PARENTAL PATRONAGE

My parents lived in Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago known for its Frank Lloyd Wright architecture and beautiful homes. My parents' home wasn't one of those, at least in my opinion. It was a squat box of concrete slapped in the middle of prairie-style brick and honed wood. I completely understood why the neighborhood association had thrown a fit when my parents had shown them the plans.

Tonight, interrupting the usual peace and quiet of the neighborhood after dusk, men in J & Sons Moving T-shirts carried pieces of my parents' carefully curated furniture out of the house and into a waiting truck.

"You're moving?"

My mother's laugh tinkled. "Of course not. Just redecorating a bit."

Of course she was. My father had copious amounts of money, and my mother enjoyed spending it. "After dark?"

"They were two hours late, and I told their supervisor I wasn't releasing them until they were done."

And that, I thought, is life in the one percent. It was also a testament to how much furniture they'd amassed in their blocky concrete house.

"Why isn't Pennebaker out here?" Pennebaker was my father's skinny, fusty butler. He was probably my least favorite person in the house, which rather said a lot.

"Actually, he's at the opera this evening. It's his birthday." She glanced at me. "I presume you did not remember him with a card?"

"I did not."

Mom's upturned nose told me precisely what she thought of that breach of etiquette. She turned and walked into the house again, and I followed behind obediently.

"Why are you redecorating?"

"It's time. It's been fifteen years, and I wanted to breathe life into this house." She stopped and turned to look at me. "Did you hear that Robert is expecting again?"

Robert was my brother and the oldest of the Merit brood. "I didn't. Congratulations to them. When's the baby due?"

"June. It's very exciting. And this house isn't exactly grandchild-friendly, is it?" She put her hands on her hips and glanced around; she wasn't wrong - the house wasn't very grandchild-friendly. It was all concrete, monochromatic, and sharply angled. But it had been that way through the birth of my parents' other grandchildren, and they hadn't turned out any worse for it.

"If you say so," I said, not arguing the point. "Is Dad around? I need to talk to him."

"He is, and he'll be glad to hear from you. We won't be around forever, you know. You should consider giving him a chance."

I'd given him plenty of chances, although they were generally before he'd tried to bribe Ethan. But that was neither here nor there.

"I just need to talk to him," I said, willing to commit to nothing else.

We walked down the concrete-walled hallway and to my father's office. My mother's redesign had already found its way there.

The house had been a strict and sterile bastion of modernism; it had become the centerfold in an Italian design magazine. Pale carpet covered the concrete floor, and the office was lit by a chandelier of colored glass. Modern art canvases covered the walls. They were probably pieces my father had owned before my mother took charge of the room, but they looked completely different in this brighter, cheerier office.

My father, on the other hand, seemed unusually out of place.

Even at the late hour, he wore a black suit. He stood in the middle of the room, back bent over the undoubtedly expensive and custom putter in his hands. A few yards away, a crystal tumbler lay on the floor, poised to receive the ball.

He reviewed the lie and then, with a smooth motion, swung his outstretched arms in a perfect arc, sending the ball along the carpet to the hole at the end of his imaginary green. With a clink of glass, he sank the put.

It wasn't until he'd bent over to pick the ball up and cupped it in his hand that he finally looked up at me.

"Look who's here, Joshua." My mother squeezed my shoulders, then plucked an errant coffee cup from my father's desk and headed back for the door. "I'll just let you two talk."

"Merit," my father said.

"Dad."

He slipped the ball into his pocket. "What can I do for you?"

I was pleasantly surprised. He usually started off conversations with me with accusations or insults.

"I need a favor, actually."

"Oh?" He placed his putter into a tall ceramic vase that stood in a corner of the room.

"There's a warehouse in Little Italy. I'm wondering if you can tell me anything about it."

His toys put away, my father sat down behind a giant desk that looked like it had been made of recycled bits of discarded wood.

"Why do you want to know?"

Cards on the table, I thought. "The owner or someone involved in the property might have something to do with the murder of vampires."

"And you can't find this information online?"

I shook my head. "Nothing at all."

He regarded me skeptically. "I consider the assessor a friend, but I don't especially wish to burn that bridge completely by using the information she gives me to accuse someone of murder."

I pushed harder. "The clerk doesn't need to know what we're using the information for."

"We," he said. "You and Ethan?"

I nodded. My father and I hadn't discussed Ethan - or anything else - since Ethan had come back.

"He's alive and well, I understand."

"He is."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." He seemed honestly relieved. Since he'd put in motion the animosity between Ethan and Celina that had led to Ethan's death, he'd probably felt responsible for it, at least in some deep place in his heart.

