Biting Bad (Chicagoland Vampires 8)

My father nodded with approval at Ethan's approval of him. "Now that we've all shaken hands, perhaps a drink in the office before dinner? It will give us a chance to chat."

He glanced at my mother questioningly, probably to check there was time enough before dinner was served.

"Yes," she said. "Head that way and leave us to our chatting." She waved at them. "Shoo."

Ethan glanced back at me, and his expression was hard to gauge. Something between "Save me!" and "I am beginning to regret my enthusiasm for this dinner idea."

I gave him a mean-spirited wave. "See you in a bit, darling."

His eyes narrowed as my father and Robert shuffled him down the hallway, but he went willingly, a prisoner with no hope for escape, having accepted the inevitability of his sentence.

As he disappeared, the children ran through the sitting room, dragging wooden pull-toys behind them. Loudly. And with extreme prejudice.

"So," Charlotte said, putting a hand on my knee, "I don't want to get ahead of myself, but have you considered your china patterns yet?"

Called it.

Chapter Twelve

NOTABLE NOSTALGIA

Eventually, the boys' and girls' clubs came back together, meeting in the dining room at an enormous table (also new) for a meal of roast beast (undetermined origin), mashed root vegetable (undetermined origin), and other assorted dishes. The children were seated at a smaller table in the next room. While we dined on fine china, they got plastic plates decorated with robots and were probably discussing the latest toys and electronic gadgets. I guessed I could have pretty happily integrated into that conversation.

What did not make me happy was the mild buzz of irritated magic that flowed from Ethan as he came back into the room, my father and brother in tow.

I grabbed two glasses of wine from the buffet - my mother hadn't stocked Blood4You - and took one to Ethan.

"Are you all right?" I quietly asked.

He took the glass but didn't drink from it.

"Business was discussed," he said without elaboration. He sounded, frankly, a bit mystified.

"Do we need to step out and discuss anything?"

"No need," he said, squeezing my hand and, when he realized I still wasn't satisfied, glancing down at me.

"All is well, Sentinel. Your father made a business proposal of a kind. It was . . . unexpected."

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that my father had cornered Ethan and made a business play. I shouldn't have been surprised that we'd probably been called to the house on this February night just for that purpose, because I'd once agreed to talk to my brother about family business, and my father was collecting on the debt.

"Never mind," Ethan said, taking a sip of his wine. "How about you? How was girls' time?"

"It was odd. Unusually drama free."

He chuckled. "What had you expected? Hair pulling?"

I shrugged. "I've always been the odd one out. I just figured the transition would be harder than it is."

"The transition to society dame?"

That narrowed my eyes. "I am not a society dame."

"All right," my mother said, interrupting the parrying. "I think we're ready for dinner!"

Right on cue, women and men in black pants and crisp white button-downs emerged from the kitchen. That explained the food; she'd hired caterers. They took up positions behind the buffet and drink station, tools in hand, ready to meet our every culinary whim.

I wasn't sure I would ever understand my parents. But I understood dinner, so I let the caterers place food on my plate and sat down at the table beside Ethan, the tension between him and my father nearly palpable when everyone took seats.

"A toast," Robert said, holding his glass aloft. "To a family united, to our health and well-being, to our prosperity and happiness."

We said, "Cheers," and clinked together our very expensive glassware, and then began our meal.

The conversation was typical. My father and brother argued about politics and money, and my mother and sister discussed neighborhood gossip. Each set tried to draw me into the conversation, but I generally preferred to watch and listen. That was probably what made me a good research and graduate student: I was fascinated enough by other people and their drama that people watching kept me pretty entertained.

The family had better luck engaging Ethan. He wasn't shy with his opinions, and although he was respectful, he was a man secure in his skin and in the world. He didn't bother with waffling or sycophancy, not when there was honesty to be had.

So this is a family meal, he said after a while.

I speared a bit of asparagus with my fork. Indeed. Welcome to the Merit home.

They're very formal, aren't they?

They like to be fancy, I agreed. It's part of my father's plan to distance himself from his upbringing. That upbringing being his lot as the son of a cop. Fancy is as fancy does.

My sister caught my light smile and gave me a sly one. "What's so funny over there?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just enjoying my asparagus."

"Mm-hmm," she said, but clearly didn't buy it.

"Hush, Charlotte," my mother said. "They're in love. Let them have their moment."

Wearing my expensive heels and my designer dress, and sitting next to the most handsome man I'd ever seen, I stuck my tongue out at my sister.

"Enjoy the thrill of young love," my father said, as if suddenly an expert on emotional fulfillment. "Youth is fleeting. Well, perhaps not in your case."

My sister raised her glass. "Here's to never needing, shall we say, facial enhancement procedures."

"Amen to that," my mother said, flicking a delicate gaze to Ethan. "If it's not impolite, may I ask how old you are?"

"It isn't," he said, "and you may. I'm three hundred and ninety-four years old. Oh, and approximately three-quarters."

The table went silent.

"That such a thing could even be possible . . . ," my mother mused.

"The things you must have seen - experienced," Elizabeth said, eyes shining with curiosity. "World wars. New technologies. The advent of modern medicine. It's staggering."

"I have been lucky to sample much that is laudable among humans," he said. He reached out and put a hand on mine. "And to find a prize awaiting me at the end of four centuries."

I might have sighed, but for the glint in his eye that told me Ethan was playing his crowd, and with success. My mother, sister, and even pragmatic sister-in-law got dreamy expressions at the sentiment.