Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (22 page)

It all came back to the riots.

The riots inconvenienced us and injured us, but they were almost secondary attacks. They hit structures, not vampires. If McKetrick was involved, it was a change from his last round of attack. He’d hired Michael Donovan to assassinate vampires and destabilize the Houses.

This time, he’d skipped killing vampires outright. Maybe this was another attempt to destabilize? Try to interrupt our blood supply, try to destroy our Houses, and motivate us to leave Chicago?

I kept coming back to that—if he meant to kill us all or kick us out of town, surely there were faster and more effective methods.

It all came back to the riots.

I reached the front of the House again and found Juliet standing at the gate, waiting for me. She was packed into even more outerwear than I was, including a full-length camouflage coverall. And because I was usually waiting for the other shoe to drop, seeing her standing there made me nervous.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

She smiled. “Check your phone.”

I pulled it out and checked the screen. Luc had taken it over again, this time his caricature waving a small white flag.
TIME’S UP, PARTNER! HEAD INSIDE! TIME’S UP, PARTNER! HEAD INSIDE!

“I guess that means I’m relieved,” I said. “Short shifts tonight.”

“It’s the cold,” she said. “These guys prep for it, and they have the gear.” She nodded toward Angelo and Louie, who nodded seriously. “Us?” she said, sticking out a foot in a designer sheepskin boot. “Not so much.”

“Stay warm,” I said, then collected the empty travel mugs for the return trip indoors.

I hopped up the steps and managed again to finagle the door open with mugs in hand. The foyer was empty but for one vampire who was heading for the door. It was Scott, all by his lonesome. He wasn’t wearing a coat, so I assumed he didn’t plan to be outside long. Either way, I was glad I’d met him going out. I didn’t care for the thought of a Master vampire running around outside on a potentially lethal night. If I’d had a chance to pull out my phone, I’d have called Jonah. But I had to suffice for the moment.

“Heading out?” I asked, dropping the mugs on a side table.

He glanced back. “Merit. Yes. I needed some fresh air. Are you leaving?”

“Just heading back in. But if you want to go out, I can accompany you.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“I think covering my ass is necessary. And if anything happened out there after I watched you leave and didn’t offer an escort, there’d be hell to pay.”

“So I’d really be doing you a favor?”

“If you want to think about it that way, sure.”

He seemed distracted and didn’t put up much of an argument, although that made it easier for me. We stepped outside.

If the cold bothered Scott, he didn’t show it. He leaned against the side of the arch that covered the portico and stared into the darkness.

I looked up at the sound of heated discussion. A group of people walked through the gate, undeterred by the human guards and vampires.

I reached for my katana, ready to strike.

But it wasn’t rioters.

It was the GP, Harold Monmonth leading the charge. He was swarthy and packed like a sausage into a very snug three-piece suit. His history with the House left much to be desired, and there wasn’t much to recommend him in person, either.

He’d brought three of his closest vampire friends behind him, two men and a woman. I recognized them as lower-ranking members of the GP—vampires who hadn’t done much but play Follow the Leader and Threaten Cadogan House during my tenure as a vampire.

Behind them on the icy concrete lay the bodies of Louie and Angelo, their limbs splayed in awkward angles, the scent of blood in the air. I was too far away to tell if they were still alive, but the positions of their bodies didn’t leave me much hope.

Juliet was nowhere to be seen, and I feared for her; she wouldn’t have allowed the guards to be taken without a fight, unless she hadn’t been capable of fighting herself. . . .

A thousand exclamations of shock and grief ran through my head, but my throat was tight with fear. As the adrenaline began to speed the processing in my brain, the thoughts congealed and condensed into one central goal:
Get in front of Scott.

I unsheathed my sword and stepped in front of him, offering my body as a shield. There wasn’t even time to be afraid or to fear the consequences of what I’d done. There was only the act—protecting my partner’s Master, and my Master’s friend—from the obvious danger in front of us.

“Well, hello, dear,” Harold said.

Ethan, Harold Monmonth is here. The guards are down, and I don’t see Juliet. I’m outside with Scott. Gather the guards and get your ass out here. And call an ambulance.

