Dark Debt (30 page)

To his credit, Julien took a step back, breathed deeply, and reassessed. He’d been discovered, his lies realized, and he looked to be considering his next steps.

“He talked about you often,” Julien said. “How he loved you. How you were his proudest creation. How you’d betrayed him. He knew that—that you’d betrayed him. That you’d given him up to the relatives of the woman he’d fucked.” His smile was
reptilian. “He never said her name. Just called her ‘the girl.’ She was human,” he said, as if the implication was obvious—that, her being human, her name
wasn’t worth remembering.

“But he mentioned you frequently,” Julien continued. “Your betrayal. His capture and torture. The fact that Cadogan House should have been his. That it certainly shouldn’t have been held by a deceiver. So I’ll do what you failed to do—protect your Master—and I’ll take it back for him.”

“You won’t,” Ethan said, then casually removed his jacket, tossed it aside,
began to roll up his sleeves. “But would you like to try it?”

“I have power you can’t imagine.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Julien belted out his glamour again, its claws snatching like rabid animals. Catcher and
Canon
were fond of repeating that vampires didn’t really make magic, we only spilled it. It was just a byproduct of who and what we were. Glamour, by that theory, was a
fluke.

But this was no fluke. It was powerful and unrelenting, and it demanded an answer.

Julien might have managed to glamour Ethan the first time around, but this time Ethan had known it was coming, and he was prepared. And he wasn’t exactly a psychic slouch. His expression was mild, but he let his own glamour spread, clean and bright and sharp as newly honed steel.

Their magicks
mixed, mingled, flowed through each other like two storms meeting, growing as their energies collided, burst, spilled tingling ions into the air. Julien growled in frustration, screamed as his magic erupted forward again. Sweat beaded across Ethan’s face, but he pushed back with his own glamour, a swell that flooded forward over Julien’s and slowed its surge.

They pushed their magicks back
and forth until their clothes were damp with effort, until their faces streamed with sweat, until the air vibrated with power, drawing a crowd that gathered on the edges of the carefully sculpted grounds to watch the battle.

No, vampire magic was no fluke, and these men were masters of the craft.

A fountain of sparks followed another volley, and Ethan paused to wipe sweat from his brow.

“I believe we’ve reached a stalemate,” Ethan said. “If you really want to fight me, you’ll have to fight me with muscle, not show.”

“I resent that remark,” Catcher muttered through the earpiece.

“Fine by me,” Julien said, and pulled off his jacket, tossed it aside. “I will destroy you with my own bare hands.”

Ethan’s answering smile was fierce. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

They faced each other, Julien’s chill against Ethan’s fire.

Julien ran forward like a raging animal, aiming low for Ethan’s waist and torso, clearly intent on throwing him to the ground. But he’d foreshadowed the move, giving Ethan time to prepare. Ethan set his feet, spread his weight, and when Julien hit him, redirected the force upward, throwing Julien’s body over his head.

Julien
managed to land on his feet, looked back at Ethan with silvered eyes and gleaming fangs. He used his superspeed and rushed forward, a blur of black silk and wool. And then the sound of flesh and flesh connecting, and Ethan’s answering grunt.

His head snapped back from the force of Julien’s blow, blood spraying through the air.

I jumped to my feet, lurching forward until Jeff’s voice resonated
in my ear.

“This is his fight, Merit.”

I looked up, found his face in the crowd, his expression solemn and somehow older than his years. “He fights for his honor,” he said, “and for yours. Let him fight it on his own.”

Ethan spat blood, wiped a smear of it from his face, and stared Julien down with swirling silver eyes.

This, I realized, was the closure he hadn’t gotten. The fight
he’d never been able to have with Balthasar, might never get to. At least he’d get closure here.

I nodded to Jeff, took a step backward. Sometimes I had to let Ethan fight his own battles.

Julien had gotten in a shot and didn’t intend to lose the momentum. He spun into a kick that would have connected with Ethan’s kidney. Ethan blocked it with a hand strike, offered his own side kick.
It connected, and Julien grunted, stumbled. He righted himself, tried a front strike that Ethan neatly blocked. And then it was one strike after another, both of them moving quickly, the pace quickening with each blow.

