Some Girls Bite (25 page)

Grandpa picked up the notepad again and rose, then walked to the door. “You’re right—they need to talk, if for no other reason than the timing of this thing. There was a week between Porter’s death and Merit’s attack, nine days between Merit and this girl’s death. It’s not a huge sample, but. . . .”

“We don’t have much time,” I quietly concluded. “Which means we could see another in the next ten days?”

My grandfather blew out a slow breath, then linked his hands above his head. “Maybe so, kid. I don’t envy the CPD on this one.” He looked over at me, gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry to run you off, but we need to start making phone calls. Cadogan and Navarre need to be notified, and I need to talk to my source.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Jeff said.

“Sure.” I peeked in the bucket, looked over a handful of pieces, decided I still had no appetite for fowl. “Enjoy the rest,” I said. “I’ll leave it here.”

“Oh, before you go,” Jeff said, burrowing beneath this desk, “I got you something.” He dug around underneath there for a minute making clanging and banging noises, before crawling out with an Army green canvas bag in his hands. He held it out to me, and I took it, and peeked inside.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Jeff?” I asked, peering into the sack of sharpened wooden stakes.

“Just that I’d prefer you alive.”

I hitched the bag over my shoulder, gave him a jaunty wink. “Then thanks.”

He smiled endearingly. Jeff was a kid, but a good kid.

Catcher rose. “I’ll walk you out.”

I gave Grandpa a hug, and passed a final wave and smile to Jeff, then let Catcher guide me back to the front door. He uncoded it and held it open so I could walk through. “Stay close to the guards this week. Could be this maniac’s going to try to finish you off, take a swipe at hit number three.”

I shivered and hitched the bag of stakes a little tighter at my shoulder. “Thanks for the comfort.”

“I’m not here to comfort you, babe. I’m here to keep you alive.”

“And screw my roommate.”

He smiled grandly, a dimple peeking from the left side of his upturned lips. “And that, assuming I can get her to see it my way.”

I left him with a smile, glad that, whatever the supernatural drama, I’d found friends to help me through it. A new family, for all the genetic differences.

I got into the car and drove home with the windows down, trying to hold on to that smile, that comfort, trying to let the spring breeze and a soft tune carry away my uncertainty.

Have you ever had a moment where you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were in the right place? That you were on the right journey? Maybe the sense that you’d crossed a boundary, jumped a hurdle, and somehow, after facing some unconquerable mountain, found yourself suddenly on the other side of it? When the night was warm, and the wind was cool, and a song carried through the quiet streets around you. When you felt the entire world around you, and you were part of it—of the hum of it—and everything was good.

Contentment, I suppose, is the simple explanation for it. But it seems more than that, thicker than that, some unity of purpose, some sense of being truly, honestly, for that moment, at home.

Those moments never seem to last long enough. The song ends, the breeze stills, the worries and fears creep in again and you’re left trying to move forward, but glancing back at the mountain behind you, wondering how you managed to cross it, afraid you really didn’t—that the bulk and shadow over your shoulder might evaporate and re-form before you, and you’d be faced with the burden of crossing it again.

The song ends, and you stare at the quiet, dark house in front of you, and you grasp the doorknob, and walk back into your life.

 

 

 

“
T
ime to get up, sleepyhead!”

I heard the voice, but grumbled into my pillow and pulled the comforter over my head. “Go away.” “Aw, come on, Mer. Today’s your big day! It’s Vampire Rush!”

I tunneled into the blankets. “I don’t want to be a vampire today.”

I heard a huff, and the covers were ripped from my body and thrown to the floor.

“Damn it, Mallory!” I sat up and pushed a nest of dark hair from my face. “I’m twenty-seven years old and perfectly capable of getting up on my own. Will you get out of my room? Go bother Catcher.”

“Catcher has bigger issues on his mind right now, Mer.” She paused in the middle of flipping through the shirts that hung in my closet. “Did you hear about this other girl? The one who was killed.”

I nodded as I rubbed sleep from my eyes. “They mentioned her last night.”

“Helluva time to become a vampire.”

