REAL HOUSEWIVES OF WRIGLEYVILLE

I awoke hungry, greedy for blood. I knew nothing, remembered nothing, felt nothing except for the craving that clenched my stomach into knots.

"Drink," he said, his wrist coming into focus in front of me, two lines of crimson across pale skin. I wrapped my hands around it and pressed my lips to the cuts he'd opened, and I drank.

"Be still, Merit." He stroked my hair.

I drank until the gnawing hunger in my belly receded, until rationality returned, until I could feel the chill in the air again. I drank until my vision cleared, until the fire across my belly was slaked. And then I pulled back from Ethan's wrist and sucked air into my lungs. As if by magic, the wound on Ethan's arm closed.

"I'm all right," I assured him, trying to take in my bearings.

I was sitting on his lap in a small bus-stop shelter only a few feet away from the police car. The rioter was in the backseat, and the cop stood on the sidewalk. The shelter gave us a bit of privacy, but he still watched us like a hawk as Ethan returned me to the land of the living.

He wrapped his arms around me. "Thank God. I thought I'd lost you."

I nodded but didn't attempt to climb off his lap. I breathed in the scent of him, the crisp scent of his cologne a relief among the smells of smoke and blood and battle.

"You passed out," he said. "I heard you call my name, but I couldn't find you. Luc traced your phone."

I rested my head against Ethan's chest, my body sated and suddenly lethargic, like a gourmand after a Thanksgiving meal. "New phone, new way to track vampires?"

"Precisely." He rubbed my hair again. "It was the perp?"

I nodded. "I tripped and he jumped me. He had a chef's knife."

"Odd choice of weapon."

I nodded again, still woozy and using words sparingly. "How long was I out?"

"Four minutes, maybe five, likely from the blood loss. The officer called for an ambulance, but I got here first."

When the world stopped spinning enough for me to glance down, I took a peek at my wound. My jacket was ripped, the shirt beneath a bloody ruin, but at least the wound was beginning to close, now a bright pink line across my gut.

"You'll heal," Ethan said.

"What about the riot?"

"Largely contained. The CPD did a solid job."

"I only managed to distract one rioter." I gestured toward the car, and the perp who was currently flipping us off with both hands.

"What a charming fellow."

"Charming felon," I corrected. "I kicked him off, but there's not a doubt in my mind he'd have killed me if he'd had the chance."

Ethan tipped my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze, and scanning my eyes as if looking for the source of the sadness in my voice. "He's not the first with murderous intent."

"I know. But this feels different. More of a violation."

"Because he didn't see you," Ethan said. "He didn't assault you because of who you are or what you stand for. He saw only that you are fanged, and that was the only motivation he needed."

"What about you?" I scanned him for injuries. His jeans were dirty and torn in places, and there were scratches on his neck - like he'd been clawed by a set of fingernails.

"A group of rioters decided four to one odds were pretty good. I led them south and taught them otherwise."

"A war of stupidity," I reminded him. "This isn't just about protests and marches. They're willing to fight, to kill, individual vampires."

"So it appears," Ethan said. "Are you well enough to walk?"

Whether I was or wasn't was irrelevant. We weren't done here, so I would walk.

I stood and zipped up my jacket, wincing as I tightened it around my stomach. I chose pain over hypothermia.

"I could carry you?" Ethan offered.

I gave him a flat look. "I am a soldier," I said, putting a hand on his arm. "As much as I love these guns of yours, I would prefer not to be carried to a House of athletic vampires like a damsel in distress."

"Very well, Sentinel," he said, taking my hand, amusement in his eyes. Since my fingers were chilled into icicles, I didn't argue with the hand-holding.

-

Together, the cop's gaze on our backs, we walked toward Grey House, cutting through an alley and emerging in the middle of the next block. The House sat at the end of the street, but we found our progress blocked again.

Three women stood in front of a make-do barricade formed by patio chairs, baby gates, snow fencing, and other bits of garage ephemera. The woman in front had dark hair and dark tilted eyes, and she wore a heavy down coat, jeans, and sheepskin boots.