Ethan moved forward with an uppercut that connected with Julien’s jaw and sent him sprawling to the ground.

Julien shook his head, slowly climbed to his feet again.

“You should have stayed down,” Ethan said, hands on his hips.

“Because you’re getting tired?” Julien said, spitting blood.

“No.” Ethan smiled, with fangs. “Because Merit gets the final shot. And she’s a better fighter than I am.”

While Julien looked on, Ethan walked toward me, pressing the back of his hand to his bleeding lip.

I still goggled at the compliment. “I’m a better fighter
than you?”

“Well, in fairness, I did train you. I’ve tried to soften him up a bit,” he said, his eyes brighter than I’d seen them in weeks, the monkey nearly off his back.

I grinned back. “I appreciate that. But I’ll probably ruin my dress.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Sentinel. We’ve started insuring them.” He winked at me, then gestured grandly toward Julien, let me step past him.

I put a hand on my hip, faced my opponent, who looked back at me with obvious derision. He thought Ethan was making a strategic mistake.

“Does he let you finish all his battles?”

“Only the easy ones,” I said, and didn’t delay the inevitable. I hitched up my skirt—this one being a little more flexible than the last—and kicked up and out. He was fast enough to block it, to grab my leg
and twist, trying to send me off-balance.

But I’d already played that game once this week and wasn’t about to lose points to that technique a second time. I shifted my weight to the leg he held, used his grip for balance, and spun around, executing an airborne parallel kick with my free leg. He’d lifted an arm to block, but missed, and I connected with his left side. He stumbled forward, leered
back at me when he’d righted himself.

“One lucky shot,” he said, and sped toward me. He jabbed, and I dodged the shot, his fist glancing off my shoulder, but with enough force to still make it sing. He’d left his torso open, and I punched him in the stomach. He grunted, staggered, came back again.

I’d give him strong and tenacious. But any asshole could be strong. His next shot was a right
cross. His speed hadn’t diminished, but he favored the side I’d kicked, and he telegraphed the move. I grabbed his wrist, swung it down, using the leverage to force him to the ground.

I stepped over him, planted a foot on his neck. “When a woman says no, she means it, you raging sack of crap.”

“Fuck you.”

“I already declined that very unattractive offer,” I said, and pressed a little
harder. Jacobs and his men had already moved into the crowd, so my time was nearly up. Might as well use it for something good. “Where’s Balthasar?”

When he didn’t immediately answer, I pushed harder on his windpipe. “Where. Is. Balthasar?”

“Dead. He’s dead. He died at the Geneva safe house.” That was the one Luc hadn’t been able to reach.

Ethan’s relief peppered the air.

I lifted
my foot. Julien’s hand rushed to his throat, massaged.

“Elaborate,” I ordered.

“They thought he’d been rehabilitated.” He coughed, and his voice was hoarse. “They were wrong. He killed a human girl who’d delivered supplies to the house. The safe house couldn’t protect him; he was staked. There’s a marker for him at Plainpalais Cemetery.”

That was verifiable information. So I took a
step back and swept dirt from my dress as Julien coughed.

I looked up, nodded at Jacobs. “It appears Mr. Burrows has fallen, Detective. I believe you can handle him from here?”

“You’d be right about that,” Jacobs said, stepping forward. “And given his psychic propensities, we’ll make sure he’s in a magically appropriate space. Julien Burrows,” he said as the uniforms hauled him to his
feet, “you’re under arrest for three counts of sexual assault, one count of attempted sexual assault, trespassing . . .”

“You son of a bitch!” Julien screamed. “Deceiver!
Deceiver!
”

The screaming and recitation of charges faded away as the cops and suspect moved around the House toward their waiting transportation.

I walked toward Ethan, took in the torn shirt spotted with blood,
the bruise under his cheek, the blood on his face. “You kind of look like a disaster.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ethan burst into laughter.

“Are you all right?”

