THE SLUMBER PARTY

In the basement, the Ops Room buzzed with activity. Juliet, Kelley, Malik, and Luc were already inside, and the whiteboard was in position.

"Grey House guards?" Ethan asked, exchanging a manly patting of backs with Malik, who'd undoubtedly been worried for Ethan's safety.

"They're on-site and getting settled in," Luc said. "We gave them a few minutes."

Ethan nodded, then glanced at Malik. "Any trouble here while we were gone?"

"Not a hint. No rioters. No attempts to jump the fence. No crank phone calls. You four had all the fun." He glanced at me with concern. "You were cut?"

"Yeah, but I'm okay. Just a little sore."

Devilishness shined in Malik's eyes. "What was the weapon again? Paring knife? Melon baller?" He squeezed his thumb and forefinger together. "One of those cinnamon-flavored toothpicks?"

I gave Luc, the only one who'd have had time to tell Malik about the weapon of choice, a very flat look. "Really."

He winked. "I told him the rioter used a spatula. He got to the rest on his own."

"It was a chef's knife," I said, holding my hands about a foot apart. "And a very large one."

"That's what she said," Ethan murmured.

Maybe my sarcasm was catching.

"I did get a call from one Nicholas Breckenridge. He's asked about the riots' potential impact on the House getting a lengthy feature."

Ethan looked very satisfied. "That was Merit's idea. Our effort to change public opinion."

"Nice thought," Malik said, and I nodded.

"Thanks."

"Give him whatever information he wants," Ethan said. "I'll apprise Scott. No interviews with individual vampires unless they specifically consent, but he's welcome to ask within the halls of the House."

Malik nodded, then glanced back at the door. "Speaking of access to the House, look who's darkening our door."

I glanced back, expecting to see the Grey House guards, but found a pleasant surprise. Jeff, Catcher, and my grandfather stood in the doorway, still bundled up in scarves and warm coats. Catcher must have picked up my grandfather and brought him back to Hyde Park. I smiled and walked toward them, accepting a very squeezy hug from Jeff.

"We heard there was a party," he said. "And we decided to crash it."

"Actually, we heard you were discussing the riots," my grandfather said, giving Jeff an amused glance. "I'm not sure we'll have a lot to offer, but we thought we'd chip in what we could."

"It was nice of you to come all this way," I said. "We appreciate it."

Catcher looked over my ensemble. "Sullivan's letting you dress down tonight?"

I lifted my shirt and showed them the scar across my belly. My grandfather looked mightily alarmed.

"Some nights, I'm not sure if I should be glad that you're immortal, or rueful about it," he said.

"We often have similar thoughts," Ethan said, walking toward us. He shook my grandfather's hand.

"How'd you get the cut?" Catcher asked.

"Rioter with a blade."

"Paring knife," Ethan said.

"It was a chef's knife," I pointedly said, giving Ethan the evil eye. "I tripped, and he got the jump on me. Literally."

"I'm glad you're all right," my grandfather said, glancing at Ethan. "Perhaps a position change to House librarian?"

"That job is filled," I said, slipping my arm through his. "I'm stuck at Sentinel, unfortunately. But I do have a knight in shining armor. Ethan rescued me. Again."

Ethan smiled. "It's the least I can do."

"Here, Mr. Merit," Lindsey said, standing. "Take my chair."

I expected my grandfather to protest; he was in his sixties, but still proud and active, and he was a former cop, after all. But instead he nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, hon," he said. "I appreciate that."

Lindsey gave me a wink as she scooted from her seat and took a spot standing near the wall. My grandfather sat down, a little slower than usual, and with a little more relief in his eyes.

"You're all right?" I asked, concern in mine.

He patted my hand. "Perfectly fine. It's just been a long day."

He sought to soothe me, but the reminder was still poignant: As a vampire, I was immortal. My friends and family weren't. My grandfather, always vibrant and vital, would inevitably age, and eventually I'd lose him.

I looked away before my eyes could fill with tears, but my heart was heavy.

