Ethan let me take the lead, and I took full advantage, pushing myself at a sprinter's pace to get as large a lead as I could. I was lighter, but he was taller and had longer legs. He'd also been running for centuries. There seemed little possibility I could outpace him to the end of the race, so I did what I could for now.
It wasn't enough.
He caught up two blocks later, and I risked a glance behind me at the sound of his footfalls. His arms and legs were swinging, every muscle honed and triggered, his form impeccable. If only Olympic races were run at night.
He caught up to me, his breathing barely increased, and jogged beside me. "I believe you cheated, Sentinel."
"Sentinel's prerogative. I'm sure there's a rule in the Canon about it."
He made a sound of doubt. "Grateful Condescension requires total obsequiousness to the Master of the House."
"You've been a Master for a matter of mere hours and you're already a cruel despot."
"Hardly, although you are a Sentinel in need of an attitude adjustment."
I opened my mouth, and would have given back the same snark he was giving me, but some silent alarm went off in a marginal part of my psyche.
I slowed to a jog, then a stop, hands on my hips, my breathing still elevated, as I looked around.
Ethan realized something was wrong, stopped. He'd moved a few steps ahead; ever cautious, he walked back to where I stood.
"What is it?"
I scanned the neighborhood, opening all my senses to figure out what had tripped my trigger. Other than the rasp of our breathing, there were no other unusual sounds. A car door opening up the block. A mewling cat in an alley. The rumble of traffic on nearby avenues. I saw nothing unusual, and even the smells were typical - the cold, smoky scents of a night in the city.
"I don't know. I just had a feeling. Internal alarm bells."
I'd probably have made a sarcastic comment if Ethan had said the same thing to me, but there was no humor in his eyes. I took it as a grave compliment that he trusted I'd sensed something, even if I wasn't sure what it was.
"Instinct is important," he said. "Occasionally the senses detect things the rational mind can't yet analyze."
I reached out and squeezed his hand, moving my body closer to his and pushing him a little farther away from the street and a little closer to the retaining wall that bounded this part of the sidewalk.
Being the good Sentinel, and an Ethan Sullivan trainee, I began to plan. We weren't far from the House, and we could easily run back if necessary, but that would leave both of us more exposed than I liked. A phone call to Luc, asking him to pick us up, would be safer, but I didn't want to give myself over to an agoraphobic fear without some kind of evidence.
"Merit?" Ethan asked.
"I hate to pull rank," I told him, "but I'm playing Sentinel, and I'm getting you back to the House in one piece. And without argument. Stay at my side."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and I was pretty sure he meant it lasciviously.
"Keep jogging to the end of the block. Human pace. And no showy stuff."
He grunted with disdain at the idea of dialing back his effort, but complied. We made a slow and silent jog toward the end of the block . . . and that was when I heard it.
The slow scratch of tires on gravel.
Hear it? I asked Ethan, activating our silent link. Car behind us, seven o'clock?
American, by the sound of it. Strong engine.
Of course that would be your contribution, I kidded to ease the tension. Slow down just a smidge.
We slapped back a gear, moving with less speed, our feet barely lifting off the ground. A slow jog for humans, barely a shuffle for healthy vampires.
And still, the vehicle crept forward. I hadn't yet seen it, but I could hear it behind us. Moving as we moved, tracking our speed. But was this friend or foe?
Was this someone who watched us, wanted to speak with us . . . or wanted to end us?
On three, stay where you are. I'm going to make a move.
You'll be careful?
Liege, I parroted back, using one of his favorite phrases, I'm immortal.
One, I silently said. I squeezed his hand for luck. Get a look at the license plate if you can.
Ethan nodded. Two, he silently said.
Three, we said together, and I bolted.
I darted to the street. The car, half a block back, caught me in its headlights and came to a squealing stop. I couldn't see the car for the lights, but it was high enough that I could tell it wasn't a sedan or convertible, more like a truck or SUV.
For a moment, we faced each other.
The vehicle revved its engine, and I stared it down with feigned bravado - because my heart was beating like a timpani drum.
We could stand here all night, but I wasn't going to learn anything about this threat - if it was a threat - unless I made a move.
One hand on my hip, I crooked a finger at the car, daring the driver to move forward.
The driver took the dare.
With the squeal of rubber on the road, the driver mashed the accelerator and pushed forward. I squeezed my fingers into fists, even as my heart thudded beneath my chest, willing myself to stay where I was until the vehicle was closer, until I had a chance to catch sight of the driver. But it was dark, the windows were tinted, and the glare was too much to see through.
With only nanoseconds and a few millimeters to spare, I half turned and flipped backward, barely moving out of the way in time. I'd have sworn I felt the slickness of the vehicle's clear coat beneath my toes as we passed each other.
I hit the ground in a crouch and turned back to stare after the car.
It was a black SUV. No plates. We'd seen similar vehicles before; McKetrick's thugs had driven them when he'd confronted us in the past.
I nearly jumped when Ethan put a hand on my arm. "You're all right?" He scanned my eyes.
"I'm fine. It wasn't even close," I lied. "But I couldn't see the driver. Did you see anything?"
"Nothing at all."
"Weird. Why get this close without taking action?"
"Maybe they're watching us," Ethan said darkly, which was somehow even more disturbing.
"For what purpose?"
"I'm not sure," he said, obvious concern in his voice. "Let's get back to the House."
I wasn't about to argue with that.
* * *
When we walked into the foyer, Malik stood beside the door, awaiting our return. Ethan must have signaled him telepathically.
"You're all right?" he asked, his gaze shifting between us; he must have sensed the spill of magic.
"We were followed by a black SUV. No clue who it was or what he or she was after. The vehicle drove off when Merit confronted them."