Midnight Marked: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (12 page)

“And you never will see it,” Ethan said with a mirthless smile, then glanced at me. “Would you mind showing him the tattoo?”

I nodded, pulled up the picture of Cyrius’s ouroboros I’d snapped before we left, passed it to Gabriel.

“The Circle controls the Hellriver,” Ethan said, “and Reed controls the Circle. Therefore, Reed controls Hellriver. It also appears Reed owned the vampire who killed your shifter.”

Gabriel’s expression tightened. But I wouldn’t say he looked especially surprised.

“Would you like to tell us why you don’t look at all shocked to learn this? And perhaps, while you’re at it, why don’t you tell us the truth about Caleb Franklin and why he left the Pack?” Ethan’s words were carefully strung and mildly threatening.

In silence, Gabriel finished his whiskey and poured another finger, but didn’t offer one to me or Ethan. He pivoted sideways in the chair, pulled out the chair beside it, and crossed his ankles over the empty seat. Free arm on the table, the other holding his glass.

I wasn’t sure if we were watching him prepare to tell us a story or give us a dressing-down. Either way, he was setting the scene for something.

“Caleb Franklin was my half brother,” Gabriel said.

That explained why Gabriel had nearly come to blows over a man who’d voluntarily abandoned the Pack. On the other hand, Gabriel was the oldest of the Keene siblings, who were named in reverse alphabetical order—Gabriel, Fallon, Eli, and so on. There was no “Caleb” in that list. Caleb’s relationship with the Keene family must have had its own complications.

“Which side?” Ethan asked.

“My father’s. He was unfaithful to my mother. Caleb Franklin was the result of it. My mother was a kind woman, but she drew the line at acknowledging my father’s infidelity. So Caleb Franklin was a member of the Pack, but considered a bastard.

“My mother was adamant, so I didn’t know him growing up. I learned about him later, met him later. He definitely had a chip on his shoulder. Hell, I’d have had one, too, under the circumstances. It certainly changed my perception of the old man.”

Gabriel finished his whiskey. “Caleb came to me about two years ago. He’d gotten an opportunity—that’s what he called it: an opportunity—to do some high-value, if questionable, work for a human. Not a big deal, he’d said. Just a contract. I said no. Humans didn’t know about us then, and I gauged it too risky. The little shit did it anyway, and that was, of course, just the beginning.

“About a year ago, he was making a run of contraband, invited Eli to come along. Eli had no idea what Caleb was running, and they both got caught. They both ended up doing time for it. I was pissed. I confronted Caleb, reminded him that I’d given him an order. I could tell he was scared, and I thought, in the moment, that he’d been scared of me.”

Gabriel put his glass on the table again, and silence fell over the room. And even with the door closed, I’d have sworn every movement in the bar outside had stopped, too, that all eyes were on the closed door and the magic that was beginning to rise within it.

“Caleb wasn’t scared of me. He was scared of the people he’d been working for.” Gabriel lifted his gaze to Ethan’s. “They called themselves the Circle.”

Ethan went very still, and this time it was vampire magic that lifted into the air.

“He’d been running contraband for them—drugs, weapons, and occasionally people, from Texas to Chicago.” Gabe traced a finger across the table like the route on an invisible map. “I gave Caleb two options: Leave the Circle and accept my punishment, or defect and lose all claim to the Pack.”

“Adam was your brother, too,” I said. “He betrayed you, and he wasn’t allowed to live.”

“Adam was responsible for the deaths of shifters; Caleb wasn’t. Maybe I should have taken him out. But he had a hard run of it. Was in a shitty position. Had no claim to a throne he probably had some right to, even if a small one. Maybe that would have been enough to keep him on the straight and narrow. Or maybe he was just a bad seed. I don’t know.”

“He made his own choices,” I said.

“We all do that,” Gabriel said.

“So Franklin defected,” Ethan said. “He picked the Circle. Why?”

“Because soldiers didn’t leave the Circle unless they go out in a body bag. Because the man who controls the Circle is merciless.”

Ethan’s eyes had gone silver and cold and hard as steel, just like the words that punched through the air.

“You knew Reed controlled the Circle. You knew, and despite all the shit we’ve gone through in the last few weeks, the work we put in to proving that connection, you didn’t lift a finger to help.”

Gabriel’s jaw stiffened, as did his bulky shoulders. Very slowly, he slid a glance to Ethan. “You’ll want to watch your tone in my place.”

Ethan was unmoved. “Fuck your place. Navarre is in financial shambles. Merit was stalked. My House was threatened. All because it took time for us to prove that connection.”

Gabriel linked his hands over the table, leaned his chest over it, toward Ethan. “You think you’re the only sup in this city allowed to take care of his own? You think your House is more important than any other family in this city? Then you’ve got it wrong. You got the information you needed. You didn’t need me to volunteer it.”

