Friday Night Bites (Chicagoland Vampires #2)

Friday Night Bites (Chicagoland Vampires #2) Page 21

YOU GIVE BITE A BAD NAME

As it tends to do, the sun set again. Showered and dressed, I stood before the conference table in the Ops Room in my Cadogan black, katana belted and at the ready, preparing to, as Ethan had put it, nail my colleague.

Nailing Peter, of course, wasn't the hard part. The hard part was going to be convincing Peter to nail whomever he'd been in league with, whether the "she" from Nick's telephone call or someone else with insider information about the Breckenridges. The setup, of course, was easy. We'd send an e-mail to one of Peter's fake addresses in the guise of the person we suspected was guiding his hand - Celina - and ask him to meet her at their "usual" location. If he took the bait, we'd confirm that Celina was the manipulator behind the scenes. We'd follow him to the rendezvous spot and, from there, take him in.

"Or that's how it's supposed to go," I told the guards, my hands sweating as I explained the plan to the vampires around the conference table. This was, I guess, my first official op as Sentinel, and there were a million ways it could go wrong.

Among other potential problems, we'd gotten access to Peter's e-mails through the service providers; it wasn't like we'd hacked directly into his accounts. So, we had no clue if Celina set up meetings with him via e-mail or, if so, what address she used. But we had a pretty good clue. Jeff, being ever resourceful, spent some of the daylight hours scrubbing the Web for data that might help us, and managed to find a cached image of Peter's e-mail directory from a few weeks ago. Although we couldn't actually read the e-mails, we noticed that one addressee looked curiously familiar: Marie Collette.

Celina's human name.

More importantly, the e-mail was dated only a week before we'd met Celina at North Pond and Ethan had confronted her about her role in the park killings. Peter and Celina had communicated, and they'd done it just before she tried to kabob Ethan.

Coincidence? Maybe. Likely not.

But even if Celina hadn't been the instigator for this newest betrayal, the fact that she and Peter had communicated increased the odds that he'd be curious enough to take the bait, especially since he'd been warned she would probably attempt to reenter Chicago. Either way, we could ensure that he was out of the House - and our vampires were out of danger - before we confronted him.

"Lindsey," Luc prompted when I'd finished my review.

She nodded. "Since Jeff couldn't get us into the existing 'Marie Collette' account, I've set up a new one using a different domain name. He's got at least six operative e-mail addresses, so it shouldn't come as a huge surprise that Celina's got more than one."

"We do what we can with what we've got," Luc said. "We just need to get him out the door. And the message?"

I clicked a button so the text displayed on the wall screen across from the conference table, then read aloud: "You've been compromised. Rendezvous point ASAP."

"We were afraid to pick a specific time since we weren't sure when he'd see the message," Juliet pointed out. "But assuming we've made the correct assumptions, and that Celina's behind this, it's not a bad plan."

Luc nodded, then looked at me. "It's your op, Sentinel. You ready?"

I thought of the betrayal in Ethan's eyes, and nodded, left hand on the handle of my katana. "Let's nail him."

Lindsey and Luc were in her SUV outside the House, an eye on Peter's own red sports car (which had been tagged by RDI with a tracking device), ready to follow Peter if he followed our plan. I stood beside the basement door, waiting impatiently for Juliet, who'd been assigned to drive both of us. Her vehicle, a black sedan, was apparently less noticeable than my orange Volvo, which Luc immediately vetoed as a surveillance car.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and stood straight, but it wasn't Juliet who appeared around the corner. Blond hair tied at the base of his neck, his body snugged into a short-sleeved black T-shirt and dark jeans, katana in a royal blue scabbard at his waist, he smiled just so, one corner of his mouth tipped up knowingly.

"Don't look so surprised, Sentinel," he said, moving past me to type numbers into the keypad. "I can't in good conscience allow you to have all the fun."

"Where's Juliet?" I asked.

Ethan opened the basement door and held it out for me.

"I'm still inside," Juliet said, her voice echoing through my tiny earpiece as Ethan and I walked to the Mercedes. "Kel and I are keeping an eye on the House while you four play vampire A-Team. And speaking of fun, numb nuts is still in his room and Kelley's got an eye out from the third-floor kitchen. Everybody else in position?"

"Car number one ready," Luc said. "And Blondie's here, looking pretty as always."

I bit back a smile at the curses that lit through the earpiece.

"Third floor ready," Kelley whispered.

"Car number two is ready," Ethan said, chirping the alarm on the Mercedes. We climbed inside and Ethan started the engine, adjusted his mirror, and headed for the ramp.

"Sending the e-mail in three, two, one, sent."

There was no sound but for the clank of the rising garage door and the hum of the Mercedes. Ethan pulled the car onto the street, this corner still dark and empty of paparazzi. He sidled into a parallel spot and put the car in park. We waited.