It wasn't that I thought my father uncaring; he definitely cared, but he was so utterly absorbed in his own needs that he manipulated people like chess pieces to get what he wanted . . . even if he believed he was doing it for the good of others.

He looked up at me. "You and I haven't talked. About what happened, I mean."

"We've talked enough." My stomach clenched nervously, as it often did when my father suggested we should "talk" about things. Such conversations rarely ended happily for me.

"Have we talked enough for you to get some of the facts? Possibly. But the entire truth? Possibly not." He glanced at the array of photographs on his desk, and picked up a small silver frame. I knew what picture he held in his hand: a photograph of the child who would have been my older sister, the first Caroline Evelyn Merit.

"She was only four years old, Merit. It was a miracle your mother and brother walked away from the wreck, but that miracle wasn't large enough to save her."

His voice was wistful. "She was such a bright child. So happy. So full of life. And when she died, I think a bit of us did, too."

I sympathized. I couldn't imagine how hard it would be to lose a child, to bear witness to her passing, especially at such a young age.

But Robert and Charlotte had also lived through it, and they'd needed my parents, too.

"You were born, and we were so happy. We tried to give you the life we couldn't give her."

My father had an indefatigable belief that he could control and shape the world around him. He had grown up, he believed, without enough, because my grandfather brought home only a cop's salary. Solution? Create one of the largest businesses in Chicago.

I was the solution to Caroline's death. I was to be her replacement, down to the name, which is why even today I went by Merit instead of Caroline. But that burden was unfair, and it was much too heavy for a child.

"I can't replace her. I never could. And you decided to make me immortal . . . but you didn't ask me what I wanted."

He put the picture back on the desk and looked up at me, and his gaze was chillier now. "You are stubborn, just like your grandfather."

I didn't challenge that, as I didn't consider it an insult.

My father adjusted the items on his desk so they lined up just so. "I may be able obtain the information you're asking for," he said.

Relief flooded me. "Thank you," I solemnly said, hoping that he understood I meant it. I grabbed a pen and notepad from his desk and wrote down the warehouse's address, then put both back on his desk.

My father looked at the notepad silently for a moment, head canted as if he were debating something. "But keep in mind, I'm nearing retirement, Merit, and your brother will be taking over soon. I don't plan to set him up for immediate failure by arranging the city's chess pieces against him. So I'd like you to do something for me, as well."

I almost found it a relief that he'd asked. The request was a reminder - but a familiar one - that nothing was free when it came to my father. We were back on common ground, working in expected patterns.

"What?" I asked.

"You previously agreed to meet with Robert. I'd like you to follow through on that promise."

That was also a common refrain. My father believed being connected to a House would boost Robert's chances of making a further success of the company.

"Okay."

My father's eyebrows lifted. "That's it? No argument?"

"He's my brother," I said simply. "And you're right - I agreed to do it. But if this is for political benefit, meeting with vampires won't exactly endear him to humans. We aren't very popular right now."

"Perhaps not," he said. "But you are popular with your kind."

"What is 'my kind,' exactly?"

He gestured dismissively. "Supernaturals and the like."

I bit my tongue at the obvious stereotyping. He was, after all, doing us a favor. "Is there a market for you among the supernatural populations?"

"I'm not certain. But as there appears to be a substantial population of supernaturals in the city, we believe it's worth cultivating them."

I didn't tell him all the vampires living in Cadogan House might be seeking new living arrangements pretty soon. And speaking of which, I needed to get back to it.

"I'll get out of your hair," I said. "Please tell Robert to call me."

I walked out of his office, and I didn't look back to see whether he'd smiled in victory. But I'd have put good money on it.

* * *

I considered my visit to the Merit campus a success, but it wasn't going to be an immediate one. Even if my father made good on his promise to check the property, it was a long shot the information would be worth much. Plus, it was getting late, and the clerk's office would have long since closed for the night.

After saying good-bye to my mother, I sat in my car for a moment outside their house, the orange clunker no doubt depressing the property values by the minute, debating my next steps. I could return to the Ops Room and its sense of hopelessness, or to Ethan's office, which also wasn't exactly brimming with hope at the moment.

I checked my phone and found no messages, which made my heart ache a bit. I wasn't expecting Ethan to suddenly blow through his anger and be thrilled that I'd joined a secret society, but a note would have been nice. Not that he didn't have other things on his mind. Like the House.

And perhaps the House was the key.

The RG was valuable. I knew it; I'd seen them in action. They'd helped me out of jams, and they'd given us a crucial bit of information about what the GP might try to do to the House, even if they hadn't correctly guessed how far the GP would go to screw us.

