Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [4]
Said bane was Franklin Theodore Cabot, the appointed receiver of Cadogan House. When Darius West, head of the GP, had decided he didn’t like the way the House was run, “Frank” had been sent to Chicago to inspect and evaluate the House. The GP said they were concerned Ethan hadn’t effectively managed the House—but that was a total lie, and they’d wasted no time sending the receiver to check our rooms, our books, and our files. I wasn’t exactly sure what data Frank was looking for—and why so much interest in a House an entire ocean away?
Whatever the reason, Frank wasn’t a good houseguest. He was obnoxious, autocratic and a stickler for rules I hadn’t even known existed to the exclusion of everything else. Of course, I was becoming pretty well acquainted with them; Frank had papered one wall of the House’s first floor with the new House rules and the punishments that went along with breaking them. The system was necessary, he’d said, because House discipline had been lackadaisical.
Maybe not surprisingly, I had taken an immediate dislike to Frank, and not just because he was a blue-blooded Ivy League business school graduate with a penchant for phrases like “synergy” and “out of the box thinking.” He’d salted his introductory comments to the House with those words, offering up the not-so-subtle threat that the House would be taken over by the GP on a permanent basis—or disbanded—if he wasn’t satisfied with what he found.
I’d been fortunate enough to come from a family of means, and there were other vampires in the House who had old money backgrounds. But it was Frank’s attitude of entitlement that really irked me. The man wore deck shoes, for God’s sake. And he was most definitely not on a boat. In reality, despite the role he’d been given by the GP, he was actually a Novitiate vampire (if a wealthy one) from a House on the east coast. A House, granted, that had been founded by a Cabot ancestor, but which had long since been given over to another Master.
Worse, Frank spoke to us like he was a member of the House, as if his money and connections were a passport to status within Cadogan. Frank playing at House membership was even more ridiculous since his entire purpose was to itemize the ways we weren’t following the party line. He was an outsider sent to label us as nonconforming and pound us, square pegs, back into round holes.
Out of concern for the House and respect for the chain of command, Malik had given him the run of the House. He figured Frank was a battle he couldn’t win, so he was saving up his political capital for another round.
Whatever the drama, Frank was back in Hyde Park. I was here, in the Loop, with an ersatz vampire partner determined to teach me how to jump from a building without killing someone . . . or pushing myself beyond the limits of immortality.
I looked over the edge again, my stomach curdling with it. I was torn by dueling urges to drop to my knees and crawl back to the stairs and to hurl myself over the edge.
But then he spoke the words most likely to get me moving.
“Dawn will be here eventually, Merit.”
The myth about vampires and sunlight was true—if I was still on this roof when the sun rose, I’d burn up into a pile of ash.
“You have two options,” Jonah said. “You can trust me and try this, or you can climb back through the roof, go home, and never know what you might be capable of.”
He held out his hand. “Trust me,” he said. “And keep your knees soft when you land.”
It was the certainty in his eyes that did it—the confidence that I could achieve the goal. Once upon a time, I’d have seen suspicion in his gaze. Jonah hadn’t been a fan when we’d first met. But circumstances had forced us together, and whatever his initial doubts, he’d apparently learned to trust me.
Now was a good time to make good on that trust.
I held out my hand and death-gripped his fingers in mine. “Soft knees,” I repeated.
“You only have to take a step,