Some Girls Bite (29 page)

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Get to work, Sentinel, but find me before you leave. I want to touch base about the murder investigations.”

I nodded. Hard to be sarcastic when serial murder was the topic. “Sure.”

Ethan gave me a final silent perusal, then turned and walked out of the room. I kept my eyes on the empty doorway even when he’d gone, still expecting him to pop back inside and add a final snarky comment. But silence filled the House, Ethan apparently content not to do further battle right now. Relieved, I took the stairs and veered to the right. The door he’d indicated was closed. I knocked, heard someone invite me in, opened the door and walked inside.

It was like stepping onto a movie set. The room was as handsomely decorated as the upper floors of Cadogan House, pale colors and tasteful furniture, but it was smeared with technology—screens, computers, printers. The ends of the rectangular room were anchored by long banks of computers and expensive-looking equipment, with security monitors mounted above. Black-and-white images of the Cadogan grounds flickered on the screens. An oval conference table sat in the middle of the room, a handful of vampires—including Luc and Lindsey—around it. And on the long wall behind the conference table was a seven-foot-wide display screen, projecting a series of pictures of a brunette.

Of
me
.

I stared, lips parted, at a picture of me dancing across a stage in a pale pink leotard, a whispery skirt around my thighs, hands arced above my head. There was a clicking sound, and the image changed. I was in college, wearing an NYU T-shirt.
Click
. I was at a library table, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear as I pored over a book. The picture was undisturbed by vampire glam—I sat cross-legged in jeans in a comfy chair, my hair pulled back in a messy knot, retro-punk glasses perched on my nose, Chuck Taylors on my feet.

I cocked my head to the side, staring at the text on the screen.
“Canterbury Tales,”
I announced to the room. All heads turned to look at me as I stood, not a little unsteadily, in the doorway. “I was preparing for a class, in case you were curious.”

Luc, who sat at the head of the table, tapped a screen that was inlaid into the tabletop, and the images disappeared, replaced by a Cadogan House logo. He still looked cowboyish today—tousled blond hair ruffling the collar of a faded, long-sleeved denim shirt, jeans, and boots, visible because he crossed his ankles on the table in front of him. He was the only vamp in the room in jeans. Everyone else was in the requisite Cadogan black, fitted tops and shirts that, presumably, made it easier for the guards to do their jobs than the usual stiff suits.

“Doing some research?” I asked.

“You’d be amazed what you can find on the Interwebs in a week,” Luc said, “and security always checks out security.” He pointed me toward a seat at the table next to Lindsey, and across from a female vamp I didn’t know—a tall, coltish redhead, who’d maybe topped out at twenty-two when she was turned. She grinned at me.

“Sit your ass down,” Luc said. “It took you long enough to get here. You really need to consider moving into the House.”

I smiled grimly at the other guards, none of whom I recognized beyond Lindsey, and took the proffered seat. “I can’t imagine any way that’d be a good idea,” I said, trying for a light tone. “I’d get pissed at Ethan and stake him in his sleep. No one wants that.”

“Least of all Ethan,” Lindsey pointed out, using a stick of what looked like beef jerky to gesture. “That’s very magnanimous, Merit.”

I smiled at her. “Thanks.”

Luc rolled his eyes. “Before we were interrupted”—he gave me a heavy glance that made clear whom he was holding responsible for the disturbance—“I was explaining to your crew that I’m going to be testing you on the C-41 protocol, and that if you don’t yet understand the four subsets of the C-41 protocol, you’ll find your ass in Ethan’s office explaining to him why you spent the evening partying with the baby vamps when you should have been preparing to ensure the security of your House.”

Luc raised his gaze to mine. “I assume you looked through the Web site last night and can take us through the C-41 subsets?”

I swallowed down a keen sense of panic. It was like living the nightmare—the one where you’re unprepared for an exam and you show up to the test completely naked? Here I was, nicely dressed, but still about to be humiliated in front of the squad of Cadogan guards. I might as well have skipped the wardrobe upgrade.

I opened my mouth to spit out some kind of response—an apology, a couple of lame sentences about the importance of House security in the days of dueling alliances (and Ethan said I never listened!)—when Luc was hit, square in the face, with a flying piece of jerky.

Lindsey snorted and nearly fell out of her chair laughing, catching herself—and the giant plastic tub of jerky that was sitting in her lap—just before she stumbled.