"What's your business here?" she asked us, crossing her arms as we approached.

"I'm sorry?" Ethan asked.

"She asked what's your business in this neighborhood?" said the woman beside her. She was a little older and a little heavier, and her hair had been combed into a very thoroughly hair-sprayed helmet.

"We're here to help with the folks who live in the warehouse," I said. "And who are you?"

"Wrigleyville Association of Concerned Neighbors," said the second woman, tapping a Cubs pin on her lapel. "We live here, we work here, we take care of our own."

"I see," Ethan said noncommittally. "And who, if I may ask, are 'your own'?"

The WACN representative looked suspicious. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because we're vampires," Ethan said, and the ladies' expressions suddenly changed. Instead of suspicion in their eyes, there was interest - very salacious interest in my very tall, built, and handsome vampire boyfriend. They scanned his body from snug jeans to leather jacket, stopping when they reached the eyes that shined with emerald amusement.

I guessed that explained whose side they were on.

"Ladies?" Ethan prompted.

They all blushed.

"Scott Grey and his people are our own," said the woman in front, her chin lifting stubbornly. "We've never had issues with Scott or anyone else in the House. They're good neighbors. But these rioting jackasses? We don't know them at all. They don't live here, but they come into our neighborhood to start trouble? No, thank you."

"No, thank you," agreed the woman beside her.

"Well, we thank you for your loyalty," Ethan said. "I'm sure Scott appreciates it very much. We're here to help him and his people. If you don't mind, may we proceed?"

"Oh yes, yes," they variously said, moving a baby gate and a plastic chaise lounge to let us through.

Behind them, Grey House loomed. An imposing brick building, it was a warehouse transformed into living units and offices for the Grey House vamps.

Tonight, fire engines and other emergency vehicles sat at intervals around the block. Its front doors were broken, its brick covered with dark smoke. A line of vampires - all tall, all built, mostly men - stood in front of the building, probably keeping watch to ensure the rioters didn't make a second attempt.

I didn't see Scott, but Jonah stood in the middle of the line. Relief filled me. There was a gash across his temple and his shirt was singed, but he was in one piece.

"You're all right?" I asked, when we reached him.

"I'll live to fight another night," he said, glancing at Ethan. "But you aren't supposed to be here. The blacklist?"

"We do not answer to Darius," Ethan said. "But if you or Scott has an issue with our presence, we'll go."

"There's no need for that."

We turned to find Scott Grey, dark haired and somber, standing behind us. He wore one of the blue and yellow Grey House jerseys he'd selected in lieu of House medals.

Scott and Ethan shook hands - two Masters, meeting on a field of battle.

"We aren't here to create GP trouble for you," Ethan said cautiously.

"It's surprising how much perspective you gain in a crisis," Scott said. "And if the GP has a problem with our receiving necessary help in a crisis, I'd be happy to discuss that concern - very frankly - with Darius."

There was a glimmer of appreciation in Ethan's eyes. "Well put."

Scott glanced at the blood on my jacket. "What happened?"

"A rioter with a chef's knife," I said.

He nodded. "That jacket will never be the same."

I grimaced at the gaping hole in the front. "I know. And this was my favorite one."

"You've got injured vampires?" Ethan asked.

Scott nodded. "A few. We had no warning they were coming. The first wave was only three humans. It didn't even register with the guards that four people walking down the street in this neighborhood would be carrying Molotov cocktails."

"It was a smart decision by the rioters," Ethan said. "Hard to detect; easy to get close."

"The worst injuries were during the initial explosions," Jonah said. "The CPD got here in minutes."

"Any sign of Robin Pope?" I asked Jonah.

"The disgruntled employee?" He glanced at Scott, and both shook their heads. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Catcher and I went to her apartment. She ran when we asked her about the Bryant Industries riot. We suspect she's wrapped up in it."

Speaking of which, I realized we hadn't yet seen Catcher. I pulled out my phone in case he'd left a message; to my relief, I found one waiting: I KNOCKED OUT 32 RIOTERS. THEY'LL WAKE UP AND ONLY REMEMBER EATING BAD CHEESE. HEADING BACK TO CHUCK'S HOUSE.

