"Wicker Park it is." He paused. "Merit?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you called. Glad I get to see you."
"Me, too, Morgan."
"Good night, Mer."
"Good night."
Ethan was downstairs, golden hair shining as he adjusted the cuff of one starched sleeve. Vampires milled around him, all in their Cadogan black. But while he wore the same shade - a crisp black suit and impeccable silver tie - he stood out. He was, as always, ridiculously handsome, easily outshining the immortals around him.
My heart tripping a bit at the sight of him, I clenched the banister harder, scabbard and purse in my free hand, and eased my way down the stairs in the stilts he'd called shoes.
I caught the hitch in his gaze when he saw me, the tiny flinch, the bare acknowledgment. His gaze went from incredulous to obviously appraising, eyebrow cocked as he looked me over, no doubt ensuring that I satisfied his mental checklist.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in front of him.
Given the glow in his emerald eyes, I assumed that I passed.
"You're wearing your medal," he said.
I grazed the gold with my fingertips. "I wasn't sure if I should, if it was dressy enough?"
"You should. Consider it your dog tag."
"In case I get lost?"
"In case you're fried to ash and that sliver of gold is all that's left of you."
Vampire tact, I thought, left something to be desired.
Malik emerged from the hallway, dashing in his own Cadogan black (no tie), and handed Ethan a glossy black gift bag with handles of black satin rope. I couldn't see what was in it, but I knew what it held. Steel. A weapon. Because of the connection I'd made to my own katana - a tempering wrought by my sacrificing a few drops of blood to the blade - I could feel out steel, could sense the change in magical currents around someone who carried it.
"As you requested," Malik said, then bobbed his head in my direction. I smiled a little at the acknowledgment.
Bag in hand, Ethan nodded and began walking. Malik fell in step beside him. Assuming I was to follow, I did. We headed for the basement stairs.
"I'm not anticipating problems," Ethan told him. "Not tonight anyway."
Malik nodded. "The dailies are clean. Should Celina attempt to cross the border, she'll be flagged."
"Assuming she doesn't glamour the TSA," Ethan said.
And assuming she wasn't already here, I thought.
Ethan rounded the corner at the foot of the basement stairs, then walked toward a steel door, beside which was mounted a small keypad. This was the door to the garage, providing access to Cadogan's few coveted off-street parking spaces. I was nowhere near high enough in the ranks to get one.
Ethan and Malik stopped before the door and faced each other. Then I witnessed a surprising moment of ceremony.
Ethan held out his hand, and Malik took it. Hands clasped, and with gravity, Ethan said,
"The House is given into your care."
Malik nodded. "I acknowledge my right and obligation to defend her, and await your return, Liege." Gently, Ethan cupped the back of Malik's head, leaned forward, and whispered something in his ear. Malik nodded, and the men separated. After another nod in my direction, Malik headed for the stairs again. Then Ethan punched in a code, and we were through the door.
"Is he Master while you're gone?" I asked.
"Only of the environs," Ethan answered as we walked steps to his sleek black Mercedes roadster, which was parked snugly between concrete support columns. "I remain Master of the House as an entity, of the vampires."
He opened the passenger door for me, and after I lowered myself onto the red and black leather upholstery, he closed the door and moved to his side of the car. He opened his door, placed the glossy black bag on the console between us, and climbed in. When he'd started the engine, he maneuvered the roadster through the columns and toward a ramp and security door that rose as he took the incline.
"The ceremony," he said, "is an anachronism of the influence of English feudalism on the vampires who formalized the House system."
I nodded. I'd learned from the Canon that the organization of the Houses was feudal in origin, heavy on the liege-and-vassal mentality, the sense that the Novitiate vampire owed a duty to his liege and was obliged to believe in his liege lord's paternal goodness.
Personally, I wasn't comfortable thinking about Ethan in a paternal fashion.
"If the king left his castle," I offered, "he'd leave instructions for her defense with his successor."
"Precisely," Ethan said, swinging the car onto the street. He reached between us, lifted the gift bag, and handed it to me.
I took it, but arched a brow in his direction. "What's this?"
"The sword needs to remain in the vehicle," he said. "We will be spectacle enough without the accoutrements." Leave it to Ethan to refer to three and a half feet of steel, leather, and rayskin as "accoutrements."
"The bag," he said, "is a replacement. At least in some way."
Curious, I peeked inside and pulled out the contents. The bag held a black sheath, which held a blade - a thin, fierce dagger, mother-of-pearl covering the tang.
"It's beautiful." I slipped the dagger from its cover and held it up. It was an elegant and gleaming wedge of polished steel, sharp on both edges.
We passed beneath a streetlight, and the reflection caught the end of the pommel, revealing a flat disk of gold. It looked like a smaller version of our Cadogan medals, this one also bearing my position. CADOGAN SENTINEL, it read.
It was a dagger created for me. Personalized for me. "Thank you," I said, thumbing the disk.
"There's one more item in the bag."
Brow arched, I reached in again and pulled out a holster - two leather straps attached to a thin sheath.
No, not just a holster - a thigh holster.
I glanced down at my skirt, then over at Ethan. I really wasn't eager to strap on a thigh holster, much less in front of him. Maybe because I didn't want to flip up my skirt for my boss. Maybe because a few-inches-long dagger wouldn't be nearly as effective in a rumble as my katana. Not that I anticipated an attack by society mavens, but stranger things had happened. Especially recently.
Besides, I was Ethan's only guard for the event, and I'd be damned if I was going to return to Cadogan House with a wounded Master in tow. Even if I lived through the attack, I would never live down the humiliation.
I sighed, knowing when I'd lost, deciding that the dagger would be better than nothing.