Be still, Sentinel, said a voice in my head.

I glanced at Ethan, who stood a few feet away. He spoke with Luc, but his thoughts were on me. He must have seen the fear in my eyes.

Be grateful for your immorality, but do not deny them the honor of their mortality.

I nodded, but the vise around my heart didn't ease.

Scott appeared in the doorway, six guards, including Jonah, behind him. I recognized a couple - Grey House guards named Danny and Jeremy. Most of the group wore navy blue peacoats over jeans and boots. A bit, I assumed, of the Grey House uniform.

"I think we're all here," Ethan said to Scott.

Scott nodded. "Then let's get this show on the road."

-

To be honest, the atmosphere was awkward. There were a lot of vampires squeezed into the Ops Room, and we played for two different teams. The Grey House guards looked tired and uncomfortable. The Cadogan House guards looked nervous: We were responsible for our House's security, and now the security of vampires we didn't know that well.

Kelley, Lindsey, Juliet, and I had nabbed seats at the conference table, along with a few of the Grey House guards. The senior staff stood in front of the projector screen like lecturers ready to teach their fang-bearing students.

"First of all," Ethan said, glancing among the Grey House guards, "welcome to Cadogan House. I'm sorry it's under such unfortunate circumstances, but you may consider yourselves at home here. If there's anything you need, or if there's something we can help you with, please feel free to ask."

A few of the Grey House guards looked around at one another in surprise at Ethan's magnanimity, which made me wonder how they'd perceived Cadogan House.

"This is our Operations Room," Ethan said. "You're welcome to be here, to talk to our guards, or to request information about House security. We recognize that, for the time being, we are housing your most precious commodity - your vampires - and we want you to feel as comfortable as possible about their safety." Ethan nodded and looked at Scott. "I believe that's it for my part, Scott, unless you have anything to add?"

Scott lifted his hands. "They've heard from me enough tonight."

Ethan nodded at Luc, and he and Jonah moved forward.

"We're going to review events while they're fresh," Jonah said. "Then we'll dismiss for the evening."

"Let's start at the beginning," Luc suggested. "Merit, you want to tell us what you found out about the first riot?"

I nodded. "The first riot hit Bryant Industries, a Blood4You distribution facility in Wicker Park. Catcher and I talked to Charla Bryant, the current CEO. She wasn't aware of any threats against the business before the attack, but we're keeping an eye on a potential suspect named Robin Pope."

"Robin Pope?" asked one of the Grey House vampires. "Trim brunette?"

Ethan and I exchanged a glance. "Yes," I said. "Do you know her?"

The vampire blushed. "Yeah. We dated for a little while. Real briefly. When I was human."

Now that was interesting. "How long ago?"

"Three years?" he said. "Maybe four?"

That was a pretty good span of time, and I wondered how long Robin Pope could hold a grudge. "How did the relationship end?"

The Grey House guard squinted bashfully and scratched the back of his head. "Not well. I mean, it kind of just ended. Except that she kept calling. What's her connection to all this?"

"She's a former Bryant Industries employee," I said. "Basically, she filed a complaint against the company because she thinks they're conspiring with vampires."

"She had a connection to Bryant Industries. A grudge," Jonah said. "And the rioters targeted that facility. It also appears she had a bad breakup with one of our own, and Grey House was attacked next."

"I don't like coincidences," Scott said.

"Nor do I," Ethan agreed. "The connections suggest she's had a hand in selecting the targets."

"She doesn't seem entirely stable," I said. "We went to her apartment to ask her some questions, feigning support for anti-vamp groups, and she ran. She clearly believes vampires are a threat, and she's identified a web of conspiracies no one else can see." I glanced at Catcher and my grandfather. "Anything else from your end?"

My grandfather nodded. "We advised friends at the CPD that Ms. Pope should be a person of interest in their investigation. They put a car on her building and an APB on her car. She returned home about an hour ago, and they picked her up. She's currently in an interview."