If I could use my RG connections to help save the House, wouldn't that solve all the problems? If I could help us keep the House that way, Ethan would see the RG was necessary and honorable - not a group that wanted to undermine him. If he saw that, he'd no longer think my joining was a betrayal of our relationship.

I closed my eyes and dropped my head back. Maybe, as Mallory once said, leprechauns would also poop rainbows on my pillow. We were talking about vampires here, and all of them stubborn . . . also like my grandfather.

But I had to try. I was useless to the RG, to the House, and to Ethan if I wasn't willing to try.

I started with Jonah.

He was immediately sarcastic. "Are you calling to tell me you've invited Ethan to our next RG meeting?"

"You're hilarious. Unfortunately, I have more bad news. McKetrick is alibied for the Navarre murder, so even if the biometrics weren't working, he wasn't there."

"At least we can tie off that thread," he said.

"That was our thought exactly. Any progress on getting help for Cadogan House?"

"Not yet. Our contact in the GP is skittish. And for good reason - if they find out she's been funneling information to the RG, she'll be the one facing down the aspen stake."

"That's not good enough, Jonah. This is my House on the line. Tell her . . . tell her I just want a meeting. Ask her if she'll do that."

"Merit, I can't."

But I wasn't taking no for an answer, and I'd been reading my Canon like a good little vampire.

"You said 'she.' There are only two female members of the GP, Jonah. The one from Norway - Danica - and the one from the UK - Lakshmi something. That means I have a fifty-fifty shot of guessing which member is the right one."

He muttered a curse; he hadn't meant for me to pick up on that. "It's not that simple."

"She's not helping us enough, Jonah. This is balls-to-the-wall time. Darius will either take Cadogan House away from us, or he'll start a war between fairies and vampires because his pride was hurt. Which one of those do you prefer as a precedent? The next time Scott does something Darius doesn't like, which way would you prefer Darius handle it? We cannot - as RG members or Rogues or whatever - let this stand. Darius cannot be allowed to break down what we've built just because we're doing it without him."

Jonah paused. "Her name is Lakshmi Rao. Let me talk to her."

"Thank you, Jonah. I'd do the same for you, you know."

"I know you would. And that's what scares me."

He hung up the phone.

I turned on the car and turned up the heat, still sitting outside my parents' house. It probably wouldn't be long before the neighbors were calling about the girl in the junky car "watching" the house, but I didn't want to go back inside while I waited for a response. Maybe my father and I had had a breakthrough; maybe he was simply feeling nostalgic. Either way, I knew when to quit.

The phone rang not even a minute later.

"Hello?"

"She's agreed to a meeting, but that's it."

"That's enough. Thank you."

"There's a Dirigible Donuts on State and Van Buren under the El. It's near the library."

"I know it," I assured him. It was near Harold Washington Library; it was also near the Dandridge Hotel, where the GP members were staying during their time in Chicago.

"Meet us there in one hour. And tell no one, Ethan or otherwise, about this. Consider this your first RG assignment - preventing the destruction of Cadogan House."

Instead of increasing the weight on my shoulders, which it should have done, it just made me feel more determined.

"I'll see you there," I assured him, and put on my seat belt. My baserunning might not have been pretty, but all that mattered was the final score.

* * *

It was late, and the Loop was relatively quiet. I parked on Van Buren, farther away than I'd have liked, then followed the El tracks back to State Street and the Dirigible Donuts location our reticent GP member had selected.

The chain's silver logo shone through the darkness: a gleaming blimp with "Donuts" in script across its side, the letters blinking in neon pink.

I opened the door and was hit by the scents of sugar and yeast. The restaurant was small and empty except for the tired-looking teen behind the counter and Jonah, who sat at a pink table in the corner, looking at his phone.

He looked up and nodded, then rose to meet me.

"She should be here any minute."

I nodded, my palms suddenly sweaty with nerves. This woman could make or break Cadogan House with a snap of her fingers - or perhaps the right words to Darius West.

Actually, by the look of her, she could make or break a lot of dreams.

Lakshmi Rao walked statuesquely through the front door. Like most other vampires (thanks to their selection process), she was gorgeous. Tall and lithe, with long, straight dark hair and caramel-colored skin. Her eyes were wide and hazel green, and she wore a printed designer wrap dress and stiletto heels beneath a long cashmere coat.

I'd seen her at the House, in formation with the rest of the GP members, but there she'd been one of many. Here she was a standout. She was obviously a vampire, and obviously a strong one. Even with no obvious vampiric features - fangs and silvered eyes hidden - she radiated magic in undulating waves. I had a natural immunity to glamour, but I felt it slip across the room and just touch the boy at the counter, who dreamily looked away and began counting aloud the donut holes in the bins behind him.

