That was fine by me.
* * *
We didn’t dawdle, but we didn’t hurry, either. I wasn’t in any rush to listen to my father explain to me—especially after last night—how wrong I was about Reed. On the other hand, I was more than willing to give him a lecture of his own.
We walked downstairs wearing black clothing and grim expressions.
“Front parlor,” Lindsey said quietly when we reached the foyer.
We walked inside at the same time, two vampires in the threshold, a united front against all enemies. My father stood in the middle of the room in an immaculate suit, hands in his pockets. He glanced back, moved quickly toward the door when he saw me.
“Merit.”
“Joshua,” Ethan said, moving just enough to put his body between ours.
My father kept his gaze on me. “I need to talk to Merit.”
Once upon a time, I might have shied away from conflict with my father. I’d have avoided it by running to New York or California for college or my first round of graduate school, or I’d have simply locked myself in my room. I was no longer that girl.
n’t stop to consider the possibility he might have been killed, that both of us might have been killed. That, I knew, would have set off an entirely new wave of panic, and I didn’t have time for that.
When Ethan’s eyes fluttered open, my hiccupping breaths sounded suspiciously like sobs.
“Ferrari?” was all he said.
I laughed between sobs. “Totaled. You’re going to need another new car. And Luc is never going to let you drive again.” Hell, Ethan would be lucky if Luc ever let him out of the House again.
“You drive,” he said, and closed his eyes again, a smile flitting around his mouth. “Headache.”
“You took a good knock. Amazingly, your head is not actually filled with rocks.”
Ambulances, fire trucks, CPD vehicles streamed down the street. EMTs climbed out of the ambulance with gear in hand, rushed toward us.
“I’m fine,” I said to them, ignoring the pain in my side. “He’s a vampire, so he’ll heal, but he’s got a pretty bad cut.”
“We’ll clean it up,” one of them said, and I moved aside, climbed to my feet as they began to work.
I looked across the street, found Maguire’s car wrapped around a light pole. Either contact with us had sent the car on a collision course, or he’d been too busy watching us to see the obstacle.
Techs had already pulled him from the car, were attaching a cervical collar and stabilizing him for transport.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I glanced back at the sound of Ethan’s voice. He was sitting up, if slowly, and waving the techs away. They’d managed to get gauze and padding on his forehead, which was apparently the most he was willing to let them do.
The Ombudsman’s van squealed to a stop at the curb, and my grandfather climbed out of the passenger seat, searched for us. I held up a hand, waited until he made eye contact, saw the relief in his eyes.
Maguire was loaded into an ambulance, and the techs jumped into the vehicle, closed the doors. The sirens came on and the bus zoomed down the street.
I’d have sworn I saw my father in the streetlight where the ambulance had been, staring at the scene in front of him. But when I blinked, looked again, he was gone.
* * *
Two bottles of blood later, we’d told the story to my grandfather three times. It didn’t change in any of its repetitions, but he wanted to ensure that he’d gotten all the facts straight.
By the time we returned to the House—once again in the back of a CPD cruiser, since the Ferrari was toast—dawn was flicking rosy fingers at us.
I was so exhausted that I didn’t even argue when Ethan lifted me into his arms, carried me into the House. It had been a really, really long night, and the raven bracelet I still wore probably wasn’t helping.
Luc met us at the front door. “Sire?”