For the first time in a couple of days, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. Her arrest wouldn't repair the damage at Grey House, but maybe it would slow the tide of future riots.

Ethan gestured toward my grandfather. "For those of you who don't know, this is Merit's grandfather, Chuck Merit. Otherwise known as the city's rightful Ombudsman. And his colleagues, Jeff Christopher - "

"The city's best computer man," I added.

Jeff blushed and did a faux hat tip.

"And Catcher Bell," Ethan said, gesturing to both of them in turn. "Thank you for reaching out to the CPD."

"Of course," said my grandfather. "As a warning, we're swimming uphill a bit where the CPD is concerned. We still have some allies there, but overall they're focusing on the rioters, not the riots. I understand the administration has decided this is just public reaction to vampires, to fears their way of life is at risk."

"We've been out of the closet for a while," Lindsey said. "That's not even logical."

"It is to the prosecutors," Catcher said. "After all, they can't put society on trial, not really. But they can prosecute the handful of people who throw the bombs. That's where the evidence is."

"Has the mayor issued a formal statement for tonight's riot?" Ethan asked.

"And McKetrick," Luc said. "Pretty much the same talk as the last riot. 'We're incarcerating the perpetrators of these crimes,' blah blah blah. The mayor's toned down the anti-sup rhetoric a little, which is something. Hard to blame two riots on internal sup conflicts when the perps are all humans."

"And McKetrick?" Scott asked.

"Still blaming it on sups, but part of that's just jurisdictional," Luc said. "If it doesn't involve sups, he has no authority." He glanced at Ethan. "As part of our protocol, we looked for connections between McKetrick and the rioters, but we haven't found anything."

"Not surprising," Ethan said. "Even if he was involved, he's remarkably careful. Consider Michael Donovan."

"I'd rather not," Luc said.

I looked at Jeff. "Back to Pope. Can we prove her connections to the rioters?"

"I haven't found anything yet, but I haven't started on tonight's batch of arrests. There were a lot more rioters tonight."

"Many more than in Wicker Park," Jonah agreed. "And with slightly different tactics. In Wicker Park, the firebombing and rioting occurred simultaneously. Here, they hit us in two waves. The first - too small to trigger security - bombed the House. The rest of the rioters - the larger group - formed the second wave."

I glanced at my grandfather. "Have the CPD interviews of the rioters turned up anything?"

He shook his head. "There's been no progress, as far as we're aware. They're still refusing to answer questions. They have been repeating what they claim is Clean Chicago's motto."

"'Hate is the new black'?" I guessed.

"Sic semper tyrannis," Catcher said. "It basically means 'Death to tyrants.'"

"That's what John Wilkes Booth said after he shot President Lincoln," Ethan said darkly.

"Are we the tyrants?" I asked.

"We aren't entirely sure," Catcher said. "We didn't find anything else on the Web linking the phrase to the riots or the movement, so it could just be something they came up with at the last minute."

"So their group's grown larger," Ethan said, "and they have a motto. How are they recruiting?"

"We still aren't certain," Luc said. Luc projected a Web site onto the wall screen - a social-media site with a Clean Chicago badge.

"This was posted about two hours ago," he said.

"Two hours ago?" asked one of the Grey House guards, a short-haired and broad-shouldered fellow muscular enough to have played offensive tackle in his former life. "After the riot?"

"We asked the same question," Luc said. "But the account is definitely new."

"Which means they had other ways to pull in participants before the riots," Catcher said.

"Yes," Luc said. "We still haven't found any other Internet sources, but they're clearly recruiting members through some kind of network. Could be military. Could be informal."

"Could be hate groups," offered one of the Grey House guards. "Preexisting network of humans who make a hobby of hatred. It can be easy to rile them up to fixate on another group."

"True," Luc said, then glanced at Jeff. "Anything like that pop up on Robin Pope?"

"Not so far. Her background is bland. Nothing suspicious. Nothing even interesting."

"Could it have been wiped?" Jonah asked.