“At the moment, Sentinel, I’m not. But I’ve got you and my House, and I will be.”

AVOWAL

I
t was done. With three more phone calls to Switzerland and Ethan’s excellent French, we verified Balthasar’s ignoble end. He’d used “Bernard” as his alias in order to distance himself from activities in London and any lingering members of the Memento Mori. Julien had stuck to
the truth about much of Balthasar’s history, which Ethan verified with the safe house’s archivist.

And with that, the ghost who’d haunted our dreams—literally and figuratively—was finally gone. Yes, there was still Reed and his sorcerer to deal with. But this threat, at least, had been neutralized.

Most of the vampires had left the party, returned to their Houses. Our group—our Cadogan
and Ombuddy family—still sat at a table beneath the tent looking utterly relaxed and sipping the rest of the champagne.

“What’s the saying?” Ethan asked. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here?” But he grinned at them, accepted the glass of champagne that Luc offered.

“We were just saying how gorgeous the garden looked,” Jeff
said, “and how you’d probably agree to let them
use it for their wedding.”

Since nobody at the table looked surprised, Mallory and Catcher must have shared the nuptial news. “I don’t want any fuss.”

“It wouldn’t be any fuss at all,” Luc said. “Right, hoss?”

“Of course not. I actually already offered her the garden, if I recall.”

“He did,” Mallory said, reaching out to pat his arm. “It was a very nice offer.”

“And it still
stands.” Ethan grinned. “Hell, we’re all dressed in pretty clothes, and the garden will hardly get any better than this. We could just do it now.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but a weighty silence fell as Mallory and Catcher looked at each other.

“We couldn’t,” Mallory said. “Could we?”

Catcher scratched the back of his neck, looked at Mallory. “I don’t know why we wouldn’t, actually.
There’s never going to be a perfect time. Isn’t that the point of love, or marriage, in the first place? Recognizing that perfection is irrelevant? That imperfection is sometimes kind of perfect?”

Mallory pressed her lips together, trying to will back tears.

“Oh my God, are you two seriously about to get
married
?” Lindsey drummed her feet on the ground like an excited child.

Catcher
didn’t take his eyes off Mallory, but reached out and squeezed her hand. “I kinda think we are, yeah.”

Ethan looked at the group. “Anybody licensed to perform a ceremony?”

Grinning, Jeff raised a hand. “Actually, I am. River nymphs,” he explained with a shrug, and I was momentarily bummed I hadn’t been invited to that particular wedding. The nymphs knew how to party. “Do you have a license?”

Mallory nodded. “I got it yesterday.”

“Then we’re good,” Jeff said.

“Oh my God,” Mallory said, her excitement rising, her eyes glowing with love and happiness. “Oh my God.” She slapped Catcher’s arm. “We’re going to get married.”

“It does look like that.”

There was no regret in his eyes. No remorse. No hesitation. Just happiness, and maybe a bright edge of nerves.

Good,
I thought with a grin.
Those nerves will keep him honest.

Ethan nodded. “That takes care of the officiate. What else?”

“If we’re doing this,” I said, “we’re doing it right. We need the traditional things—something old, new, borrowed, blue.”

I looked around, grabbed the pocket square from Ethan’s jacket, pressed it into Mallory’s hand. “Blue,” I said, and Mallory’s eyes filled with
tears of shock and surprise. She squeezed her fingers around it.

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

“Borrowed,” my grandfather said, pulling a watch from his pocket and extending it to Catcher. “My father gave it to me, and I’d be honored for you to carry it.”

Obviously swamped with emotion, Catcher wrapped his arms around my grandfather, squeezed. “That is . . . that is just excellent, Chuck.”

“Damn it,” I murmured, knuckling my own tears away. “I didn’t want to cry any more this week.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to avoid it,” Lindsey said, putting her arms through mine and Mallory’s, linking us together. “We are going to be mewling like kittens before the night’s up.”

“And then Mallory will be mewling like a kitten for entirely different reasons.”

We all looked
back at Jeff, found his eyebrows winging up and down in amusement. “No? Too soon?”

