House Rules (6 page)

“Do you really think we’re going to find them?” I asked, leaving unspoken the fear
that we’d find them, but too late.

“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “But we will do our damnedest to try.”

Of course we would. But would our damnedest be enough?

* * *

I had evidence that might help lead us to Oliver and Eve, but I was about to be forced
offline. The sun was our ultimate weakness, an allergy that rendered us permanently
nocturnal. This being winter in the Midwest, we were out of the investigation game
for the next nine hours.

On the other hand, the members of the Ombud’s office—the Ombuddies, as I preferred
to call them—who usually adopted supernaturals’ overnight hours, were at least capable
of venturing about in daylight. So I used the fancy electronics in Ethan’s car to
dial Jeff’s number, hoping he’d be sympathetic to our predicament.

“Yo,” Jeff answered, his voice ringing through the Bentley’s impeccable stereo system.

“Hey, it’s Merit.”

“Merit. Have you finally decided to ditch the zero and get with the hero?”

Ethan cleared his throat—loudly—while I bit back a smile. I didn’t see anything wrong
with reminding Ethan that I had other options. Even if they were slightly goofy options
I’d never actually take advantage of.

“Jeff, you’re on speakerphone in Ethan’s car. He’s driving.”

There was an awkward pause.

“And by ‘zero,’” Jeff quickly corrected, “I meant, you know, you should . . . um . . .
start liking the White Sox. Go, Sox,” he weakly added, as I was a notorious Cubs fan
with an unwavering love of all things Cubbie.

“Hello, Jeffrey,” Ethan dryly said.

Jeff laughed nervously. “Oh, hi, Ethan. Hey, look, it’s Catcher. Catcher, why don’t
you join us?”

“Vampires?” Catcher asked, his voice a bit farther away in the room.

“Ethan and Merit,” Jeff confirmed.

Catcher made a sarcastic sound, but whether a snort or grunt was impossible to tell
through the phone.

“Trouble?” I wondered.

“I’ve got a River nymph panicking about a zoning change on Goose Island and another
who’s panicked some Oak Street shop won’t hold a pair of designer heels until she
has time to pick them up. Because that’s the kind of work our office does. We are
personal assistants for the supernaturals of Chicago.”

Catcher’s tone was dry, and I sympathized. The River nymphs were petite, busty, and
fashionable ladies who controlled the ebb and flow of the Chicago River. They tended
toward the dramatic, and they liked expressing that drama in public screaming matches
and other shenanigans. Catcher might not have liked listening to their quarrels, petty
or not, but he was performing a service by keeping them out of the paper, even if
it made him grouchier toward the rest of us. And his baseline level of grouchy was
already pretty high.

“I’m sorry about the theatrics,” I said. “And not to add to your plate, but we have
a problem. Two of Noah’s Rogues—Oliver and Eve—are missing.”

“We’ve just left the last location where we can place them,” Ethan put in. “Near the
registration center in Little Italy.”

“Find anything?” Catcher asked.

“What looks like safety glass and Eve’s cell phone,” I said. “We talked to the doorman
across the street, and he saw Oliver and Eve go into the reg center, then come out
again and approach a car in the alley. No info about the car’s make or model; he only
saw the headlights. Oliver and Eve didn’t come out again. The glass and cell phone
were all we found.”

“I’m not sure that bodes well,” Catcher said.

“I’m not sure, either,” I agreed. “But at least they’re clues. The sun, of course,
is rising, and we’re on our way back to the House. Is there any way you can get your
CPD contacts to look at it during business hours? We’re afraid to wait until tonight.”

“Chuck might have to call in a favor, but we’ll get it done. Maybe leave the goods
with the fairies?”

I glanced at Ethan, checking for approval, and he nodded. “We’ll arrange it,” he said.

“Noted. Do we know anything else about these kids?”

“They were generally quiet, hailed from Kansas City,” Ethan said. “They seem to have
strong connections among Rogues and are well liked.”

“No enemies?” Catcher wondered. “Even though they decided to register?”

“We wondered the same thing,” Ethan said. “But if there’s trouble in that corner,
we don’t know about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear they’re missing. I didn’t know them, but if they were friends
of Noah’s, I’m sure they were good people.”

