Blood Games

Chapter Ten THE RULES OF VAMPIRELAND

I blinked once, then again, before the world cleared. I stared up at a pale ceiling with intricate molding around the edges. I was home.

“She’s awake,” said a woman’s voice beside me.

Fingers clasped my wrist, felt for the pulse I knew was strong. I could feel it throbbing in my head like I was sitting inside a bass drum.

I glanced beside me, recognized the décor of our apartments. I lay on the bed. A woman crouched beside me, her dark skin set off by brilliant fuchsia scrubs. She was Delia, the House’s doctor.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You took one in the line of duty, Sentinel. Shot in the shoulder.”

Mortification replaced confusion. “I didn’t pass out, did I?”

Delia smiled. “No. But your head took a good bounce on the floor when you went down.”

“We’ve actually found something harder than our Sentinel’s head. You’ve been out since last night.”

I glanced at my side, found Ethan behind Delia, his expression pinched with concern. Luc stood behind them, watching cautiously.

“Last night? I missed an entire day? What time is it?”

“A day and part of an evening again,” Ethan said. “It’s midnight.”

I began to sit up, but Delia put a hand on my arm. “Slowly,” she said. “Give it a moment. Concussion, and you might be dizzy for a bit, but you’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

Slowly, I sat up, got my bearings. The room stopped spinning after a moment, and the dull buzz began to fade away.

Delia checked my heartbeat and my temperature. She pushed back the sleeve of my shirt, checked the dressing there, and, with a smile, stripped it away.

“And you’re healed. The benefits of vampire genetics,” she said with a smile. “But you do have a very small scar.”

I bent my shoulder forward to see, found a pale, star-shaped mark no bigger than a dime.

“It was a hollow-point bullet. The shard popped right out as you were healing, but they do tend to leave scars on vampires.”

I’d be in good company there. Ethan still bore the small pucker of skin above his heart where he’d taken an aspen stake for me. And since he stood healthy beside me, I said, “I can deal with a scar. I kinda like it, actually.”

“We’re glad you’re all right, Sentinel,” Luc said. “That was a damn brave thing you did.”

“Thanks,” I said, pressing gingerly at the back of my head, feeling the lump that had blossomed there. Hopefully vampire genetics would take care of that, too.

“And sorry about the damage. You missed a rule,” Luc said, and I nodded, already anticipating the joke.

“I forgot to double-tap the little guy,” I said.

“You forgot to double-tap the little guy,” he agreed.

Delia glanced at her watch, rose. “I need to jet. I’ve got a shift in twenty. Merit should stay off her feet for a little while.”

“Noted, Delia. Thank you for taking a look.”

“Happy to help, as always, Liege.” She walked to the apartment doors, opened them, announced to the vampires who apparently stood there, waiting for news: “She’s awake. You can all go about your business now.”

There were hoots and catcalls that warmed my cheeks, but I didn’t mind the attention. I’d thrown my body in front of Ethan to protect him. I was proud of myself—not because I’d been brave, but because I hadn’t let fear stop me from moving.

Ethan sat down on the bed beside me.

“Is Ryan okay? Darius?”

Ethan stroked a hand along my calf, which soothed as if by magical osmosis. “Both are fine. Ryan and Cord returned to New York.” His face fell. “I’m sorry to say that Max didn’t make it. He was staked.”

I had the sudden, sharp memory of Ethan disappearing in front of my eyes. The sight of Malik, eyes swollen, grieving, carrying a bundle of amaranth at Ethan’s memorial service. His death had been erased by magic, but the memories still bore a terrible weight.

He reached out, squeezed my hand. “I’m here, Sentinel.”

I nodded.

“Max’s memorial will be tomorrow night at Cabot House. We’ve made a donation to the House’s charitable fund. And we did the same for Brett Jacobs—Arthur opened a scholarship fund at Columbia College and we made a generous donation.”

I exhaled. “Good. That’s good. Thank you, Ethan.”

“Of course.”

“And Darius?” I asked.

