Part 6 (1/2)
Lindsey snorted and grabbed a strip of my bacon. ”If you hate him, I'll eat my napkin. And he may hate you, but that's only skin-deep. That's only the surface.” She took a bite, shook her head, and waved at me with the rest of it. ”No. There's more to him than meets the eye, Merit. I know it. There's heat beneath the chill. He just needs . . . reforming.”
I made an impatient gesture. ”So tell me more about Lacey.”
”She had friends here, still does, but I thought she was cold. Arrogant. She's a Weak Physical, but a Very Strong Strat. She's political through and through. Maneuvering. She always came off as vaguely friendly, but like she was a politician on a campaign stop, like she was going through the motions.”
Lindsey paused, looked contemplative, and her voice softened. ”She wasn't kind, Merit. The guards hated her.”
”Because of her att.i.tude?”
”Well, yeah, in part. Look, Ethan rules the House, so he's kind of . . . separate from the rest of us. And honestly, I'd say the same thing about you. Folks are suspicious about how you made the Sentinel short list, about your family. You're completely naive about vamps, and yet you've got this historically important position, and although you're kind of a guard, you're closer to him than the rest of Luc's corps.”
I grumbled at that, downed the bacon.
”It's not like I think you two are doing it,” she said, but she paused, apparently waiting for confirmation.
”We are not 'doing it,' ” I said dryly and jammed the little plastic straw into my chocolate milk box. It bore the brunt of the aggression that question always aroused. Tasty, though.
”Just checking,” Lindsey said, hands raised in detente. ”And if it helps, they'll get over it once they get to know you.” She grinned at me, winged up her eyebrows. ”I did. Of course, I have excellent taste in friends, but whatever. Not the point. The point is, Lacey was different. Not like us. She was the cla.s.sic teacher's pet-wanted to be near Luc, near Ethan, near Malik, constantly near the source of authority.
She didn't hang with us, didn't work well with us. But,” she said, bobbing her head, ”even if she was fake, she was really, really good. Always a.n.a.lyzing. Strategizing. She was a guard, and while she couldn't have fought off a wet cat, she had the mind for it. Planning. Long-term ramifications. Future steps.”
My next question probably belied my feigned lack of interest. ”Why did they break up?”
”He and Lacey? They stopped seeing each other after Testing, when she came back to Cadogan to Apprentice, to get ready for her own House. Word was, it was important to him that they stay professional while she trained. Too much at stake, ha ha, to spend time gazing into each other's eyes.”
”He wouldn't care for the emotional interruption,” I agreed.
”I've heard he flies out to San Diego occasionally to, what, copulate?” She nodded, grinned. ”Yeah. I bet he'd put it like that. Very formal. He and Lacey probably mapped out a contract, probablynegotiated terms.”
”Hmm.” I spared myself the embarra.s.sment of considering, exactly, the terms they'd negotiated.
I glanced up, noticed that Malik had walked into the cafeteria. He nodded at me, then made for the buffet line.
Malik-tall, caramel-skinned, handsome, and quiet-was a mystery. In the two months I'd been a member of Cadogan House, I'd had approximately three conversations with him. As Ethan's Second they shared the bond of House leaders.h.i.+p, but they rarely ventured off campus together in order to protect the line of succession should someone make an attempt on Ethan's life. I had the sense he played the part of CEO and understudy, learning how the House worked, how to manage it, administering the details while Ethan played Chairman of the Board. But I still hadn't gotten a feel for Malik as a vampire.
As a man. The vamps who were obviously well-intentioned-Luc and Lindsey came to mind-were easy to spot, as were the overtly strategic ones-Ethan and Celina. But Malik was so reserved that I wasn't sure where he fit in. Where his allegiances lay.
Of course, he and Ethan did have one thing in common-excellent taste in Armani. Malik wore a suit as crisp and pristine as Ethan's usually were.
