"And vamps are known for their reliability, aren't they, Merit?"
That one stung, and widened my eyes. Not just animosity, not only some sense of fraternal protectiveness, but a thick, acrid prejudice. I just stared at him.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that, Nick." My voice was quiet. Part shock, part dismay that a friendship had gone so awry.
Nick apparently wasn't sympathetic to that dismay; he nailed me with a glare that raised the hair on my neck. "If something happens to Jamie, I'm coming after you."
One final threatening look, then he turned away and disappeared through the opposite gap in the hedge.
I stared after him, tapped my fingers against my hip, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. Not only the fact that Nick wasn't writing a story (or so he said), but the sudden protectiveness for his formerly loafing youngest brother. What the hell was going on?
I blew out a breath and glanced around the labyrinth. The glow of the hurricane lamps wavered as the oil began to run out. The light fading, and with more questions than I'd arrived with, I started back through the boxwood.
Nick's anger, his distrust, made the walk back through the woods a little less sentimental - and a little scarier. Nocturnal or not, I wasn't thrilled to be wandering through the woods in the middle of the night. I carefully picked my way back through the trees, eyes and ears alert to the presence of creepy or crawly things that lived and thrived in the dark.
Suddenly, without warning, there was shuffling in the trees.
I froze, my head snapping to the side to catch the sound, heart pounding in my ears....
And the pique of interest by my vampire.
But the forest was silent again.
As quietly as I could, I slipped my hand beneath the hem of my dress and reached for my holstered blade. Ever so slowly, ever so quietly, I pulled out the dagger. I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to do with it, but having it in hand slowed my heart's percussion. I squinted into the darkness, trying to pierce the thicket of trees.
Something padded through the woods. An animal, four-legged by the sound of it. It was probably yards away, but close enough that I could hear the pat-pat of feet in the undergrowth.
I tightened sweaty fingers around the handle of the dagger.
But then, standing there in the dark, the blade in my hand, my heart pounding with the rush of fear and adrenaline, I remembered something Ethan had told me about our predatory natures: For better or worse, we were the top of the food chain.
Not humans.
Not animals.
Not the thing that roamed the woods beside me.
Vampires.
I was the predator, not the prey. So, in a voice that sounded a little too breathy to be my own, my eyes on the spot between the trees where I imagined it to be, I advised that animal in the dark, "Run."
A split second of silence before sudden movement, the sound of trampled earth and snapping twigs, feet moving away as the animal darted for safety.
Seconds later, the forest was quiet again, whatever thing had been there having sought safety in the other direction, away from the threat.
Away from me.
That was a handy skill, if a mildly disturbing one.
"Top of the food chain," I whispered, then resumed my trip back to the house, the dagger's handle now damp in my hand. I kept it there until I cleared the copse of trees, until I could see the welcoming glow of the house. When I hit the grass, I resheathed the blade, then ran the final yards full out. But like Lot's wife, I couldn't resist a final glimpse over my shoulder.
When I looked back, the woods were dense, bleak and un-welcoming, and sent a chill down my spine.
"Merit?" I reached the patio, looked up. Ethan stood at the top of the brick steps, hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side in curiosity.
I nodded, passed him by, and moved to the stash of accessories I'd left at the banister.
The walk across dewy grass had cleansed the forest from my feet, and I slipped the heels back on.
Wordlessly, he walked to me, stood and watched as I shoed myself, collected my purse.
"Your meeting?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I'll tell you later." I glanced back one final time and took in the expanse of trees. Something flashed in the woods - eyes or light I couldn't tell - but I shuddered either way. "Let's get inside."
He looked at me and cast a glance back at the trees, but nodded and followed me back into the house.
Mrs. Breckenridge spoke, thanked the partygoers for attending. Volunteers were introduced, made polite speeches about the importance of the Harvest Coalition to the city of Chicago, and were applauded. Money was raised, numbers exchanged, and Ethan and I cut a swath through the wealthiest citizens in the Chicago metropolitan area. Just an average Friday night in the upper echelons.
When we'd done our parts and made our own contribution to the cause on Cadogan's behalf, Ethan signing a check with a flourish, we thanked Mrs. Breckenridge for the invite and escaped into the quiet of the Mercedes.
The interior of the car smelled like his cologne, clean and soapy. I hadn't noticed that before.
"And your meeting?" he asked when we were back on the road.
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"
"I need both, unfortunately."
"There's a maze behind the house. He was waiting for me. Gave me some snark about becoming a vampire, then said he was waiting in front of Cadogan because he was investigating. Not working on a story," I clarified before Ethan could ask, "but investigating."
Ethan frowned. "Which indicates what about Jamie's supposed vampire story?"
"No clue," I said. "And now for the bad news - I asked about Jamie, a totally innocuous question, and he flew off the handle. Told me to stay away from Jamie. He seems to think we have it in for him."
"We?" Ethan asked.
"Vampires. He said something about how we aren't known for our reliability."
"Hmm," he said. "And how did you leave it?"
"Before he stormed off, he promised that if anything happened to Jamie, he'd come after me."
"These people you associate with are charming, Sentinel." His tone had gone back to chill, prissy. I hated that tone.
"They're the people you've asked me to associate with, Sullivan. Don't forget that. And speaking of which, why the change of plans? Since when does my father have full access to vampire secrets?"
"I opted for a last-minute change in strategy."
"Understatement," I muttered. "What exactly was that strategy supposed to accomplish?"