I sent a note back: GLAD YOU'RE SAFE.

"Liege," said a breathless voice. Luc ran toward us, Juliet behind him. Their clothes were sooty, but they looked otherwise healthy and hale.

Luc and Ethan embraced like long-lost comrades, and Luc exchanged a pleasant - if tense - nod of acknowledgment with Scott.

"Merit, glad to see you took care of our Master," Luc said.

"Unfortunately, she took the brunt of it." Ethan pointed to the tear in my jacket, and Luc winced sympathetically.

"Katana?" he asked.

"Chef's knife."

Luc pursed his lips, apparently trying not to laugh.

"I didn't get to select my attacker's weapon," I pointed out.

"I know, I know. It's just not the weapon I'd have figured you'd take a hit from."

A group in Chicago Fire Department gear stepped out of the gaping hole in the front of Grey House and walked toward us.

The fireman in front raised his visor. "It's clear," he said. "The fire's out. But be careful of the glass. The ceiling took a beating."

"Thank you again," Scott said, shaking his hand.

"Just doing our job." The man reached into his pocket and fished out a small card, which he handed to Scott. "Got friends in the rehab industry if you want help with the cleanup."

"I appreciate the recommendation," Scott said, stuffing the card into his jeans pocket.

Scott and Jonah watched the firemen walk away, but I glanced back at Grey House. The middle of the warehouse was a garden atrium, shielded by an enormous glass roof and covered by a shutter that closed automatically at sunrise. If that shutter had been damaged . . .

The roof is glass, I silently told Ethan. If the shutter is broken, they're going to need shelter when the sun rises.

Ethan nodded ever so slightly and looked at Scott. "Between Navarre and Cadogan, we can house your vampires. Noah might also be able to offer some beds."

"The blacklist?" Scott asked.

"As we discussed," Ethan said mildly, "we came here anyway."

"I'm sorry," Scott said, holding up his hands. "I don't mean to seem ungrateful that you're here. But staying at the House would be stratospherically different than your coming here to help. The GP will be pissed, and it puts an even bigger target on your back. I don't want to invite additional trouble to your House."

The sound of shattering glass - a lot of it - echoed across the yard, probably more panels from the House's roof. The sun would be rising soon; one way or the other Scott was going to have to find shelter.

"On the other hand," Scott said, "I'm not sure we have another option."

"It's done," Ethan said. "We'll handle the Cadogan arrangements, but you might want to contact Morgan directly, considering the blacklist. I suspect burn phones are not his style."

Ethan meant Morgan, Master of Navarre House. "Speaking of," Ethan added, "I notice Mr. Greer is not here."

"Neither him nor his people," Scott said, equally unimpressed by the sound of it. "He's taken losses lately. We presume that's why he stood us up."

"Losses or not, one does not avoid one's obligations."

"No," Scott said. "You're right." He extended his hand toward Ethan. "We're no longer part of the same European family, but you offered bodies in support. We won't forget that. I can't guarantee anything until the GP situation is sorted out, but we're here if you need us."

"I appreciate that," Ethan said.

The momentary peace was interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice.

"Scott!" she screamed, running toward him. She was a human in her early thirties, with tan skin and long, dark hair.

Scott moved toward her, opening his arms; she ran into them. She was curvy but petite, and his embrace nearly swallowed her. She was followed by two children - a small boy and girl. They screamed with joy at the sight of him, running with as much eagerness as she had.

He released the woman and picked up the girl, holding her close, the love in his eyes obvious. My own bloomed with tears. It wasn't often that vampires displayed such human affection.

Vampires couldn't have children, but there was definitely something familial between Scott and these humans.

"I wasn't aware Scott had a significant other," Ethan whispered. "Much less a human one."

"That's Ava," Jonah said. "He doesn't tell many. He doesn't want them to be used against him, or for them to be seen as a liability."