I watched him move through the line, but his eyes were on the vampires around him. He was all business around Ethan-at least when I'd seen them together-but he was downright friendly with the other Cadogan vamps. They approached him as he selected his breakfast, said h.e.l.lo, chatted. Interestingly, while the other Cadogan vamps tended to give Ethan a kind of respectful distance, they went to Malik.
Talked to him, joked with him, shared a camaraderie they didn't afford their Master.
”How long has Malik been Second?” I asked Lindsey.
She swallowed bacon, then lifted her gaze to where he stood in line, chatting with a vampire I didn't know. ”Malik? Right after the House was moved to Chicago. '83.”
That's 1883, not 1983, for those of you following along at home.
”Ethan picked Chicago, you know. Once Peter Cadogan died, he wanted the House out of Wales, out of Europe. Malik lived in Chicago. He was an orphan.”
”He lost his parents?” I asked. ”How awful.”
”Wrong kind of orphan. He was a Rogue. Houseless. A vampire orphan. His Master wasn't strong enough to keep her House together, and she was ix-nayed by a rival.” Lindsey held her fist to her chest, mimicking a staking. ”Then he and Ethan met, and the rest is history.”
”Do you know him? Well, I mean?”
”Malik? Sure. Malik's great.” Lindsey checked her watch, then finished a gla.s.s of water before rising and picking up her tray. ”So, there's three hundred and nineteen other vampires affiliated with Cadogan House. Suggestion?”
I looked up at her, nodded.
”Consider the possibility that they'd like to get to know you if you gave them a chance.”
”That's why I'm here,” I said, and followed her out.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE RETURN OF THE PRINCE.
I woke bright and early-or maybe more accurately, dark and late-the next night. It was my turn on guard duty, patrolling the blocks-wide grounds around Cadogan House, keeping an eye out for breaches of the ten-foot-high wrought-iron fence that kept intruders out and vampires in.
In a city of supernatural weirdos, one had to stay alert.
I got up and showered in the tiny bathroom, completed the few girly tasks in my repertoire, then climbed into my Cadogan suit, complete with belted katana and my own Cadogan medal, given to me by Ethan during my Commendation into the House. I brushed my long, dark hair until it shone, pulled it into a high ponytail and combed through my bangs. Vampirism added a new glow to my complexion, so I addedonly a little blush and lip gloss for s.h.i.+ne.
Once I was prettied up and well armed, I headed for my door, then glanced down as colors caught my eye.
Mail lay in a pile in front of the door. Figuring it had been delivered while I was in the shower, I leaned down to pick up a J.Crew catalog forwarded from Mallory's and an envelope of thick linen paper. The stock was heavy and nubby, and undoubtedly expensive. I slipped open the flap and peeked inside. It was the promised invite to the Brecks', probably messengered by my mom while the sun was still above the horizon.
I guessed the Breckenridge gala was a done deal, unfortunately. I dropped the catalog on the bed, pocketed the invite, and was about to head downstairs when my cell phone rang. I slipped it from my pocket, then glanced at the screen. Morgan.
”Good evening,” he said, when I flipped open the phone.
Cell at my ear, I headed into the hallway, then closed the door behind me. ”Good evening back,” I replied. ”What's new in Navarre House?”
”In Navarre, not much yet. Still early. We try not to start the dramatics until closer to midnight.”
”I see,” I said with a chuckle, as I took the hallway to the main stairs.
”The thing is, I'm not actually at Navarre House. I took a field trip south. I'm actually a little more in the vicinity of Cadogan House.”
I stopped at the staircase, hand on the railing. ”How much in the vicinity of Cadogan House?”
”Come outside,” he said, voice playful. Invitational. Curiosity piqued, I closed the phone and slipped it into my pocket, then took the stairs at a trot. The first floor was still quiet, vamps not quite up from their midday naps. I headed for the front door, then opened it and stepped outside onto the small stone portico.
He stood on the sidewalk, halfway between the front door and the gate. He was dressed in his typical style-runway rebel. Designer jeans, square-toed shoes, a short-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt that hugged his lean form, and a wide leather watch on his left wrist.