Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

He laughed heartily. “I am very much not—was not ever—a prince. I was, and remain, a soldier.” He squeezed my hand. “Your soldier, as you are mine.”

“Then we fit very well. We should probably go.”

Ethan nodded, picked up our scabbarded katanas from the side table. “Just in case,” he said. “We’ll leave them in the car.”

That reminded me—and I went back to the bureau, grabbed my dagger from the top drawer, and stuffed it into the handbag.

“You’ve got a weapon on you?” I asked, looking him over. I sensed the vague vibration of magic, but if he had a blade hidden anywhere, he’d done a very good job of it.

“Dagger and a small throwing knife I borrowed from the arsenal,” he said as we headed toward the door.

“Ooh,” I said, glancing up at him. “I’ve always wanted to try those. How’s the weight?”

“Rather fantastic,” Ethan said. “You should have Malik teach you how to use them. He’s very skilled. And he knows it.”

Both good facts to file away, I thought with a smile.

When we reached the stairs, I handed my clutch to Ethan.

He gave it the same look he might have given bad fish. “I’m not going to carry your purse.”

“Then you’ll have to carry me down the stairs.” I took the handrail in my right hand, picked up the skirt’s flare in my left. Took one careful step, then the next, sensed him descend with resignation behind me.

“Yes, a Master has to occasionally carry a purse,” I said, anticipating his objection. “Just as a Sentinel must occasionally wear a very expensive dress.”

“Did you make contact with Jonah?” he asked, catching up to walk beside me.

“He’s going to keep an eye out for Balthasar.” I opted not to tell him about Jonah’s request. Both of us being angry at him wasn’t likely to accomplish much.

Luc was alone in the foyer when we reached it, the supplicants already gone for the evening. He worked on his phone, tongue poked at the corner of his mouth, and looked up at the sound of our footsteps.

His eyes widened appreciatively as he took in my dress, heels, hair. “You look beautiful.”

Ethan beat me to a response. “Thank you. But you should compliment Merit as well. She cleans up nicely.”

Luc snorted, glanced at me. “And you don’t look half-bad yourself, Sentinel.”

“Thank you, Luc. He’s just jealous. He prefers to be the arm candy.”

“I think you’ll both do,” Luc assured.

“Anything?” Ethan asked, the question clear, even if unspoken.

Luc shook his head. “Quiet as a mouse, still as a rock.”

I knew that line, had played the game in elementary school, a ploy to keep children still and quiet.

“I have an idea,” Ethan said, “and I’d like your thoughts, your analysis.”

Luc put his phone away, put his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”

“Disavowal.”

“All right, all right, all right,” Luc said with a grin. “I like an aggressive strategy.”

I actually recognized that movie reference—an unusual win for Luc—but let the applause pass, since we were short on time.

“I’ll talk to Malik, have the Librarian look into it.”