“Damn,” Catcher said, shifting in his seat. “I haven’t heard that word in a while.”
I’d never heard it, but I had seen it in print in the Canon, the collection of vampire lore and laws. Every House Initiate got a desk reference, and the entire set of books—dozens of volumes—were stored in the House’s second-floor library, one of its most spectacular rooms.
“What’s disavowal?” Mallory asked.
“It’s when a vampire publicly repudiates the one who made him,” I said, earning Ethan’s approving nod. “Being given immortality, whatever the circumstances, is considered a gift. It creates a bond—magically, biologically, politically—between the vampires. Disavowal severs the bond. It’s considered an extreme action, an action of last resort, and ethically questionable.”
“So, technically,” Mallory said, “you could have disavowed Darth Sullivan?”
The question—and the nickname we used for him—was out before she’d realized what she’d said. She mouthed a curse, squeezed her eyes closed. “Crap.”
Ethan sat up straight, slowly turned his gaze to me. “Darth Sullivan?”
I inwardly cringed, opted for defense. “You’re so handsome.”
“Merit.”
“And really tall.” I cocked my head at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you resemble David Beckham?”
“Merit.”
There was no avoiding it now. “We made up the name before we got to know you. In fairness, we only did it because we really, really didn’t like you.” I grinned. “But we really like you now.”
“A lot,” Mallory confirmed. But Ethan wasn’t ready to let go of the bone.
Darth Sullivan?
You didn’t like me, either, I reminded him. I bet you had a crabby nickname for me, too. When he didn’t immediately answer, I looked at him sharply. Ethan Sullivan. You had a nickname for me.
In fairness, he said, mimicking me, we really, really didn’t like you.
Are you going to tell me what it is?
No. Because I’ve no wish to sleep on the floor. His grin was wicked, but I was immortal. I’d get it out of him sooner or later.
“Do you ever get the feeling we’re only getting fifty percent of the conversation in here?” Mallory asked.
“As long as they’re keeping the sex talk to themselves, it’s fine by me.”
This isn’t over, I told him, then turned back to Mallory. “It’s not sex talk. And technically, yes, I could have disavowed Ethan. But I hadn’t known about it then, and he’d have been really pissed, considering he saved my life.”
“Hey, at least she concedes that now,” Catcher said. “She was pretty pissed about it at first.”
“Well aware,” Ethan said. “So, to get back to the point, I could disavow Balthasar. In my so doing, he wouldn’t be able to rely on his relationship with me for any material or political purposes.”
“And risking the possibility of setting him off,” Catcher said.
Ethan nodded. “That would be the concern. But it’s an idea on the list.”
Mallory yawned, and Catcher glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late—or early. We should get home before they lock the place down. Don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of bloodsuckers when the sun comes up.”
Ethan regarded them thoughtfully. “Actually, that’s another interesting idea.”
“Getting stuck with bloodsuckers?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He looked down, seemed to choose his words before lifting his gaze again. “Balthasar presents an unusual problem for us—a magical problem. And the two of you are obviously experts. How would you feel about staying at the House in the interim? You’d be an extra precaution, of a type.”
The offer was met with stunned silence. The last time Mallory had spent an evening at Cadogan House, she had been so far in the depths of a black magic obsession that she’d stolen Ethan’s ashes in order to make him her familiar. It hadn’t worked that way, but it had brought him back to life, a result for which I’d be eternally grateful.