Or had been, anyway. Things were tense between us at present because I was sleeping with the presumed “enemy,” whom I refused to spy on.
“Could have been,” Ethan said with a slow nod. “But murder isn’t typically the RG’s MO. They aren’t normally that violent or that proactive. And killing with a bite isn’t their style.”
I’ll ask, I told Ethan silently, already brainstorming how, exactly, I was going to do that without making things worse. (“Hey, Jonah. I know we aren’t really talking right now, but did one of our RG colleagues kill a shifter near Grey House earlier tonight?”)
Ethan looked at Luc. “The shifter is our best lead at the moment. We have a name, a position, and a Pack. Find out what you can about his defection, and we’ll talk to Gabriel. He said they’ll host a wake tomorrow.”
Luc’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Even though he defected?”
“That was my question, too,” I said.
Luc nodded thoughtfully, considered. “We’ll do the research.”
“Discreetly,” Ethan said.
“I am nothing if not discreet.”
Lindsey snorted. “You walked down the hallway wearing nothing but a towel the other day.”
Luc grinned, stretched his arms. “I was hungry.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “You were showing off.”
Ethan laughed lightly, but then closed his eyes, rubbed his temples. Here, in front of his trusted staff, he could be vulnerable. “Alert the House just in case. If an unknown sorcerer is spreading magic around the city, and a vampire is killing shifters, that kind of trouble could find its way here.”
“Already has, arguably,” Luc said.
Ethan nodded. “Nothing so far indicates the man or woman who wrote these symbols is known to us. Until we figure out the reason for the magic, we treat it as antagonistic. We don’t need to lock down the House, but I want everyone on alert.”
“The House is already prepared because of Reed,” Malik said, comforting. “They’ll be careful.”
Ethan nodded at Malik, then looked around the room, meeting the gaze of each vampire in turn. “A shifter was killed by a vampire tonight. Gabriel trusts us to a point, but that trust will only extend so far. We don’t want to put our alliance at risk.” He rose. “I’d like a report at dusk with what we’ve learned about the defection, the shifter, the symbols.”
The other vampires understood the meaning of Ethan’s change in position, and they rose, too.
“On it, hoss,” Luc said, then nodded at me and headed toward the door, his guards behind him.
I rose to follow Luc, but Ethan put a hand on my arm. “Go upstairs. Take the rest of the night off.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ve only a few hours before dawn in any event, and tomorrow promises to be busy. I’d like you to help Mallory and Paige with the translation. I’ll clear it with Luc.”
He wouldn’t, actually. As Master, he’d inform Luc, which was a very different thing.
“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” I said. “I don’t really know much about alchemy, just recognized the symbols.”
“That’s why you’ll be their minion, and not the other way around.”
“Ha-ha.”
He pressed his mouth to mine. “I’m going to take care of a few issues here, including updating the AAM, and then I’ll join you in the apartments. Perhaps we’ll enjoy some wine in front of the fire.”
The AAM was the Assembly of American Masters.
“Is dealing with Nicole going to put you in the mood for wine drinking?” Nicole Heart was the Master of Atlanta’s Heart House, and the vampire who’d been elected leader of the AAM.
He chuckled. “It will certainly put me in the mood to want a drink.” He pressed his lips to mine, softly, tenderly. “Have a rest, Sentinel. I’ll see you soon.”
• • •
The Masters’ apartments were on the third floor of Cadogan House and were composed of a suite of rooms: sitting room, bedroom, bathroom, and enormous closet that held Ethan’s collection of suits and my leather fighting ensemble.
The rooms were as luxurious as the rest of the House, with beautiful furniture and art, fresh flowers, and, since the night was waning, the silver tray of snacks that Margot, the House chef, left for us every night. Tonight, it was here earlier than usual, but Ethan had probably told her how our evening had gone, requested she prepare it.
When I’d closed the door and kicked off my shoes, I unwrapped one of the gold-foiled chocolates she’d taken to leaving lately, a mix of chocolate, hazelnuts, and toffee that hit the spot.
As carefully as I could, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and headed for the shower. Ethan hadn’t spared any expense in the bathroom, with lots of marble, gleaming fixtures, and the fluffiest towels I’d ever used. And of course they were monogrammed with a curvaceous “C” in rich navy blue.
I turned on the enormous shower, let the water warm and the steam rise, and stepped inside. Eyes closed, I dunked my head and let the heat roll over me until I felt soothed again.
When I was dry and robed, I surveyed my pajama options in the bedroom’s chest of drawers. I usually opted for a tank or T-shirt and patterned shorts or bottoms. It was unlikely an emergency would occur during daylight hours—what could we do about it anyway?—but I liked being dressed just in case.