Forcing myself to face at least part of the issue, I brushed a hand over the fogged mirror, praying for a reflection. The steam swirled in the small bathroom, but revealed me, damp and mostly covered by a pink bath sheet, the relief in my expression obvious.
I frowned at the mirror, tried to puzzle out the rest of it. I'd never been explicitly religious. Church, to my parents, was an excuse to show off Prada loafers and their newest Mercedes convertible. But I'd always been quietly spiritual. I tried, my parents notwithstanding, to be grateful for the things I'd been given, to be thankful for the things that reminded me that I was a small cog in a very big wheel: the lake on a moodily cloudy day; the gracious divinity of Elgar's "The Lark Ascending"; the quiet dignity of a Cassat painting at the Art Institute.
So as I shivered, naked and damp, in front of the bathroom mirror, I raised my eyes skyward. "I hope we're still okay."
I got no answer, but then, I didn't really expect one. Answer or not, it didn't matter. That's the thing about faith, I guess.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged downstairs, clean and dry, and back in jeans. I'd settled for a favorite low-waisted pair and teamed it with two thin, layered T-shirts in white and a pale blue that matched my eyes, and a pair of black Mihara Pumas. At three inches short of six feet, I had no need for heels. The only accoutrement missing from the ensemble was the black elastic I kept on my right wrist for hair emergencies. Today, I'd already pulled my dark hair up into a high ponytail, leaving the fringe of straight-cut bangs across my forehead.
I found Mallory downstairs in the kitchen. She sat on a stool at the kitchen island, a Diet Coke on the counter before her, a copy of Cosmo in her hands.
"What'd you learn last night in your vampire bible?" she asked, without looking up.
Preparing myself for the retelling, I nabbed a soda from the refrigerator, popped the tab, and slid onto a stool next to her. "Like Helen said, there're twelve vampire Houses in the United States; three in Chicago. The House arrangement is kind of . . . Well, think feudal England. Except instead of a baron, you've got a Master vampire in charge of everything."
"Ethan," she offered.
I nodded my agreement. "For Cadogan, Ethan. He's the most powerful vamp in the House. The rest of the vampires are basically his minions - we have to take an oath to serve him, swear our allegiance, that kind of thing. He even gets a fancy title."
She looked up, brows lifted.
"He's my 'Liege.' "
Mallory tried unsuccessfully to hide a snicker - which ended up sounding strangled and anemic - before turning back to her magazine. "You have to call Darth Sullivan your 'Liege'?"
I grinned. "Only if I expect him to answer."
She snorted. "What else?"
"The Houses are like" - I paused to think of a good analogy - "company towns. Some vamps work for the House. Maybe guards or public relations folks or whatever. They've got administrators, docs who work outside the House, even some historic positions. All of them get a stipend."
"Historic positions?"
I took a sip of my soda. "Ethan has a 'Second,' like a second-in-command or something."
"Ooh, like Riker?"
Did I mentioned she also loved Star Trek: The Next Generation ? "Sure. There's also a 'Sentinel,' which is like a guard for the House."
"For the brand?"
I nodded at the apt metaphor. "Exactly. And the House itself is in Hyde Park. Think mansion."
Mallory looked appropriately impressed. "Well. If you're going to be attacked and unwillingly made a vampire, let it be a rich and fancy vampire, I guess."
"That's an argument."
"How many Cadogan vamps?"
"Three hundred and eight nationally. Eighty-six actually live in the House proper. They get dorm rooms or something."
"So these vamps live in a mansion-slash-frat house, and you get a stipend just for having pointier teeth." She cocked her head at me. "How much cash is it, exactly?"
"Decent. Better than TA-ing."
"Minus the free will."
"There is that."
Mal cleared her throat, put the can on the counter, linked her hands together, then looked over at me. I guessed I wasn't going to like whatever confession she was about to make.
"I called the university."
The tone of her voice made my heart sink. "Did you tell them none of this was my choice?"
Her gaze dropped to the counter. "Merit, they don't admit vampires. They don't have to do it legally, and they're afraid of the lawsuits if one of you was to, you know" - she frowned, waved a hand in the air - "with the teeth and the biting. Honestly, if Helen hadn't done it, the university would have dropped you when they found out."
That seed of hatred unfolded, sprouted. "But I wouldn't have told them," I persisted. "How else would they have known? I could have rearranged my schedule, taken night classes. . . ."
Mallory shook her head, handed me, with somber expression, a folded newspaper that lay on the tabletop. It was the morning's Trib, open to a page that bore the word "CONGRATULATIONS!" in bold Gothic letters across the top.
I popped the paper open. The banner topped off a full-page ad in the lifestyles section. A list of names, twelve columns of them, a dozen names in each column. The text read: The North American Vampire Registry congratulates the following new Initiates. May your service be fruitful and fulfilling.
I scanned the Houses: Navarre, McDonald, Cabot, Cadogan, Taylor, Lincoln, Washington, Heart, Lassiter, Grey, Murphy, Sheridan. My name was listed in the Cadogan column.
My stomach clenched.
"Some reporters called," Mallory quietly said. "They left messages on the machine. They want to talk to you about being a vampire. A Merit vampire."
"Reporters?" I shook my head and chucked the paper back onto the table. "I can't believe this. I can't believe they'd do this. That they'd out me." I scrubbed hands across my face, tried to contain the anger that was beginning to well.
"Are you okay?" Mallory asked.
I dropped my hands and looked at her, willing her to understand. "I could have pretended, made sure no one knew. All I had to do was take evening classes, which wouldn't have been so hard. My committee would have worked with me. Goddamn it! I didn't even get a chance to try!"
The fury rose, quick, hot, and strong. It itched beneath my skin like my body was one size too small to contain it. Like my body didn't fit. I rolled my shoulders in irritation, the anger still swelling.