“Lakshmi arrived just before dawn to help him back to London. They left right after dusk.”

“Does she have any idea who planned this?”

Ethan’s gaze darkened. “She does not. She didn’t believe any current members of the GP were capable of it, but I think she’s still trying to accept what actually happened.”

“Several guards, seven million dollars, and a magical appliance, as you called it, capable of controlling a Master vampire. Who else has those kinds of resources?”

“And who else is brave enough to use them against the head of the GP?” I blew out a breath. “It doesn’t pay to be a member of the GP these days,” I said. I’d killed Celina. Ethan had killed Harold. Michael Donovan had nearly taken out Darius and Lakshmi, as had the unidentified vampire who had planted the obelisk and used it to control him. This wasn’t exactly the situation I wanted to drop Ethan into.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“The money’s the key. We need to figure out who stood to gain by the transfers. Did you bring the obelisk home?”

“Safe and secure,” Luc put in. “It’s downstairs in the vault.”

“I called Catcher and Mallory,” Ethan added, “told them you were all right and that you’d take the obelisk to them.”

“What about my grandfather and Brett Jacobs’s murder?”

He shook his head. “He called earlier to check on you, but we didn’t chat about the murder. You’ll need to call him as soon as you can.”

“I will.”

Lindsey walked in, a bottle of blood in hand. “I saw Delia in the hallway,” she said, offering me the bottle. “She said you were awake. How do you feel?”

“Like a River troll stepped on my head.” I opened the bottle and drained it in seconds.

“Jesus, Ethan. Don’t you feed her?” Lindsey asked, taking the empty bottle again.

“Not as often as I need to, apparently.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” she said. “Glad to see you’re up and about.”

I nodded, wincing as the move turned the pain in my head to a pounding throb. “I’m fine, except for the headache.”

“It will dissipate soon enough,” Ethan said.

“Showering her with gifts would probably help her heal faster,” Lindsey suggested with a grin, rocking back on her heels.

“She doesn’t need gifts,” Ethan said. “Although a dose of common sense would help.”

Luc clucked his tongue, smiled at me. “You save his life and get no credit. What kind of Master is that?”

“The kind that prefers his Sentinel alive,” Ethan said, reaching forward and brushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

Silence descended. Lindsey took Luc’s hand and began pulling him toward the door. “Why don’t we just let Ethan check her over?”

“We could stay and watch that,” Luc said, grinning back at us. “You know, for science.”

“‘For science’ will get you punched out by your Master,” Lindsey said.

“Party pooper,” Luc said with a grin.

When they left the room, I glanced back at Ethan, found his expression grim.

“What?”

His eyes clouded, and he put a hand on my face. “I worry for you, Sentinel.”

I put my hand over his, laced our fingers together. “I’m not fragile.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

“I’m awake and alive. Immortality has its advantages . . . primarily immortality.”

“I know, Sentinel. And you grow stronger every day. But you are still mine to protect. And you have a concussion.”

I gave him the arched eyebrow he preferred to give me. “I’ve been stabbed, kidnapped, imprisoned, and worse. A concussion is what worries you?”

I meant to make him laugh, but his expression didn’t change.

“This is exactly what I feared would happen. That you’d end up hurt because of me, because of Darius. I have known fear,” he quietly said. “I’ve soldiered, seen men die, walked toward death’s door and gone through it. But I have never known fear like the sight of you unconscious.”

“Because I was brave enough to take a shot for you?” I asked it with a smile, hoping to clear the gloom from his eyes. But to no avail.

“Because I challenged Darius. Because of the risk you’ll be injured due to my actions.”

“I got shot because someone is greedy,” I reminded him. “And I’m also the reason we found out what was going on.” Along with Jonah, Matthew, and Horace. I’d need to give them a call of thanks. And probably send a gift basket. How did you thank a group of rabble-rousing vampires for spilling the good secrets? Maybe wine.

Focus, I told myself. “This isn’t exactly a new situation. I’ve been in danger since before I became a vampire.”

