GOLD MEMBER, RED GUARD
I slipped out of the gate and jogged to my car, and before anyone was the wiser, I was zooming away into the night, ready to reaffirm my commitment to the RG.
The drive wasn't comfortable. My stomach was still raw with nerves, and I was discomfited by the fear that I was betraying Ethan all over again.
But how could acting in the House's best interest be a betrayal?
Per Jonah's instructions, I drove toward Lake Michigan, then headed north to the marina at the edge of the harbor.
It was December, and the marina had long since closed for the season. A security booth marked the entrance, and a black-and-yellow-striped bar kept cars from driving in.
Not entirely sure how to proceed, I drove up to the security gate and cranked down the window. The woman who sat inside looked me over, then pressed a button to lift the gate.
A friend of Jonah's, perhaps? Or the Red Guard's?
I got out of the car and zipped up my jacket, then glanced around. The small parking lot was virtually empty except for a few cars scattered here and there.
The lake was dark and quiet, filled with ice even in the unseasonably warm temperatures.
A line of concrete and rocks led away from the pier and into the water, forming a harbor for boats and leading to the harbor lighthouse, which flashed its warning across the water.
I took a long, hard look at the boulders and concrete blocks that made up the harbor wall. They were large, icy, and, by the looks of them, treacherous. Then again, they'd been placed in the harbor to provide protection for boats, not to provide a winter path for vampires.
"This had better be worth it," I muttered. Arms extended, I began to pick my way across the rocks.
I'd danced ballet for many years, and that certainly helped me keep my balance. But the leather soles of my boots weren't made for slick rocks, and I was only ten feet into the journey when I lost traction. I went down on my knees, which sent a shock of pain right up my spine.
"Mother lover," I muttered, wincing there on my knees for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. When it felt slightly less like someone had taken a mallet to my kneecaps, I rose and continued the journey.
After a few minutes of half walking, half crawling, I reached the ladder that led up to the concrete platform surrounding the lighthouse.
"You made it."
The words, quietly spoken, seemed tremendously loud in the silence of the lake. I glanced up.
Jonah stood at the top of the ladder, hands tucked into the pockets of a black, calf-length wool coat. He wore jeans and boots beneath it, and his auburn hair swirled around his face in the wind. His cheeks, honed like sculpted marble, were pink from the cold.
"Merit." He gestured me up, and I climbed the ladder - which was cold, rusting, and rickety - hand over hand until I reached the platform at the top. Jonah helped me scoot onto the platform.
"Nice location," I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets against the chill. It was colder on the water, with no protection from the wind or elements.
He smiled at me, Buddha-like in his calm. "The RG path isn't easy, and that lesson shouldn't be forgotten."
"My knees will remember," I assured him.
We looked at each other for a moment, magic and memory sparking between us.
Jonah and I had complementary magic - magic that operated on a similar frequency. A supernatural kinship, of a sort. He'd also once confessed that he'd had feelings for me, but had gracefully withdrawn when I'd told him of my feelings for Ethan.
Now we were partners, and we were about to make that official. Ironically, only hours before Cadogan's political breakup with the GP.
"Let's go inside," he said.
"Inside?" I hadn't imagined I'd be out here on the lighthouse platform, much less actually going inside it. It excited the nerd in me.
"Membership has its privileges," Jonah said, as I followed him around the platform to a red wooden door on the other side. He flipped aside a brass plate that looked like a doorbell, revealing a small scanner. He pressed his thumb to it, and the door unlocked with an audible thump.
"Fancy," I said.
"Only the best at RG headquarters."
"This is RG headquarters?"
"It is," he said, closing the door behind me as I took a look around. The building consisted of two small rooms that flanked the central lighthouse like bookends . . . or something decidedly more genital. The floors were tile, and all the walls were marked by windows with views of the water or the city. The decor was sparse and probably last updated in the 1970s. A spiral staircase split the middle of the room in half and led, I presumed, up to the actual light.
