Amit nodded gravely. “You’re a brave woman.”
“She is,” Ethan agreed, eyes gleaming with pleasure. “That’s why I named her Sentinel.” He glanced back at Amit. “Did you just get in? Can we get you settled?”
Amit held up his hands. “I’m fine. Helen has seen to my luggage and accommodations. And speaking of which, what’s happened?”
Ethan and I exchanged a glance.
“I’m Very Strong Psych,” Amit said, a reference to the vampire ranking system. “There is an unusual energy in the House, and not just because of the wedding.”
“Merit was attacked here last night.”
“I wasn’t attacked,” I said, putting a supportive hand on Ethan’s arm. “An unbalanced supplicant holed up in a closet, made his way in here. I was the unlucky vampire who found him, and he wasn’t happy about it.”
Amit’s eyes widened with alarm, and he glanced at Ethan.
“Isolated incident,” Ethan said, repeating the party line. “The Ombudsman’s office is investigating, and the individual was apprehended after Merit beaned him with my Greenwich Presidium service award.”
Amit nodded approvingly. “That’s the way to do it.”
“I’d have preferred not to bean him with an award or otherwise. But a Sentinel’s gotta Sentinel.”
“Put that on a T-shirt,” Ethan said.
There was a polite throat-clearing in the doorway. We looked back, found Lindsey in jeans and a pink BRIDE’S CREW T-shirt, my dress bag in hand.
“Sire, Sentinel.” She smiled at Amit, nodded, held the bag a little higher. “It’s time to go.”
The pre-wedding nerves hadn’t sparked yet, but seeing her standing there with the dress she hadn’t yet seen made everything suddenly real. We’d reached the point where there was no more time to guard the House, investigate threats, plan for security.
I was getting married today.
I was getting married today.
I was getting married today.
“Merit,” Amit said, laughter in his voice. “You’ve gone a bit pale.”
I swallowed hard, looked back at him and then Ethan. “I feel like I’m about to give my ninth-grade history speech.”
Ethan smiled. “You made it through ninth grade, or so I assume, since you’ve got a master’s degree and a half. I feel like U of C, among the others, would be particular about that kind of thing.”
I blew out a breath through pursed lips. “Everything will be fine.” But I grabbed his lapels, pitched forward. “What if my mother got doves? What if the DJ only plays the chicken dance? What if Amit messes up the toast?”
“I have no plan to mess up the toast,” Amit said crisply. “I will bring the crowd to the cusp of tears, then amuse them with stories of your groom’s wilder days.”
Actually, that did sound entertaining.
Ethan kissed my forehead. “Steady on, brave Sentinel. You deferred the wedding planning, and now you must face the music—and possibly the doves.” But he looked down at me, skimmed a finger over the House necklace at my throat.
Regardless of the rest of it, he said silently, there will be you and me. That will be enough, and that will be perfect. This night, and all of its dark beauty, is ours.
Who needed Lord Byron anyway?
CHAPTER FIVE