In the silence that followed that statement, he looked up at us and smiled mirthlessly. "Sorry. I've already talked to the lawyers tonight. It means there's no other law on the issue, so the courts would have to interpret a contract between vampires that was written centuries ago. The effort would be expensive, and the results unpredictable."
Ethan looked at Malik, and they shared a long, silent look. Perhaps they were communicating telepathically.
Malik nodded, and headed for the door, folio in hand. Whatever they'd discussed was a done deal.
Ethan looked at his watch. "I'm speaking to the House in an hour. We'll address it then. You're dismissed," he said, and the vampires filed out.
Cashing in my "girlfriend's prerogative" chip, I stayed behind, waiting until we were alone again before looking at him.
"You're all right?"
He ran his hands through his hair, which fell in a halo of golden blond around his face. "I will manage. We all will." He crooked a finger at me. "Come here, Sentinel."
I walked into his arms, and he embraced me with relief, as if the act of touching me removed the weight from his shoulders. That might have been the most flattering compliment I'd ever received from him, nonverbal as it was.
We stood there in his office for a long moment, until a loud grumble echoed across the room.
I stood back and grinned at him. "That was your stomach growling, wasn't it?"
He put a hand against his abdomen. "I have Merititis. Gnawing hunger," he clarified, which made me roll my eyes. "We've a bit of time before I speak to the House. Perhaps a bite to eat?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
He glanced around the shambles of his office - normally pristine, now covered in boxes, binders, and stacks of paper. "In these humble surroundings, yes."
"For you, I can manage 'humble.'"
"You actually meant 'for food,' of course, but I'll take what I can get." This time, his back was turned when I rolled my eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EGGSACTLY
As usual, Margot outdid herself. Ethan had asked for comfort food, and Margot decided on a full diner-style breakfast: eggs, toast, potatoes, and sausage. Wearing her chef's whites, she rolled in a cart, silver domes covering the food and a glass pitcher of orange juice on the side.
"That smells delicious," Ethan said, clearing space at the conference table for Margot to place the trays.
"We aim to please here at Cadogan House," she said with a smile, winking at me as she uncovered the plates and lit a silver candle in the middle of the table. "Ambience."
"Appreciated," Ethan said.
Margot made a small bow, then rolled the cart back out again and closed the door behind her.
Grandiosely, Ethan pulled out a chair for me and gestured toward it. "Madam."
"Thank you, sir," I meekly said, taking a seat.
Ethan took the seat at the head of the table, perpendicular to mine, and poured juice into our glasses. "A toast," he said, holding up his glass. "To Cadogan House. May she stand strong, financially and otherwise."
We clinked our glasses together and I took a sip. The juice was delicious, with the fresh bite and lingering umami of freshly squeezed oranges.
"So Michael knew Celina," I said, digging into scrambled eggs.
"He did. Not all Masters are fortunate enough to have relationships like I did with Peter. Some are more like the relationship I had with Balthasar," he ominously said.
Ethan met Peter Cadogan, the House's namesake, after Ethan had traveled Europe with his sire, a vampire named Balthasar who'd rescued him from a battlefield. Ethan had once said he'd considered himself a monster after he'd become a vampire; I'd wondered if he'd thought the same of Balthasar.
"Fortunate that you met Peter," I said.
Ethan nodded. "I was. He was a good man, and I'm better for knowing him. Many of us mourned his passing."
"I don't think I've ever asked. How did Peter die?"
He genteelly pressed the napkin to his mouth. "Extract of aspen."
My eyes widened. An aspen stake through the heart was one of the very particular ways to kill a vampire. But extract of aspen? That was a new one.
"I didn't even know there was such a thing."
"It's usually goes by more poetic names. Sometimes bloodbane or bloodberry, because the particular variety of extract turns crimson as it's prepared. It had a role in alchemy and earlier sciences. Its secondary effect on vampires was a later discovery."
"What does it do?"
"It's a slow, death-dealing poison," he said. He shoveled a mound of eggs onto his fork.
"When was the last time you ate?" I wondered.
"Yes," was all he said, loath to admit to his girlfriend how poorly he'd been taking care of himself.
I took a bit of eggs that seemed positively dainty by comparison. "The complete reorganization of a political system can be difficult for the schedule."
Ethan snorted through his eggs, then coughed his way through a laugh. "Well said, Sentinel. Well said."
"So, back to Peter. He was poisoned. By whom? And why?"
"His beloved's parents, unfortunately."
My eyes widened. I loved a good story - I'd been a literature student, after all - and this one sounded like a doozy. I plucked up a sausage roll and bobbed it at him like a magic wand. "Elaborate."
"Peter was a vampire. He fell in love with a woman who was not."
"Human?"
"Fairy," he said, and I winced, recognizing the drama.
"Yikes."
"Indeed. Cadogan House was situated in Wales at the time, but we'd traveled to Russia. Her name was Anastasia. She was the daughter of fairies of some repute - politicos with connections to Claudia, who was still in Ireland at that time - and who'd gained a title in the Russian aristocracy. Keeping face was very important to them, and they were staunch believers that fairies shouldn't mix with humans or anyone else.
"But Peter was in love," he said, a smile crossing his face. His eyes went slightly vacant, as if he were recalling. "You'd have liked him. He was a man's man. Brawny. Like me, a soldier before he became a vampire. He had a warrior's mentality, and that didn't stop simply because he joined the night brigade, so to speak. He was Welsh, didn't really believe in vowels to speak of. He had a ruddy complexion - more like an Irishman than a Welshman, although he wouldn't even hear of the possibility that there was Irish blood in his veins."
He looked at me again, his gaze sharpening and the corners of his mouth dropping again. "It was a great love," he said. "A big love, and very emotional. Equal parts love and hatred, I think, although neither Peter nor Anastasia would have admitted that. Unfortunately, her parents hated Peter, hated that Anastasia was 'lowering' herself by being with a nonfairy, and a vampire to boot. He was a Master vampire, but he was neither fairy enough nor wealthy enough for their preference."