Were
, he’d said, as if their fate was a foregone conclusion. But I refused to give up.

“We’ll call you as soon as the sun goes down,” I said. “If you learn anything that
explains where they might be, you win the bonus prize for the evening.”

“What’s the bonus prize?”

And that was the problem with spur-of-the-moment offers. “Um, I’ll order pizza for
the office?”

“Make it double meat and you’ve got a deal,” Catcher said.

“Done,” I said.

The perky sound of a country song—the lyrics about partying hard after a long day
of work on the graveyard shift—suddenly filled the car, emanating from the speakerphone.

Catcher muttered a curse and the sound went silent. But the silence didn’t eliminate
the questions.

“Was that—was that your ringtone?” I asked, simultaneously comforted and amused by
the weird contradiction that was Catcher Bell. He was built, gruff, and an expatriate
of the Order, the sorcerers’ governing body, which had kicked him out. He was also
a protector of Mallory—at least until her magical misanthropy—a lover of Lifetime
movies, and, so it seemed, a lover of country music.

I had no objections to country music. It just wasn’t the type of thing Catcher would
ever admit to. Except that it was on his ringtone, for God’s sake, and I had two independent
witnesses.

Some nights there was justice in the world, even if it was meted out only in a dribble
of
Billboard
country/pop crossover.

“Enjoy the country music, do you?” I wondered.

“Don’t push your luck,” Catcher grumbled. “This is the South Branch nymph calling,
and I need to go deal with her. We’ll talk to you tonight.”

The line went dead before we could respond—or I could harass Catcher any more about
his ringtone.

“You’re going to use that against him, aren’t you?” Ethan asked.

“As much as possible,” I agreed.

The Ombud arrangements made, I texted Jonah—my RG partner—to let him know Noah had
pulled us into the investigation. Jonah was also Noah’s friend and RG colleague, so
there seemed little doubt Noah had already told him about the missing vampires. But
he needed to know we’d undertaken the assignment, so to speak.

ADVISE IF NEED ASSIST
, he messaged back.

I promised I would, but that wasn’t the end of the conversation.

ALSO RG INITIATION IMMINENT. DETAILS TBA.

I stared at the message for a moment, my heart thudding with my sudden nerves. I’d
known the RG ceremony was coming, but I hadn’t known precisely when. It wasn’t so
much the initiation that made me nervous as the commitment to the RG. My relationship
with Ethan was just getting off the ground, and the House was in a precarious situation.
I believed in the RG’s mission—keeping an eye on the GP and the Houses—now more than
ever. But that didn’t make me feel any more comforted about making my ties official
and unbreakable.

“Trouble?” Ethan asked, sparing me a glance.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I said, tucking the phone away again. I hoped it was true.

One crisis at a time
, I told myself.

I told myself that a lot. Unfortunately, our world rarely worked that way.

* * *

Cadogan House had three aboveground floors, all equally posh and full of expensive
furniture and lush decor. Ethan’s apartments—we shared them, but they bore his stamp—were
on the third floor.

We met Malik on the stairs, also on his way to bed, and exchanged updates about our
evenings. We filled him in on our visit to the alley; he reported on the party.

“Two thumbs up for the catering,” he said, “and everyone seemed friendly enough. But
your absence was noted. The mood deflated a bit when you left.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ethan said. “Two families throw a party and the heads of the
families disappear? It doesn’t read positively.”

“The Rogues are aware of Oliver and Eve’s possible disappearance. Some are concerned
for their friends and are glad we’re on board. Others are concerned Rogues will be
dragged into Cadogan politics.”

Ethan lifted his gaze to the ceiling, as if exhausted by the premise. “We engage in
politics because it is required of us. If vampires would simply act appropriately,
there’d be no need of it.” He glanced at me. “We should have that embroidered on a
T-shirt.”

“It’s not exactly catchy, but I could make that happen.”

“I’m sure you could. In any event, Malik, thank you for handling it.”

“Of course, Liege.”

Ethan winced at the title. “Please stop calling me that. You’re still officially the
Master.”

