Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [34]
“The GP will act as it deems appropriate.”
Like never before, I had a sudden empathy for Jonah, Noah, and everyone else involved in the Red Guard. That was precisely the attitude they were battling against—the GP’s sense that it was infallible, and the very real fact that there was no other check on its power.
“I’m sure it will,” I told him.
Frank clenched his jaw for a moment before returning his attention to the pile of papers in front of him. He gathered them up and tapped them together, then slid them aside, another tower of paper.
“The GP is very disturbed by the actions of this House. Under my authority, it will operate as it was meant to—as one House of twelve. It will not make a spectacle of itself. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly.”
“We’ll speak again,” he assured me, and waved a dismissive hand.
I took that as my cue to exit; I rose, pushed back my chair, and headed for the door.
“Merit.”
As I had on so many other occasions, I glanced back from the doorway of the office that had once been Ethan’s. But the room, with its towers of paper and ignorant interloper, was different now.
“One way or the other,” Frank said, “the truth will come out.”
“I hope so,” I told him. “I really do.”
Dawn was on its way, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. I found the books I’d left in the library outside my door, so I carried them into my room. Hunger gnawed at me, the pad thai having left me with the munchies, so I wandered to the kitchen to take stock of whatever free-range, shade-grown munchables Frank had allowed.
Out of curiosity, I also checked the refrigerator, which was usually fully stocked with blood. This time, there were only three sad-looking Blood4You pint bags on the top shelf. The fact that Frank thought it was just to deprive vampires of blood—making them aware with every breath how beholden they were to him—filled me with a surge of anger. It was downright sadistic.
Gnawing my lips, I contemplated diving into one of the bags. My hunger hadn’t yet fully arisen, but it was beginning to gnaw in my chest. I was also going to have to face down the lake siren tomorrow, and God only knew what that might involve. I needed the blood—but I hated to take a pint away from someone else. On the other hand, a blood-crazy Sentinel wasn’t going to help anyone.
I grabbed a pint from the fridge and set about sating my other hunger. I pulled open a random cabinet and grimaced at the sight. Just as Lindsey had predicted, the munchables were all free-range and shade-grown, full of organic goodness and without a single saturated or hydrogenated whatnot in sight.
“Miserable, isn’t it?”
I glanced behind me. Margot, the House’s head chef, stood in the doorway with a dour expression. She wore her chef’s whites and rubber clogs, her sleek bob of dark hair gleaming, the pointed bangs resting just between her catlike amber eyes. Her eyes, though, looked a little watery, and they were marked beneath by dark circles.
Was that an effect of blood rationing?
“It is miserable,” I agreed.
Margot pulled a small cart into the kitchen, its top and bottom shelves laden with healthy snacks and the crunchy sorts of vegetables that only tasted good when drowned in creamy dill dressing.
I know I wasn’t a model for healthy eating. But I’d been careful about my weight my entire life. Now, because of my vampire metabolism, I couldn’t gain a pound. I considered that a challenge.
“I like to bake,” she said, opening a cabinet and stocking the shelves, “and I enjoy my fruits and veggies, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy plastic-wrapped carbs now and again.”
“I’m sure he thinks he’s doing the right thing.”
Margot paused, hand on a bag of all-natural dried fruit snacks that probably tasted like Styrofoam, and looked over at me. “Do you really believe that?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I think he truly believes he’s doing the right thing for the GP.”
She lowered her voice. “Then maybe it’s the GP we should be arguing with.”
I made a sound of agreement.
Margot stocked the cabinet, then opened the refrigerator door.