“His name is Winston Stiles,” Catcher said. He was taller than my grandfather—not to mention younger and bulkier—with a shaved head, pale green eyes, and a muscular body. He wore jeans and a well-worn T-shirt with MAGIC IS AS MAGIC DOES across the front. “Wallet was in his pocket.”
“Where will you take him?” Ethan asked.
“The ceramics factory,” my grandfather said. The former industrial site near the lake had been turned into a holding facility for supernaturals that normal jails weren’t strong enough to contain. “He’ll stay there, at least until he’s evaluated.”
“We’ll talk to him,” Catcher said.
Jeff, his tall, thin frame belying the white tiger that lived within, pushed his light brown hair behind his ears. He wore khakis, Converse, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. It was his favorite look, and there was something comforting in the familiarity of it. “And check out his background,” Jeff said.
“If you don’t mind,” my grandfather said, gesturing to the chairs, “it’s late, and I’m going to sit. Would you join me?”
“Happy to,” I said, but I knew it wasn’t really “late” for my grandfather. He worked with supernaturals, so he worked long, late hours. He just wanted me to sit, to relax. Since I didn’t disagree that I needed a moment, I took the chair across from him, and the finger of amber liquid Ethan extended in a short crystal glass.
; “Merit!”
I heard my name, and then the man was lifted off my chest. Brody had grabbed the man under his shoulders, laid him on the office floor.
Brody hadn’t been a guard very long, and his eyes widened as he looked at me, dress ripped, hair around my face, and a bloody marble obelisk in my hand.
“I saw the light on,” he said, offering a hand to help me climb to my feet. “I didn’t think Ethan was back yet, so I was going to check it out. What happened in here?”
I edged around the man on the floor, his chest rising and falling, which was good enough for me. He was still breathing, but he’d have one hell of a headache when he woke up. And he hadn’t killed himself, which was something. Beneath him was the crumpled ribbon of satin and glitter that had been my bachelorette sash.
I put the paperweight on the bookshelf, pushed my hair from my face. “I’m not entirely sure. I walked in, and he was here, and he went ballistic.”
“He attacked you?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at the man, at his unfamiliar face and grubby clothes, the chewed fingernails and cuticles. Even on a longer look, no one I recognized. “He look familiar to you?”
“No. Should he?”
“No,” I said, but that was really a guess. I didn’t know if he should be familiar, if he was someone we should have been aware of, or if this was as strange and random as it seemed.
I gestured to the phone on Ethan’s desk.
“Call the Ops Room and lock down the House. Then call my grandfather,” I said, chest still heaving. “Tell him we’ve got a vampire, maybe sick, maybe mentally ill. Definitely unconscious. Tell him to contact the CPD or an ambulance or both, and get over here. And find Ethan.”
He didn’t hesitate. “On it,” he said, and double-timed it to Ethan’s desk, picked up the phone.
One night before our wedding, and we had a hell of a mess on our hands.
• • •
Brody called my grandfather and Luc, so everyone headed back to Cadogan House. He stayed with me and the vampire in Ethan’s office. We asked the human guards to do an extra sweep of the grounds, and Juliet and Kelley, also guards, started a top-to-bottom search of the House.
Ethan practically ran into the room, Malik behind him, the scent of cigar smoke trailing them. “Sentinel,” Ethan said, scanning the room, then focusing his gaze on me. “What the hell happened?”
“He was in your office. I turned around, and he was standing there, talking about hearing someone screaming. He kept hitting his head, staring at things that weren’t there.”
“Paranoid?” Ethan asked. “Schizophrenic?”
“I don’t know. Strong, and irritated, and I think afraid.”
“Irritated?” Malik asked.
I frowned. “Like the voice was an itch, something he couldn’t get rid of. He was afraid.”
“He attacked you,” Ethan said.