It was easy to judge Ethan - or me, Malik, or Luc - when you could stand on the sidelines or quarterback from the couch.
It was harder to be in the trenches, to do the best you could... and it hurt more when others didn't believe you were acting for good.
Darius took a puff on the cigarette, then blew the smoke from his mouth in a slow, steady stream. "I have been alive a long time," he said. "Not as long as Ethan, but a long time. I have seen much in my life, but I must disagree that these times are troubled. I have seen world wars, Sentinel. I have seen vampires staked in public with no investigation, no remorse."
I nodded. "With al due respect, that you've seen more troubled times doesn't mean ours aren't troubled. It doesn't take a world war to make a situation precarious. Or dangerous.
Before Celina outed us, I had no idea vampires existed. Nor, I would bet, did most people. Perhaps the Houses had troubles then that I'm not aware of. But if they did, they weren't the kind of issues that face us now."
"That's very poetic." He tapped the cigarette's ashes against the wrought iron, and a thousand tiny sparks fel through the sky.
"But ultimately, irrelevant."
He took a final puff of his cigarette, then smudged the butt against the dark rock of the wal behind us and put the remainder in his pocket.
"You are young," he said. "And I don't doubt your intentions are noble. But those intentions are directed toward this House, its vampires, and its Master. My intentions are necessarily much larger in scale."
"We are not trying to make your job more difficult, but we can't just ignore these problems."
"That, Merit, precisely is the problem. You take arms against the sea of troubles, to quote the bard, but you don't end them.
You make them worse." He held up a hand before I could argue. "The evidence is incontrovertible. Things in Chicago have deteriorated over the last few months, and not just because there are enemies in your midst. Consider Grey House. They keep their heads down and they focus on survival, and we have no arguments with their Novitiates or their leadership."
Yeah, but that was only because he didn't know the truth. He didn't know the captain of the Grey House guards was a member of the Red Guard and that he was out there mixing it up with the rest of us.
Maybe that's precisely why Jonah had joined the Red Guard - to keep his efforts hidden from the GP and out of Darius's sight. It wasn't a bad idea. Nevertheless, "Celina didn't target anyone from Grey House, nor did Tate. Or McKetrick. The shifters didn't ask Grey House to act as security for their convocation. What would you have us do? Stick our heads in the sand?"
"I am suggesting," he said firmly, "that there is a skil inherent in handling a crisis and not making it worse. And I am suggesting the current leaders of this House do not have that particular skil."
I was too pissed at the insult to Ethan and Malik to respond.
This man sat in a cushy chair in England and complained about what went on here, in Chicago, on the ground. He didn't have to make the types of decisions we did; he didn't have to investigate and solve the kinds of problems we did. What right did he have to complain about how we reacted?
"Compose yourself, Sentinel. I can feel your irritation from here. You need to learn to better guard your emotions. Stealth is difficult when you're broadcasting your position."
I didn't respond to the constructive criticism.
"There's no point denying relations between humans and vampires in Chicago are on a rather unfortunate course. Perhaps that course could have been avoided; perhaps not." He looked over at me. "It is crucial that the Master of this House be capable of handling that course, whatever it may be."
"Meaning?"
"Is Ethan Sulivan capable of leading this house?"
My heart began to pound. He wasn't here to evaluate me.
This meeting wasn't about my role in the House, or the manner in which I'd been made a vampire.
Darius hadn't come to Chicago to take a long, last look at Cadogan House before enforcing the shofet's decision.
He'd come to Chicago to take a long, last look at Ethan.
Unfortunately, I was long ago tired of politics and strategies and games. "What are you afraid of?" I asked.
Darius looked startled. "Excuse me?"
"Are you afraid of what he'l do if you disown the House...or if you don't?"
He looked at me for a moment, and I felt a bolt of panic that I'd thoroughly overstepped my bounds.
But then he caled my bluff. He leaned forward, his face only inches away from mine, and his voice dropped. "You tel me, Sentinel. You tel me about the man Ethan has become. He was raised from the dead by a witch who wanted to control him, to make him a thing to be used in the effectuation of her magic. That woman would destroy the world if alowed to do so. Can you tel me, with one hundred percent certainty, that Ethan bears no scars from his experience with her? That he is one hundred percent free of her influence?"
I'd never been a good liar. I'd always believed in a truth - the unassailable facts that either were or were not.
But what could I tel Darius? That Ethan and Malory stil had a connection? That she had the ability to drive him to his knees and assault him with pain?
That the Master of one of the country's twelve Houses - the fourth-oldest House in the United States - was at a witch's mercy?
My heart pounded in my chest, but I forced myself to meet his eyes, to fight through the fear, and to say the words that needed to be said, even if they weren't the absolute truth.
"Ethan Sulivan is the man he always was. A better man, perhaps, because of what he's been through."
"A very strategic answer. I don't approve of relations between Master and Novitiate. I didn't approve when Lacey and Ethan were involved, and I don't approve now. I find such relationships to be essentialy incestuous. Regardless, you are his confidante. You have his ear, Merit. Steer him straight, Sentinel.
Steer him straight...or his future wil be considerably darker than it is tonight. I'm going to speak with the dueling Masters now. I'l not mention we had this discussion."
With that, he moved past me and climbed inside again.
I closed my eyes and blew out a breath, then stood there for a moment on the roof, the world dark and quiet, the breeze cold.
A light rain began to fal. With my heart heavier than it had been when I'd arrived, I climbed back inside and closed the window behind me.
It was gonna be a long night.
I'd just opened my door when Margot came rushing down the halway, a worried expression on her face. She stil wore chef's whites stained with vegetal green, and a vibrant scarf covered her hair. Whatever brought her up to the third floor, she'd left in a hurry.