"Sure," Jeff said. "But there's also nothing so glorious it looks fake. She just seems dull."

"General awareness of the riots is undoubtedly helping recruitment," Luc said. "Media reports are all over the twenty-four-hour news stations, the Web."

"We're actually hoping we have an ace there," Ethan said. "Merit's family is friendly with the Breckenridges, including Nicholas, the reporter. She called him and asked that he consider preparing a feature about how the riots are impacting the Houses, the neighborhoods. The darker side of hatred, as it were."

He glanced at Scott. "I've offered him access to the House, but you can grant whatever access you'd like - or none, if you prefer - for your people. I know the spotlight isn't comfortable for all."

Scott nodded. "I'll think it over."

"While we're taking roll call," Luc said, "has anyone heard from Morgan?"

"He finally called," Scott said. "Said he wasn't able to offer room in the House. According to him, Will, the guard captain, is new and not equipped to handle an influx of vampires, and they're still reeling from the recent deaths."

Unappreciative silence followed that explanation.

"Each Master must make his own way," Ethan said.

"That's generous," Scott said. "I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for the first few months of his term, and when Darius tightened the reigns. But he is Master of his House, and he's not exactly doing it proud."

Morgan was an odd duck. He'd gotten control of Navarre House under unusual circumstances, and he hadn't exactly made the most of it, at least not with respect to the other Houses. He seemed to be well intentioned, but he was emotionally immature. I'd hoped he could grow into his position, but he hadn't gotten there yet. Unfortunately, each time Navarre House huddled farther into its shell, he damaged his relationship with the rest of us. Some night, that was going to bite him in the ass.

"Harold Monmonth also called," Scott said. "He 'forbade' me from staying at Cadogan House. Said the GP would consider it a violation of our charter if we live in sin with blacklisted vampires who'd so recently defied the GP and all it stood for. He gave me a lengthy speech about loyalty and punishment."

Ethan blinked. "And how did you respond?"

"I reminded him Darius West was head of the GP, and Darius was the only individual who had the authority to forbid Grey House from doing anything. I told him I haven't heard from Darius, although personally I suspect that does not bode well."

"Monmonth or not, you may take heat for your decision," Ethan said.

"My decision was keeping my vampires safe from the rising sun. Any member of the GP who doesn't understand that is an idiot, and not worthy of the position."

I couldn't help but smile at that comment.

"Is this when we talk about taxation without representation?" asked one of the Grey House guards, a woman with cocoa skin and a gorgeous pouf of dark hair. She was tall and trim, so the jersey nearly overwhelmed her lean figure. But paired with short nails painted yellow and a bright pair of yellow Converse sneakers - both of which matched the yellow in the Grey House jersey, she pulled it off.

If it was appropriate to judge a person based on her footwear - and it obviously was - I decided I liked her immediately.

The other Grey House guards chuckled, but Scott looked less than amused by the comment. I guess it was still too soon for jokes about defecting from the GP.

"Back to the riots," Jonah said in a serious tone, apparently taking his cue from Scott. "Two riots, two nights in a row. It's not unreasonable to surmise they'll hit another location tomorrow night."

"And not necessarily a House," Luc said. "They hit a Blood4You distributor the first time. That means they like businesses with connections to vampires, and they have enough information to ferret out places that aren't commonly known to humans. We've put together a potential list of targets."

Luc switched the image on-screen, and the bulleted list popped up. Navarre and Cadogan Houses made the list, as did Benson's, Red, and Temple Bar, the official bars of Grey House, Navarre, and Cadogan, respectively.

The harbor lighthouse in Lake Michigan, which served as the Red Guard's headquarters, did not make the list. Probably because Jonah and I were the only two vampires in the room who knew its purpose.

"Anybody know if Robin Pope has connections to any of those places?" Jonah asked, glancing around the room, but no one offered an answer.

Luc tapped a spot on the screen near the Houses. "If these rioters were really aiming for maximum impact, Cadogan House would be the target. It's in a neighborhood they haven't hit before, and we're all here together."

