House Rules (16 page)

“Good plan,” Luc said. “We’ll be in touch.”

He clicked off the speakerphone and the video, and I looked back at the whiteboard.
While the video had rolled, Lindsey had filled out the whiteboard with key bits of
data.
OLIVER AND EVE. ROGUES. TAKEN AT REGISTRATION CENTER BY SUV. KILLED IN WAREHOUSE
.

A time line of murder, of sociopathic violence. But what did it mean?

I cast a glance at the clock on the wall. The hours were ticking down, and it was
time to hit the road for the lighthouse. I steeled myself for my next omission of
the evening, which was extra tricky, since there was a vampire with strong psychic
abilities, Lindsey, in the room.

I rose and stuffed my hands into my pockets. “I think I’m going to go for a drive.
I need some fresh air.”

Luc nodded. “It’s good for you. It’ll help you process this, maybe make a connection.”

I nodded, casting a slight glance at Lindsey to see if she’d caught a whiff of anything
unusual. But if she had, I couldn’t see it in her face.

“You’ll be back for the ceremony, I presume?” Luc asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Much like taxes, if not death, it was unavoidable.

CHAPTER TEN

GOLD MEMBER, RED GUARD

I
slipped out of the gate and jogged to my car, and before anyone was the wiser, I was
zooming away into the night, ready to reaffirm my commitment to the RG.

The drive wasn’t comfortable. My stomach was still raw with nerves, and I was discomfited
by the fear that I was betraying Ethan all over again.

But how could acting in the House’s best interest be a betrayal?

Per Jonah’s instructions, I drove toward Lake Michigan, then headed north to the marina
at the edge of the harbor.

It was December, and the marina had long since closed for the season. A security booth
marked the entrance, and a black-and-yellow-striped bar kept cars from driving in.

Not entirely sure how to proceed, I drove up to the security gate and cranked down
the window. The woman who sat inside looked me over, then pressed a button to lift
the gate.

A friend of Jonah’s, perhaps? Or the Red Guard’s?

I got out of the car and zipped up my jacket, then glanced around. The small parking
lot was virtually empty except for a few cars scattered here and there.

The lake was dark and quiet, filled with ice even in the unseasonably warm temperatures.

A line of concrete and rocks led away from the pier and into the water, forming a
harbor for boats and leading to the harbor lighthouse, which flashed its warning across
the water.

I took a long, hard look at the boulders and concrete blocks that made up the harbor
wall. They were large, icy, and, by the looks of them, treacherous. Then again, they’d
been placed in the harbor to provide protection for boats, not to provide a winter
path for vampires.

“This had better be worth it,” I muttered. Arms extended, I began to pick my way across
the rocks.

I’d danced ballet for many years, and that certainly helped me keep my balance. But
the leather soles of my boots weren’t made for slick rocks, and I was only ten feet
into the journey when I lost traction. I went down on my knees, which sent a shock
of pain right up my spine.

“Mother lover,”
I muttered, wincing there on my knees for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside.
When it felt slightly less like someone had taken a mallet to my kneecaps, I rose
and continued the journey.

After a few minutes of half walking, half crawling, I reached the ladder that led
up to the concrete platform surrounding the lighthouse.

“You made it.”

The words, quietly spoken, seemed tremendously loud in the silence of the lake. I
glanced up.

Jonah stood at the top of the ladder, hands tucked into the pockets of a black, calf-length
wool coat. He wore jeans and boots beneath it, and his auburn hair swirled around
his face in the wind. His cheeks, honed like sculpted marble, were pink from the cold.

“Merit.” He gestured me up, and I climbed the ladder—which was cold, rusting, and
rickety—hand over hand until I reached the platform at the top. Jonah helped me scoot
onto the platform.

“Nice location,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets against the chill. It was
colder on the water, with no protection from the wind or elements.

He smiled at me, Buddha-like in his calm. “The RG path isn’t easy, and that lesson
shouldn’t be forgotten.”

“My knees will remember,” I assured him.

We looked at each other for a moment, magic and memory sparking between us.

Jonah and I had complementary magic—magic that operated on a similar frequency. A
supernatural kinship, of a sort. He’d also once confessed that he’d had feelings for
me, but had gracefully withdrawn when I’d told him of my feelings for Ethan.

Now we were partners, and we were about to make that official. Ironically, only hours
before Cadogan’s political breakup with the GP.

“Let’s go inside,” he said.

