"And we all know how difficult that can be," I said, giving Jeff a wink. He blushed, crimson rising high on his cheekbones.
"What brings you by?" my grandfather asked me.
"Wait, wait, I got this one," Catcher said, grabbing an envelope from his desk and pressing it to his forehead, eyes closed, the perfect Carnac. "Merit will be undergoing a change... of zip code." He opened his eyes and flipped the envelope back onto his desk.
"If you were trying to get to Hyde Park, you've gone a little too far south."
"I'm procrastinating," I admitted. I'd done the same thing the night before my Commendation into the House, seeking solace among friends and the only family that mattered before I became part of something that I knew would change my life forever.
Ditto tonight.
Catcher's expression softened. "You're all packed?"
I nodded. "Everything's in the car."
"She'll miss you, you know."
I nodded at him. I had no doubt of that, but I appreciated that he'd said it. He wasn't one for the mushy-gushy emotional stuff, which made the sentiment that much more meaningful.
My grandfather put a hand on my shoulder. "You'll be fine, baby girl. I know you - how capable you are and how stubborn - and those are qualities that Ethan will come to appreciate."
"Given time," Catcher muttered. "Lots and lots and lots of time."
"Eons," Jeff agreed.
"Immortal," I reminded them, using a finger to point at myself. "We have the time.
Besides, I wouldn't want to make it too easy on him."
"I don't think that will be a problem," my grandfather said, then winked at me. "Could you do your Pop-Pop a favor and give him something for us?"
My own cheeks flushed at the reminder of the name I'd given my grandfather as a kid.
"Grandpa" was much too hard for me to say.
"Sure," I said. "I'd be happy to."
Grandpa gave Catcher a nod. Catcher opened a squeaky desk drawer, then pulled out a thick manila envelope tied with a loop of red twine. There was no addressee, but the words CONFIDENTIAL and LEVEL ONE were stamped in capital black letters across one side. "Level One" was the Ombud version of "Top Secret." It was the only category of information that my grandfather wasn't willing to let me see.
Catcher extended the envelope. "Handle this with care."
I nodded and plucked it from his hand. It was heavier than I would have guessed, and held a good inch-thick sheaf of papers. "I'm assuming there's no free sneak peek for the delivery girl?"
"We'd appreciate it if you didn't," Grandpa said.
"That way," Catcher put in, "we won't have to resort to physical violence, which would make things really awkward between us, you being Chuck's granddaughter."
"I think we can trust her," my grandfather said, his voice as dry as toast, "but I appreciate your dedication."
"Just a day in the life, Chuck. Just a day in the life."
Task in hand, I figured now was as good a time as any to quit procrastinating and actually make my way to the House. I did have a first glance at my new digs to look forward to.
"On that note," I said, "I'm going to leave you three to it." I glanced back at my grandfather and held up the envelope. "I'll make the drop, but I'm probably going to need a little somethin ' somethin ' for my efforts."
He smiled indulgently. "Meat loaf?"
He knew me so well.
They called it "losing your name." In order to become a vampire, to join a House, to gain membership into one of the oldest organized (and previously secret) societies in the world, you had to first give up your identity, surrender yourself to the whole. You gave up your last name to symbolize your commitment to your brothers and sisters. Your House affiliation stood in for your former surname, the hallmark of your new family. I suppose I was a weird exception to that rule: Merit was actually my last name, but I'd gone by "Merit" for years, so I kept the name post-Commendation.
According to the Canon (chapter four: "Vampires - Who's on Top?"), by giving up your name, you began to learn the communitarian values of vampire society. Shared sacrifice. Leadership. Accountability - not to your previous human family, but to your new fanged one. Master vampires, of course, got to take their names back. That's why it was Ethan Sullivan - not just Ethan - who held the reins of Cadogan House.
And speaking of Sullivan, that brings us to the most important communitarian value - kissing the asses of higher-ranked vampires.
I was on just such an ass-kissing mission now.
Well, I was on a delivery mission. But given the intended recipient, ass kissing went along with the territory.
Ethan's office was on the first floor of Cadogan House. The door was closed when I arrived, bags in hand, post-procrastination. I paused a moment before knocking, ever delaying the inevitable. When I finally managed to do it, a simple "Come" echoed from the office. I opened the door and went in.
Ethan's office, like the rest of Cadogan House, was elegantly decorated to just this side of pretentious, as befit the Hyde Park address. There was a desk on the right, a seating area on the left, and at the far end, in front of a bank of velvet-curtained windows, a gigantic conference table. The walls were covered by built-in bookshelves, which were stocked with antiques and mementos of Ethan's 394 years of existence.
Ethan Sullivan, head of Cadogan House and the Master who'd made me a vampire, sat behind his desk, a sliver of cell phone at his ear, eyes on a spread of papers before him.
There always seemed to be papers before him; Masterdom was evidently heavy on the paperwork.
Ethan wore an impeccably tailored black suit with a pristine white shirt beneath, the top button undone to reveal the gold medal that vampires wore to indicate their House affiliation. His hair, golden blond and shoulder length, was down today, tucked behind his ears.
Although it bugged me to admit it, Ethan was beautiful. Perfectly handsome face, ridiculous cheekbones, chiseled jaw, shockingly emerald eyes. The face complemented the body, the majority of which I'd inadvertently seen while Ethan entertained Amber, the former Cadogan House Consort. Unfortunately, we'd discovered shortly thereafter that Amber had been assisting Celina in her attempt to take over Chicago's Houses.
He glanced down at the bags in my hands. "You're moving in?"
"I am."
Ethan nodded. "Good. It's a good move." The tone wasn't laudatory, but condescending, as if he was disappointed it had taken me as long as it did - not even two months - to make Cadogan House home. It wasn't an unexpected reaction.