It took thirty-seven minutes. Time enough for Peter to check his e-mail, grab his sword, and sprint to the red sports car, which was parked outside the House. Luc and Lindsey were in the least conspicuous of the vehicles, so they took off first, pulling onto the street a hundred yards or so behind Peter. When they were a couple of blocks ahead of us, we pulled out, all of us following the would-be saboteur, who drove east, then jumped onto Lake Shore Drive.

I glanced over at Ethan, who weaved through traffic to keep the vehicles ahead of us in sight. Peter flew north, apparently eager to see Celina, or whoever else he believed was meeting him. If it was Celina, I wondered if he was going of his own accord - because he loved her or believed in her or some indivisible bit of both - or because he'd been glamoured. Because Peter, for all his strength, couldn't overcome Celina's will.

"What are you going to do to him?" I asked Ethan, as we glided beside the Lake.

"Do to him?"

"When he confesses," I said, utter confidence that he would. "What will you do to him?

What will be his punishment?"

"Excommunication," Ethan replied without hesitation. "He'll be banished from the House, his medal stripped. The same punishment ultimately received by Amber, albeit without her participation."

"What else?" I wondered, thinking excommunication was hardly sufficient for the betrayal.

"The Canon prescribes death for the betrayal of a House." Ethan had let Amber go, despite her betrayal; I wondered if Peter would be so lucky.

As if reading my mind, he offered, "Obviously, I don't subscribe to most of the more archaic punishments. Not that he doesn't deserve it."

I withheld judgment on that one.

We followed Lake Shore for miles, past the Pier and Oak Street Beach, then North Avenue Beach.

"Boss." Luc's voice echoed through our headsets. "He's taking the exit. Fullerton. Near North Pond."

Ethan's hands tightened on the wheel. North Pond, situated in a corner of Lincoln Park, was the place we'd enjoyed our previous Celina episode, her attempt on Ethan's life, her attempt to take control of Chicago's other Houses. I understood Ethan's hesitation.

He'd nearly been stabbed, and I'd nearly committed vampiricide. That had been the finale in the bustle of our supernaturally busy weeks.

"The marina," Luc said, "he's heading to the harbor."

" DiverseyHarbor," I added. "It's across Cannon from North Pond."

Ethan followed the SUV as it made a couple of right turns, but stopped before entering the harbor's parking lot.

"Keep going," I told Ethan. "Head him off at the other end of the lot."

Ethan nodded. We passed one entrance, then took a second, the lights on Peter's car the only thing moving in the lot. We parked the Mercedes, popped out, and rebelted our katanas. This time, Ethan skipped the noisy security check.

"We've got him," came Luc's whisper. "Linds is staying in the car in case he tries to run.

I'm on foot. He's heading toward the boat launch. I'm going in, but I'll stay under cover until your mark."

"That's good," I whispered, as Ethan and I headed south again to the rendezvous point.

"If we can corner him against the Lake, fewer escape routes."

"Do it," Ethan said.

Seconds of silence followed, seconds in which my heart thudded against my chest as Ethan and I trotted toward the launch.

"I'm in the car," Lindsey said. "Luc's in the trees to the south. He's here, looking around, obviously waiting for someone. He keeps checking his watch."

"Waiting for her?" Ethan whispered.

"Who would it surprise?" I wondered back. When we got close enough to see him - a long figure before the dark void of the Lake - I stopped and put out a hand to stop Ethan.

"I'm first," I whispered. He glowered for a moment, but then relented with a nod. "Luc, let's keep him in the middle."

"Aye, aye, Sentinel."

I blew out a breath, then adjusted my grip on the katana and released the thumb guard.

Three months ago, I'd been a grad student standing before a classroom of undergraduates. And today...

Today I stood Sentinel for a House of three hundred and twenty vampires. An old House. An honorable House. A House that had been betrayed by one of its own.

No, I mentally corrected - by another of its own.

Peter suddenly turned, katana out and poised in front of him. Behind him, the ramp angled down into the water.

"Who's there?" he called out.

Behind me, Ethan growled.

"Your colleagues," I called back. We stepped through the shadow of the trees into the overhead lights that illuminated the launch.

Peter's eyes widened, a breeze of magic floating through the air as his fear rose. "What are you doing here?"

"We'd ask you the same question, Novitiate." Ethan stepped beside me, his katana already loosed.

Rein it in, Sullivan, I mentally warned him. He must have heard me, as the katana dropped an inch.

"We know why you're here, Peter," I told him. "We know you sent the e-mail to the Breckenridges about the vampire threat, and we assume you gave the 'anonymous'information to the Ombud's office. It's not much of a stretch to assume that you've been feeding someone information about our social schedule."

Peter wet his lips.

"The question, Peter, is whether you want to cooperate or not."

"No," Ethan said. "The question is why." The words were softly spoken.

Peter's gaze flicked nervously from me to Ethan. "Liege."