“You didn’t want the Circle’s eyes on you,” I put in.

Gabriel slid his gaze to me. “Like I said, I protect my own.”

“Your place or not, Keene, you are a son of a bitch.” Ethan rose, chair scraping across the floor.

I heard similar movements from the bar, wished I’d brought my sword inside. I hadn’t expected things to turn in this particular direction.

“That’s rich coming from you, Sullivan. Every war creates victims. You know it as well as I do. We stayed here, in Chicago, instead of going back to Aurora. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let a human piece of shit like Adrien Reed use my people against each other.”

I could see the war in Ethan’s eyes—his desire to slap Gabriel back for putting us in danger, for holding back crucial information, matched against his need to preserve whatever alliance remained between Cadogan and the NAC.

“We are allies,” Ethan said, the words slashing the air like the sharpened blade of a katana. “Or so I was led to believe.”

“My brother is dead,” Gabriel gritted out, rising to stand over the table, his fingers still splayed across it. “Which proves this asshole is as dangerous as I imagined him to be. And he was killed by a vampire. You want contrition? Think again.”

“What I want is to be able to trust someone in this goddamn town. What I want is for my vampires to have some peace and goddamn quiet. What I want is to not be stabbed in the goddamn back every time I turn around.” Ethan reached out and, with a seemingly effortless flick of his hand, tossed a chair across the room.

The door shoved open, and a very large man filled the doorway. A shifter, with thick silver hair and a scar across his left cheek. He ignored me and Ethan, looked immediately to Gabriel—to his Apex.

Gabriel’s gaze was on Ethan, and it didn’t waver.

For a full minute, they stared at each other.

“Stop! You are stopping!” The words punched through the silence, followed by a rush of Ukrainian as Berna squeezed beneath the tree-trunk arm the shifter had stretched across the doorway.

She had a white bar towel in the hand she used to point at Ethan, then Gabriel. “No fighting here. No fighting. Is rule.”

Gabriel’s gaze snapped to her. Obviously angry, he muttered something low in Ukrainian. I hadn’t heard him speak it before, and it sounded vaguely menacing in his growly and gravelly voice.

If Berna was intimidated, she hid it well. She pitched her head to the left and right, made a spitting sound that I was pretty sure was an insult. And then she leveled that gaze at Ethan.

“You make trouble in our house. Get out now before you make worse.” And then she looked at me, flipped her fingers back and forth to shoo us out of the back room. “Both of you. Out. Now.”

Ethan took a step toward the door, but glanced back at Gabriel. “We aren’t done with this conversation.”

Gabriel spread his hands, smiled toothily. “Anytime, Sullivan.”

We walked out of the bar, leaving Gabriel Keene in Little Red, and our alliance on a knife’s edge.

THE DECIDER

E
than fumed in silence as we walked back to the car and drove back to Hyde Park.

His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and he pushed the car to the absolute limit. He’d taken surface streets, tested the length of every yellow light between Ukrainian Village and Hyde Park, and had nearly raced a small car with a spoiler off the line at a stoplight. The car’s driver looked at the Audi the way a man might look at a beautiful woman—with lust and wanting.

Ethan was still fuming when we pulled into the House’s parking garage. He slid the car into its slot, slammed out of the car.

“Would you like to talk before you take that enormous magical chip on your shoulder into the House?”

He turned on me. “Would I like to
talk
about it? Talk about what, precisely, Sentinel? The fact that our ‘ally’ knew about Reed, knew about his connection to supernaturals, and ignored it?”

“He wasn’t an ally at the time—not when Caleb joined Reed.”

“He’s a goddamn ally now,” Ethan said, “and he’s been one for months.”

“You didn’t tell him what we found at Caleb Franklin’s house. You didn’t tell him about the key.”

“And why should I? Caleb Franklin defected, and there’s no evidence the key belonged to him or, even if it did, that it has any bearing here.”

“So it’s all right if you withhold information strategically, but not if he does it?”

I knew I was getting perilously close to insubordination. But that was the point.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Sentinel.” Ethan stalked into the House, let the basement door slam behind us. The House seemed to shudder from the impact of anger, magic, and brute force.

He strode down the hall toward the Ops Room, temper flaring. If he wasn’t careful, he’d spill that fury out on people who didn’t deserve it. Not when it was really about the Pack.

And there were certainly better ways to work out his aggression.

“Actually, I think that’s exactly what you’re in the mood for.” I grabbed his arm and, when he turned back to glower, met his stare head-on.

“Let go of me.”

I didn’t. “You want to go a round? We’re yards away from the training room. If you want to hit something, you can try to hit me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t push me, Sentinel.”

It was too late for that. I’d been with this man for a year, and I knew exactly what buttons to push. “Oh, I’ll push you, and I’ll probably win. You want an invitation you can’t refuse? Fine. Ethan Sullivan, I challenge you.”

