Hard Bitten - Chloe Neill [98]
“You will remember your place,” Ethan said, calling on the fact that he’d been Master longer than Morgan had been alive. Hell, I’d been a vampire longer than Morgan had been Master, and that wasn’t saying much.
But this time, Morgan wasn’t swayed. He took a step forward and stabbed a finger in his chest. “My place? Mine is the oldest American House, Sullivan. And don’t you forget it. And I’m not the one embarrassing all the Houses by stirring up drama that doesn’t need to be stirred.”
“Are you insane?” Ethan asked. “Do you understand what’s going on out there right now? The trouble—the risks—the Houses are facing because of what your former Master did? Or because of what she’s doing right now?”
“Enough!” Darius said, jumping to his feet. “Enough of this. You are Masters of your Houses, and you’re acting like children. This conversation is an embarrassment to all American Houses and the GP—without whose generosity they would not exist.”
That was putting it a bit strongly, I thought.
“As of this instant, you will both begin to comport yourselves like Masters. Like the princes you were meant to be. Not squabbling like human children.”
Darius looked up, icy eyes drilling into me. “Your Sentinel is off the streets. She is not to be engaged in any further investigation of whatever issues your mayor imagines to exist.”
Ethan’s eyes could hardly have been wider. “And if the warrant for my arrest is executed?”
Darius’s gaze slipped back to Ethan. “The mayor of the city of Chicago is surely intelligent enough not to think that a man-made prison can hold you. However much he may enjoy using the threat of incarceration to coerce you into solving his problems for him, those problems are still his to solve. And, more important, have any of you seen evidence that the three girls your mayor believes were killed are actually dead? Have you seen any evidence three girls were missing in Chicago?”
Catcher had promised he’d look into the girls’ deaths, but hadn’t passed any information along to me. But just because they hadn’t solved the crime didn’t mean a crime hadn’t been committed.
I spoke up. “The eyewitness believed that three women were killed. And the things he described were accurate—vampires who were trigger-happy, doped on violence, ready to fight.”
“In other words,” Darius began, his manner supremely smug, “just like vampires?”
Let it be, Sentinel, echoed Ethan’s voice in my head. Battling six hundred years of entrenched belief is not a fight you can win.
He’s wrong, I protested.
That’s as may be. But our fight is for Chicago, not Darius West, whatever his power. Fight the fight you can win. For now, he added in classic Ethan style, be still.
“And the fact that raves are becoming larger and more violent?” Ethan asked.
“Vampires are acting as vampires have always acted. If a few errant vampires break the rules of their home city, let the city respond.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
“Then the GP will discuss it, and the GP will act. Maintain control over your own House, Ethan, and leave the GP to its work. You are not to consider this issue any further.”
A heavy silence filled the room.
“Sire,” Scott said, finally speaking up. “I’m informed our guests have arrived. As you have presented your directives, perhaps Ethan can acknowledge receipt and we can move into dinner?”
Darius tilted his head at Ethan, the move more canine than vampiric. “Ethan?”
Ethan moistened his lips, and I knew he was stalling. Given the spiel he then offered up, I knew why.
“Sire, I acknowledge receipt of your directives and . . . will act as commanded.”
He might as well have been crossing his fingers behind his back for all the rebellion in his body language. But you couldn’t fault his answer. He sounded completely obedient—in word and tone.
Those words, probably holdovers from some feudal ritual, were enough, for Darius nodded. “Let us eat, drink, and be merry.”
He walked to Ethan, arm extended. In a move similar to one I’d seen Ethan and Malik make, Ethan extended his arm, as well, and they grasped forearms and