But most interesting? When Lakshmi caught sight of Jonah, she stared at him as if he were the first glass of water she'd seen after months in the desert.

His expression, on the other hand, was utterly businesslike.

So Ms. Rao, a member of the GP from Darius's home country, had feelings for Jonah, the guard captain slash member of the secret organization assigned to keep an eye on her. And he, by all appearances, wasn't feeling it.

How very Lifetime.

She looked at me, giving me a brief appraisal. "You must be Merit."

I had no idea of the etiquette. What was I supposed to call a member of the GP now? Without a better answer, I opted for a simple "I am."

She smiled gently. "It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry it's under such unfortunate circumstances."

"Were you followed?" Jonah asked.

"I seriously doubt it. And if I was, I'll lose them on the way back to the hotel. Unfortunately, I don't have much time. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to help."

In a moment, my hopes were shattered. "Nothing? What do you mean, nothing? They're going to take away our House."

"Inside voice," Jonah murmured, casting a glance at the cashier, but he was still counting away.

"I am only one member of the organization, Merit, and I am by no means in the majority. Darius's punishment is much too dire, but I do not have the power to challenge him. I'm sorry."

"He's going to incite a war," I said.

"Only if Cadogan fights back, and we all know Ethan won't allow that. Not if it would bring harm to his vampires . . . or to you."

I suppose word about my relationship with Ethan had traveled among the GP members. "We cannot lose the House. It would be an insult to Peter Cadogan, to Ethan, to every other House that's tried to do its best since Celina forced us out of the closet."

Lakshmi looked at Jonah, who nodded at her. "Merit," she said, "please believe me . . . I have asked questions - surreptitiously, of course - but there's simply no way to steer Darius from his present course."

There was obvious regret in her eyes, which made me feel only minimally better.

"I'm sorry. But it's impossible. I don't have the power to override him."

"What about the dragon's egg?"

Lakshmi paused. "What about it?"

"I assume Darius hasn't given it to the fairies yet and won't until he's sure they'll do what they've agreed to. Do you know where it is?"

She watched me carefully for a moment. "I do not know exactly."

"I will give you a boon," I said. "A promise, a favor, whatever you want. I will beg you, if that's what you want. Please, please don't let him take my House, Lakshmi. It is my home. For the first time in my life, it's really my home."

That thought - and the realization - brought tears to my eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I know only that it was hidden in a location of high regard."

I looked away, wiping back an errant tear that had slipped down my cheek. I didn't want to cry in front of my partner and the GP member. Maybe, like Darius said of Ethan, I was also too human.

"I should go," Lakshmi said. "And I wish you luck." She cast a lingering look at Jonah. "It was nice to see you again. I'm sorry it was under these circumstances."

Then she disappeared out the door and into the darkness.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to sit down and weep or, better yet, bury my sorrows in three or four dozen of the donut holes the cashier was so meticulously cataloguing.

"Let's go outside," Jonah said, gently steering me out the door. The cold air was refreshing, as was the numbing rumble of the El train above us.

We walked to the corner of the street, not far from where I'd parked, and stood in the darkness for a moment.

"She's in love with you," I said.

He cleared his throat nervously. "I know."

"That's why she agreed to the meeting, isn't it?" I looked at him. "That's how you got her to show up?"

He nodded, just once.

"This is just a clusterfuck. I suppose it would be wrong of me to suggest you offer to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with her so that she might give us the egg?"

He looked at me askance. "You want me to offer to make out with her so she'll save your House?"

I smiled a little. "Yeah, could you?"

"No. And you should get back. They'll be wondering where you are."

I wasn't so sure about that.

* * *

Feeling utterly defeated, I drove home again. Ethan's office door was open, so I took a chance and peeked inside, assuming Michael Donovan was in the room and heavy brainstorming and contract reading were under way.

But Michael was nowhere to be found; nor were Paige or the librarian.

Ethan and Lacey were alone, with a piano concerto on the radio and a bottle of wine on the table. They sat beside each other on the couch in the sitting area. Ethan, one leg crossed genteelly over the other, reviewed long documents on legal-sized paper. Lacey sat next to him, her boots on the floor, her feet tucked beneath her, scanning something on a tablet computer.

They looked utterly comfortable. Cozy, even, in a way that made my stomach drop and brought every teenage insecurity in my possession right to the surface.