“And each time our House is called upon, the danger increases. I believe in you,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t. But I love you. And I want you safe.”

“I got hurt because I did a stupendously brave thing. Let me have my moment.”

He smiled slyly. “I suppose you are what I made you.”

“The best Sentinel the GP has ever seen?”

“The sassiest, certainly.”

“Did Darius mention anything about the challenge before he left?”

“He did not.” He picked up my hand, brushed his lips softly over my fingers. “Officially, my challenge is still outstanding. I won’t revoke it; I owe more to the House than that. And more to you.”

“Well, I did save your life.”

“Are you going to be pulling that one out for a while?”

I gave him a flat look. “And you never mention taking an aspen stake for me?”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “That’s fair, I suppose. And you got me off track. When Darius has the GP in hand again, we’ll see where he stands. He’ll have to respond to the challenge one way or the other.”

Ethan’s phone rang. He pulled it out, smiled at the screen, then handed it to me. “It’s your grandfather.”

I took the phone from him, answered it. “Hi, Grandpa.”

I’d spent a lot of my childhood with my grandfather. My parents, wealthy and a little pretentious, hadn’t understood me; I hadn’t been what they’d expected. My grandparents, on the other hand, had welcomed me with open arms. Even now, years later, my grandfather still sounded relieved to hear my voice.

“Baby girl. I didn’t expect to hear your voice, but I’m certainly relieved. Not thrilled to hear you’d been injured.”

“Part of the job,” I said. “But I’m fine now. Just a little sore. Sorry to make you worry.”

“Don’t even think a thing about it. I’d rather know the uncomfortable facts than be left in the dark, although I’d much rather have you behind a desk.”

“There are nights I couldn’t agree more.”

“That’s actually why I’m calling. There’s been another murder. We think it might be connected to the Jacobs death.”

“What makes you think it’s related?”

“There was a blue cross on Jacobs’s hand.”

“I remember.”

“There’s one on this victim’s hand, as well, and we hadn’t revealed that particular detail to the press.” He paused. “I almost didn’t call you, given your last twenty-four hours, but we’d appreciate your thoughts. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it might help Brett and Arthur.”

I could hear the worry in his voice, but it was unnecessary. He’d taken care of me too many times for me to turn down the request.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll come take a look. I’ve been down for way too long, anyway. Where is she?”

“Montrose Beach. South end.”

“I need to get dressed, and I’ll be on my way.” I hung up the phone, handed it back to Ethan. “Another body’s been found, likely connected to the Jacobs murder. Same mark on the body, and it wasn’t a public detail.”

Ethan’s mouth stayed in the same firm line. “You can’t go.”

“I have to. I said I’d help him, and I’m not going back on my word.” Slowly, I stood up, then closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, trying to stay on my feet without falling over as the room spun around me.

“Your grandfather can do this without you.”

I knew fear put the irritability in his voice, but his irritability triggered mine. “It’s something I have to do,” I said, and glanced back at him. “Isn’t that what you said to me about the note?”

His jaw tightened. “This is different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“You can barely stand up.”

“And your safety’s at risk.” I put my hands over my eyes, rubbed. “I don’t want to argue about that goddamned note anymore. I don’t know how to talk to you about it—not when there’s something you won’t tell me about.”

“Can’t tell you about.”

I dropped my hands, looked back at him. “Because?”

Ethan looked at me silently for a very long time. “It’s to do with the threat.” He sighed, walked to the bathroom. “There’s a woman. She has information. About me. About my past.”

“You’re being blackmailed? Why? Why would . . .”

The pieces fell into place even as I said the words. The driver had wanted Ethan to bow out of the GP race. He hadn’t, and the communications kept coming.

“You know who she is—who sent the driver. Or you knew her, and she wants you to withdraw your challenge, or she’ll share the details of your past.”

I followed him into the bathroom, watched him splash water on his face. He dried his face with a towel before dropping it to the counter again.

He nodded, incrementally.

“She’s no longer trying to do this anonymously—not just by sending a messenger.”

“So it seems.”

“Who is she, and what does she know?”

