“That’s all we need to do,” Ethan said. “I think I’d like to change clothes, and Merit will probably want a shower.” They both looked at me, and I glanced down at the jacket I’d destroyed over the course of the evening. It looked even worse in the House than it had outside. Including the gash across the front, the leather bore patches of rust, probably scrapes from the fire escape, and flecks where sparks had nearly burned through it. Frankly, I looked like the victim of a zombie attack.
“I will definitely want a shower and change of clothes,” I agreed.
Luc squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “Get cleaned up. We’ll get everyone settled in. Probably also a good idea to get all the guards together to discuss protocol before sunrise.”
Ethan checked his watch. “Very good idea. Let’s say an hour, Ops Room?”
“You got it, boss. Hey, take care of our Sentinel this time, will you?”
“I’ll do my best,” Ethan said. “But I’m not sure even Merit could manage to get into trouble between here and the third floor.”
Stranger things had happened.
—
We climbed the stairs, my legs heavy and achy like I’d just finished a marathon. I gripped the rail, pulling myself up one stair at a time.
Ethan did not look impressed by my efforts.
“I think the blood loss took a toll,” I said.
“Yes, the laceration and your utter unconsciousness clued me in to that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You sound like me. Maybe sarcasm can be transmitted by blood.”
“God forbid,” Ethan said. “You’ve more than enough for both of us.”
“Would it be wrong to wear pajamas to a guard meeting?”
“It would be inappropriate,” Ethan said. “But I think you’re more than excused from leathers or a suit tonight.”
“Sweatpants?”
“You’re dating the Master of the House.”
I took that as a “no” on the sweatpants.
I made it up the stairs, and he opened the doors to the apartments. The lights had been turned on, a tray of blood and healthy snacks on the side table. Luc must have given Margot a call about my unfortunate encounter with the chef’s knife. Maybe, as House chef, she felt bad about the choice of weapon.
The snack called to me, but the shower called louder. I turned on the shower and peeled away my dingy clothes. I pulled off the jacket and placed it across the vanity. It had been a birthday gift from Mallory only days after I’d become a vampire and been appointed Sentinel of Cadogan House. It had been through a lot in the last ten months, and I wasn’t keen to part with it.
“You’re all right?” Ethan asked, stepping into the room.
I gestured toward the jacket and smiled sadly. “I hope Mallory got a good deal on this jacket. I’m afraid it’s toast.”
“This is Chicago. There are other leather jackets to be found.”
“I know. But this one was meaningful. It was a gift—and it was before Nebraska.”
“So much was,” Ethan said. “I doubt Mallory will fault you for destroying it tonight. She’ll be glad it protected you. At least somewhat.”
I nodded. “In fairness, I didn’t mean to destroy it. I got dragged into someone else’s war.”
“Isn’t that always the way?” Ethan said philosophically. “I don’t mean to be dismissive of your melancholy, but we’re short on time. Shower, please. I’m going to give Breckenridge a call while you’re underwater.”
I didn’t argue about either option. When I was naked, I climbed into the shower. The water was deliciously hot, but it stung the gash across my stomach. The wound was closed, but it had now begun to ache and itch as it healed.
I scrubbed blood and dirt and ash from my pale skin, then emerged from the shower and towel-dried my hair.
Ethan stepped into the doorway. “Now that’s more like it.”
“Sir, you’re a dirty old man.”
“I’m a dirty old vampire. There’s a difference.”
Since time was of the essence, we switched places. I turned the shower over to Ethan, deposited my clothes in the laundry drop—maybe the staff could have some luck rehabbing the jacket—and headed back into the bedroom to find something appropriate to wear. Sweatpants and pajamas were out, but Ethan hadn’t mentioned jeans. Personally, I’d have preferred some slouchy yoga-style pants, but the meeting would be in mixed company, and I might as well try not to embarrass my boss in front of another House.
I opted for the softest jeans I could find and a fitted Cadogan House long-sleeved shirt. I brushed and dried my hair, leaving it loose. A pair of much-loved Puma sneakers—too light to wear in winter, but perfect for in-House movement—and lip gloss to combat the effects of winter, and I was ready to go downstairs.