"Darius would not be thrilled," Ethan agreed. "He has no great fondness for humans."

"No, he doesn't. That also figures in."

"I'd like to get back to the House," Ethan said. "We'll need to oversee arrangements." He glanced at the sky. "A few hours yet until sunrise, but there's much to do."

"We'll get there before the sun rises," Jonah said.

Ethan nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to speak with Scott for a moment." As we watched, Ethan walked away and greeted Ava and the children, then chatted with Scott.

"Were you able to salvage any of your stuff?" I asked Jonah.

"Yeah, most of my gear is fine. Waterlogged and smoky, but intact. We'll get it cleaned up. It'll just take time."

A vampire stepped into the hole in the front of Grey House, glanced around, and beckoned Jonah.

"They need me," he said. "I imagine I'll be seeing you later tonight."

"Vampire sleepover," I agreed. "We'll provide the sleeping bags."

"Bras in the freezer and shaving cream in the palm," Jonah said. "It's going to be a fun night."

Or a long one. We'd see how it went.

I took a glance at the building, trying to determine the extent of the damage, but it was difficult to tell in the dark. If the fire had been contained to the atrium, the vamps could move back in as soon as the roof and its complicated mechanics were fixed. If the rooms also had been damaged, they'd be bunking with us a little while longer. We'd deal either way.

But one thing concerned me: Double the vampires in Cadogan House meant double the targets if the rioters struck again. We were basically piling everyone they wanted to kill in a single building.

"You all right?"

I nearly jumped at the sound of Ethan's voice, and I was relieved to see him behind me. "Yeah. Just wondering how much worse this is going to get before it gets better."

"It's always darkest before the dawn," he mused.

I wasn't looking forward to any more darkness.

-

Ethan drove Moneypenny home. I fell asleep in the car, exhausted by the night's emotional turmoil and the loss of blood. Vampires might heal quickly, but that didn't mean the wound didn't take a toll on our bodies. I'd been stressed and assaulted, and while I'd end up as whole as I'd been before it, I needed a break.

Hyde Park was quiet, the violence of the city's north side irrelevant here. The House glowed warm and golden, a beacon in the cold and unfeeling night.

We pulled into the garage and made our way to the first floor, where Margot manned a newly organized reception area. A giant silver tureen of hot chocolate sat beside one of warmed blood, and Helen, the House's den mother, was stationed behind a table already outfitted with a WELCOME, GREY HOUSE NOVITIATES! sign, welcome packets, and bags of toiletries and necessities.

"She is ridiculously fast," I remarked as we surveyed the setup.

"She is impeccably organized and efficient," Ethan agreed. "Did you know I stole her away from a former U.S. president? She was his social secretary."

"I presume you offered a signing bonus and immortality?" I asked with a smile.

"I did."

Luc emerged from the staircase, already wearing clean clothes, his face scrubbed of ash and soot. "Lindsey's at the gate with a list of Grey House vamps. Easier if she handles it, because she can ensure they're vampires without requiring them to vamp out."

"Good call," Ethan said. "Scott and the others should be here shortly. The ballroom is prepared?"

"And the library, much to the librarian's chagrin," Luc said. "We've got cots assembled and dividers up. They give a bit of privacy, at least. It will get them through sunrise."

"That's all we need to do," Ethan said. "I think I'd like to change clothes, and Merit will probably want a shower." They both looked at me, and I glanced down at the jacket I'd destroyed over the course of the evening. It looked even worse in the House than it had outside. Including the gash across the front, the leather bore patches of rust, probably scrapes from the fire escape, and flecks where sparks had nearly burned through it. Frankly, I looked like the victim of a zombie attack.

"I will definitely want a shower and change of clothes," I agreed.

Luc squeezed Ethan's shoulder. "Get cleaned up. We'll get everyone settled in. Probably also a good idea to get all the guards together to discuss protocol before sunrise."

Ethan checked his watch. "Very good idea. Let's say an hour, Ops Room?"

"You got it, boss. Hey, take care of our Sentinel this time, will you?"

