Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

Ethan nodded. “He wanted to use his own equipment. Would you please ask the Librarian to contact him about assisting?”

Luc nodded. “Roger that.”

Ethan gestured to the House plan on the screen. “How is Investiture planning proceeding?”

“Good,” Luc said. “Helps that we have the temps. We’ll have people stationed along the perimeter. They’ll watch and alert us if they see him, but they will not engage. We’ll leave that to the two of you.” He cleared his throat dramatically, looked at Ethan. “Unless of course you want to sit this one out for your own safety.”

“No,” was Ethan’s immediate response. “This is personal, and I will handle it personally.”

Luc nodded. “You’re the boss. Mallory will have to drop the wards, of course, to let him into the House.”

“She’ll appreciate that,” I said. “They’re apparently exhausting to maintain.”

“And she’s invited,” Ethan said. “She and Catcher both, so they can provide magical backup in the event he decides to utilize his cache of magic. I’m going upstairs to check in with Morgan and Scott. Morgan wants to send the Navarre vampires back.”

Luc nodded. “We’ll tell Chuck, keep going on Investiture prep.”

Ethan nodded. “Join us upstairs when you’re ready. I’d like to go over the plan with the team.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I said when Ethan moved for the door.

We walked into the hallway, and I let the office door close behind us. “I think it’s my turn to ask if you’re all right,” I said quietly.

“I let him into my House. I believed him. After all the years we’d been together, all the things I’d seen, I believed he was who he said he was. How did I miss that? How could I have been so stupid?”

“You didn’t miss anything.”

“Don’t placate me, Merit.”

I smiled. “I’m not placating you. You know I love to call you on your bullshit, but that’s not what this is. Reed had the ledgers, and, apparently, a dark sorcerer willing to do black magic to make a vampire essentially become Balthasar. The entire exercise was designed to fool all of us, to use just enough illusion, and just enough fear, to make us believe.”

I put a hand on his arm. “Maguire will soon be behind bars, and Navarre is safe again—or as safe as it’s likely to be. Tomorrow night, we deal with Balthasar. And we end this.”

“I end this,” Ethan said, with conviction that chilled me to the bone.

*   *   *

I was mature enough to admit we weren’t on the best of terms, but this was a crucial time, and sometimes one had to face one’s fear.

So when I had a moment to get away, I walked upstairs to Helen’s office, passed the closed door of Ethan’s office, and rapped knuckles on the door. She looked up, face utterly blank.

“Yes, Merit?”

“I’ll need a dress for the Investiture.”

“Ethan has already spoken to me,” she began, but I shook my head.

“Not black,” I said. “Not black and not demure. I need something more. Something different.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “For what purpose?”

I took a step toward her desk. “For the purpose of baiting this man pretending to be Balthasar, this man who wants to take the House from Ethan. Look, Helen, I know we haven’t gotten along very well since—well, since the beginning.”

Her expression stayed impressively blank.

“But let’s put that aside. This man is a threat to Ethan, and I will not let anyone—or anything—hurt him. I need a dress,” I said again. “A dress that will draw the man’s attention, keep him focused on me. Because if he’s focused on me . . .”

“He won’t be focused on Ethan,” she finished. She closed the binder on the desk in front of her, clasped her hands on the desktop, and looked me over from head to toe in a heavy and uncomfortable silence. She didn’t need to say anything to make clear she was cataloging every curve and plane.