"Well, such as it is," he said.
"So this is what the inside of a lighthouse looks like."
"At least in 1979, when this place was last staffed," Jonah said.
"That explains the faux wood and brass."
"Yeah," he agreed. "It's not like we've filled it up with equipment, so I guess it's more of a safe house than a headquarters. But it serves its purpose. Excuse me a minute." He walked to the spiral staircase, put a hand on the rail, and called up the stairs, "We're here! Come on down."
With a cacophony of shoes on metal treads, eight men and women came down the stairs, most wearing some version of Midnight High School gear. MHS was the unofficial (and secret) calling card of RG members.
Jonah joined me again, and the group assembled in front of us. A few of them looked familiar; I'd probably seen their faces in crowds at events the RG had seeded with members.
One of them looked more specifically familiar. Horace, the Civil War veteran from the warehouse, stood beside a shorter, curly-haired girl with dark skin and smiling eyes. He still wore antique-looking clothes; she favored Converses and jeans, which made me like her immediately. Their hands were intertwined, their feet just touching as they stood beside each other.
They gave off a good vibe, and they weren't the only ones. All eight of the members stood together in pairs, presumably by partners. Another of the couples held hands, and from the closeness of their bodies, it was clear they weren't just being friendly.
Jonah had once confessed he'd had feelings for me. Seeing these vampires together, I wasn't sure which had come first - whether RG members had sought out their partners because of their skills and the romance had followed, or romantically intertwined couples simply made good RG spies. Whatever the reason, there seemed to be more than just business between the partners. And here Jonah and I were, the only noncouple in the group of obvious couples.
Awkwardness growing, I gnawed my lip.
"Everybody," Jonah said, "this is Merit. You've got a big evening yet," he said to me, "so we'll save the formal introductions for another time. Suffice it to say, these are Chicago's Red Guards."
I waved a little weakly as my heart thudded uncomfortably. Jonah had bowed out when he'd learned I was in love with Ethan . . . or had he? Was he holding onto hope that we'd somehow end up together? Because as far as I was concerned, and much like Lacey and Ethan, that just wasn't in the cards.
That would be such an uncomfortable discussion, but there was no way around it. There was no way to avoid the issue, not if I was going to fully commit. To put it frankly: I could commit to the RG. I could commit to Jonah as my RG partner. But I'd already committed my heart to Ethan, and I wanted to make that crystal clear.
I turned to him. "Could I speak to you for a moment? In private?"
Jonah smiled a little, as if he'd been anticipating the request. "Of course."
He shifted his gaze to the vampires behind us. "All right, show's over."
There were good-natured grumbles, but every vampire made a polite good-bye to me and Jonah before they headed up the spiral staircase or out the door.
He waited until we were alone before looking at me again. "I'm not propositioning you."
I felt simultaneous embarrassment and relief, and my cheeks flamed hot enough to light up the room.
"I know. I mean, I didn't think you were. I just . . ." I cleared my throat, the sound just as awkward as the moment. "I just want you to know where I am."
"I know where you are," he said. "It's not unheard-of for RG partners to become romantically involved. We call it the Moonlighting effect."
I arched a very Ethan-esque eyebrow. "From the TV show?"
"Yeah. For the years of their membership, they work together, often undercover. You don't sign up to be someone's partner if you don't have a rapport." He pointed at me, then himself. "We have a rapport. But it doesn't have to be romantic."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, Merit," he said with a smile. "It's not all about you."
I rolled my eyes, glad we were back to sarcasm. Sarcasm was definitely within my comfort zone.
"So we're good?" he asked.
"We're good."
Jonah nodded. "Then let's get this ceremony started."
"You don't want to invite the rest of them back in?"
He shook his head. "We're partners. This part's just for us."
Jonah picked up a wooden box from a table beneath one of the windows. The wood was deep and red, and from the faint tingling in my hands, I guessed it held steel. It was an aftereffect of the tempering of my own sword: My blade had been tempered with my blood, and as a result I had a sensitivity to metal.