“You’re trespassing,” I advised him. “The authorities have been notified.”

“I seriously doubt that, Merit. You haven’t had the time, and I doubt the authorities would be terribly concerned about more infighting among Chicago’s vampires.”

“What do you want?” Scott asked.

“We are here to take what’s ours. GP vampires are not to intermingle with trash who’ve rejected our authority. By being here, you are rebelling against the GP, and we take that as an act of war. Leave this House now, or we will be forced to act.”

“As I advised you on the phone,” Scott said, “if the GP wishes to give us orders, Darius can contact me directly. I take orders from him, not from you.”

“Ah,” Harold said, lifting a finger, “but Darius is incapacitated. And while he is, we cannot simply allow this rebellion to go on without reprobation.”

He looked at me, and the hair on the back of my neck lifted. McKetrick’s hatred may have frightened me, but at least he was guided by principles, disturbing though they might have been. This man was utterly without moral compass. He was motivated only by his own avarice.

“I advise you, child, to step aside.”

I refused to move. “Whatever rebellion you think has occurred has nothing to do with us. You’re on the property of vampires not associated with the GP. You have no authority here.”

Monmonth looked me over from head to toe, and I felt dirtier for it. “You are charming. It’s unfortunate we didn’t have an opportunity to get to know each other better the last time we met.”

Get here fast,
I warned Ethan,
or I will pummel this guy and enjoy doing it.

I heard footsteps behind me, but they weren’t fast enough. Harold Monmonth may have looked out of shape, but he was so fast I didn’t even see him move, just felt the bone-jarring impact of my ass on the sidewalk as he kicked my feet out from under me.

“That was disappointingly easy,” he said, his face registering his disapproval.

He wasn’t the only one disappointed.

My turn,
I thought, arching my back, hopping onto my feet, and readying my sword. I gripped it in two hands, the leather cording tight beneath my fingers, my eyes now silvered with lust for battle.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to hit a girl?”

Scott also called out to grab his attention, but Harold didn’t care. He’d deemed me his enemy, and he didn’t waste any time. He moved forward, unsheathing his sword and spinning it like a dervish.

Move,
I silently told myself, aiming for the only spot he wasn’t guarding—his ankles. I made a low spin, bringing my own sword around in a perfect arc that sent him flipping backward to avoid it.

He hit the ground and spun the sword around his body. “You think I need weaponry to best you? You are a child, with the strength of a child. I am centuries old, with the strength of centuries.” He dropped his sword to the ground, and it hit the ground with a
clang
. I winced sympathetically for the steel but readied myself for another attack.

“You, like the rest of your House,” Monmonth said, stretching out his arms, “are garbage. You are the refuse of legitimate vampires.”

“Screw you,” I said, moving forward and slashing downward. But Monmonth had already moved, and the sword caught only air.

“Garbage,” he muttered again, shifting his weight and executing a side kick that hit me square in the back with the force of a concrete block.

I fell to my knees, my brain registering only pain. I retched air as my body coped with the sensation, and I opened my eyes to see the other GP members spread out and begin the attack. The battle began.

“Monmonth!”

Ethan’s voice roared across the yard.

Sentinel?
he silently asked.

I’m fine,
I told him. I put a hand on the ground to push myself up, but my body wasn’t yet ready for movement. Pain radiated from my back, muscles spasming in waves.

I tried again to get up, to warn Ethan back, but as vampires battled around me, I couldn’t find my footing. And I was too late anyway. Ethan had already advanced on Monmonth, with two katanas in hand.

Monmonth bent his knees, then leaped toward Ethan.

Ethan grunted as he spun out of the way, bringing both swords around and pressing the handles together at the blunt ends, the points out, like a staff Darth Maul would have appreciated.

As Monmonth hit the ground in a crouch, his sword poised in front of him, Ethan roared a sound of battle and advanced, spinning the knife-sharp staff back and forth around his body in a complicated pattern.

It was like staring into the blade of a psychotic steel turbine. Even Monmonth froze for a moment, as if not sure how to react.