“Your jealousy is showing, Sentinel.”

The response baffled me. “I’m not jealous. I’m scared shitless because this clearly bothers you, and you won’t tell me about it.”

He braced his hands on the counter, met my gaze in the mirror. “She is a woman I knew once upon a time.”

Seconds passed, and he didn’t elaborate, which only made the gears in my mind turn faster. Was it someone he’d loved? Someone he’d lost?

“And?”

“And, because she knew me, she knows my regrets.”

Regrets. What a word—so full of frightening possibilities. I knew of one in particular . . .

“Is this about Balthasar?” Ethan had imagined himself a monster due to Balthasar’s tutelage. Was “she” from that part of his past?

“The ‘what’ doesn’t matter. There’s no point in talking about it. I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Not even to someone you want to spend the rest of eternity with?”

His eyes flashed hot tendrils of green fire. “To anyone. The past is the past, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“You have to tell Luc. If the House is at risk, if the driver comes back—”

“He won’t come back,” Ethan said. “Not now.”

“Are you going to revoke your challenge?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

I opened my mouth to object, but he shook his head.

“Let it go, Merit. Just give me some space.”

Words stuck in my throat, but I managed to keep them down. We were both adults, and he had a right to space. I could give that to him. But I turned around so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. I would not cry in front of him. Not for this.

“Fine. I’ll give you space, and I’ll give you time.” I looked back at him, silver eyed and furious. “But you will not shut me out. Because I love you too much to let you act like an idiot.”

By the time I dressed, he was gone. He’d get his space, one way or another.

For now, I needed mine. I needed to help those who’d actually asked me to help, including my grandfather. I pulled out my phone, sent my apparent partner in this investigation a message: I’M ALIVE, BUT THERE’S BEEN ANOTHER MURDER—RELATED TO BRETT JACOBS. TIME TO INVESTIGATE1

His answer was nearly immediate: COLOR ME RELIEVED—ABOUT YOU, NOT VIC. WHEN AND WHERE?

I gave him the instructions, tucked the phone away again. At least he wasn’t pushing me away.

Since I had a job to do as vampire courier, I walked downstairs to the basement. The Ops Room hummed busily as it often did. Vampires sat at the computers along the wall. Lindsey was gone, probably outside on patrol around the grounds. Luc was at the computer station, eating popcorn from a giant blue Garrett’s canister. If I’d had any appetite, I’d have snagged some of it.

“Merit,” Luc said, sitting up when I walked in. “What the hell are you doing up?”

“There’s been another murder,” I said, and gave them the information my grandfather had offered me.

Luc’s brows lifted. “And you’re going now? In your condition?”

“I’m fine. And murder waits for no man. Or vampire. Catcher and Jeff are occupied, and the body apparently was marked, so my grandfather needs a consult.”

“And everyone’s eager to close Brett Jacobs’s case and let his family mourn him.”

I nodded. “Precisely. Jonah’s going to meet me, primarily because Ethan has a very large stick up his ass.”

Luc looked amused. “Oh? Not happy you took a bullet?”

I debated how much I could tell him, decided I couldn’t divulge the blackmail, not that I knew much to divulge. But if Ethan knew the driver’s identity—or at least who sent him—Luc had to know that. “He has suspicions about who sent the driver. But he won’t tell me who it is. He doesn’t think they’re a threat to the House.”

That was true enough, but Luc saw through it, knew that wasn’t all of it.

“And what aren’t you telling me?”

I shook my head. “He asked me for space. I think, being an adult, I’m supposed to give that to him. And you can’t ask him about it directly. He’ll deny it, deflect it. This goes back a long way for him, and he thinks he wants to handle it on his own.”

There was a glimmer in Luc’s eyes. “And you disagree?”

“He has the rest of us for a reason. Do what you can—but do it carefully.” I rose. “I’m going to give the obelisk to my grandfather, or track down Catcher afterward.”

Luc nodded and rose, and I followed him down the hallway to the vault built into the wall. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, plugged the square key into the vault’s door, and it flipped open.