"I'll do my best," Ethan said. "But I'm not sure even Merit could manage to get into trouble between here and the third floor."

Stranger things had happened.

-

We climbed the stairs, my legs heavy and achy like I'd just finished a marathon. I gripped the rail, pulling myself up one stair at a time.

Ethan did not look impressed by my efforts.

"I think the blood loss took a toll," I said.

"Yes, the laceration and your utter unconsciousness clued me in to that."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You sound like me. Maybe sarcasm can be transmitted by blood."

"God forbid," Ethan said. "You've more than enough for both of us."

"Would it be wrong to wear pajamas to a guard meeting?"

"It would be inappropriate," Ethan said. "But I think you're more than excused from leathers or a suit tonight."

"Sweatpants?"

"You're dating the Master of the House."

I took that as a "no" on the sweatpants.

I made it up the stairs, and he opened the doors to the apartments. The lights had been turned on, a tray of blood and healthy snacks on the side table. Luc must have given Margot a call about my unfortunate encounter with the chef's knife. Maybe, as House chef, she felt bad about the choice of weapon.

The snack called to me, but the shower called louder. I turned on the shower and peeled away my dingy clothes. I pulled off the jacket and placed it across the vanity. It had been a birthday gift from Mallory only days after I'd become a vampire and been appointed Sentinel of Cadogan House. It had been through a lot in the last ten months, and I wasn't keen to part with it.

"You're all right?" Ethan asked, stepping into the room.

I gestured toward the jacket and smiled sadly. "I hope Mallory got a good deal on this jacket. I'm afraid it's toast."

"This is Chicago. There are other leather jackets to be found."

"I know. But this one was meaningful. It was a gift - and it was before Nebraska."

"So much was," Ethan said. "I doubt Mallory will fault you for destroying it tonight. She'll be glad it protected you. At least somewhat."

I nodded. "In fairness, I didn't mean to destroy it. I got dragged into someone else's war."

"Isn't that always the way?" Ethan said philosophically. "I don't mean to be dismissive of your melancholy, but we're short on time. Shower, please. I'm going to give Breckenridge a call while you're underwater."

I didn't argue about either option. When I was naked, I climbed into the shower. The water was deliciously hot, but it stung the gash across my stomach. The wound was closed, but it had now begun to ache and itch as it healed.

I scrubbed blood and dirt and ash from my pale skin, then emerged from the shower and towel-dried my hair.

Ethan stepped into the doorway. "Now that's more like it."

"Sir, you're a dirty old man."

"I'm a dirty old vampire. There's a difference."

Since time was of the essence, we switched places. I turned the shower over to Ethan, deposited my clothes in the laundry drop - maybe the staff could have some luck rehabbing the jacket - and headed back into the bedroom to find something appropriate to wear. Sweatpants and pajamas were out, but Ethan hadn't mentioned jeans. Personally, I'd have preferred some slouchy yoga-style pants, but the meeting would be in mixed company, and I might as well try not to embarrass my boss in front of another House.

I opted for the softest jeans I could find and a fitted Cadogan House long-sleeved shirt. I brushed and dried my hair, leaving it loose. A pair of much-loved Puma sneakers - too light to wear in winter, but perfect for in-House movement - and lip gloss to combat the effects of winter, and I was ready to go downstairs.

"Ready?" he asked, meeting me at the door. Like me, he'd changed into jeans, but the relaxed dress didn't minimize the power and authority in his posture. He was still the Master of his House, even when other Masters had moved into his abode.

"Let's go," I said, then glanced back longingly at the bed and the cozy duvet and pillows. "I'll see you again soon," I promised, and closed the door behind us.

-

As we descended the stairs, we passed Grey House vampires heading upstairs. They carried large duffel bags bearing the Grey House logo, and they were led by Cadogan House vampires wearing black CADOGAN AMBASSADOR badges.

"Cadogan ambassadors?" I asked Ethan.

"Helen's idea. She thought it a good idea to appoint vampires to represent the House at unusual functions. She expected we'd have more of those functions since we're no longer part of the GP. She did not anticipate this, I imagine, but it's helpful all the same. Actually," he said, pausing on the second-floor landing, "let's visit the ballroom and library. I'm curious how they've arranged the beds."

