Then I tossed the towel into the laundry and walked out of the room, giving the apartment one last look before I closed the door. The monster hadn’t bothered me as a child, not until I’d been old enough—or it had been old enough—to reach for my attention. That wasn’t true anymore.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do when my service for Maison Dumas was complete. I’d thought about it, and had nearly nine months to keep thinking about it. But one thing seemed certain.
I couldn’t live in Cadogan House.
Not while the magic lived here, too.
* * *
• • •
My father’s office was as elegant as the rest of his House. It held the carefully curated souvenirs of his life amid the pretty furniture: a desk, a conversation area with armchairs, and a long conference table where he could hash out issues with his staff.
He sat at his desk, frowning at something on the sleek glass screen perched there. He wore a black tuxedo, perfectly fitted, his hair tied back at his nape.
“Burning the midnight oil?”
He smiled but kept his gaze on the screen. “Just finishing up a project,” he said, then swiped a finger against the glass and looked up at me. “And don’t you look lovely?”
He rose, came over, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “My smart and kind and beautiful girl.”
He liked to say that, had been saying it for years, and had always put “beautiful” last. Whether it was true or not, he’d tell me it was the least important of the three. “You are smart,” he’d say. “You should be kind. And if you are, you’ll always be beautiful.”
“Thank you. The House looks great. Luc did a very nice job getting things ready.”
Luc had been Captain of the House’s guards, and he’d been promoted when Malik became Master of his own House. Kelley had taken over for Luc.
My father grinned. “He has an unusually good hand with decorations. And Kelley has done an excellent job in his stead on security.”
“Do you think there’ll be trouble tonight?”
“I don’t know. The Ombudsman’s office doesn’t believe so.”
“And what do you believe?”
A sly look crossed his face. “I believe the issue is in their hands, and I trust them to handle the investigation. And in the meantime, we have guards posted in and around the House.”
“So I saw.” I looked around the room, at the mementos he’d chosen to keep in sight. A few stood on glossy white floating shelves under glass covers. “Do you ever miss it?”
“Miss what?” he asked.
“The adventures.”
He smiled, tucked his hands into his pockets. “They didn’t always feel like adventures. More often, they were terrifying or constraining or infuriating. It is hard to be an enemy, Elisa. It wears.”
“And you’re less of an enemy now?”
“It would be more accurate to say we don’t involve ourselves in situations in which we could cause harm—even collaterally—to the city. And, more important, we found a different kind of adventure.” He smiled at me. “But no less terrifying . . . or infuriating.”
“Is this your segue into the trials and tribulations of parenthood?”
He raised a golden eyebrow, my dad’s signature move. He’d scared off a couple of human boyfriends with that one. “Fewer trials than tribulations, but yes. We wanted to be parents, and we wanted to keep you safe. We tried to do that.”
He looked at me, considering. “Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do after Paris?”
“I’m thinking about it,” I promised.
“The House is always hiring,” he said with a knowing smile. “And you have an in with the Master.”
“No nepotism. We’ve talked about that. I earn my way or I don’t.”
He walked toward me, took my hand. “I didn’t think I could be prouder of you, and then I saw you fighting at the Eiffel Tower for someone who wasn’t able. That’s who you are, Elisa. You just need to figure out what you’d like to do with it.”
“Am I interrupting?”
We looked back and found Malik Washington in the doorway, wearing an impeccable navy suit, a gingham square tucked into the pocket. His skin was dark, his head shaved, his eyes pale green.
“Uncle Malik!”
We strode to each other, met in the middle.
“Congratulations on the House!” I said as we embraced. “And sorry I couldn’t make it to the reception.”
He smiled. “Thank you. We appreciated the card and the macarons. They were truly excellent.”
At least I’d gotten that present right. “Paris is very good at macarons. How’s life as a Master?”
“There is, somehow, more paperwork. Vampires and bureaucracy are strange bedfellows.”
“So Dad always said. How’s Aunt Aaliyah?”
“She’s good. On a deadline.”
“She always is,” I said with a smile, which he returned.
“She sends her best, and hopes we can get together before you leave again.”
“That would be great, if you can keep the fairies and vampires in line.”
“We’ll do our best,” he said earnestly. “How are you? How is Paris?”
“I’m good, and Paris is great.” I pointed to the ceiling. “It’s been a while since I was upstairs, so I gave the apartments a walk-through.”
“That must be a very strange feeling, to walk through your childhood room.”
“It was . . . odd,” was all I’d admit to.
* * *
• • •
Since I’d faced down my old monsters, it was time to go watch the new ones. Leaving my father and Uncle Malik to talk, and leaving my katana in his office for safekeeping, I took the House’s main hallway through the cafeteria—which was empty, given the spread on the lawn—and out onto the brick patio that stretched in a half moon along the back of the House.
Urns of white flowers scented the air, and while there was an abundance of magic along with it, the mix stifled the thrumming of my mother’s sword, so I wasn’t about to complain.
Vampires and other supernaturals strolled in the grass and near the long buffet tables set up a few dozen yards away near an oak tree whose branches nearly skimmed the ground.
I found Seri and Marion speaking with Scott Grey and Morgan Greer, Chicago’s other two Masters, who laughed as they watched the screen Scott held out.
Probably puppy videos. Even vampires liked puppy videos.
Having confirmed they were safe and sound, I looked for the waiter with the champagne I’d seen earlier. I’d earned a little relaxation.
And I turned to face down a wolf, albeit one in human clothes.
Connor stood behind me in a black tux that enhanced every bit of hard and sleek muscle and seemed to make his blue eyes glow. One dark lock curled across his forehead, and a day’s growth of stubble darkened his jaw. He looked, somehow, even more dangerous. Even more wicked.
That probably suited his escort just fine. Tabby stood beside him, gorgeous again tonight in a gold sequin dress with a deep V-neck and long sleeves that reflected sparks of light across her amazing face and carved cheekbones.
“Hello,” Connor said.
“Hello.” I shifted my gaze to his girlfriend. “And hello.”
“Brat, this is Tabby.”
“Hey,” Tabby said, fingers tangling in a lock of Connor’s hair in a way that looked more irritating than seductive. And the expression on her face was one of absolute boredom.
“It’s nice to meet you. Your magic at the reception was impressive.”
“Just part of what we do.” She dropped her hand, propped it on her hip. “I want something to drink. You?” she asked, glancing at Connor.
He held up a beer. “I’m good.”
“I’ll be back,” she said, then kissed him lavishly and slunk toward the bar.
“She is . . . really beautiful,” I said. It was the only compliment I could think of, and I didn’t think “She seems super comfy with PDA” would come off very well. Not that it would have been intended to.