There was a limo parked outside the House when I returned, as well as the usual gaggle of protesters. I recognized two or three—the same protesters were camped out night after night, their hatred of us apparently taking priority over any other activities.
I figured the limo belonged to Tate or Darius, which didn’t thrill me. Neither was going to make my current task easier. I double-parked in front of the House and moved carefully inside, tiptoeing toward Ethan’s office.
No Ethan. But Malik stood in the middle of the room, reviewing papers. Darius was in the sitting area, chatting on a cell phone.
I smiled politely at Darius and walked toward Malik. His gaze lifted as I moved closer, and he must have noticed my frazzled expression.
“What now?”
I slid my gaze toward Darius. “In light of the GP’s directive, I thought I’d take the evening off.
Head to Street Fest. Meet some friends.”
Malik’s expression was blank only for a second before realization dawned.
“I thought I’d see if Ethan wants me to bring anything back. You know how much he loves greasy food. The man cannot get enough of battered and fried.”
Malik smiled slyly. “That he does, Sentinel. I believe you’ll find him in his apartment. He and Darius plan to meet in a few minutes, but perhaps I could entertain him while you discuss the menu?”
At my nod, Malik walked toward Darius. I headed for the door again. Darius must have ended his call, as I heard Malik ask, “Sire, have you had a chance to see the grounds? The gardens are spectacular in late summer.”
Ethan was just walking into the hallway when I reached him. Without bothering to ask permission, I moved past him into his bedroom.
When I turned around again, he was still in the doorway, eyebrow arched.
“Malik is taking care of Darius. I need five minutes.”
“I have the distinct sense that I’m not going to enjoy those five minutes.”
“Quite possibly not.”
Either way, he walked inside and shut the door behind us, then crossed his arms over his chest.
“Tonight will be tricky,” I said.
“Because?”
“Because she may be wreaking havoc in a very public place.”
He dropped his arms, alarm in his expression.
“How public?”
“Street Fest.”
Ethan closed his eyes for a moment. “Do we have defenses?”
“Yours truly.”
Ethan’s eyes flashed open. He opened his mouth to object, then closed it again.
“Wise decision,” I complimented, “since I’m the only defense you’ve got at the moment.”
“Is this a trap?”
“Quite possibly. And it may be the kind of trap that puts us square in the public eye. But I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that—or at least make sure it’s the right kind of publicity.”
We stood there quietly while he reached his verdict.
“I assume that’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“For your sake and mine. Two words, Sullivan: plausible deniability.”
“I think I liked you better when you were a nerdy graduate student.”
“You didn’t know me as a nerdy graduate student,” I reminded him. “Well, not while I was conscious, anyway.” Technically, he’d known me as an unconscious graduate student, since he’d nursed me for three days following my transition to vampire, but I didn’t remember it.
“Anyway, if you’ve got a better idea, I’m all for it.”
He looked at me for a moment, that line of worry between his eyes. “Unfortunately, I do not.”
“Your confidence is inspiring, Sullivan.”
He gave me a flat look. “You know better than that. I trust you, Merit—implicitly—even if you don’t tell me everything. I wouldn’t let you leave the House if I didn’t—there’s too much at stake.”
“At stake. Ha-ha.” At his frown, I winced.
“Sorry. I kid when I’m nervous.”
“Are you nervous?”
I sighed and crossed my arms. “We are talking about Celina. Am I stronger than before? Yes.
But she’s still hundreds of years older than me, and I’ve barely seen what she’s capable of. Plus, we’ll be in public. Even if I can take care of myself, how am I going to take care of everyone else who’s there?”
“We could give you a perimeter of guards around the festival,” Ethan suggested.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s too risky for the House. If Darius finds out I was there, you can say I acted alone, went off on a whim. And I do have a plan in mind.”
I’d called on Jonah before; if Cadogan House was barred from acting, maybe Noah would be willing to plant a few Red Guards into the crowd.
“Anything you can share?”
I glanced up at Ethan. There was curiosity in his eyes, but no rebuke. He wanted to know what I had in mind, but he’d leave the decision to me.
“Plausible deniability,” I reminded him. “You master the House from here. Let me protect us out there.”
Ethan sighed, then put a hand on my cheek. “I don’t tell you this enough, but I am incredibly proud of the vampire you’ve become. I want you to know that.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cottony scent of his cologne. “Be careful.”
“I will. I promise.” I pulled back and saw the flash of guilt in his eyes, but I shook my head.
“You’re doing your job,” I assured him. “Now let me do mine.”
I offered a little prayer that I had the chance to do it right this time.
It was unrealistic to think I’d find parking near Street Fest, and I didn’t have time to wait for the El. While I gave Luc the five-minute precis, Lindsey called a cab and promised to move my car. They’d all heard about Darius’s ban on my activities; they’d all agreed to help me carry them out regardless. There were times when the work needed to be done, the consequences be damned. This was one of those times, and they were all on board.
Once in the car, I messaged Noah and asked him for backup. Noah agreed almost instantaneously and told me the crew of guards would be recognizable by their clothing: they’d be wearing faux-retro MIDNIGHT HIGH SCHOOL T-shirts.
Clever boy.
I’d considered calling Jonah, but this was a public event. That risked outing his RG membership and putting him in the same position as me—bearing the wrath of Darius West. No, thank you.
The cabdriver didn’t stop glancing back at me, his brown eyes popping up in the rearview mirror every few seconds as if he was waiting for me to breach the plastic wall between the seats and chomp on his neck.
I’ll admit, the idea of taunting him occurred to me. But I wasn’t Celina. I had a conscience and a job to do, and fang-teasing the cabdriver wasn’t part of that job.
“This is fine,” I told him, sliding cash into the small door in the plastic when he reached the southern edge of Grant Park. I slipped out of the cab, waving the driver off when he continued to stare at me through the window.
