," I pointed out, my ribs aching in sympathy. "But that's not the point. For whatever reason, as we've discussed, she's fascinated by me. If Paulie tells her I'll be waiting, she'd probably take advantage."
Ethan frowned. "That is probably true."
"I have to do it," I told him. "We've identified Paulie, and we know he's involved with Celina.
But we can't close down V - halt the distribution - until we have proof, at least enough evidence to take to Tate. We don't have to take it to the GP," I reminded Ethan. "We only need to give Tate enough information to nail Paulie and Celina so the CPD can close the loop. If we can't rely on the GP to bring her down," I quietly added, "then let's help Tate do it."
"She has a point, hoss," Luc quietly agreed.
"She's our best means to pull Celina out."
After a moment, Ethan nodded. "Work your plan, Sentinel." He tapped his watch. "But first, go get dressed."
I only just realized that he was already prepped for dinner in a slim-fit black suit and narrow black tie. That meant he'd be waiting on me.
"I'll go change," I agreed. I was also going to head upstairs and use the phone number Jeff had given me to send a message to Paulie Cermak.
One way or another, I was going to find her.
GP be damned, I was going to bring her down.
Much to my surprise, I found no dress hanging on my door when I returned upstairs. The last couple of times I'd had to make social appearances with Ethan, he'd given me decadent couture gowns, presumably so I wouldn't embarrass the House with my usual jeans and tank tops. At first, I'd been offended by the gesture. But even a girl who cut her fangs on denim and Pumas could appreciate good design when it presented itself.
This time, the door was empty of all but its small bulletin board, and the closet bore only the usual pieces of my wardrobe.
Oh, well. It was probably for the best. I didn't really have time to be the girl who needed Lanvin just to leave the House.
Without a new option, I cleaned up and stepped into one of the other dresses Ethan had supplied. It was a knee-length, black cocktail dress, with a sleeveless bodice and swingy skirt, the fabric tucked into horizontal pleats from top to bottom.
I opted for the black heels Ethan had provided with the dress, as well as a holster that went beneath the skirt and held my dagger in place against my thigh. My Cadogan medal was my only accessory, and I left my hair down, my bangs a dark fringe across my forehead.
When I was made up, I sent a message to Paulie Cermak.
"TELL MARIE I'M READY TO MEET HER."
The message sent, I slipped the phone into a small black clutch. It was time to go play with the boys.