But those weren't the only feelings in the chamber. I'd just begged a GP member to save this House - cried in front of that GP member - and I returned to this? Ethan may have been angry, but so was I.

Perhaps sensing the magical tsunami that accompanied me into the room, Ethan looked up.

"Yes?" he asked. His tone was flat; he was still angry.

That made two of us, since I'd walked in on a forthcoming chapter in Lacey's diary entitled, "The Cozy Night I Spent with Ethan Sullivan and a Bottle of Merlot."

I truly, truly did not like her.

"Could I speak to you, please, Liege?"

Ethan watched me for a moment before putting down his paper. "Lacey, would you excuse us?"

She glanced up and gave me a snotty smile he didn't see, then unfolded her legs and rose gracefully from the couch. "Of course. I could use a bit of fresh air." She walked toward the door, leaving her boots beside the couch, a clear indication she meant to return.

Of course she did.

"Time is ticking down, Sentinel. What did you want to talk about?"

I actually didn't have anything specific to tell him; I'd just wanted her out of the room, and perhaps a chance to clear the air.

But his tone was tight, and it took me a moment to gather words that weren't snarky, that didn't challenge her very presence in his office and her obvious intent to get her mitts on Ethan and not let go.

"Have you made any progress?" I asked.

"Not especially. The lawyers have prepared an emergency motion to halt the GP's actions, but, as we suspected, we're having a difficult time convincing a judge they have jurisdiction over this particular debate. None of the acquaintances from my very long life have any material worth GP blackmail, and Michael has determined that Claudia's tower is particularly well fortified right now, so there'll be no begging the fairies." His jaw was tight. He was obviously concerned, not that I could blame him.

"And you?" he asked.

"We've confirmed McKetrick didn't kill Katya or Zoey. He's alibied at a fund-raiser with Mayor Kowalcyzk."

"That doesn't leave us with much."

"It doesn't leave us with a suspect at all, except that we know the girls were killed by a Navarre vampire. Jeff's checking into the House's biometric system, and Luc is going to check in with Will and see if he's noticed any disturbed Navarre vampires recently."

"Hmm." He picked at an invisible thread on the knee of his trousers, then looked up at me. "Have you told Jonah about these latest developments?"

"Yes."

"Of course you have. Because you two are close." There was a dangerous edge of anger in his voice; it might have been motivated by fear or jealousy, but the only thing that mattered was that it was directed at me.

I had little doubt this change of attitude could be laid at the feet of the blond vampire I'd sent scurrying from the room. She was planting seeds of doubt about our relationship, and I'd bet money the more they spent time together, the bigger those doubts were going to become.

"We aren't close, not in the way you're suggesting. Not in the way Lacey has been suggesting to you. And that has nothing to do with this investigation."

"And you're willing to draw that line?"

"Are you willing to draw a line between you and Lacey? She looked quite comfy on the couch."

"That's completely different."

"Because Jonah knows that I'm committed to you, but she isn't entirely sure?"

His jaw clenched. "Are you suggesting I've been unfaithful?"

"Are you suggesting I've been unfaithful?"

"Have you?"

I flinched at the comment. "How dare you ask me that."

"There are rumors, Merit, about RG partners. That they work . . . closely . . . together."

His tone had gone condescending, and I suddenly felt like a very small child standing in front of my father, who was furious over something I'd done. Ethan was angry, and I wished he didn't feel my RG and Cadogan oaths - or my obligations to him - were in opposition. But I knew Jonah, and I knew they weren't. I still believed in the cause, and I was going to apologize for only so much.

My eyes silvered, and my heart beat faster, blood humming in my veins as my anger grew. "This is business. It is only business, and nothing else."

He arched an arrogant eyebrow at me, which irritated me further. It might have been his signature move, but it was a ludicrous response. A ridiculous response . . . to a truly ridiculous argument. Were we really arguing about infidelity? God knew I loved the man, but he was a stubborn, tight-assed control freak who really knew how to push my buttons.

"Ethan, we are better than this," I said. "I don't know what she's telling you, but you know I wouldn't be unfaithful. She is manipulating you, building a wall between us, and not for the better of this House, but because she has feelings for you."

"I'm not being manipulated," he said. He didn't sound entirely confident, but there seemed little point in continuing to argue.

"Okay," I said.

We stood there in horrible, awkward silence for a moment.

"I feel betrayed."

I bit my lip against the sudden onslaught of tears. "I know. And I'm sorry."

Ethan nodded, but said nothing.

"Okay, then," I said. "I should get back to work." Feeling dejected and angry, I walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not entirely sure. But I think we need some space before we say something we're going to regret."

Assuming we hadn't already.