A single eyebrow arched. “Those are serious words, Sentinel, with serious implications.”

“I’m well aware,
Sire
.”

Ethan pivoted, strode like a warrior in the heat of battle to the training room, pushed open the doors. It was one of the larger rooms in Cadogan House, with tatami mats across the floor, weapons hanging from the wood-paneled walls, and a balcony ringing the room to allow vampires to watch whatever battle was taking place.

Tonight, there were guards in the room—Luc, Kelley, Brody, and a few of the temps—practicing basic throws and falls. They all looked up in alarm when the door swung open, slammed back against the wall.

“Out!”
Ethan bellowed.

The temps jumped. Ever cool, Luc’s gaze flicked to me, and I nodded infinitesimally. It was safe for him to leave; I’d handle this. I’d handle Ethan.

“You heard your Sire and Master,” Luc said, walking over to pick up a clipboard and his shoes. “Everybody out.”

They filed out in silence but didn’t bother to hide the curious looks they threw at me, at Ethan. They knew something was wrong; they just didn’t know what that was. Let the speculation begin.

When they were gone, Ethan closed the door firmly, locked it, then walked to a nearby bench. He pulled off his suit coat, tossed it aside. Unbuttoned the first button on his shirt, pulled it over his head. His belt, shoes followed. Without a word, wearing only his suit pants, he stepped into the middle of the mat, stretched his arms over his head.

Normally, I’d have admired the long, strong lines of his body, the stretch of smooth skin over muscle as he warmed up. But this time I was thinking about strategy, about how I could keep him from doing something he’d regret later, at least politically. About how best to channel his mountain of energy. And possibly, when all was said and done, about having my way with him.

I pulled off my shoes, dropped my jacket onto the floor, and strode forward in bare feet. I glanced around at the weapons that hung from the room’s paneled walls. Pikes, swords, maces, axes. “Do you prefer weapon or hand-to-hand?”

Ethan’s eyes were still silver with emotion. “Either is fine by me.”

“Excellent,” I said, mirroring the cockiness in his stance.

Music filled the room, a Muse song about fighting, combat, and victory. That would have been Luc’s or Lindsey’s doing. And since the scene had been set, I didn’t waste any time. I feinted left, and when Ethan began to pivot, I executed a side kick that he only just managed to block with a forearm.

Ethan used the arm to push me off. I spun down, then around, and faced him from a low position. I tried a strike at his shin, but he jumped, managed a back flip that put him a few feet away.

His anger was still hot. Time to let him burn some of it off.

“Are you afraid I’m going to kick your ass? Because you seem to be holding back,” I said.

Ethan’s lip curled.

“That’s not an answer,” I said, “but it is a pretty good Elvis impersonation.” I gestured him forward with a crooked finger.

We moved toward each other, meeting in the middle of the mats. He struck out with his right elbow, but he was angry and telegraphed his move. I saw it coming, spun, and came up behind him, kicked him gently in the ass. “A point for me. Quit holding back.”

He turned around, hands raised to block my next strike. “I’m not holding back. I’m trying not to take my seething rage out on you.”

“Why? You think I can’t handle you?”

He offered a crescent kick, which I avoided by leaning back just in time. He struck again, and I kept the momentum, putting out my hands into a back bend, then flipping over.

“Better,” I said when I was upright. “But you’re still only barely trying.”

I meant to piss him off. Meant to make him face that betrayal, the fact that shifters weren’t really all that different from vampires when it came to playing politics.

Ethan growled deep in his throat, a predator preparing to take his prey.

I shivered, but there was no fear in it. My body reacted to his power and his confidence, even if his emotions were masked by frustration. Since he still needed to work through that frustration, I tried another side kick.

This time, Ethan managed to catch my leg. He twisted, sending me off balance. I hit the floor on my back, stared up at him . . . and felt my eyes go silver.

I saw the flare of panic in his eyes—that he’d hurt me—but I kept my gaze steady on his as I rose to my feet. “Do that again.”

My voice sounded rough, breathy. A woman on the edge of arousal. Not because he’d gotten me on the floor, but because of his strength and power. Beneath the expensive suits, the imperious nature, Ethan was a soldier. He’d lived as one, nearly died as one. And in becoming a vampire, had been reborn as one.

Didn’t that make us one and the same—two people who’d been clothed in something other than what they were? Me, before. Ethan, now. But nevertheless, at heart, warriors always ready for battle.

“Again,”
I repeated, and assumed the fighting position, beckoning him forward.

He watched me, evaluated, took in the flush in my cheeks, the silver of my eyes, the intensity of my expression. I watched his recognition bloom—that he hadn’t hurt me. That he’d thrilled me and was fully capable of doing it again. As his understanding bloomed, his frustration eased.

“Very well, Sentinel,” he said, and this time his voice was silky. He reset, arms bent, fingers loosely fisted.