With the calm aplomb of a man accustomed to being hit in the face with dried beef, Luc peeled the square of jerky from his shirt, lifted it, and leveled a skewering glance at Lindsey.

“What?” she said. “You can’t think I’m going to let you sit there and torture her.” She glanced back at me. “He’s bullshitting you. There’s no such thing as a C-41 protocol.” She reached into the tub and pulled out a ruler-shaped piece of meat, then looked back at Luc, as she nibbled on the end. “You’re such a shit.”

“And you’re fired.”

I’m not fired,
she mouthed to me, shaking her head. She held out the tub. “Jerky?”

I’d never been a jerky fan, but the urge to nosh was undeniable. I reached in and grabbed two sticks of it, and immediately began gnawing. Weird thing about being a vampire—you never knew you were hungry until you were around food. Then the urges kicked in.

Luc grumbled at the set down, but kicked his legs off the table, motioned for the bucket, and when she offered it, grabbed some jerky of his own. He tugged at one end toothily, then said, “Folks, since our resident troublemaker has finally decided to join us, why don’t you all introduce yourselves?” He put a hand on his chest. “I’m Luc. I exist to give you orders. If you question those order, you’ll find your ass on the floor.” He smiled wolfishly. “Any questions, doll?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m good.”

“Right. Peter, you’re next.”

Peter was about six foot, with a thinner build, and brown hair that fell just past his ears. He wore a gray sweater, jeans, and boots. He’d probably been made in his early thirties, and had a look of casual wealth that reminded me of the new Novitiates. But where they wore a gloss of naive optimism, Peter had the vaguely tired look of a man who’d seen too much in his life.

“Peter. I’ve been here thirty-seven, thirty-eight years.”

“Peter’s concise,” Luc commented, nodding at the next guard. “Juliet.”

Juliet was the feylike redhead. “Juliet. Eighty-six years, fifty-four in Cadogan. I was Commended into Taylor, transferred over. Nice to meet you, Merit.”

“Kel, you’re next.”

“I’m Kelley,” said the woman to my right. Her black hair was long and straight, her mouth a perfect cupid’s bow, her skin perfectly pale, her eyes slightly uptilted. “Two hundred and fourteen years. I was made by Peter Cadogan before the House was formed. When he was killed, I stayed with Ethan. You’ll stand Sentinel?”

I nodded, the only option available, as her tone brooked no argument. The energy that surrounded her was contained, intense, and almost thickly aggressive. For all that, she was lithe and slim, and was probably deceptively unfrightening to the average human.

“And last, and arguably least, we have Lindsey.” He looked over at her, gave her a haughty look.

Lindsey just waved an airy hand. “You know who I am. I’m one hundred and fifteen, if it matters, originally from Iowa, but I did my time in New York—Yankees rule. I had too much to drink last night, and I have a splitting headache, but I divested a newbie of a pint.”

I grinned, but caught a low-grade growl from Luc’s end of the table. Some unrequited feelings there, maybe?

“Do us a favor and spare us the bloody details, Linds.”

Lindsey smirked at him, smiled at me. “And I’m the resident psychic.”

He snapped his fingers. “Of course. I knew there was a reason he kept you around. Everyone has their specialties—Peter’s got the contacts, Juliet’s slippery. She gathers data.” I assumed he meant surreptitiously. “Kelley’s our resident mechanical and software genius.”

When he turned to look at me, the rest of the guards followed suit. I sat still while they gave me calculating, appraising glances, probably registering strengths and weaknesses, estimating powers and potentials.

“I’m strong and fast,” I offered. “I don’t know how I match up against everyone else, but as you probably heard, I at least gave Ethan a run for his money, so you know what I could do a couple of days out. Since then, I’ve been training with Catcher Bell, learning moves and sword work, and that’s coming along. I seem to have some resistance to glamour, but I don’t have any other psychic powers. At least, not yet.”

Her wide whiskey eyes on me, Kelley offered, “I suppose that makes you a soldier.”

“And I’m the fearless leader,” Luc said, “haranguing this group of ragtag vampires into something greater than the sum of its parts. I like to think of it as—”

“Boss, she’s in. She doesn’t need the recruiting speech.” Peter lifted brows expectantly at Luc.