We walked down the hallway toward two of the House's most glorious rooms - the very grand ballroom, and the two-story library. The doors to both were open, and Grey House vampires were beginning to stream inside.

We hit the library first. Normally, a bank of tables filled the center of the main floor. Tonight, they'd been moved out of the way. That space, and the rows between the shelves, were filled with cots. Cotton dividers hung from simple racks in the open areas to provide privacy.

"There are too many vampires breathing on my books in here."

We turned to find the librarian, shorter than either of us and with a rakishly thick crop of dark hair, giving the evil eye to the Grey House vampires who were arranging suitcases, phones, and shoes in the small spaces around their cots.

"They're breathing on your books?" I asked.

"Do you know how much carbon dioxide and water a single vampire breathes into the air every day? And now it's all contained in this room, sinking into my pages."

The librarian was very, very particular when it came to his job and his books. He prided himself on the scope and organization of the library, and he didn't take kindly to the exhalations of vampires.

"I'm sure the collection will be fine," Ethan said. "But, if not, we'll make sure to set aside House funds for restoration."

That must have satisfied the librarian, because he disappeared between a row of books without another word.

"He is a particular breed," Ethan said, and we slipped into the hall again.

The ballroom was similarly decked out, with rows of cots and dividers across the wood floor, the chandeliers above dimmed to cast a gentle glow across the room. A long table had been set up on one side of the room with more toiletries and baskets of bottled water, blood, and snacks.

"Seriously, Helen did an amazing job getting everything arranged so quickly. You should give her a raise."

Ethan snorted. "Trust me, Sentinel, she doesn't need one. We had to double her salary after your transition to vampire."

I slugged him gently in the arm, but I suspected he wasn't teasing. My change from human to vampire hadn't exactly been smooth - and Helen, unfortunately for her, had had the unenviable job of welcoming me into the dark. It hadn't gone smoothly.

Satisfied the Grey House vampires were being cared for, we retreated and continued our journey to the first floor.

We reached the foyer just as Scott, Ava, and the children walked through the door.

"Perfect timing," Ethan said, striding forward to meet them. "Welcome to Cadogan House. I'm sorry it's under these circumstances."

Ava nodded nervously, gathering her children around her. "Thank you for having us."

"Ditto," Scott added. "We appreciate the gesture. I know it's an inconvenience."

Ethan smiled. "Not at all." He turned to Helen, who still sat at the greeting station, and gestured to the new arrivals.

"Helen, this is Ava and her children, Abby and Miguel. They are Scott's particular friends, and they will be staying with us."

If Helen found anything odd in his announcement, she didn't show it. In her typically administrative fashion, she checked her clipboard.

"We have the injured vampires in the guest suite, and it will be a bit noisy in the ballroom and library, given the number of vampires. If you'd like, the children can stay in Merit's old room," she said, glancing at me.

I nodded my approval, but Ethan interjected.

"That won't do," he said. "You can take the Master's apartment. That way you'll be able to stay together, with the children. You'll need space of your own to breathe and plan, and you'll feel better if you can keep them close?"

Ava nodded with relief.

Ethan looked at Helen. "You can arrange cots for the children?"

"Of course," she said. "But what about you?"

"We'll stay in Merit's old room."

Since my dorm-sized room had only a twin bed, it would be a squeeze. But Luc and Lindsey managed well enough in her room. Besides, Ethan was right. It wasn't much of a sacrifice to us, and it would give them all peace of mind.

"Then I offer our thanks," Scott said.

"Margot, if you'll take the desk," Helen said, "I'll show them the way." When Margot nodded, Helen gestured toward the stairs with her clipboard and they moved forward. Ethan turned back to me.

"I hope that's all right with you."

"Of course," I said. "They'll want to be together. Especially after tonight."

"My thoughts exactly." He looked at Margot. "We'll be in the Ops Room."

Margot saluted with the pen in her hand.