“Oh, I know,” Malik said. “But much like Merit, I find it amusing to irritate you.”

As Malik walked down the hallway and around the corner, Ethan turned his pointed gaze
on me.

I shrugged innocently. “I can’t help it if I’m a trendsetter.”

Ethan humphed but took my hand, and we continued to the third floor and down the hallway,
saying good night to the vampires we passed.

Luc was returning to Lindsey’s room, which was only a few doors down from Ethan’s.
Given the look of adoration on his face as she opened the door for him—even though
her hair was tucked into a messy bun and her face was covered with a layer of green
goo—I’d say things were working out just fine between them.

“Avocado mask,” she explained, before I could ask exactly what the green goo was.
“It’s
great
for the skin.”

“You were making guacamole and you had extra, didn’t you?”

“My girlfriend, the salad,” Luc said. “Yummy.”

“Keep it to yourselves,” Ethan good-naturedly said, putting a hand at my back and
steering me gently down the hallway. “And you don’t give me that look,” he said with
a chuckle. “They’re your friends.”

“They’re your guards.”

“I didn’t hire them for their senses of humor. That’s why you’re better positioned
as Sentinel. Guards are expected to be obedient.”

That was quite an opening. “And Sentinels aren’t?” I asked with a smile. “Because
if you’re willing to concede that I don’t fall beneath the umbrella of your authority,
I can work with that.”

He tucked his hand into mine. “Don’t push your luck.”

This hadn’t been the most pleasant of evenings; thank God for the little things that
reminded us we were home.

I used my key, now sharing the ring with keys to my Volvo and my grandfather’s house,
to unlock the door. Ethan obviously had a key of his own, but he allowed me the ceremony.

His posture changed the moment he walked into his apartment. His shoulders relaxed,
as if he’d dropped the mantle of power and authority that usually weighed him down.

His apartment consisted of three rooms—a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom.
Like the rest of the House, all three were decorated with a kind of European-chic
flair: tall ceilings, crown molding, and expensive paintings.

The sitting room was bathed in the warm glow of lamps and candles that had already
been prepared for our arrival. Circles of light contrasted with the deep shadows that
covered the corners of the room. The furniture was oversized and built of dark wood.
I could easily imagine Marie Antoinette returning to a similar room at the end of
a night of French carousing.

A portion of the sitting room had been dedicated to mementos of Ethan’s centuries
as a vampire. A table held runes and weapons, and a tall glass case held an egg made
of gold, enamel, and precious stones. The egg was wrapped in a ruby-eyed dragon, and
it was displayed under glass and a beam of light that made its gems sparkle magically.

The egg had been a gift to Peter Cadogan, the House’s eponymous Master, from a member
of the Russian aristocracy, who also happened to be a fairy. I wasn’t sure of the
reason for the gift, other than a vague “favor” done by Peter, but the egg’s beauty
was undeniable.

Since I lived in the apartment, too, Margot had left a snack with the drink that was
waiting for Ethan on a tray on a side table. I got a chocolate truffle; he got a bottle
of seltzer water. Finding a bedtime snack at the end of the night did not suck.

Still, the most remarkable things about our evenings weren’t those little luxuries.
It was the simple fact that we were here together. I’d challenged Ethan after I’d
learned he made me a vampire; our relationship had a tense, stop-and-start history,
and his brief period of mortality hadn’t helped. I was still in awe that we’d come
together in a relationship that seemed to be working. He was stubborn and political
and an utter control freak, and there were certainly times when his bossiness chafed.
But he loved his vampires, and he undoubtedly loved me, and I tried to be thankful
for all the little moments we had together, even those as simple as our bedtime rituals—of
the teeth-brushing, pajama-donning, prepping-for-the-day-ahead variety.

He disappeared into his closet, which was as large as my former dorm-sized bedroom
and furnished as well as the rest of the apartment.

I kicked off my boots and threw my jacket on the bed—it was also nice to have someone
who cleaned up after me every night—and flopped down onto my back. The linens were
lush and fluffy, and I sank into the middle of the bed and closed my eyes.

“So, your first outing as social chair wasn’t entirely successful,” Ethan called out.

“I can’t keep an eye on every Rogue vampire.”