I went in high with an uppercut. He dodged to the side, tried a low punch that nearly landed. But this time, I flipped backward into a handspring, popping up a few feet away, my ponytail bouncing with the motion.

Ethan didn’t waste any time.

He vaulted forward with a spinning kick that I’d have sworn whistled through the air. The kick was shallow, glancing off my arm as I blocked. I aimed a low kick at his balancing foot when he settled to knock him off-kilter. Like a practiced gymnast, he jumped over my kick, then spun backward over me.

I turned to face him again, and we stared at each other like raging animals, chests heaving, hearts racing. Ethan moved first, nipping at my bottom lip, tugging nearly hard enough to draw blood.

I dug fingers into his shoulders, pulled him toward me.

“Ethan,”
was all I managed to say before the door opened, before we were thwarted for the second time tonight.

“This is becoming a really bad joke,” I muttered.

A white flag slipped through the door, waved for detente. No, not a flag—a paper towel taped to a plastic-wrapped stick of beef jerky. I didn’t appreciate the interruption, but I could appreciation the symbolism: peace via dried meats.

Luc’s head popped inside, a hand slapped over his eyes. “I don’t want to see what’s happening in here, although if the magic is any indication, it’s illegal in at least a couple of states. Liege, Nicole’s on the phone for you. She wants to talk about Caleb Franklin’s death, and Malik thought you’d want to take it.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, settling himself. “And why didn’t Malik deliver the message?”

“Because I lost the bet.”

Ethan held back a snicker, but something relaxed in his expression. If nothing else, he was home among friends. “I’ll be right up. Shut the door, please.”

“Nothing would please me more,” Luc assured him, and slipped out again, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Well,” Ethan said, glancing down at me, “I guess that brings this experiment to an end.”

“Temporarily,” I said. “Temporarily.”

His eyes gleamed with appreciation. Without a word, he pressed his mouth to mine, a promise of things to come. “I need to take the call.”

“Take it,” I said. “I believe my work here is done.”

Ethan snickered, picked up shirt and shoes. “Feeling cocky, are you, Sentinel?”

“Are you going to drive back to Little Red and challenge Gabriel to a duel?”

“Not in the next several minutes.”

“Then, like I said, my work here is done.” I picked up my own clothes, met him at the door. “Sometimes you just gotta dance it out.”

He smiled, and this time, he looked relaxed. “I guess, sometimes, you do.”

“And one more thought, Ethan.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Yes?”

“Gabriel knew about Reed and the Circle. He sent us into that neighborhood, had to know we’d find something. At least notice the geographical connection, maybe do some exploring.”

“What are you suggesting, Sentinel?”

“He may not have wanted to tell us about Reed. Maybe didn’t feel like he could. But he wanted us to know.”

With that, I left him to his call.

•   •   •

I waited until Ethan had cleared the stairs before opening the Ops Room door. And when I did, all eyes jumped to me.

Luc, Juliet, and Lindsey stood together in a huddle. They separated and walked toward me.

“He’s going upstairs,” I said.

“What was that about?” Luc asked when they reached me. “And who won?”

“It was a draw, as you probably figured out when you opened the door.”

Luc managed a blush.

I didn’t figure there was any point in hiding the truth of the rest of it. “We went to see Caleb Franklin’s house, found a secret hidey-hole and a safe-deposit box key.” I pulled out the envelope, set it on the table. “We met a necromancer in Longwood Cemetery. Then we took a little visit to Hellriver. Discovered La Douleur had moved there—”

“Wait, La Douleur is in Hellriver now?”

We all looked at sweet and innocent Juliet, who was grinning wickedly. “What? I like cosplay. And you can’t beat La Douleur for cosplay.”

So many things I’d learned tonight. So many things I didn’t need to know. And yet I was compelled to ask. “English club?”

She grinned. “Sexy anime.”

Luc flicked away a fake tear. “Our baby girl is growing up. And she’s growing up weird.”

I smiled, appreciating the levity. “Anyway, La Douleur is in Hellriver,” I confirmed. “Run by a guy named Cyrius Lore, who’s got the Circle ouroboros tattooed on his arm. The Circle owns La Douleur, and they own Hellriver. Cyrius sicced a vampire on us, a battle ensued, which we won, at the point of a gun, a dagger, and two katanas. He admitted Reed’s got something big planned, something the sorcerer is involved in, something that’s got the sorcerer under wraps working on it. But that’s all we got out of him.”

Luc whistled. “That’s enough for one night.”

“Oh, but that’s only half of it. We then went to Little Red to talk to Gabe about Caleb Franklin. Long story short, Caleb Franklin was an enforcer for the Pack. Changed his mind, went to work for the Circle and Adrien Reed. He’s also Gabe’s illegitimate half brother, so Gabe let him defect from the Pack.”