“Beyond that, we don’t know,” Ethan said. “She needs to change clothes. Give us a few minutes; then we’ll meet in the Ops Room. We’ll discuss the details then.”
Luc saluted. “Sire.” He glanced at me, grinned. “Mrs. Sire.”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m going to nope that one right there.”
We made it to the staircase but stopped when we saw the obstacle that awaited us. Helen stood there, hands clasped in front of her. Waiting.
Steady, now, Sentinel. She isn’t so bad as delusional humans.
Easy for him to say. Helen adored Ethan. Although when she looked up, she gave us both hard stares.
“Your suitcases have been taken back upstairs, and the wedding guests have left.”
Ethan nodded. “Thank you, Helen.” He took a step forward to continue up the stairs, but she held up a hand.
“Your wedding ensembles were severely damaged.” She looked at Ethan. “A Turnbull & Asser suit.” She looked at me. “A Chanel dress. Both garments would have been important parts of the House archives.”
“We were attacked.”
“I was entirely prepared to remind you of the importance of maintaining the image of this House, of looking the part. But you did right by those poor, deluded humans. So I will have the garments repaired—to the extent they can be repaired—and placed into the archive.”
“Your efficiency is appreciated, as is your concern for the House’s legacy.”
“Yes, well,” Helen said. And with an efficient nod, she stepped out of the way.
I think we got off easy, I silently said.
“Sire. Merit.”
Jinx, Ethan said, and we looked back.
“It really was a beautiful wedding. Congratulations to you both.”
With that, she disappeared down the hallway.
Compliments from Helen? We’d definitely gotten off easy.
• • •The shower at the Portman Grand had been good. But a shower on my home turf—with Ethan scrubbing shampoo through my hair? Even better.
He let me stand under the water until I was warmed through again. The shower seemed to rinse away the night’s tension, or at least the bits that weren’t firmly dug into bone and muscle. That tension wouldn’t be alleviated until Sorcha was under wraps. And hopefully, the CPD wouldn’t let her escape their grasp this time.
I debated jeans or leathers, wondering how much more trouble we’d experience before the sun rose again. I decided on jeans. They weren’t as good in a battle, but they were more comfortable out of one. I was putting my eggs in the “no more battles tonight” basket, although I knew the odds weren’t great.
Jeans, boots, long-sleeved shirt, leather jacket, Cadogan pendant. It was my Cadogan uniform, adjusted for the sudden temperature issues.
“Come here,” Ethan said, and wrapped his arms around me. “I need a moment here, with you, in the quiet.”
Ethan was strong and usually demanding, and he always walked that particular walk. I guess I forgot that even a Master needed a break every once in a while.
“It has been an eventful first night of marriage,” he said.
“Freak magical weather, a river rescue operation, a meet with the mayor, and some questionable food choices.” I looked up at him. “We didn’t say ‘for better or for worse,’ but it was implied.”
He kissed my forehead. “One of these days we’ll have ‘better’ in abundance. There will be quiet evenings with books and good whiskey, trips to exotic locales, and abundant Mallocakes.”
He didn’t say there’d be evenings with a child, the joy and exhaustion of that experience. It had been an emotional roller coaster—accepting the fact that being a vampire meant no child, letting hope lift again with Gabriel’s prophecy, having that dream dampened by a heavy dose of fear. Between Gabriel’s pronouncements, there’d been tentative joy, the possibility that I could walk that line between vampire and human—have Ethan, immortality, strength, and a child. Now that line seemed improbably thin.
I’d never been good with uncertainty. So I pushed it down, focused on what was real, what was certain. Ethan beside me, the House behind me.
“That sounds pretty good,” I said, forcing a smile.
Sometimes what was had to be enough.
• • •
The Ops Room was the House’s security hub, with stations to monitor security cams along one wall, a conference table, an enormous wall screen for reviewing data and mapping locations, and computer stations for research.
Informally, the room featured a tub of beef jerky that needed replacing at least every couple of weeks. I hadn’t yet heard a salty beef joke, but I had to assume one of the guards had one in the chamber and primed. It was really overdue.
The Ops Room was in the basement, along with access to the House parking lot, the House’s impressive arsenal, and one of my favorite spots, the House training room.
We found Luc in his usual position—at the end of the conference table, ankles crossed on the tabletop. He was flicking a finger across the screen of a tablet, probably geared toward the security app he’d designed for the House. He glanced up when we entered, more hot chocolate in hand, this time with a dash of Bailey’s.
“Sire and First Lady,” he said, sitting up and kicking down his feet. “The Cadogan House Guard Corps has voted that you’re no longer allowed to leave the House. It just seems safer that way.”
“For all involved,” Ethan agreed, and sat down at the table. “Any developments?”
“Jules?” Luc asked, glancing at Juliet, who sat at the other end of the table, a pile of books and papers in front of her. She typed something onto the built-in tablet, and an image of the cloud snapped onto the screen. “She’s patched us into the building across the street, which gives us a pretty good view of the site.”