Jonah lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a piece of crimson velvet, was a striking dagger. Made from a single piece of gleaming steel, the blade was twisted from its base to tip, creating three hundred and sixty degrees of deadly.
"That's beautiful," I said.
"Hold that thought," he said with a small smile. He held the blade up, letting the light slink down the steel like a trailing ribbon.
"We walk a knife's edge between worlds - vampires and Houses - and rarely feel fully a part of either. We see things most vampires prefer to ignore, but that knowledge gives us power. It is a curse and our greatest weapon. It can be cruel, and it can set us free.
"As a member of the Red Guard, you stand for honor, not pride. You stand for vampires, not associations. You stand for those who cannot speak for themselves, and for honoring what we are."
Jonah touched the point of the blade, pricking his finger. A droplet of blood appeared there, sending a sweet, metallic scent into the air.
"You stand for me," he said. "And I stand for you."
He swept the droplet across the curve of the blade, which shimmered from the magic of spilled vampire blood, just like my sword had done.
"Your turn," he said.
Cringing in anticipation of the pain, I pricked my finger, as well, then touched my fingertip to the blade. The dagger, already marked with Jonah's blood and magic, glowed faintly red.
"May this blade never spill your blood or mine again," he said. "And may the steel always remind us of the strength of friendship, of honor, and of loyalty to our comrades."
He looked at me. "Do you swear your loyalty to vampires, irrespective of House, irrespective of allies, irrespective of affiliation? Do you swear to be a guardian of order, fairness, and moderation, and to rise up against any authority that threatens those who cannot defend themselves?"
I swallowed hard, knowing that this was the moment. This was my final chance to say no to the Red Guard . . . or to commit myself to two decades of service.
The calling was honorable, and my choice was clear.
"I swear," I said, knowing that I had made the right choice.
He reached out and kissed me on the cheek, a peck that was unquestionably collegial, but still carried the magical spark. "In that case, we're partners, and you're stuck with me, kid."
I smiled at him. "I'll do my best. Not that I could do much worse than the GP right now."
"Truth," he said.
He put the box and the knife back on the table, then pulled open a drawer and reached inside. "There's one more thing," he said, handing me a small silver coin.
It was about the size of a quarter, and it was engraved with the image of a man on a horse and the caption SAINT GEORGE.
"Saint George?" I asked.
"The patron saint of warriors," Jonah said. "We've adopted him for the RG, too. It's a token, a reminder that you aren't alone, and there are more of us out here willing to help."
"Thank you," I said, and tucked the medal into my pocket.
"You know, your life is about to get a lot more complicated."
"Oh, good," I said lightly. "I was getting bored with the status quo."
"Yeah, it seemed that way. I'm actually rescuing you from tedium and despair."
"I haven't seen tedium since I became a vampire."
"Well, it's certainly not going to start now." He put a hand on my arm. "I know it feels overwhelming, but you can do this."
I nodded, and let him have confidence for both of us.
"Let's get you back to the House. Ethan would throw a fit if you were late for the ceremony."
"Lake Michigan isn't large enough to hold the fit he would throw."
"We're done," he called out, and there were hoots of pleasure from the vampires who'd gone upstairs.
We walked back outside, and he closed the door and tugged the doorknob to ensure it was locked. I looked out across the harbor and the twinkling lights of Streeterville.
"Jonah, of all the places in this city, all the spots you could have put a safe house, why here?"
"Listen," he said quietly.
We stood in a narrow outcropping of concrete and rock two hundred feet into Lake Michigan; the world was quiet here, even the lap of waves all but silenced by the water's freezing. There were no distractions. Nothing but quiet and stillness and winter's chill.
"Ah," I said. "The seclusion."