"Maximum impact and damage," Jonah agreed. "You hit one place, and two Houses."

"Yeah, but that assumes these guys are doing anything by the book," Lindsey said. "They clearly aren't. If they really wanted to hit vampires and for maximum publicity, you hit Cadogan House first. We're more infamous."

"Which suggests Robin Pope is on the riot steering committee. She's picking the locations - not because they'll make the biggest bang, but because she's got personal vendettas." I glanced at Luc. "You might want to poll the House, make sure she doesn't know anyone here."

"And we'll keep looking into her background," Jeff said.

"Just in case," Ethan said, "we've doubled the number of guards outside. They're humans, but they have guns. At dusk, let's discuss how we can work together to increase our guard presence while we have the bodies to do so. Chuck, could you also apprise the CPD of the possibility the House may be a target?"

"Of course," he said.

"I thought the CPD wasn't exactly on our side right now?" asked one of the Grey House guards.

"They aren't," Grandpa confirmed. "But they are on the side of humans, and there are plenty in Hyde Park. In particular, there are wealthy humans who own sizable homes and contribute to the mayor's election campaign. That will probably spark some considerable interest on the part of the CPD."

"That's a good segue," Scott said, stepping forward again. "We're looking for temporary housing, but that's going to take some time. While we're here, we've got a good opportunity to work together. As I see it, our agenda is to find the source of the riots and cut it off. We can look into the rioters, the employees, whatever. I'm less interested in how we get there than the fact that we get there. We've lost our House. That will not stand. And we will find a way - and now - to stop it."

He looked at Ethan and nodded.

"Well put," Ethan said. "With that, I think we're done."

-

While the senior staff discussed the details of our inadvertent partnership, I said good-bye to the Ombuddies.

"Thank you for coming, although I hope you didn't come this way for such a short meeting?"

"Actually, we didn't," Catcher said. "As soon as I got back to the house, we discovered some ongoing hysteria on the police scanners about a chimera on Fifty-seventh Street."

"A chimera? Like the mythical monster?"

"Exactly like that," my grandfather said.

"And what did you find?"

"Cocker spaniel wearing many awkward Halloween costumes," my grandfather said with obvious amusement. "The owner's children had been playing dress up, and it escaped the yard in full regalia."

"Including one of those costumes," Jeff said, hands in action, "that looks like a saddle and has a little cowboy on top."

"And one of the chimera heads was born," Catcher said.

"Hey, better than the real thing," I said. "What do you even do with a chimera?"

"What wouldn't you do with a chimera?" Jeff asked. "They're like the Swiss Army knife of animals."

"Party in the front, business in the back," Catcher agreed.

That earned a snort and laugh from me. "Any animal that can be compared to a mullet is a good animal in my book."

"We should get going," Grandpa said. "Marjorie has phone duty while we're gone, and she gets irritable if we leave her alone too long."

"But she's the admin," I pointed out. "It's her job to answer the phones."

"She does not quite see it that way," my grandfather said with a smile. "But there aren't enough hours left in the night to have that discussion." He patted my shoulder. "I wouldn't wish violence on anyone, but I'm glad you and your House were out of harm's way tonight."

"Me, too," I agreed, glancing around the room at the Grey House guards, who still looked shell-shocked. "But we're not out of the woods. Not yet. If Grey House can be hit, Cadogan House can, too."

And this time, there'd be twice as many vampires in the crosshairs.

-

The Ombuddies headed south again. My good-byes complete, I walked over to the whiteboard and looked it over. Two riots, lots of injuries, an entire House of vampires UnHoused, and untold property damage. And all because Robin Pope held grudges.

"So, you're Merit."

I glanced back. The Grey House vampire with the yellow Converses stood behind me, arms crossed over her chest.

"I am. I didn't get your name."

"Aubrey," she said. "I'm a friend of Jonah's. We all are, the guards. We're a very close-knit team." She looked me over, and her expression wasn't exactly friendly. More like analytical.

