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.The restaurant was entirely white—white tile floor and walls, white stone bar, white leather bar stools on spindly brass legs.Even the liquor had been poured into white bottles.A giant chalkboard hung behind the bar, a list of apparent possible pizza toppings written in pretty chalk script.“Intriguing,” Ethan said, scanning the list.“I don’t know.I just don’t really see carrots on pizza.Or radishes.” I had an unpleasant memory of Catcher eating “shepherd’s pie” pizza covered in mashed potatoes, peas, and meat.I wasn’t exaggerating to say it was a felony against pizza, and the mere idea of it put me off vegetable toppings completely.If it wasn’t meat or cheese, it had no business atop a pie.“The vitamins are good for you.”“I’m immortal.”“Strong fangs,” Ethan said, walking inside and stepping up to the counter.* * *Fortunately, he was willing to compromise.He’d try the triple meat I selected, and I’d try his beet, carrot, and mortadella concoction.Being the gentleman that he was, Ethan offered to carry the boxes back to Navarre House.The night was beautiful—a light breeze, white clouds moving across the darkened sky, humans walking dogs or chatting with neighbors in the small, gated entryways that characterized the houses in the Gold Coast.It was a neighborhood of wealth, of luxury and relative safety.No turf wars, no abandoned lots, very little crime.Those who lived there were lucky, at least materially.We were two blocks from Navarre when Ethan’s phone beeped.He pulled it out and stopped short, his magic filling the air.Even the flavor of Ethan’s fear and hatred for his maker was becoming recognizable.“Where is he?” I asked, my stomach knotting with nerves.He handed me the phone.Luc had messaged him a photograph—a grainy black-and-white of Balthasar standing on the sidewalk across the street from Cadogan, his coat billowing around his ankles as he stared at the House.I handed Ethan the phone again, my buoyant mood suddenly deflated.“He’s showing us that he can get to us.That he’s here and he isn’t leaving.”“And, as you mentioned, that he’s waiting for my response.” Ethan looked at the phone, which beeped as more messages arrived.“He left an obvious trail, and Kelley and Tara are on him again.”“He wants to be found.Wants you to know where he is.Wants you to be able to find him.” Dread settled low in my belly.“He’ll try to find me again, Ethan.Try to get to me again while I sleep.”“Mallory and Catcher will figure something out.They won’t let him get to you.I won’t let him get to you.”I looked up at him, let him see the fear in my eyes.There wasn’t much these nights that scared me, other than losing him or Grandpa or Mallory, or someone else I loved, but Balthasar had scared me, and badly.There was nothing equivocal in his gaze, in the steadiness of his green eyes.“He was my nightmare, Merit.You are my miracle.He will not touch you again.Yes?”When I nodded, he smiled.“We have pizza, each other, and a very good accountant.Let’s go back to Navarre House and get this job done.”Just another fun evening for the vampires of Cadogan House.* * *We turned the corner on Navarre’s street, the hulking white building glowing beneath streetlights and spotlights in the careful landscape.Nadia stood on the lawn talking to a tall and well-built man with ruddy skin and reddish hair that fell in tousled curls around his square face.He wore jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt beneath a bulky leather jacket.I thought, at first, they were embracing.That Nadia had a new lover, and they were sharing a quiet moment on a spring night in Chicago outside the confines of her House.And when they hit the ground, I first thought they’d fallen into a sordid coupling there on the narrow strip of grass, and nearly at the feet of her former lover.It took me precious seconds to realize they were fighting—grappling like MMA fighters in the final round of battle [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]