Jonah nodded and smiled a little, as if I'd correctly answered. "It's the nature of our positions that sometimes we're forced to be too involved in the world. This is our little respite. If you need solace or shelter, or you can't find me, come here. You can find help. Oh, and there's one more thing: I've got something for you in my car."
I was curious what that might be, but the walk back took all my concentration. Carefully, we retraversed the stones back to his car, where he dug into his backseat, finally pulling out a glossy paper bag, which he handed to me.
"What's this?"
"Swag," he said.
Eyebrow raised suspiciously, I peeked inside the bag. Inside were Midnight High School T-shirts in two colors, a hoodie, and a windbreaker featuring the MHS mascot, a spider.
I closed the bag and looked at him. I did have one problem in regard to swag.
"What?" he asked.
I figured I might as well be honest with him; he was my partner, after all. "I'm living with Ethan."
Jonah opened his mouth and closed it again. "Ah. I see."
"Yeah. So I have to be careful. Really careful."
"The Lake Michigan - sized fit and all. Yeah. That's part of the RG cost. The benefit, of course, is that the world is a better, safer place."
"Of course."
"While we're here, any developments regarding Oliver and Eve?"
"There are, as it turns out," I said, and quickly filled him in.
"What's your next step?" he asked.
"Honestly, I'm not really sure. I think we're at a dead end unless Jeff comes up with something else."
He nodded and climbed into his car. "He'll come up with something. Keep me posted."
I gave him a little wave as he drove away, then climbed into my car and let it warm up for a moment before pulling out of the parking lot and back into my life.
By the time I arrived at the House, we were minutes away from the GP ceremony. Bag in hand, I climbed out of the car, but then stopped to think.
Taking a bag of RG swag into the House might not be the best idea; the House was chaotic enough without adding more drama. I unlocked the trunk of my car and stuffed the bag into it, somewhere between the padded gloves I'd used twice for a kickboxing class, the blanket I kept for winter emergencies, and the emergency road kit that hadn't been opened in all the years I'd had the car.
A car squealed to a stop in front of me, parking parallel.
I put a hand on my sword, but it was Lacey who got out of the car. Still tall, still blond, still effortlessly attractive. She slammed her door shut, and then began walking toward my Volvo.
And she looked very, very happy.
"Well, well, well," she said as she approached. "I guess we all have our secrets, don't we?"
My heart fell into my stomach. Oh, God, was the only coherent thought I could manage. What had she seen?
"Our secrets?" I asked, slamming the trunk shut before she came around the car.
She walked around and leaned against the car, a hip against the metal, then crossed her arms and leaned forward just a smidge.
"I know where you were," she said. "I know where you were, who you were with, and what you were doing."
I felt sick with panic. She'd seen me and Jonah, and she knew about the RG. But there was no turning back. I could only hope against hope that she didn't yet know why I'd been there.
Keep bluffing. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know damn well. I saw you in the parking lot. I saw you with him."
My anger sprouted quickly. "Did you follow me?"
"I'm keeping an eye out for my Master and his House."
"Your Master does just fine on his own, and his House is in good hands."
"That's not how it looked to me. And I can't decide which betrayal I find more disturbing - that you're betraying him for Jonah, or that you're doing it tonight, one of the most important of his very long life."
I swallowed down a burst of guilt and fear that she was correct. But I bluffed just as I'd been taught to do.
"I'm betraying no one," I said. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Really?" she said with a cunning smile. "Great. Then let's go talk to him about it right now and clear the air, right before the GP ceremony. You truly have excellent timing."
"Maybe you could mind your own business."
"Maybe you could stop screwing around with things you don't understand." Her voice was suddenly fierce, suddenly ferocious, and I stared back at her. I knew she had feelings for Ethan, but even if she was jealous, this seemed like a lot of emotion to be mere jealousy.
"I understand everything, and very well, thank you. He took a stake for me. I mourned for him."