"I wanted to get a sense of you," she said, meeting my gaze again. "He had a thing for you, you know."

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I didn't.

Jonah had had a thing for me, at least briefly. He'd confessed as much when Ethan was gone, but I'd been too in love, and still mourning, to even entertain an offer.

She stepped beside me and turned toward the board, looking it over. "It was when Ethan was dead?"

"Yes," I said. I was mortified by the conversation, but if she was going to look at the board, so would I.

We stood there for a couple of minutes in silence, standing beside each other, staring at the board and trying to ferret out what was there . . . and what wasn't.

"Why these riots?" she asked.

"Exactly my question," I said, hoping we'd moved on. "It seems like a waste of resources and capital - and hatred - to hit little targets."

"I couldn't agree more. Something bigger's at issue here. Something we aren't seeing."

"But what?"

"I don't know." She shook her head, hair bouncing as she did it. I was instantly struck jealous by the volume of it. It was star-worthy hair.

"I don't know, either." I glanced over at her. "I love your hair . . . and Ethan. Jonah told me what he felt, and I was honest with him. I think he's a great guard and a fantastic vampire, but I'm not going to apologize for being in a relationship with someone else."

She pursed her lips. "Not much for subtlety, are you?"

"No. Much like you, apparently."

"Aubrey?"

At the sound of Jonah's voice, we both glanced back. He watched us for a moment, as if puzzling out our interaction. "You ready to go? I want to touch base for a few minutes before sunrise about the accommodations."

"Of course," she said, and when he turned away, she looked at me again. "You'll do. And I like your hair, too."

When she walked away to join him, I smiled a little.

-

When dawn closed in, Ethan and I headed upstairs for bed. I had to remind myself to stop at the second-floor landing, that we were heading for my old room, not the more lush accommodations I'd become used to.

On the door, as on the doors of all Novitiates' rooms, was a small corkboard. A placard bearing my name had been pinned to it, as had a photo from a magazine: two waifish young starlets stretched across a velvet chaise in front of a deep navy background. Lindsey had replaced the girls' heads with small, unevenly cut pictures of us.

With Ethan behind me, I unlocked the door and opened it. The room smelled faintly of dust and the rose-scented perfume I liked to wear in colder months. Since the bottle was upstairs, the fragrance must have lingered on my clothes.

There wasn't much to the room, especially compared to the splendor of the Master's apartments. It was a small rectangle of space. A twin bed sat in one corner, and there was a bureau on the opposite wall that still stored all the personal effects and clothes I hadn't yet taken to Ethan's apartments. Two doors led to a closet and small bathroom.

"Home sweet home?" he asked.

"Something like that." He walked inside, and I closed the door behind him. For a moment, I was struck at how truly different my life had become since I'd been made a vampire. In those early nights, I'd been convinced Ethan was my enemy, the vampire who'd taken away my human life without so much as a second thought. I'd actually been grateful my room was on the second floor, one floor removed from his, so I wouldn't have to face him any more than necessary.

And now we were lovers. Confidants. Partners. I'd come to admit that he'd saved my life, not taken it away, and he'd accepted that I wasn't one to blindly follow orders. Our romance had not been simple, and it hadn't been easy. It still wasn't easy, as there was always some kind of supernatural drama interfering with our lives.

But perhaps that was the point? That plans, however well-intentioned, were ultimately irrelevant? That we had to learn to adapt, and the best-case scenario was finding a partner who was willing to adapt alongside us?

If I hadn't adapted, we might still be enemies. I might still be refusing his advice and counsel, and he might have picked a House consort to fulfill his needs. My Red Guard membership would be less about helping the Houses than spying on Ethan. We'd have been enemies, engaged in a private war against each other.

Instead, over the course of the last year, we'd joined forces. We fought together against factions that sought to tear apart the House. And even in this tiny, cold, and sparse room, I was home, because he was with me.

Ethan looked at me curiously. "Are you all right? You're making the room buzz."

"Just thinking," I said, smiling a little.

"About?"