“Tell me about it. I said the same thing the other day.”

Mallory began to pull clothes off hangers and drop them into a pile on the floor. I gave her a dramatic glare she didn’t bother to notice. “What are you doing?”

“I’m finding you something to wear. You’ve got Rush today.” For all that Mallory proclaimed herself immune to the benefits of being as gorgeous and fit as she was, there were moments that she reveled in girly stuff. Her sorority sisters would have been proud.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “It’s not Rush. It’s hazing.
Vampire
hazing. I don’t need to dress up so Ethan can humiliate me.”

“True. He’s humiliated you just fine when you were in jeans and a T-shirt.” She glanced back, gave me a look over her shoulder snarky enough to reduce a pledge to tears. “But you’re going to be there with, what did you say, eleven other new vamps? You need to show them what you’re made of. Today’s your day to start over. To reinvent yourself.”

I shuddered as Mallory pulled out a pair of high black heels and a fitted white button-up blouse. They joined the trousers she’d tossed on the bed.

“That’s not the kind of stuff I usually wear.”

She snickered. “That’s why you’re wearing it tonight.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Bathroom. Clean thyself.”

 

Once I’d showered and dried off, Mallory took over. Nothing escaped her notice. I was perfum’d, pluck’d and powder’d within an inch of my life, my long hair brushed and sprayed until it gleamed, the long fringe of my dark bangs over my forehead. I was tucked into the trim flat-front trousers and the very snug white button-up shirt, which had cuffs at the ends of the three-quarter sleeves. The shirt was tucked in, and she twined a black belt around my waist, before unbuttoning the top couple of buttons on the shirt.

“You can see my boobs if you do that,” I warned her.

“Such as they are,” she snarked back. “And that’s the point. You’re playing the part of hot single vampire tonight.”

I watched my reflection change in the mirror—from casually attractive graduate student to something a little more fierce. She chained three snug strands of thick silver beads around my right wrist, added a couple of layers of makeup—giving me, as she explained, “a dramatic, smoky eye and just-kissed lips,” then slid me into the heels.

“All right,” she said, wiggling her finger in a circular motion. “Turn around.”

I performed like a trained circus poodle, spinning slowly in place so she could look me over.

“Nice,” she complimented. “You clean up very, very nicely.”

I shrugged and let her adjust the cuffs on the pant legs and collar of my shirt, then check my teeth for lipstick.

“All right. Final test. Let’s go.”

Because I was unused to walking in heels, she helped me downstairs, then made me stand at the foot of the stairs while she moved into the living room. “Gentleman, I present the newest member of Cadogan House, Chicago’s smartest vampire—Merit!”

I was disappointed she hadn’t named me “Chicago’s sexiest vampire,” but took what I could get and moved forward when she motioned me to do so. Jeff and Catcher sat on the couch, Jeff nearly propelling himself off it when I stepped into the living room.

“Woot, woot!” he yelled. “You look good enough to eat!”

I slid Mallory a glance. “He’s your test? He thinks anything with breasts looks good.”

“Since you don’t qualify, that’s why I asked him over.”

I gave her a juvenile face and cupped my breasts protectively. There wasn’t much to them, but they were mine, damn it. I dropped my hands when Jeff stood in front of me, grinning boyishly.

“You look ho-ot. Sure you don’t wanna drop this vampire business and join the Pack? We’ve got better . . . insurance.”

I grinned at him, positive that “insurance” hadn’t been the first suggestion on his mind, but was actually prompted by the finger Catcher poked between his shoulder blades. But I thanked him and held out my arms to Catcher.

“Good luck,” he offered, hugging and releasing me. “You decided yet what you’re going to do about the oaths?”

“Not yet,” I admitted, the question alone churning my nerves. As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Jeff, who was closest, pulled it open. A liveried driver tipped the cap on his head.

“Ms. Merit, please, bound for Cadogan House.”

I blew out a slow breath, trying to calm the fear that was making a tangled mess of my stomach, and turned nervous eyes to Mallory. She smiled and held out her hands, and I moved into her fierce hug. “My little girl’s growing up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, which I’m sure was her intention. “You are so full of shit.” When I let her go, Catcher moved in, putting a possessive hand at the small of her back.

