“He kept talking about hearing a screaming voice, that he didn’t want to hear it anymore. He seemed confused, afraid, and angry.”
“At me?” Ethan asked. “At Cadogan?”
That was logical, since the vampire had been in Ethan’s office. “He didn’t mention you. I thought he was a supplicant, but not one that I saw tonight. And he didn’t say anything else specific.” I closed my eyes, tried to replay what he’d done, what he’d said.
“I’m not sure if he was capable of being that specific. You saw him—it looks like he’s been living on the streets for a while. Hard to say if that’s because of his demons, or if being on the streets created the demons. But it was all about the voice he was hearing—he wanted me to stop it, and when I told him I couldn’t, that I needed to get help, he grabbed the letter opener. And that had been closer than I’d wanted it to be.”
“How did he get in here?” Ethan’s voice was low, and his dangerous gaze settled on Luc. Luc’s expression wasn’t any friendlier.
“I don’t know. And I’m going to find out.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Merit.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t angry he’d gotten in; I’d handled myself. But if he’d found a vampire who hadn’t been able to protect himself? That would have been bad.
“I’m going to look at the security tapes right now,” Luc said.
“If he came in as a supplicant,” Ethan said, “he’d have had to sign the log. But I don’t recognize him. Did you?”
My grandfather shook his head, looked at Catcher and Jeff, who did the same. “He hasn’t been to the office.”
“Did he give you any details about the person or thing he was hearing?” my grandfather asked me. “Vampire? Human? Male or female?”
I shook my head. “Just that it kept saying hello, that it was screaming and wouldn’t stop. I can imagine how that would make someone feel crazy.”
“Sounds like he needs some help,” my grandfather said, rising. “We’ll go, help get him processed.” He pressed a light kiss to my cheek. “Make sure you get some rest. You’ve got a big night tomorrow.”
“That’s what they tell me,” I said, offering a smile I hoped would lift the shadows from Ethan’s face.
“We’ll be in touch if we find out anything,” Jeff said. “And we’ll let you know.”
Catcher didn’t say good-bye, but squeezed my arm as he passed. Coming from him, that might as well have been a bear hug.
They’d been gone only a minute when Luc knocked at the threshold, his agitated magic clear even across the room. “The House is clean,” Luc said. “We’ve started pulling the tapes, and we’ll review them and present a report to you tomorrow. It would be sooner, but dawn’s on the way.”
“No objection,” Ethan said.
Luc waited for a moment, opened his mouth to say something else, but then turned and disappeared again, irritation in every step.
“Are you and Luc going to be okay?” I asked, when we were alone in the office again.
“I’m irritated because I’m the boss,” Ethan said. “It’s my job to be irritated. And he’s irritated because he doesn’t like screwing up. That’s why he’s good at his job. Or one of the reasons. Did you know he can wrestle a steer?”
“I did not. Good to know.” I looked back at the remains of the bookshelves, the glass and books and mementos scattered on the floor. “This night took an ugly turn.”
Ethan put his hands on my cheeks, drawing my attention back to him. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine. It was just . . .” I took a deep breath, blew it out again. “A lot to come home to. I’d expected a very lighthearted night, and got it, for the most part. Kind of a weird ending to my singledom.”
Ethan brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “You single-handedly dispatched an intruder without a weapon in a very lovely party dress. I’d say that’s an appropriate ending.”
“Better. But still unsettling.”
I had sudden sympathy for Mallory’s feeling of existential dread, for the interminable sense that life was never going to be easy, that we’d never really be safe.
Cold feet, I told myself. It was the night before my wedding, and I was understandably anxious, and this weird incident wasn’t helping. But I didn’t have time for it right now, so I pushed the thoughts away.
“I doubt this was personal,” he said. “Not an attack against you or me, but an individual who needs help—and now can get it.”
I nodded. “You’re right. Not a harbinger. Just a lonely soul.”