"You're saying we enable Celina?"
He answered with nothing more than a challenging look. The question in his eyes was obvious - Don't you?
Shaking my head, my arms crossed, I leaned back against the closed door. "That theory assumes that if we ignored Celina, she wouldn't act out. That's simply not true. Each time things settle down in Chicago - like when we get a confession from her about the park murders and send her away - she pops up again. Believe me, Charlie, she forces us to act."
This time, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Merit, but we have to disagree with you. I have to disagree with you." He frowned, then looked up at me. "I don't like saying this, making this accusation. Darius won't say it - it's not his position to do so - but I think it bears consideration."
"What's that?"
"None of this started until after you joined Cadogan House."
My heart beat like a timpani drum in my chest.
"Excuse me?"
He held up a hand. "Hear me out. For better or worse, Celina seems to have an obsession with you. You move into the House, you elicit a confession from her, and as a result she apparently decides you, and perhaps Ethan, are her new targets."
I forced myself to bite my tongue. Ethan clearly hadn't told him that I'd been Celina's intended victim, that he'd brought me into the House because a Rogue she'd hired hadn't done his job completely. I wasn't sure why he'd made that call, but I wasn't going to be the one to break the news to the GP. I had no objection to the GP knowing as little about me as possible.
"We're aware of the Breckenridge situation,"
Charlie continued, "of the fact that she attacked you outside the House. Would you deny that you appear to be one of her keenest targets?"
"No," I said. It would be impossible to deny that. On the other hand, "I'm not the only target.
Cadogan House is a target. Chicago is a target."
He was saved a response by sudden, high-pitched beeping. He lifted his wrist, revealing a square calculator watch circa 1984.
After tapping its buttons, he smiled guiltily. "I was amazed by the technology when it was revealed, and I haven't found anything that compares since then. Simple, efficient."
"Kudos," I said, trying to stuff the snark as far down as possible.
Charlie stood up again and walked toward me, heading for the door now that he'd concluded his lecture. "I hope it doesn't seem that I'm trying to irritate you or blame you for her actions. Clearly, she is a woman with free will and the ability to make decisions for herself. But consider the possibility that the actions you undertake - as Sentinel of your House, with all of its appurtenant responsibilities - bear upon her actions, as well."
I stepped aside, giving him access to the door.
"We do truly wish you the best with your House. We want all the American Houses to succeed, to flourish."
"I will relay that sentiment to Ethan," I said politely. Although my silent thoughts were much less polite, as I guessed would be the case for Ethan's, as well.
"Excellent. Good evening, Merit."
"Good evening, Charlie."
He walked out again, an efficient smile on his face and a hop in his step. And in his wake . . . insecurity.
Was he right? Had we prompted Celina's antics by responding to them? Were vampires drugged and humans dead because we'd encouraged her to act out, to rebel against Cadogan House like an angsty adolescent?
It wasn't fair to lay the responsibility for Celina's actions at our door. We'd tried to do right by Cadogan and Chicago, and ultimately she was the one who'd solicited the murders of humans, who'd blackmailed us, and who was now probably behind selling drugs. Those decisions were her own.
Still. Charlie's accusation gnawed at me. Even if she'd perpetrated the acts, it wasn't unfathomable to think she'd done it, at least in part, because she was reacting to me and Ethan, trying to rile us up, trying to score in the vampiric chess game she'd created.
I hated the idea of it, hated the thought that the battles we fought on a daily basis were somehow our fault, no matter how good our intentions.
On the other hand, what else could we have done? We couldn't exactly leave her to her own devices, creating chaos across Chicago just to fulfill her childish craving for attention. We couldn't have ignored the blackmail attempt or Tate's threats against us even if we wanted to. It wasn't like Ethan and I were out and about searching for something to rail against.
Of course we wanted peace and quiet. Of course we wanted to wake in the evening and spend our time training, researching, working to ensure the success of the House - instead of playing defense against the marauders at the gate.Whatever the drama, whatever her motivations, there was only one thing that was going to solve the Celina problem. Getting her out of Chicago, once and for all.
Chapter Twenty-one
DEEP-FRIED PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY ON A STICK
I needed a break from vampires. I also hadn't checked in on Mallory in a while, and that definitely needed to be remedied. So when I woke and dressed, I texted her for an update and learned that she and Catcher were training at his gym. Translation: I'd get to watch Catcher torture someone other than me, and I'd get to see Mallory work her magic.
Easy call. I left the House and headed to the Near North Side, where Catcher's workout space was tucked into another old warehouse.
(Converting former warehouses into playrooms for vampires and other sups was apparently the new trend in Chicago.)
I hardly needed to sneak out of the House.
Darius had pulled us off the V investigation, so there wasn't going to be much need for me to stick around. And my conversation with Ethan last night had raised uncomfortable questions about me and my hypocrisy that I wasn't keen to face. I knew we'd talk eventually; there was likely no avoiding it. But it didn't have to be right now.
But avoider though I might have been, I wasn't so immature that I didn't take my beeper; I also put my dagger and sword in the car. Even if I was on investigatory hiatus, it wasn't impossible Paulie had passed along my message to "Marie," who planned on paying me an unscripted visit. On that front, better to be prepared.
The drive was pretty quick by Chicago standards - a surprisingly speedy jaunt along Lake Shore Drive - but it did give me a few minutes to reflect and gain a little perspective.
Not that I was going to find a lot of resolution in a fifteen-minute drive or even a few hours away from the House, but the space was necessary. I needed to recharge around people who knew me only as Merit . . . not as Sentinel.
I'd apparently burned through my parking luck; a new bar had opened across the street from Catcher's gym, so the neighborhood was full of long-legged girls and overcologned boys ready to head into the bar for flirtations and overpriced appletinis. I found a space three blocks away and walked back to the gym, then headed inside.