The obelisk lay on its side, looking admittedly pitiful in the plastic bag on its bed of margarita salt. Luc pulled out the bag with two fingers, handed it over.

“I don’t think the magic can get on you,” I assured him with a smile, tucking it under my arm like a football. “It’s not a virus.”

“No sense in taking a chance with our health, Sentinel.” He closed the door again, looked at me. “Check in with us tonight, will you?”

I gave him the stink eye. “Are you asking as my boss, or because Ethan told you to keep an eye on me?”

He snorted. “I’m not going to tell you every conversation I have with your Master and mine. House business is House business.”

“And I thought we had a solid, trusting relationship.”

“Guilt doesn’t work on me, Sentinel!” he called out as I walked toward the basement door. “At least not as much as physical threats from a certain Master vampire.”

Every man had a price.

The best way to take a drive that led only to murder and loss? A sleek silver roadster purchased from a pack of shape-shifters and outfitted with a state-of-the-art engine.

I nestled the obelisk in the passenger seat behind my katana, strapped in, and turned over the engine, goose bumps lifting on my arms at the smooth and rhythmic purr of her engine.

I pulled out of the garage and into a clear spring night. The sky overhead was dark, but there was too much light in the city to see more than a few stars in the dark blanket of sky.

Because Chicago curved around the edge of Lake Michigan, there were dozens of beaches in the city. Montrose was on the north side of the city in Lakeview.

I pulled into the small parking lot across the street from the beach, but it was clear that something had happened. Police cruisers were parked along the side of the street, their lights flashing.

Jonah walked toward me, his car parked a few slots away.

“Good evening,” he said, looking dapper in jeans, a button-up, and a brown sport coat. “You all right? How’s your head?”

“Concussed, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m glad you’re conscious again.”

“I’m glad to be conscious again.” We walked to the edge of the lot, waited for traffic to clear before jogging across the street to the sidewalk that led toward the beach. My pulse pounded in my head with the effort, and I hoped I could make it through the rest of the night without a fight or a 5K.

“Did you get enough of the rescue story from Ethan?”

Jonah nodded. “He gave me the basic rundown. Nice job.”

“We couldn’t have done it without Matthew’s information. Still, not entirely a success. Cabot House lost a man.”

“So I heard. Scott sent his condolences to the House.”

“Yeah, Ethan, too.”

“Did Darius mention the challenge?”

“He did not. We got him back to the House just before dawn, and he left with Lakshmi just after sunset. Have you heard anything?”

“Only her outrage that someone dared attack Darius.”

Speaking of Lakshmi, she’d known Ethan for a long time and, considering her position, probably knew some of his history. Could Lakshmi be the “she” attempting to blackmail Ethan?

As we walked down the sidewalk toward the southeast end of the beach, I rejected that idea. She’d wanted me to encourage Ethan to challenge Darius. Why bother doing that, only to then threaten Ethan not to run? And more, she was on the GP. If she’d wanted to reject Ethan’s challenge, she could have done it directly.

The beach curved north, the southernmost chunk of it reserved as a sanctuary for birds, sand giving way to scrubby grass.

That was where they’d gathered—a gaggle of reporters barely contained by police tape, trying to snap photographs of the latest victim. They saw us approaching, began shouting out questions.

“Have vampires murdered someone else?”

“Why are you here, Merit? Did you know the victim?”

“Are you involved in her murder?”

“Are supernaturals killing humans?”

That one drew an irritated look—and nearly a verbal barrage—from Jonah, but I took his arm, squeezed. “Keep it in,” I murmured. “And let it go.”

“All right, all right,” my grandfather said, moving forward and guiding us through the tape and ignoring the questions they peppered at him. “That’s enough for now.”

“When Shakespeare said kill all the lawyers,” Jonah said, “he hadn’t met the paparazzi.”

“True enough,” my grandfather said, escorting us to the area where cops and investigators had gathered.