“Right.” Luc nodded. “Right. Well, in addition to the six of us, we liaise with the daylight guards, the folks who stay at the gate. They’re employed by RDI—that’s our external security company.”

“And how do we know we can trust them?” I asked.

“Cynical,” Luc said with approval. “I like it. Anyway, RDI is run by fairies. And nobody fucks with fairies. The thing is, while we protect the House—”

“Because a safe House is a safe Master,” the four guards parroted together, their words ash-dry, and I guessed Luc broke out the proverb frequently.

“Jesus, you bastards
do
listen to me. I’m touched. Really.” He rolled his eyes. “As I was saying, our primary loyalty is to Ethan, to the vamps. Your loyalty is first and foremost to Cadogan. I don’t think that’ll make too much difference in the short run, but should something arise that tests the bond between Master and House, you’ll need to be aware of that.” He shook his head, mouth pursed. “That’ll put you in a helluva goddamn spot, having to counter Ethan about House security. But he thought you were the girl for the job, so . . . You know anything about guns?” he asked, expression suddenly tight.

I blinked. “Um, only to stay away from them?”

Luc blew out a breath, ran his hands through his hair. “Training, then. Jesus, you’re green. Ballet and grad school to Cadogan fucking Sentinel. It’ll take time.” He nodded, then released his hands and scribbled something on a notepad that lay on the table in front of him. “You’re going to need weapons training, strategy, cleaning and safety, all of it.”

He was quiet for a moment, flipping an occasional page as he made notes. In the interim, Lindsey offered me another hunk of jerky, which I gratefully accepted.

“Now that we’ve done the tea party,” Luc said, pushing back the notepad and settling into his chair, “it’s time for our annual review of Rules You Disrespectful Bastards Never Follow.”

A unified disgruntled groan filled the Operations Room. Luc ignored it. “I’m explaining these rules for Merit’s benefit, but since you people rarely obey them”—he gave Lindsey a pointed glance, to which she responded with a stuck-out tongue—“I’m sure you’ll appreciate the refresher.”

He tapped the panel in front of him. The Cadogan logo disappeared from the wall screen, replaced by a bulleted list entitled
Cadogan Guards—Expectations
.

Luc leaned back, crossed his hands behind his head, and kicked his booted feet back onto the table. “Number one, you’re always on call. I don’t care where you are, who you’re with, or what you’re doing. Sleeping, showering, making inappropriate advances toward still-pink vampires.” That earned a grunt from Lindsey. “If your beeper sounds, you’re on your way to the House, to the action.

“Number two, you will review the Web site, and you will learn the security protocols. If the worst happens—if there’s a direct attack on Cadogan—I want everyone in place, knowing their positions, knowing their responsibilities, knowing whether you’re guarding zone or man-to-man.”

Lindsey leaned toward me. “He’s obsessed with college ball,” she whispered. “Expect him to channel Coach K whenever he thinks he can risk the analogy.”

I grinned.

“Twice a week,” Luc said, “we will review said protocols, focusing on developments, strategies, whatever burr I happen to have up my ass at that particular time. Every day that you are on duty, you will review the dailies, and you will review the dossiers that are placed in your particular file.” He pointed at a line of hanging folders mounted to the wall, each a different color, each labeled with one of our names. The label on the bottommost folder read
Cadogan Sentinel
.

“These documents will keep you informed as to any threats, any changes in the management of this or any other House, any guests in Cadogan, any particular instructions given by your Liege and mine. Four times a week you will train in accordance with the manual you’ll find on the Web site. Train here, train with your comrades, train outside the House. I don’t care. But you’ll be tested periodically—strength, speed, stamina, katas, weapons. You’re a Cadogan guard, and you owe your life and health to this House. You will be prepared to pay that debt, in full, if necessary.”

A weighty silence fell over the room, and I watched the guards nod solemnly, some touching the Cadogan medals that lay at the base of their throats.

“Number three,” Luc continued, pointing at the screen. “You’re an employee of Cadogan House. That means you screw something up in the process of doing your duty—injuring bystanders, pissing off humans—and you risk drawing unwanted attention to the House, our getting sued, an increase in our insurance premiums, and your ass on the streets, where you’ll end up following goth wannabe Rogue vampires around the Windy City. To use Merit’s words, no one wants that, least of all Ethan. And you sure as shit don’t want aspen drawn because you were careless.