Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

One of the temp vampires manned the desk, and he smiled apologetically at Ethan. There was a silent pause while, I guessed, they communicated telepathically.

They’ve been waiting since we left, Ethan reported silently, and even his silent voice sounded tired. I need to give them time. They have earned it.

That gave me an idea, so I nodded. “Let me walk you to your office first.”

I waited while he gave the temp instructions, held up a hand to his subjects. “Your patience is appreciated. I’m going to get organized, and you’ll be escorted in.”

Thank-yous sounded as we moved down the hallway.

The lights were on in Ethan’s office. A cold bottle of water, condensation patterned along the sides, sat on a coaster on his desk, waiting for him.

“Bless you, Helen,” he said, sitting down, uncapping the water, and taking a heady drink. When he was done, he held it out to me, but I shook my head.

“I’ll grab something in a minute and go downstairs. But before I do that, I think I have an idea about Balthasar. About how to call him out.”

“I’m listening, Sentinel.”

“He wants an opportunity to show himself, show off his power. And I don’t think he’s the only one—the vampires outside, they come to you for help, for reassurance, for advocacy. They trust you as much as the vampires of your own House. But they haven’t seen you formally Invested.” I smiled cannily. “I think we need to fix that.”

But Ethan frowned. “The AAM hasn’t decided if there will be an Investiture.”

“You’re an AAM member, and you’re all equal, according to Nicole. Tell Nicole it’s important in Chicago to acknowledge the Master’s new roles. Call it an Investiture, a coronation, a GP Independence Day celebration. Whatever the name, make it a very big deal—something the media outlets will pick up on. And don’t tell Balthasar. But let him find out.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Nicole might tell him directly.”

“She probably will. And that will only tempt him further.”

“You think he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“You said earlier he’d want the ceremony, and I think you’re right about that. The ceremony, the excitement, the media coverage. And this would be on our turf, with our players and our rules.”

Ethan considered, then began to smile slowly.

I didn’t care for that smile. “What?”

“You, Sentinel, are also the House’s Social Chair.”

My gaze flattened. “You gave me that position as a punishment.”

“And it’s still in place. I won’t make you plan it,” he assured me, and I relaxed incrementally. “But it’s a good thought. I’ll talk to Malik, Scott. If we can figure out the play, it might be worth the risk.”

When my stomach growled again, I remembered our interrupted errand. “What happened to the pizza?”

“I tossed the boxes down when I went to help Nadia. They didn’t survive the trip.”

I didn’t mourn the beets, but I nodded. “I’m going to grab something to eat, then head to the Ops Room.”

“There are many irons in our fires,” Ethan said, then glanced up at me. “Take care, Sentinel.”

I promised I would, and left him to his supplicants.

*   *   *

The dining room was empty, but light seeped beneath the kitchen door, as it usually did. I peeked inside, found Margot in front of the stove, bouncing to Beyoncé. Definitely not the same atmosphere as the Navarre kitchen.

Margot was gorgeous, with a curvy figure and beautiful face, her seductive eyes accented by her bob of dark hair and bangs that fell to a point in the middle of her forehead. She wore a black chef’s jacket over leopard leggings and the heavy rubber clogs chefs seemed to favor.

She looked up but kept swirling a small saucepan with the other. “Hey, Mer,” she said, then frowned. “Looks like you got nailed pretty well.”