Detective Jacobs stood with several uniformed officers. Jacobs was tall and lean, with dark skin and a short crop of graying hair. Dark freckles were sprinkled across his nose. Tonight he wore a dark suit, overcoat, and matching fedora, always the gentleman, even when grief settled lines across his face.

“I’m surprised he’s here tonight,” I whispered.

My grandfather nodded. “Normally, he wouldn’t be allowed—he’s too close to the crime. But he’s a good man and a good detective, so the lieutenant cut him some slack. He wanted to work. It was important to him that he contribute to the process. It might be therapeutic, I think.”

“And where are Catcher and Jeff?”

“Ah,” my grandfather said. “That’s right. You haven’t gotten that story. They’re actually assisting the nymphs tonight.”

I opened my mouth, closed it again. “Color me intrigued, and give me the quick version.” Nymph drama was invariably entertaining.

“A New York artist created a giant floating hot dog. It’s supposed to represent anticonsumerism and remind folks to donate to food banks, that type of thing. The tourism folks think the project would be a great boon to the city. The nymphs were less enthused. They didn’t want a plastic hot dog in their waterway. Consider it a mockery of the river’s historic significance to the city and their jobs.”

Considering what I’d seen of the nymphs—including screaming and hair pulling—I presumed “were less enthused” was a euphemism for “went crazy.”

“We brokered a deal. The nymphs agreed to let the hot dog sit in the river for three days. In exchange, I have to agree to attend one of their dinner parties.”

I blinked. “You’re going to a nymph dinner party?”

He sighed, nodded. “They’ve been requesting I attend.” He looked over the scene in front of him. “For better or worse, tonight’s the night.”

“And Catcher and Jeff?” I asked.

“Catcher let them borrow the gym for the space, and they’re helping get things set up.”

Catcher owned a spare gym in the River North neighborhood. That was where he’d trained me to use my sword, although I hadn’t been there in months. Considering how much time he’d spent with my grandfather, I hadn’t assumed he’d been there, either.

I squinted, trying to imagine what a nymph dinner party might involve. Giggles, maybe. Pink champagne. Soundtrack by Kylie Minogue.

“How would one go about getting an invitation to a nymph dinner party?”

My grandfather smiled. “Do you want to go?”

“Not in the sense that I want to spend an evening with nymphs, or hear an evening with nymphs, so much as I want to see an evening with nymphs. Oh, actually, I do need to see Catcher. I have the obelisk that was used to control Darius. I’m hoping he and Mallory can give us some thoughts about who made the magic.”

He nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you—and the nymphs, too.” He waved at Detective Jacobs, who walked over and extended a hand.

“Detective,” I said, squeezing his hand. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Merit. Jonah,” he said, and they shook, as well. “Thank you for coming to assist.”

“We’re happy to do whatever we can,” Jonah said.

Jacobs nodded, looked at me. “I understand you took a hit in the line of duty last night.”

It seemed insensitive to mention immortality or vampire healing to a man who’d lost his son, so I kept my answer short. “I did. I’m working through it.”

My grandfather patted my back supportively.

“Shall we?” he asked, then gestured to the woman who lay on the sand. We walked closer.

She wore a simple sheath dress in deep red, the type a businesswoman might pair with a blazer. Her arms were at her sides. Her feet were bare, and her hair long, blond, and wavy. It spread like a halo beneath her.

There were no swords, but there was no mistaking the insult she’d suffered. Her neck was swollen, and there was a purple line of bruising across it. The blue cross my grandfather had mentioned marked her right hand, and added to the insult were the marks across her chest: three red pentagrams.

“You’re thinking a serial killer?” I asked, dread settling low and heavy in my belly. I looked up at my grandfather. “Two killings within a week.”

He looked, first and foremost, sad. Sad, perhaps, that someone in Chicago had turned to murder, or that Chicago would have to face the fear and horror of it.

“We don’t release the cross,” Jacobs said. “The victims are our priorities; finding justice for them. If we say ‘serial killer,’ the press and city will go wild.”

