“A small miracle,” Ethan said.
“The Librarian did look into disavowal,” Luc said, “at last, after a lecture about being overloaded. He said, ‘It depends.’”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to hear that, I’d have called the damn lawyers.”
“Actually, I told him the same thing. But he wasn’t trying to sidestep—he had a good point. According to Canon, official disavowal takes place in front of a GP quorum.”
“Ah,” Ethan said, understanding. “And there is no GP.”
“There is not, since Nicole abolished it. Does the AAM count for those purposes? Probably. But who’s to say?”
“Does it really matter?” I asked. “He’s not a member of Cadogan House or the AAM, so it’s not like they’re going to be stripping him of any rights. If this is just an issue of a public denouncement, whether the AAM backs it doesn’t seem relevant.”
“It wouldn’t be literally,” Malik said. “But the move wouldn’t have as much impact. It’s a public denouncement, yes, but without the broader consequences—shunning by colleagues, the relationship between the vampires being removed from the NAVR registry, et cetera.”
I glanced back at Ethan. “Some of that stuff won’t apply to Balthasar. Do you think he would care about the rest of it? You left him, disavowed him, once already. It didn’t take.”
“Being a narcissist, he is less interested in the opinions or desires of others. But your point is well taken. Even disavowal may not assuage him. Not if he’s willing to go this far.”
“If Scott and Morgan weren’t already aware of Balthasar’s antics, they’ll need to know. They won’t have known the depth of his egocentrism, but they’ll begin to suspect it now.”
“A good idea,” Ethan agreed. “I’m not certain what to tell Scott about Morgan. It’s better if he knows the truth, especially if the Circle decides the Houses can be used against each other. But Morgan, for various and sundry reasons, doesn’t trust us.”
Catcher, not being one to mince words, looked cockily at Ethan. “Does it kinda make you wish you hadn’t set him up with Merit?”
I snorted.
Ethan gave both of us the imperious eyebrow. “I’m sure he was devastated when their relationship didn’t progress, as I would have been, but I was thinking more about Celina.”
“Also a problem,” Catcher acknowledged. “And a trust barrier.”
“A trust Everest,” Luc said. “He’s never going to trust us, not really. But that doesn’t really matter. We’re not in it for the glory, and we don’t need the approval.”
We all looked at him, waiting for him to credit the movie he’d likely stolen that line from, as he was a famous (or perhaps notorious) movie quoter. But his expression was defiant.
“What? I can’t come up with something wise and clever on my own?”
“You can,” Malik said, “but so rarely do.”
p; * *
After Luc turned off the screen and hurled his earpiece across the room in frustration, we reconvened in Ethan’s office.
“Murder wouldn’t have eased your conscience,” I said quietly.
“No. But it would have rid the world of one more sociopath. He will not stop until he has achieved his goal, whatever that may be. Adoration? Power? Almost certainly. Perhaps to destroy everything that has been built here. Perhaps to destroy me and mine.”
“We won’t let him,” I said, sliding my hand into his, squeezing our joined fingers.
He muttered something in Swedish. “What had I said about alcohol?”
“That there wasn’t enough of it. But I bet some really old gasoline-style Scotch would take the edge off.”
“Perhaps,” he said, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Perhaps.”
My phone rang, and I pulled it out, found Jonah’s number on the screen. I wasn’t any happier to talk to him now than I had been before. If he had things to tell me—or an apology to issue—he could send me a text. Since he didn’t, I put the phone away again.
Ethan looked at Luc. “How will we get rid of him?”