“Inside?” I hadn’t imagined I’d be out here on the lighthouse platform, much less
actually going inside it. It excited the nerd in me.

“Membership has its privileges,” Jonah said, as I followed him around the platform
to a red wooden door on the other side. He flipped aside a brass plate that looked
like a doorbell, revealing a small scanner. He pressed his thumb to it, and the door
unlocked with an audible thump.

“Fancy,” I said.

“Only the best at RG headquarters.”

“This is RG headquarters?”

“It is,” he said, closing the door behind me as I took a look around. The building
consisted of two small rooms that flanked the central lighthouse like bookends . . .
or something decidedly more genital. The floors were tile, and all the walls were
marked by windows with views of the water or the city. The decor was sparse and probably
last updated in the 1970s. A spiral staircase split the middle of the room in half
and led, I presumed, up to the actual light.

“Well, such as it is,” he said.

“So this is what the inside of a lighthouse looks like.”

“At least in 1979, when this place was last staffed,” Jonah said.

“That explains the faux wood and brass.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s not like we’ve filled it up with equipment, so I guess it’s
more of a safe house than a headquarters. But it serves its purpose. Excuse me a minute.”
He walked to the spiral staircase, put a hand on the rail, and called up the stairs,
“We’re here! Come on down.”

With a cacophony of shoes on metal treads, eight men and women came down the stairs,
most wearing some version of Midnight High School gear. MHS was the unofficial (and
secret) calling card of RG members.

Jonah joined me again, and the group assembled in front of us. A few of them looked
familiar; I’d probably seen their faces in crowds at events the RG had seeded with
members.

One of them looked more specifically familiar. Horace, the Civil War veteran from
the warehouse, stood beside a shorter, curly-haired girl with dark skin and smiling
eyes. He still wore antique-looking clothes; she favored Converses and jeans, which
made me like her immediately. Their hands were intertwined, their feet just touching
as they stood beside each other.

They gave off a good vibe, and they weren’t the only ones. All eight of the members
stood together in pairs, presumably by partners. Another of the couples held hands,
and from the closeness of their bodies, it was clear they weren’t just being friendly.

Jonah had once confessed he’d had feelings for me. Seeing these vampires together,
I wasn’t sure which had come first—whether RG members had sought out their partners
because of their skills and the romance had followed, or romantically intertwined
couples simply made good RG spies. Whatever the reason, there seemed to be more than
just business between the partners. And here Jonah and I were, the only noncouple
in the group of obvious couples.

Awkwardness growing, I gnawed my lip.

“Everybody,” Jonah said, “this is Merit. You’ve got a big evening yet,” he said to
me, “so we’ll save the formal introductions for another time. Suffice it to say, these
are Chicago’s Red Guards.”

I waved a little weakly as my heart thudded uncomfortably. Jonah had bowed out when
he’d learned I was in love with Ethan . . . or had he? Was he holding onto hope that
we’d somehow end up together? Because as far as I was concerned, and much like Lacey
and Ethan, that just wasn’t in the cards.

That would be such an uncomfortable discussion, but there was no way around it. There
was no way to avoid the issue, not if I was going to fully commit. To put it frankly:
I could commit to the RG. I could commit to Jonah as my RG partner. But I’d already
committed my heart to Ethan, and I wanted to make that crystal clear.

I turned to him. “Could I speak to you for a moment? In private?”

Jonah smiled a little, as if he’d been anticipating the request. “Of course.”

He shifted his gaze to the vampires behind us. “All right, show’s over.”

There were good-natured grumbles, but every vampire made a polite good-bye to me and
Jonah before they headed up the spiral staircase or out the door.

He waited until we were alone before looking at me again. “I’m not propositioning
you.”

I felt simultaneous embarrassment and relief, and my cheeks flamed hot enough to light
up the room.

“I know. I mean, I didn’t think you were. I just . . .” I cleared my throat, the sound
just as awkward as the moment. “I just want you to know where I am.”

“I know where you are,” he said. “It’s not unheard-of for RG partners to become romantically
involved. We call it the
Moonlighting
effect.”

I arched a very Ethan-esque eyebrow. “From the TV show?”

“Yeah. For the years of their membership, they work together, often undercover. You
don’t sign up to be someone’s partner if you don’t have a rapport.” He pointed at
me, then himself. “We have a rapport. But it doesn’t have to be romantic.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Merit,” he said with a smile. “It’s not all about you.”