She barked out a laugh. "Ha! You mourned for him? You, who'd known him for a matter of months before he died? You think you have any idea what grief is like?" She pointed at me. "You failed to protect him. You were his Sentinel, and you failed, and he died. It's only by a freak magical accident that he's alive again, no thanks to you."
"Is that what you think happened? You think I was standing around, shooting the shit with the mayor, and I let Ethan get staked?"
"You were there," she said. "That's all I know."
God, she sounded just like Seth Tate, blaming me for what had gone on in that room, even though I'd been an innocent bystander.
Was this grief? The pent-up emotions she'd had to face when Ethan had died? Anger that he hadn't come crawling to her when he'd been resurrected? Whatever the cause, it was deeply felt, and strong enough to drive her to spy on me.
"He took a stake for me," I said. "Celina threw a stake at me, and he stepped in front of it. He saved me from that. How dare you minimize what he did."
She pointed at me, her eyes hot with anger. "You are a damned liar."
"I am not a liar."
She must have caught the truth in my face, because her expression fell, and for a moment she looked like a sad human being, a girl who'd been dumped. She looked vulnerable and a little pathetic, and my heart ached for her. Not a lot, but still.
She'd had feelings for Ethan, and had assumed facts about their relationship and what she meant to him - and more important, what I meant to him. And if I was right, I'd proven her seriously wrong. Lacey didn't seem like the type who liked being wrong.
She sniffed delicately, and then, like she'd flipped a switch - and as if she hadn't lost her composure in front of me - she was back to cool, calm, and collected again.
Well, I could play calm and collected, too. If she really thought she had something, she'd take it to Ethan right now, the GP be damned. But she didn't know what she'd seen, not exactly. She knew only that I'd met Jonah in a parking lot. She didn't know that I'd met him because of the RG and because I'd just been initiated as a member.
"You'll tell him," she said.
"There's nothing to tell."
"You'll tell him, or I will." She took a step closer. "How dare you preach to me about the sacrifices he's willing to make for you when you won't give him the truth."
Unfortunately, she had a point there, one that made my stomach curl.
"Tell him," she reiterated, her lips curving into a slow and eerie smile. "Tell him, or give me the satisfaction of proving what I've known all along. Just how common you really, truly are," she whispered, her words falling like poison. "You have twenty-four hours."
And then she turned and walked away, her heels clicking as she strode down the sidewalk again and toward the House.
I stood there, my stomach in knots, trying to think what to do.
Regardless, I was pretty sure I was screwed.
Heart thudding, I walked back into the House, cold sweat blooming on my skin. The House was aflutter, and so was I. I needed time to compose myself, so I ran up the stairs to my second-floor room, the one I wasn't sharing with Ethan, unlocked the door, and locked myself in again.
I ripped off my jacket, dumped it on the floor, and headed for the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face until my bangs dripped with it, hands gripping the edges of the sink.
Lacey knew.
Maybe not everything, but enough, and there was no way she wasn't going to use this against me. She loved Ethan, hated me, and thought I wasn't good enough for him. (Despite, ironically, my graduate degrees, fighting skills, rich parents, and obviously rich sense of humor.)
I looked at myself in the mirror, bangs wet and matted, skin paler than usual, House medal absent. We were all remaking ourselves, from members of an international vampire collective to something different. I was part of that process, having gotten my fangs as a member of Cadogan, and now making the switch with the rest of them. But what, exactly, was I becoming?
I grabbed a towel and pressed it to my face, reluctant to go downstairs and join the other drama that was preparing to take over the House.
Nights like this made me wish I had an "undo" button, that I could simply rewind my actions or mistakes - or notice nosy vampires trailing me across town - and start fresh.
But that was impossible. What was done was done, and I was going to have to deal with it and the consequences like an adult. Instead of the twenty-seven-year-old cloistered graduate student I wished I were again.
I fixed my ponytail and applied some lip gloss, then brushed out my bangs until they shone. When I looked respectable again, and I'd locked my fear away, I walked downstairs to the first floor.