“Be good tonight.”

I nodded and grabbed the tiny black-and-white clutch Mallory had prepared for me. It held, she’d informed me earlier, a lipstick, my cell phone (turned off, so as not to irritate my housemates), my car keys, emergency cash.

And, ahem, a condom, Mallory apparently thinking it likely I’d be caught in a vampire-sex emergency. (Could vampires even catch STDs? Bet they didn’t cover that in the
Canon
.)

Purse prepared, I gave everyone a final tremulous wave and followed the driver down to the sleek black limousine that sat at the curb. During the walk to the driver-opened door, although most of my brain cells were busy trying to keep me upright in three-inch stilettos, I did take a moment to remember the last time a limo had been parked in front of our house. It had been six days ago, when I’d arrived, newly changed and stuffed into a cocktail dress, still woozy from the attack and the change.

Six days later, shape-shifters peppered Chicago, my grandfather employed a secret vampire, my roommate was dating a magician, and I was learning how to wield a Samurai-era sword.

Life definitely marched on.

 

The limousine trekked steadily south, halting in front of a bedecked and bedazzled Cadogan House. Torches lit the sidewalk in front of the House and the walk that led to the front door, and candles blazed in each of the House’s dozens of windows. One of the guards from the front gate opened the limousine door and gave me a knowing smile as I stepped onto the sidewalk. As I walked into the grounds, I realized that the dozens of torches that lined the sidewalk weren’t your garden-variety tikis. These were elegant, sculpted from wrought iron. And more important, they were wielded by a gauntlet of vampires—men and women, all dressed in chicly cut black suits—who stood shoulder to shoulder along the sidewalk.

My stomach clenched with nerves, but I forced myself to walk on, to walk through them. I wasn’t sure what I expected—scorn or ridicule, maybe? Some indication that they’d seen through me, and knew that I wasn’t as powerful as some seemed to believe?

Their reaction was almost more frightening. Each pair, as I walked past, bowed their heads. “Sister,” they quietly said, so the word fluttered behind me as I moved through them.

Goose bumps covered my arms, my lips parting as I absorbed the weight of what they were offering me—solidarity, kinship, family. I stepped up to the covered portico, glancing behind me, and inclined my head toward them, hoping that I was worth it.

Malik was at the open door, and he held out a hand in invitation. “He puts on a show,” he quietly said as I walked inside. “You’ll find the women upstairs in the ballroom’s anteroom.” He inclined his head toward the stairs. “All the way up and to the left.”

I nodded again and gripped the railing when I reached the stairway, well aware that that stairs, three-inch heels, and adrenaline-rocked thighs were a dangerous combination. At the top of the stairway, I went to the left.

The sound of feminine giggling and banter echoed through the hall, and I walked toward it, stopping at an open door. There were a dozen women in a room that had been decked out to look like a pageant staging area—big mirrors, lots of light, lots of “product.” Half the vamps wore traditional Cadogan black. These Novitiates helped the other five, who were dressed in a range of glamour wear (cocktail dresses, glimmery halter tops, satin-edged tuxedo pants), prepare for the ceremony. These makeupped and coiffed women were my fellow Initiates, and I suddenly felt old and fusty in my black-and-white ensemble.

As I watched them, I realized that they were all grinning. Their eyes were bright and eager, like they were preparing for the most exciting event of their lives. These were women, I thought, who’d been invited to join the House. Who’d chosen—consciously—to forgo the human world for night and blood and the political intrigue of vampires.

I felt a tight pang of jealousy. What would that have been like, to walk into Cadogan House and ask for membership, or to view the Commendation as the celebration of a profound achievement? It really was Vampire Rush for these women, former humans who believed themselves fortunate to have made the cut.

“They’re like lions preparing to jump the gazelle.”

I smiled in spite of my nerves, turning to find a smiling blond vamp behind me. She wore the requisite black, her long, straight hair pulled into a tidy ponytail at her nape.