I rolled my eyes, glad we were back to sarcasm. Sarcasm was definitely within my comfort
zone.

“So we’re good?” he asked.

“We’re good.”

Jonah nodded. “Then let’s get this ceremony started.”

“You don’t want to invite the rest of them back in?”

He shook his head. “We’re partners. This part’s just for us.”

Jonah picked up a wooden box from a table beneath one of the windows. The wood was
deep and red, and from the faint tingling in my hands, I guessed it held steel. It
was an aftereffect of the tempering of my own sword: My blade had been tempered with
my blood, and as a result I had a sensitivity to metal.

Jonah lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a piece of crimson velvet, was a striking
dagger. Made from a single piece of gleaming steel, the blade was twisted from its
base to tip, creating three hundred and sixty degrees of deadly.

“That’s beautiful,” I said.

“Hold that thought,” he said with a small smile. He held the blade up, letting the
light slink down the steel like a trailing ribbon.

“We walk a knife’s edge between worlds—vampires and Houses—and rarely feel fully a
part of either. We see things most vampires prefer to ignore, but that knowledge gives
us power. It is a curse and our greatest weapon. It can be cruel, and it can set us
free.

“As a member of the Red Guard, you stand for honor, not pride. You stand for vampires,
not associations. You stand for those who cannot speak for themselves, and for honoring
what we are.”

Jonah touched the point of the blade, pricking his finger. A droplet of blood appeared
there, sending a sweet, metallic scent into the air.

“You stand for me,” he said. “And I stand for you.”

He swept the droplet across the curve of the blade, which shimmered from the magic
of spilled vampire blood, just like my sword had done.

“Your turn,” he said.

Cringing in anticipation of the pain, I pricked my finger, as well, then touched my
fingertip to the blade. The dagger, already marked with Jonah’s blood and magic, glowed
faintly red.

“May this blade never spill your blood or mine again,” he said. “And may the steel
always remind us of the strength of friendship, of honor, and of loyalty to our comrades.”

He looked at me. “Do you swear your loyalty to vampires, irrespective of House, irrespective
of allies, irrespective of affiliation? Do you swear to be a guardian of order, fairness,
and moderation, and to rise up against any authority that threatens those who cannot
defend themselves?”

I swallowed hard, knowing that this was the moment. This was my final chance to say
no to the Red Guard . . . or to commit myself to two decades of service.

The calling was honorable, and my choice was clear.

“I swear,” I said, knowing that I had made the right choice.

He reached out and kissed me on the cheek, a peck that was unquestionably collegial,
but still carried the magical spark. “In that case, we’re partners, and you’re stuck
with me, kid.”

I smiled at him. “I’ll do my best. Not that I could do much worse than the GP right
now.”

“Truth,” he said.

He put the box and the knife back on the table, then pulled open a drawer and reached
inside. “There’s one more thing,” he said, handing me a small silver coin.

It was about the size of a quarter, and it was engraved with the image of a man on
a horse and the caption
SAINT GEORGE
.

“Saint George?” I asked.

“The patron saint of warriors,” Jonah said. “We’ve adopted him for the RG, too. It’s
a token, a reminder that you aren’t alone, and there are more of us out here willing
to help.”

“Thank you,” I said, and tucked the medal into my pocket.

“You know, your life is about to get a lot more complicated.”

“Oh, good,” I said lightly. “I was getting bored with the status quo.”

“Yeah, it seemed that way. I’m actually rescuing you from tedium and despair.”

“I haven’t seen tedium since I became a vampire.”

“Well, it’s certainly not going to start now.” He put a hand on my arm. “I know it
feels overwhelming, but you can do this.”

I nodded, and let him have confidence for both of us.

“Let’s get you back to the House. Ethan would throw a fit if you were late for the
ceremony.”

“Lake Michigan isn’t large enough to hold the fit he would throw.”

“We’re done,” he called out, and there were hoots of pleasure from the vampires who’d
gone upstairs.

We walked back outside, and he closed the door and tugged the doorknob to ensure it
was locked. I looked out across the harbor and the twinkling lights of Streeterville.

“Jonah, of all the places in this city, all the spots you could have put a safe house,
why here?”

“Listen,” he said quietly.

We stood in a narrow outcropping of concrete and rock two hundred feet into Lake Michigan;
the world was quiet here, even the lap of waves all but silenced by the water’s freezing.
There were no distractions. Nothing but quiet and stillness and winter’s chill.