Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

“That’s the code for our account.”

“How long will it take them to respond?” Ethan asked.

“I don’t know,” Morgan said, and we all prepared to wait.

*   *   *

It took less than five minutes.

Morgan’s phone rang, the ring tone a soft, alternative song I recognized, the vocalist mourning the end of a relationship. My chest squeezed sympathetically, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Morgan wouldn’t have appreciated the sympathy, especially not from me.

“Give me three . . . two . . . and one,” Jeff said, then pointed at Morgan. “You’re a go.”

Morgan blew out a breath, lifted the phone to his ear. “Navarre.”

The answering voice—deep and slowly and clearly affected by a voice modulator—echoed in my ear. “You were not instructed to call.”

“And you were instructed in the beginning not to touch my people. You did it anyway.”

“You first refused your assignment, and then botched it.”

“You came to my House, assaulted one of my vampires. They are not on the table.”

Merit, Ethan said silently, and I nodded my understanding, did my part.

Morgan, I said silently, activating the unusual telepathic link between us. Calm down. Remember what this call is about.

He still looked furious, but rolled his shoulders in an apparent effort to calm himself.

“We’re not especially concerned about your preferences,” said the voice. “Your loan is in default.” There was a moment of silence. “We will afford you the opportunity to negotiate.”

Morgan pursed his lips, blew out a relieved breath. “That’s acceptable.”

“One hour. Michigan Avenue helipad. The copter will be waiting.”

“Helicopter?” Morgan said. “Why do we need a helicopter?”

“We select the location, Navarre.”

Morgan looked around the table, settled on me. “You want to deal, I want a guest. Merit, of Cadogan House.”

Ethan’s magic bloomed hot and bright beside me, and I covered a hand with his. His wasn’t the only irritation. My grandfather, Jeff, and Luc looked pissed on my behalf.

But their reactions, while appreciated, were irrelevant. We couldn’t let Morgan go alone, and I was as reasonable a choice as any. Certainly more reasonable than having another Master go with him, handing them both over to the Circle.

n eliminated a few numbers, leaving four on-screen.

“Those are burn phones’ prefixes,” Jeff said, gaze scanning the screen. “All different numbers. No apparent connection between them, and the calls all pinged different towers.”

“They’re very careful,” Jacobs said.

My grandfather nodded. “That’s how they’ve stayed in business so long. They are a remarkably careful group.”

“So the number you have will probably be another burner phone,” Jeff said. “When they’ve called you, how long does each call last?”

“They’re short. A minute, maybe?”

Jeff nodded. “Probably too short to trace, but we can at least determine which tower they’re using. So, when everybody’s ready, you’ll place a call to the number you’ve got, and I’ll do what I can to nail it down.”