Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [42]
“I had that on very good authority.”
I lifted my brows in question.
“Granted,” he allowed, “she was under the influence at the time . . .”
“Celina was hardly a source of reliable information. Especially when you were manipulating her with magic.”
Tate rolled his eyes. “Did we have to jump into this? How about asking how I’ve been? Or what life is like on the inside? Are we so common we don’t bother with the polite formalities?”
“You manufactured drugs, hooked vamps on them, and facilitated the deaths of two vampires. Not to mention blaming me for all the above. Why should I be polite to you?”
“That was a very bad week,” was all he said.
The remark was callous, but the tone was sincere. I had a sense he wasn’t kidding. Maybe he had magical drama of his own.
“You told the GP I orchestrated Celina’s and Ethan’s deaths so I could take over the House,” I said. “They’re looking for an excuse to kick me out, and you’re giving them the ammunition.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered what Cadogan House might be like if you were in charge? And I didn’t say you orchestrated their deaths,” Tate matter-of-factly said. “I said you were responsible for them. And you were. If Celina hadn’t hated you, she wouldn’t have thrown the stake. If Ethan hadn’t tried to save you, he’d still be alive. And if you hadn’t thrown the stake, Celina would still be alive. Ergo, you are responsible for their deaths.”
His voice was so matter-of-fact, it was difficult to tell if he believed what he was saying or was trying to bait me to anger. But I forced myself to stay calm.
“That analysis ignores your role, of course. If it hadn’t been for your machinations, none of it would have happened.”
He lifted a shoulder. “You have your truth; I have mine.”
“There’s only one truth.”
“That’s naïve, isn’t it? Merit, there’s no harm to me in insinuating you were involved in their deaths. And if it creates reasonable doubt supporting my release, so be it.” Tate leaned forward. “The real question, of course, is why you’re here. Because I can’t imagine you traveled to this part of town in the middle of the night just to vent in my general direction or complain that I’d tattletaled.”
He had a point. It wasn’t as if I could convince him to call the GP and recant his story; he wouldn’t do it, and they wouldn’t believe him anyway. So why was I here? What had I hoped to accomplish? Did I want to confront him about that night?
Maybe this had nothing to do with the GP. Maybe this was about me. Maybe I feared Tate was right, that the blame for their deaths hadn’t all been attributable to him.
“I can hear you thinking from across the table,” Tate said. “If silent mea culpas are the best you can do, then you aren’t nearly as interesting as I’d imagined.”
“Two vampires are dead.”
“Do you know how many beings have lived and died since the origins of this world, Merit? Billions. Many billions. And yet, you give little regard to the preciousness of their lives, only because you happened not to know them. But two vampires who’ve lived more than their share of years die, and you mourn them into the ground, so to speak?” He clucked his tongue. “Who’s being illogical now?”
I stood up and pushed back my chair. “You’re right,” I said. “Maybe it’s selfish to grieve. But I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“Big words,” he said.
I walked to the door, then turned back and looked at him, the playboy in convict orange. “Maybe, deep down, I wanted you to admit to me what you’d done and that you’d lied to the GP. Maybe I wanted you to take responsibility for their deaths.”
“You cannot obtain absolution from me.”
“I know.” And I did. I knew that railing at Tate wasn’t going to change anything, and it wasn’t going to assuage my secret fear that I’d been the cause of Ethan’s death. After all, if it hadn