He nudged away, but not quite fast enough. The chiseled tip of a katana just grazed his arm, sending a bright stripe of crimson to his skin, and sending the spicy scent of powerful blood into the air.

“You son of a bitch!” Monmonth roared. “Do you know who I am?”

He didn’t wait for Ethan’s response but answered his own question with moves that proved why he’d been chosen for the GP. He became a dervish of kicks and strikes, a martial arts machine. Monmonth was faster than Ethan, but Ethan managed to hold his own. And two blades of finely honed steel didn’t hurt.

Ethan spun the staff in a low arc, which Monmonth jumped to avoid. He flipped backward, but upon landing went immediately on the offensive. A spinning kick and series of punches had Ethan moving back and forth to block them. As they fought, they traversed the yard, moving into deeper snow that slowed them down.

Ethan stumbled and dropped one of his swords. Harold kicked the other a few feet away. I was too far away to help, and clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming my fear.

“You have held court here for too long,” Harold said, picking up the weapon Ethan had dropped. “You believe you are a king among the American vampires, but you are nothing more than a slave to humans who’d as soon have you dead as look at you. It is the Presidium that rules vampires, not an upstart soldier in the middle of an upstart country.”

Harold raised the sword and lifted it, intending to strike downward, slicing Ethan from neck to groin.

“Ethan!” I screamed, jumping to my feet and running for the pair.

But as Harold’s sword fell, Ethan managed to grab his. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and struck.

With a single slice of Ethan’s sword, Monmonth’s head was divorced from his body. It landed, unceremoniously, in the snow beside him.

Ethan tumbled to the side as the rest of Harold Monmonth, the former, fell to the ground.

Ethan climbed to his feet, bloody sword in hand. For a moment, clearly shocked by what he’d done, he stared down, wide-eyed, at Harold Monmonth’s lifeless body. His chest heaved, and his body steamed in the cold.

I watched from my spot in the snow, still too shocked to move. I wasn’t the only one; the other battles stopped. Grey and Cadogan vampires who’d fought the other members of the GP stepped back, holding their enemies at sword point.

All eyes looked toward Ethan and took in with shock the body on the ground. A chilling silence fell over the yard.

“You’ve killed him!” yelled out one of the male GP members, a vampire from Canada named Edmund, who rushed toward his fallen colleague and wailed in what seemed earnest despair.

“Murderer!” he yelled, looking back at Ethan and pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

The show of drama seemed to break Ethan from his trance. “Enough!” he bellowed, and silence fell over the yard again.

He pointed his sword at Monmonth’s body. “This man came into my House and brought violence, and for the second time. He has killed and threatened our friends and colleagues, to say nothing of his history of violence to the humans who came before us. He forfeited his life in the name of power and ego.”

Ethan lifted his silver-eyed gaze to the remaining members of the GP faction who’d trespassed at Cadogan . . . and would be wearing the scars of their journey back to England.

Ethan pointed at Edmund. “Take home a message to Darius West. He gets his House in order, or we do it for him.”

—

We found Juliet on the sidewalk, knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. Her sword was on the ground, and by the position of her body, it appeared the GP had snuck up behind her, probably using their glamour to keep their arrival a secret.

While Helen and Delia, Cadogan’s resident doctor, attended to Juliet, Ethan, Scott, and I stood outside with a handful of CPD cops in uniform. Fighting among supernaturals was one thing; the death of two humans on our watch was something entirely different.

I stood on the portico, watching Ethan and Scott point across the yard, diagramming for the cops the chain of events. I’d been numbed by the violence, by the GP’s remarkable intrusion, and its grisly end. We were all capable of killing, and we’d all been in battles before. But I couldn’t recall a time in which death had come so quickly to the House. And not just any death. Two innocent humans were dead. And a member of the GP was dead, and by our hands.

I stared out at the scene, the investigators who took photographs of the crime scene in front of the gate, the swirling blue and red lights of the ambulance that had arrived for Louie’s and Angelo’s bodies.

An arm slipped around my waist, and I nearly screamed in surprise. I found Lindsey beside me, circles beneath her eyes. She’d been crying.