I lay down on the small bed, one arm behind my head, staring at the ceiling. It was weird to be here alone, to sleep without Ethan’s body and heartbeat beside me, and I felt oddly self-conscious attempting to fall asleep. The sounds were different, the smells, the feel of sheets and blankets beneath me. And I was pretty sure Ethan had better-quality linens.
I stared into darkness, waiting for the sun to rise, for sleep to overpower me.
Good night, Sentinel.
His voice sounded a little lonely, which made me smile, if sadistically. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one wanting.
Good night, Sullivan. In my absence, do try to keep your hands to yourself.
It was the first moderately suggestive thing I’d said to him since Balthasar. I think we both felt better afterward.
Chapter Twenty-four
LADY IN RED
The next evening, the energy and excitement in the House was palpable. The drama notwithstanding, the Investiture was an important ceremony. Ethan, Scott, and Morgan would be officially recognized as AAM members, and a new era for American vampires would begin.
There was a knock at the door. I threw off the covers, opened it, found a small tray outside the door bearing a bottle of blood, a Diet Coke, a muffin, and a two-inch-high pile of bacon. I might have been in a different room, and no longer—at least temporarily—Ethan’s significant other, but Margot hadn’t forgotten me.
Still, he’d become such a fixture in my life that it was odd to wake without Ethan beside me. “Balthasar” needed to show his lying and impostering ass tonight, because I wanted my Darth Sullivan back.
I checked my phone, found a dozen messages from family members, friends, and supernaturals with sympathies for the breakup. News, apparently, spread very fast. None of them were from folks in the House, so at least they’d gotten the word out. I’d have to make a lot of calls when the charade was over.
There was no message from Luc, so I showered and dressed in jeans and a Cadogan T-shirt—I’d be changing clothes soon enough anyway—and headed downstairs to the Ops Room.
Lindsey and Luc were at the conference table when I walked in. Luc was already in a tux, Lindsey in a sleek, sleeveless column of black silk that fell to her ankles.
“You both look amazing.”
They looked up, glanced at me. “I think you’re underdressed, Sentinel.” Luc tapped his watch. “Party starts in an hour.”
“I’m doing my Sentinel duty and checking in with you first.”
“You’re avoiding Helen.” Lindsey smirked. “Which I get. ’Cause she scares the shit out of me.”
“Helen’s a peach,” Luc said. “But that’s neither here nor there.”
“Let’s get to what is. Any sign of Balthasar?”
“No,” Luc said. “We put human guards on the condo, and he hasn’t returned. The account manager was fired for speaking with us, so that’s a no-go.” He frowned, said almost to himself, “I should talk to Ethan about getting him some money or a stipend or something.” Then he shook his head. “We’ll deal with that later. Point is, no sign of Balthasar yet, but the news reports are building up this breakup thing pretty heavily.”
“I’m devastated by it,” I said.
“You look it,” Lindsey said. “You could always give Morgan another try.”
I gave her a flat look. “Been there, done that, DNF.”
There was a knock at the office door. We glanced back, found Jeff Christopher in the doorway in a very striking tuxedo. It draped his lean frame perfectly, and he’d slicked back his brown hair, which sharpened his features. He looked a little older, and a little more dangerous.
“Young Mr. Christopher,” Luc said, holding out a hand for him. “You look very official, sir.”
“Very handsome,” I agreed. I leaned over, pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“I’m sorry to hear about you and Ethan,” he said.
Since we hadn’t told all the guards about our plan, only the necessary few, Jeff was playing his part.
“Thank you. But I’d rather not talk about it.”
He nodded solemnly. “Of course. If you need to vent, I’m here.”
“I appreciate that. What brings you downstairs?”
“Balthasar, actually.”
Luc went on immediate alert. “You’ve seen him?”
“No, but I think we figured out who he is. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, but we—”
“Whoa,” Luc said, holding up a hand, lips curving into a grin. “You think you found him?”
Jeff nodded. “The Librarian and me, after we started scanning the pages ourselves. He found Balthasar. I found two more names: Carlisle Foster and Julien Burrows. Carlisle’s dead. He became a spy for the British during World War Two, was discovered and executed. Julien, on the other hand, has disappeared.”
I felt the warmth of rising adrenaline. “Disappeared?”
“The ledgers say he escaped after a fight with the human who’d been left to guard him. The guard said Burrows, and I’m quoting, ‘invaded his dreams.’ There’s no trace of him after that, at least under that name.”
The warmth turned into a full-on fire. I squeezed Jeff’s arm. “That is good work, Jeff. Really good work. Can we connect him to Reed?”
“Not yet. But I’ll keep looking. And Catcher’s still looking for a sorcerer.”