“You think they’ll attack again?” Mallory asked.
“I think it would be unusual to bring the amount of fight and magic we saw tonight and assume that was the end of it. But I doubt they’ll attack overnight.”
“Why?” Ethan asked.
“Because the harpies were as much show as substance,” Catcher said. “You attack when everyone’s asleep, you don’t get the show.”
Ethan walked to one of the large windows and pushed aside the curtain. “In the event there is an attack, there are two guards. One on each side of the door.” He hit the button that dropped the window guards into place and turned back to face Mal and Catcher.
“Perhaps, to be on the safe side, you could add a layer of magic?” Ethan asked. “A ward in case Gabe’s colleagues decide their loyalties aren’t entirely firm?”
Catcher nodded, chewed. “Already discussed it. A little buzz along the doors and windows to signal a trespass, and a second layer to make trespassers think twice.”
Ethan nodded and returned to the couch, but instead of sitting beside me, he stretched out along its length, his head in my lap. He didn’t relax easily, and certainly not with an audience. Exhaustion must have worn him down. I ran my fingers through the golden silk of his hair, watched his eyes close in relief. It had been a long night; I was thankful we’d come through it mostly unscathed.
Something made me glance up. I found Mallory watching me, surprise in her expression. She’d been with me when I met Ethan for the first time, and while we’d battled each other. Ethan and I had grown closer when Mallory and I had grown apart; maybe she was still getting used to seeing us as a couple. Hell, I was still getting used to it. I made a mean Sentinel now, but at the time of my making I’d preferred books to most everything else, and he’d chosen me. That still awed me on occasion.
“Sun’s nearly up,” Catcher said, patting Mallory’s knee. “Why don’t you two get to bed, and we’ll get things fixed up in here?”
Ethan nodded, rose from the couch, and held out a hand, his gaze beckoning. “Come, Sentinel. Let us away and leave them to their magic.”
Here, in the midst of Pack territory, I didn’t think it would be easy to escape.
I woke once during the day, the bedroom still dark. We weren’t meant to wake when the sun was above the horizon, so my mind was thick and fogged. But I heard a wolf baying, the sound long and mournful. More voices joined in, the animals obviously grief stricken and wailing for their dead.
They’d have their own rituals, their own ways of mourning. This was their funeral, their dirge beneath the cold, cruel sun.
I drifted back to sleep, Ethan warm and quiet beside me, and dreamt of amaranth.
Chapter Six
GAME, SET, VAMPIRE
I woke with a start just after sunset. Ethan lay at my side, his eyes closed in sleep, an arm over his head. His long legs were tangled in the pale sheets, his silk pajama bottoms riding temptingly low on his hips.
He opened one eye, smiled invitingly. “Good evening, Sentinel.”
“Sullivan,” I said, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips.
There was a knock at the bedroom door. Catcher opened it without waiting for a response. I sat up straight again, grateful I’d slept in pajamas and wasn’t staring him down half naked.
“You’re awake,” he said. He wore his typically dour expression and a T-shirt with NOPE! across the front in bold, white letters.
Ethan flipped the blanket over my body like a matador, covering even the pajamaed parts. “I don’t recall inviting you in.”
“I’m a sorcerer, not a vampire. I don’t need an invite. And now that we’ve discussed our supernatural predilections, we need to get going. Gabriel wants to talk.”
Mallory stepped into the doorway, a bowl of cereal in hand, mouth busy with a spoonful. “Good evening, vampires.”
It didn’t escape me that she took a moment to admire my particular vampire.
“Eyes on your own man candy.”
“My man candy’s already dressed,” she said between bites of what looked like chocolate sludge. “Yours is . . . less so.”
And mine was clearly enjoying the attention. He linked his hands behind his head, showing off his well-toned chest.
“Down, boy,” I murmured.
“Yes, boy,” Catcher said. “Quit flirting with my girlfriend.”
Ethan only smiled. “You’re the ones darkening my doorway. I’m beginning to see why so many sups don’t like sorcerers.”
“Oh, he’s grumpy at sunset,” Mallory said, glancing at me.
“It’s not just sunset,” Catcher offered. “And we’re wasting time on the argument, so get dressed, and let’s go.” He rapped twice on the doorjamb before he and Mallory shuffled back into the main room.
“Fine friends you have, Sentinel.”
“They’re your friends, too, Sullivan. You’ve known Catcher longer than you’ve known me.”
I climbed out of bed, and he swatted me on the bottom.
“I’m not sure that’s flattering to either of you.”
“Neither am I,” I admitted, “but at the moment, we’re all stuck with each other.”
Ethan grabbed breakfast from the kitchen while I dressed. Thinking I couldn’t be too careful, I dressed in my leathers, then settled in with blood and a bagel.
After he’d eaten, Ethan pulled on jeans and a V-neck sweater with a shirt beneath. A lock of blond hair fell across his face as he tucked the shirt into very-well-fitting jeans, looking more like an East Coast blue blood than a midwestern vampire.
His phone rang, and Ethan finished the tuck, pushed his hair behind his ears, and picked it up.
“Luc,” Ethan said in greeting. “You’re on speaker. We were just about to leave.”
“This won’t take long. Just wanted to give you an update. The lawyers report Kowalcyzk is apparently trying to convince the prosecutor the House’s security tapes were tampered with—that the video of Monmonth arriving at the House and killing Louie and Angelo was doctored.”
“And therefore that Ethan didn’t act in self-defense,” I concluded.
“That’s patently ridiculous,” Ethan said. “As if we don’t have anything better to do than doctor our own security footage.”
“Rumor is, the prosecutor has doubts. And he’s the one who’d have to take the case to a jury. In any other city, that would probably be enough. But this is Chicago; the mayor’s got pull.”