Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

In fact, I’d signed up for the RG when Ethan was gone. But that wasn’t the point.

“I won’t help you spy on him.”

“Balthasar is alive, Merit, and apparently strong enough to call Ethan. He’s dangerous.”

“I don’t disagree. But Ethan won’t let Balthasar control him.”

“You’re assuming he’ll have a choice.”

“Balthasar isn’t that powerful.” I hoped. “Besides, there’s an entire House of people who’d stop Ethan if we thought he was becoming someone’s minion, including me. You sure know I wouldn’t let him become a dictator.”

“You have an obligation.”

“So do you. Do you have a camera in Scott’s office?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“No, but that’s not relevant.”

“How is it not relevant?” Realization dawned when he didn’t answer. My anger rose, lifted like a hot cloud, and I dropped my voice to keep from screaming at him in the stairway.

“You cannot actually think I’d ignore Ethan becoming a dictator because I’m sleeping with him. I thought the RG was past that.” Another RG member, Horace, had raised the issue before, and I’d believed we’d resolved it.

“Balthasar wasn’t in the picture then.”

“It’s insulting either way.”

“It’s not meant to be an insult. It’s meant to be a protection.”

o;You think that’s why he’s here? To cause pain?”

“Why else? He couldn’t have thought he’d get a warm reception from Ethan. Ethan suggested revenge and power, and I think he’s probably right.”

“What a mess,” I said with a sigh. “Ethan hates to leave the House alone tonight, but my dad did help us. And Ethan’s not going to pass up an opportunity to talk to Reed.”

Luc grinned. “Nope. He’s a savvy one. And we won’t be alone. Me and Blondie”—that was Lindsey—“have done our fair share of supernatural butt-kicking. And we’ve got the sorcerers. You’ll have Brody. You should take your katana, although you probably can’t take it into the ball.”

My eyes widened. “I’m sorry—did you say ‘ball’?”

“Yeah. Reed’s party. It’s a ball. A full-on gala.” He glanced up at me, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Did you not know that?”

“No,” I said flatly. “No one mentioned that to me.” Probably on purpose.

As the child of wealthy parents, I’d seen fancy parties through stairway balusters and cracked doors. I’d grown into a jeans-and-Pumas girl, evolved into a boots-and-leathers girl, and preferred both to crinoline and Spanx.

I lifted my gaze to the ceiling, considered the garment bag in Ethan’s office, wondered what nightmare it held.

“If it’s any consolation,” Lindsey said, “all the cool kids will be there. The Schwartzes. The Lindenhursts. Michael Marlow and Todd Vanguard. They are very pretty. Tech billionaires or something, tall, dark, and handsome both, and very much in love.”

“I take it you’ve been reading the society pages again,” Luc said.

“It breaks up the bad news,” she said, and I couldn’t argue with that.

“Explain to me why people would spend money outfitting their houses and themselves for charity balls. Why don’t they just give that money to the charity?”

“That is a question for the ages, Sentinel. In the interim, make sure your fancy ball gown has a spot for your phone. Or take one of those little purse things you ladies carry.” He moved his fingers in the shape of a rectangle.