"Keep your eyes on the road," I ordered, then unfastened the buckles.
"I'm not going to look."
"Yeah, well, keep it that way."
He made a disdainful sound, but kept his gaze on the windshield. He also gripped the steering wheel a little harder. I enjoyed that crack in his facade probably more than I should have.
I was right-handed, so I slipped the poufy skirt of my dress up a little on the right side and extended my right hand, trying to figure out where I'd want the blade positioned if I needed to grab it in a hurry. I settled on a spot about midway up my thigh, the sheath just to the outside edge. I fastened the first buckle, then the second, and twisted a little in the seat to make sure it was secure.
The sheath had to be tight enough to stay taut when I pulled out the blade. That was the only way to ensure that I could release the knife quickly and safely. On the other hand, too tight and I'd cut off my own circulation. No one needed that, much less a vampire.
When I was satisfied it was secure, at least as sure as I could be in the front seat of a roadster speeding toward the suburbs, I inserted the blade. A tug brought the dagger out in a clean swipe, the holster still in place.
"Good enough," I concluded. I straightened my skirt again, then looked over at Ethan.
We were coasting through relatively light traffic on the interstate, but his expression of blandness looked a little too bland. He was working very hard to look very uninterested.
Since we were heading into an enemy camp, I figured I'd pique his interest - and give him the dutiful Sentinel update. "You'll never guess who was camped out on photographers' row last night," I said, baiting him.
"Jamie?" His voice was sardonic. I think he was kidding. Unfortunately, I wasn't.
"Nicholas."
His eyes widened. "Nicholas Breckenridge? At Cadogan House."
"Live and in person. He was on the corner with the paparazzi."
"And where was Jamie?"
"That was my question, too. I'm beginning to think, Sullivan, that there is no Jamie - I mean, I know there's a Jamie, but I'm not sure Jamie is the real threat here. At the very least, we don't have the entire story."
Ethan made a dry sound. "This wouldn't be the first time for that, as you're well aware.
Wait - did you say last night? You saw Nick Breckenridge outside the House and you didn't tell anyone? Did you think to mention this to me? Or Luc? Or anyone else with authority to handle the situation?"
I ignored the near panic in his tone. "I'm mentioning it now," I pointed out. "He asked some pretty pointed questions about the Houses, about Celina. He wanted to know if we thought her punishment was sufficient."
"What did you tell him?"
"Party line," I said. "You guys were very timely with the talking points."
"Did you know he was back in Chicago?"
I shook my head. "I also didn't know that he was curious about us. It's like a disease working its way through that family."
"I suppose it's doubly fortuitous that we're heading to the Breck estate."
Or doubly troublesome, I thought. Double the number of would-be rabble-rousers in residence.
"Ethan, if the raves could cause us such a problem - negative attention and backlash - why are we focused on the story, whoever is writing it? Why are we driving to Loring Park, trying to work the press instead of trying to stop the raves?"
He was quiet for a moment until he asked gravely, "We aren't trying to stop them?"
That made me sit up a little straighter. I'd assumed, being House Sentinel, that if some kind of mission was going down I'd be a part of it. Clearly that wasn't the case.
"Oh," I said, not happy to discover there were secret plans afoot and I hadn't been included.
"Stopping the story isn't controversial, not for vampires anyway," Ethan said. "Stopping the raves is. Raves happen outside the House establishment, but that doesn't mean the Houses don't know they occur. And I have no authority over other Masters, over other Houses' vampires, any more than I do the city's Rogues."
Much to your own chagrin, I thought.
"Frankly, although plans are in the works, largely through your grandfather's efforts, it's unlikely we can put a stop to them completely. Your grandfather has excellent connections, strong mediating skills, and a loyal staff. But vampires, being vampires, will drink."
"And so we spin," I said.
"The first front is the press," he agreed. "It's not the only front, but it's the battle we fight tonight."
I blew out a breath, not eager for the skirmish - Merit versus the world she left behind.
"It's going to be fine," Ethan said, and I glanced over at him with surprise. Both that he'd read me so well and that he'd responded supportively.
"I hope so," I told him. "I'm not thrilled about the possibility of running into Nick again, and you know how I feel about my father."
"But not why," Ethan softly said. "Why the animosity? This breach between you?"
I frowned out the window, unsure how much I wanted to share with him. How much ammunition I wanted to give him.
"I wasn't the daughter my father wanted," I finally said.
Silence. Then, "I see. Are you close to Charlotte and Robert?"
"I wouldn't say there's animosity there, and we stay in touch, but they're not on speed dial." I didn't tell him that I hadn't talked to my siblings in a month. "We just don't have that much in common." Robert was preparing to take over my father's business; Charlotte was married to a physician and populating the world with tiny new Merits.
Well, Mrs. Dr. Corkburger-Merits.
Oh, yeah. Corkburger.
"Do they share your animosity toward your father?"
"Not really," I told him, looking out the window. "I didn't acclimate well to the socializing.
Charlotte and Robert did. We were all born into it, but they thrived. They're, I don't know, equipped for it. For that kind of lifestyle, that kind of attention, for the constant competition. I think because of that there was less friction between them and my father.
Their relationship was, I don't know, easier?"
"And what did you do while they were enjoying the Merit advantage?"
I chuckled. "I spent a lot of time in libraries. I spent a lot of time with books. I mean, my home life was peaceful. My parents didn't fight. We had, materially, everything we needed. I was fortunate in many ways, and I realize that. But I was a dreamer, not much interested in the societal goodies." I laughed. "I'm a reader, not a fighter."