"How much things change."

He walked toward me and pressed a hand to my cheek, smiling slyly. "You were thinking about us."

I nodded. "About what we were, and what we've become."

"And how I wooed you with my brilliance and sophistication?"

"Or your narcissism," I teased. "I'm going to change clothes."

Ethan lay down on the bed, one arm behind his head, ankles crossed. "All right," he said. "I'm ready."

"Dirty. Old. Man," I repeated. But he had a point. There was one small room, and not much privacy.

"I'm not going to strip for you," I said, turning to the bureau and flipping through a drawer. Everything in my current clothing rotation was upstairs. The bureau held the remainder - college and grad school T-shirts and slightly out-of-style numbers that I hoped would be more popular next year.

With minutes before the sun rose, I grabbed an old NYU T-shirt, pulled off my jeans and shirt, and slipped it on.

"That was hardly worth the cost of admission," Ethan commented.

"The cost of admission was free," I pointed out. "And I was changing for my benefit, not yours." I gestured grandly toward the room. "The stage is yours, my friend."

"I don't know what you expect me to do."

I sat down on the bed and mirrored his posture. "I expect you to take it off, and I expect you to shake it. In that order."

"Hmmph" was all he said. As I looked on, he stood up, pulled his shirt over head, and kicked off his shoes.

By my calculation, that left a Master vampire in the middle of my bedroom, shirtless and staring back at me with a predictably arched eyebrow.

"You aren't done," I pointed out, but with waning enthusiasm. Not for the subject - he was as hot as ever - but for consciousness. The sun was nearly on the rise, and sleepiness had begun to set in.

Either sensing my sudden exhaustion or faced with exhaustion of his own, he slipped off his trousers without a performance.

"Wait - I nearly forgot," he sleepily said. He walked to the bureau and picked up a blue velvet box I didn't recognize and hadn't realized was there.

"What's that?"

"The payment for dinner with your parents tomorrow."

"Dinner with my . . . Oh crap."

I'd totally forgotten about that, although in fairness the riots had provided a pretty good excuse.

"Are you sure leaving the House is a good idea? We all agree Cadogan's on the list."

"And we're having dinner with one of the most important men in the city," he said. "I'm not thrilled about the timing, but we agreed to go. Your father is clearly trying to mend fences. I'm not taking any position on that - it's between you and him - but we need friends, and we can't afford to be picky."

He sat down on the bed beside me, cradling the box in his hands. The opening of a velvet box usually led to something interesting, even if Ethan was going to have to make this "interesting" relatively quick. I could already feel the slow, flaming rise of the sun pulling on my eyelids like brass weights.

"Are you proposing?" I drowsily asked.

"When I propose, you'll know it."

My heart stuttered, pushing me awake again. "When? What do you mean 'when'?"

"I stand by my statement," Ethan said, opening the box and handing it over.

Inside sat a gleaming silver pendant shaped like a droplet, draped on a silver chain. Pressed into the back, like a jeweler's mark, was an elegant "C" surrounded by tiny but neat script: "Cadogan House, Chicago."

An immortal drop of blood, marked by our Cadogan membership. It was a perfect reminder of our origins, and our loyalties.

"It's beautiful," I said, wishing I could trace a finger across its curve, but loathe to mar the surface. "The House will like this very much."

"I hope so," Ethan said, closing the box and putting it on the nightstand. "Because they're going to have to wear them for a really long time."

Ah, vampire humor. Thank God it never got old, said no one ever.

"Bedtime?" I said, but I was already tucking into the sheets and flipping off the nightstand light.

Wordlessly, Ethan turned off the lights, and I shifted to make room. He climbed in beside me, and we spooned together to conserve precious space. Even so, Ethan's feet hung off the edge of the bed.

It was a small consolation that the sun would knock us unconscious, and we wouldn't much care how comfortable we were . . . or weren't. I moved closer into his arms and the warmth of his body, my eyes growing heavier as the sun began to rise, the stars faded, and daylight came again.