I nodded, and Jonah, who’d walked around, peering at the woman’s face, quietly swore, looked up at me, grief in his eyes. “I know her,” he said on a sigh.

Jacobs looked up. “You do?”

“Her name is Samantha Ingram. She’s a potential Initiate.”

“An Initiate?”

“That means she applied to join Grey House,” I said.

Jacobs frowned. “She’s a vampire?”

“She wanted to be one,” Jonah explained. “Some applicants are already vampires, but most are human. They seek immortality and House membership.” He looked down at Samantha. “She wasn’t scheduled to be interviewed until next week, but she’s on the short list. Good application. Had a history degree from Northwestern.”

“I see.” Jacobs looked back at Samantha, considering the new information.

“Did you publicize that she had applied to join the House?” my grandfather asked.

Jonah shook his head. “Applicants submit their materials; we review them in House, ask some in for interviews. If she’s selected, we tell her and the North American Vampire Registry. They’ll eventually identify the chosen Initiates, but no one’s gotten that far yet.”

I’d been one of those Initiates. My Initiate status had been listed in the Tribune by the NAVR, which kept me from going back to grad school. I hadn’t been thrilled, and I’d stormed into Ethan’s office for the first time to protest it. We hadn’t had an opportunity to select Initiates this year; there’d been too much drama.

“So it’s unlikely her selection was an attempt to pin this on vampires.”

“Considering the pentagrams,” my grandfather said, “it appears they’re trying to blame sorcerers.”

“Considering the reporters’ questions,” I said, “it’s working.”

My grandfather nodded. “I sent Catcher a photograph. He confirmed they’re magical symbols but said they weren’t used much by ‘legitimate’ sorcerers—his word. Since the last murder had vampire connotations—the swords—we wanted to get your take on it, too.”

Jonah nodded. “They’re magical. Ancient in nature, related to King Solomon’s key. But I’m not aware of any symbolic use by vampires. Vampires don’t have much in common historically with sorcerers. We have rituals of our own, but they’re based in feudalism, not sorcery.”

“Oath swearing, calling our Masters ‘Liege,’ that kind of thing,” I explained.

“What about the placement of the pentagrams on the body?” Jacobs asked.

“They’re roughly over the heart, which obviously has an important connotation for blood-drinking vampires. But other than that, not that I can think of.” He looked at me. “Anything in Cadogan House?”

I shook my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“She was strangled?” Jonah quietly asked.

“That’s our initial conclusion,” Jacobs said. “We’ll confirm when we see Lin’s report. Could we get a copy of her Initiate application?”

“I’ll have to ask Scott,” Jonah said. “We want to protect her privacy, but I guess that’s moot now.”

“Do we know if Samantha knew Brett or Mitzy Burrows?” I asked.

“We don’t,” Jacobs said. “But that will be one of the first things we’ll look into. The presence of the connection—the crosses—suggests some relationship between them, but we’ll have to ferret that out.”

“Any sign of Mitzy since the raid?” Jonah asked.

Jacobs shook his head. “None. No sightings, no credit card activity, and she hasn’t gone back to the house; we’ve been watching it.”

“Smart enough to lay low,” Jonah said.

Jacobs nodded. “Some are. Chicago is a big city, and there are many places to hide.” He looked back at Samantha Ingram, who’d only just missed her chance at immortality, and possibly thought of his son, who could have used it.

The thought was unbearably sad, and I touched Jonah’s arm in sympathy.

“No murder is perfect,” Jacobs quietly added. “We’ll find her.”

“You can go home if you want,” I told Jonah, as we avoided the press and took the long way to the parking lot. “I can handle Catcher and Mallory. I’ve got to deliver the obelisk and the bobblehead, anyway.” I was, admittedly, a little afraid of the nymphs, but as long as Jeff was there, I’d be fine.

Jonah snorted. “Do you honestly think there’s a chance in hell I don’t want to see a nymph dinner party?”

“You’re a pervert.”

“I’m a healthy American vampire,” he said, stretching his arms like he was preparing for battle.

Considering the nymphs’ personalities, not a bad analogy.