"No," Ethan said, taking a step forward. "You have lost the right to call me, to call anyone, Liege. Peter Spencer, you have violated the Canon and the covenants of Cadogan House."

No longer just "Peter." Now "Peter Spencer." Peter had regained a last name. Not good.

"You can't do this," Peter said, a nervous laughter in his voice.

Ethan moved forward another step. I gripped the handle of my katana in my right hand.

"You have violated your responsibilities to your Master, your brethren, and your House, and you have broken your oaths as a Novitiate vampire."

"I acted in the best interest of vampires," Peter said, regrip ping his katana. "I acted when you wouldn't."

Ethan, I warned, pulling my own sword.

"You are, hereby - " Ethan reached out his hand toward Peter's neck. No, not his neck.

His medal. Ethan reached for the symbol of Peter's soon-to-be-former membership in Cadogan House. His link to the rest of the Cadogan vampires.

"All right, stop!" Peter said, taking a step backward and out of Ethan's reach. "Stop." He looked around, then back at Ethan. "You don't get it, Sullivan. You don't understand what we need, what she can give us. We are vampires!" His voice rose, carried across the empty parking lot, across the Lake, then dropped again.

"They mock us. They are mortal, and weak, but they mock us. They would take away our rights. But we can't allow that."

"Who mocks us?" I asked. "Humans?"

Peter looked at me, frustration in his features. "Shifters. The pretenders."

And there was the vampire version of Nick's animosity, I thought. Born of some historic feud, and just as archaic.

"Ethan," Peter said, "Keene is bringing the shifters to Chicago. They are practically on their way. You can't let Cadogan House fall. Not to shifters, not to humans. You can't let us become some kind of amusement park vampire spectacle. On the cover of magazines?" He spat out a curse. "We are better than that. We are immortals. We can control the night again, but we have to act."

How much of this paranoia, I silently asked Ethan, is Peter, and how much is Celina's manipulation?

I've no idea, he replied.

"The Houses need to be awakened," Peter said. "We let shifters escape the first time.

During the Clearings, we let them avoid their responsibilities as supernaturals. They are our enemies, Ethan, and we have to remember that."

"We're at peace," Ethan said. "With humans, with shifters."

"We're in denial," Peter challenged. "And it's time for us to prepare."

"That's why the messages were sent? That's why the Breckenridges were targeted? To trigger a war between vampires and shifters?"

"They were targeted because they are weak." Peter's eyes glowed silver. "They were targeted to remind Keene who we are. What we are capable of. To remind him that Chicago is our city. Our town, and we won't let it go. Especially not to shifters. To pretenders."

As if he'd spoken his war cry, he attacked, katana raised. I muttered a curse and, as Ethan spun away, raised my own sword in attack. I executed a half turn, spinning as I sliced the katana upward. Peter, unfortunately, was older and a more experienced fighter. He moved, then brought the katana horizontally across my knees. I jumped, and for the first time as a vampire, took air, bounding in a flip that brought me down on Peter's other side.

Someone might have warned me I could do that, I mentally told Ethan, then sliced my katana down. Peter met my sword with his, the force vibrating the steel and my arm.

Unfortunately, that vibration also woke the vampire, like a hand on a shoulder waking someone from sleep. I huffed out a breath and pushed her back down, unwilling to lose control of this fight. I'd already seen how bad that could go, having stopped the bokken only millimeters from Catcher's head.

Peter and I clanged swords again and again and again as we sliced the katanas from side to side, me moving backward down the ramp as he pushed forward. The ribbed concrete was slick with water and algae, and I struggled to keep my footing as we moved. And worse - my head began to pound from the combined effort of fighting off his attacks, making my own advances, and trying to keep the vampire at bay.

"Celina will win," Peter said.

And there's my motivation, I thought. With a burst of energy that would have thrilled both Catcher and Aerobics Barbie - but which made the vampire that much more curious - I inched my way up the ramp, forcing Peter up and back with each slice and thrust of my sword. He turned to gain distance and I ran forward, katana in the air. I sliced down, but he turned on me, his own katana slicing upward.

"Celina is our future," he spit out again, then turned from me as the inertia forced us through the spins and away from each other. I pushed the sword beneath my right arm, but he rolled away from the thrust. I dropped my left hand away from the sword and spun around, raising the katana and bringing it around as I turned to face him again. I didn't land the strike, but Peter stumbled backward into Ethan, who caught him on the top of the head with the butt of his katana's handle.

"Celina is old news," Ethan said, voice flat, as Peter crumpled to the ground. As I lowered my sword, chest heaving from the exertion of the fight, Ethan crouched down and reached out his hand again.

"You are hereby excommunicated," he said, then ripped the medal from Peter's neck.

Ethan stood again, pressed the medal to his lips, then tossed it into the Lake. Without comment, he pulled the cell phone from his pocket, punched in numbers, and raised it to his ear.

"Tell the Brecks," he said. "The threat has been contained."