Blood Games (Chicagoland Vampires 10)

Ethan’s phone rang. He pulled it out, smiled at the screen, then handed it to me. “It’s your grandfather.”

I took the phone from him, answered it. “Hi, Grandpa.”

I’d spent a lot of my childhood with my grandfather. My parents, wealthy and a little pretentious, hadn’t understood me; I hadn’t been what they’d expected. My grandparents, on the other hand, had welcomed me with open arms. Even now, years later, my grandfather still sounded relieved to hear my voice.

“Baby girl. I didn’t expect to hear your voice, but I’m certainly relieved. Not thrilled to hear you’d been injured.”

“Part of the job,” I said. “But I’m fine now. Just a little sore. Sorry to make you worry.”

“Don’t even think a thing about it. I’d rather know the uncomfortable facts than be left in the dark, although I’d much rather have you behind a desk.”

“There are nights I couldn’t agree more.”

“That’s actually why I’m calling. There’s been another murder. We think it might be connected to the Jacobs death.”

“What makes you think it’s related?”

“There was a blue cross on Jacobs’s hand.”

“I remember.”

“There’s one on this victim’s hand, as well, and we hadn’t revealed that particular detail to the press.” He paused. “I almost didn’t call you, given your last twenty-four hours, but we’d appreciate your thoughts. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it might help Brett and Arthur.”

I could hear the worry in his voice, but it was unnecessary. He’d taken care of me too many times for me to turn down the request.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll come take a look. I’ve been down for way too long, anyway. Where is she?”

“Montrose Beach. South end.”

“I need to get dressed, and I’ll be on my way.” I hung up the phone, handed it back to Ethan. “Another body’s been found, likely connected to the Jacobs murder. Same mark on the body, and it wasn’t a public detail.”

Ethan’s mouth stayed in the same firm line. “You can’t go.”

“I have to. I said I’d help him, and I’m not going back on my word.” Slowly, I stood up, then closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, trying to stay on my feet without falling over as the room spun around me.

“Your grandfather can do this without you.”

I knew fear put the irritability in his voice, but his irritability triggered mine. “It’s something I have to do,” I said, and glanced back at him. “Isn’t that what you said to me about the note?”

His jaw tightened. “This is different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“You can barely stand up.”

“And your safety’s at risk.” I put my hands over my eyes, rubbed. “I don’t want to argue about that goddamned note anymore. I don’t know how to talk to you about it—not when there’s something you won’t tell me about.”

“Can’t tell you about.”

I dropped my hands, looked back at him. “Because?”

Ethan looked at me silently for a very long time. “It’s to do with the threat.” He sighed, walked to the bathroom. “There’s a woman. She has information. About me. About my past.”

“You’re being blackmailed? Why? Why would . . .”

The pieces fell into place even as I said the words. The driver had wanted Ethan to bow out of the GP race. He hadn’t, and the communications kept coming.

“You know who she is—who sent the driver. Or you knew her, and she wants you to withdraw your challenge, or she’ll share the details of your past.”

I followed him into the bathroom, watched him splash water on his face. He dried his face with a towel before dropping it to the counter again.

He nodded, incrementally.

“She’s no longer trying to do this anonymously—not just by sending a messenger.”

“So it seems.”

“Who is she, and what does she know?”

“Your jealousy is showing, Sentinel.”

The response baffled me. “I’m not jealous. I’m scared shitless because this clearly bothers you, and you won’t tell me about it.”

He braced his hands on the counter, met my gaze in the mirror. “She is a woman I knew once upon a time.”

Seconds passed, and he didn’t elaborate, which only made the gears in my mind turn faster. Was it someone he’d loved? Someone he’d lost?

“And?”

“And, because she knew me, she knows my regrets.”

Regrets. What a word—so full of frightening possibilities. I knew of one in particular . . .

“Is this about Balthasar?” Ethan had imagined himself a monster due to Balthasar’s tutelage. Was “she” from that part of his past?

“The ‘what’ doesn’t matter. There’s no point in talking about it. I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Not even to someone you want to spend the rest of eternity with?”

His eyes flashed hot tendrils of green fire. “To anyone. The past is the past, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“You have to tell Luc. If the House is at risk, if the driver comes back—”

“He won’t come back,” Ethan said. “Not now.”

“Are you going to revoke your challenge?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

I opened my mouth to object, but he shook his head.

“Let it go, Merit. Just give me some space.”

Words stuck in my throat, but I managed to keep them down. We were both adults, and he had a right to space. I could give that to him. But I turned around so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. I would not cry in front of him. Not for this.

“Fine. I’ll give you space, and I’ll give you time.” I looked back at him, silver eyed and furious. “But you will not shut me out. Because I love you too much to let you act like an idiot.”

* * *

By the time I dressed, he was gone. He’d get his space, one way or another.

For now, I needed mine. I needed to help those who’d actually asked me to help, including my grandfather. I pulled out my phone, sent my apparent partner in this investigation a message: I’M ALIVE, BUT THERE’S BEEN ANOTHER MURDER—RELATED TO BRETT JACOBS. TIME TO INVESTIGATE1