“For the officiate, yes,” I said.

“We need old and new,” my grandfather said, avoiding the byplay.

“I believe I count as old,” Ethan said.
“Technically.”

Mallory and I exchanged a look.

“Four centuries is probably as good as you’re going to get,” I said.

“Then we’ll check that box,” she
said. “New?”

“I got this,” Jeff said, squinting as he patted down his pockets. After several groping seconds, he pulled out a small green keychain with a single key attached. It was a square of green rubber, “JQ” embossed in lime letters.

“New Jakob’s Quest swag came out this week,” he said, passing it over to Mallory with a sheepish grin.

“That’ll do,” Mallory said kindly. “Thank
you very much.”

Jeff nodded. “You’re welcome. And I think that’s it. New, borrowed, blue, vampire.”

Ethan grinned. “Shall we get arranged?”

Mallory looked at me, squealed. “I’m getting married! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

“I think you are,” I said. “But you didn’t get a proper bachelorette party.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mal whirled a finger in the air, gesturing to the
tent and surroundings. “This was exactly as kick-ass as a bachelorette party needs to be. Food, drinks, vampire excitement. Sullivan knows how to throw a party.”

“I do,” Sullivan agreed.

“Bouquet!” Jeff said, then dashed over to a peony bush,
snapped off an early white bloom nearly as big as a salad plate, and carried it back to Mallory. “Milady.”

She took it, sniffing the bloom’s
frilled petals, and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Actually,” I said, glancing between Catcher and Mallory, “there is just one more thing.”

Before anyone could argue, I grabbed Catcher’s arm, dragged him a few yards away to the other side of a hydrangea border that hadn’t yet bloomed.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked when I pulled him to a stop.

I fixed on my most powerful and predatory
expression. “Mallory’s parents aren’t here, but I am. You want to marry her, you’ll need my permission.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am as serious as it comes. Are you marrying her because you want back in the Order?”

For a moment, he stared me down in hard silence. “If you were a man, I’d punch you in the face.”

I lifted my eyebrows expectantly. “You haven’t answered the question.”

When Catcher realized I was serious, he relented, sighed hard. “Of course I’m not. The timing is convenient, yeah. But the marriage is love. Her and me.” He shook his head. “I nearly lost her once. I won’t lose her again.”

When his eyes went misty, I looked away. He wouldn’t have wanted to be caught with tears in his eyes, and he’d have gotten me started again, too. And besides, he’d answered
my question. It wasn’t just about the Order for Catcher. By the look in his eyes—the clear adoration—that had only been an issue of timing.

The ball of concern in my gut unknotted, and I smiled at him. “Okay, then.”

“I should still punch you.”

“Considering the present company, I don’t recommend it.” I slipped an arm through his. “Let’s go get you hitched.”

Everything all right?
Ethan asked with some amusement when we joined them again.

Just making sure we’re all on the same page.

I assume, since he’s still breathing
,
that we are.

You’d be correct.

We scooted around so Mallory and Catcher stood facing each other, Jeff in front of them, the rest of us in the audience. We were an odd group, some of us newly acquainted, some of us friends for a very long
time. And what better reason to come together than love?

Jeff cleared his throat, looked around, and when he got a nod from Catcher, began to speak.

“Friends, family, vampires. We are gathered on this really odd night to witness the marriage of Catcher Eustice Bell—”

My eyes brightened. “Your middle name is ‘Eustice’?”

“It’s a family name,” Catcher said. “Shut your piehole. Keep
going, Jeff.”

“Catcher
Eustice
Bell,” Jeff said again, with a wink for me, “and Mallory Delancey Carmichael.”

He looked back at Catcher. “Catcher, do you take Mallory to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live, including accidental or intentional immortality?”

Catcher
ignored the supernatural smart-assery, reached out, and squeezed Mallory’s hand. “I do.”

Jeff smiled, turned to Mallory. “And do you, Mallory Delancey Carmichael, take Catcher to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live, including accidental or intentional immortality?”

Mallory shifted her gaze to Catcher, looked at him with love and awe and humility that made my tears start all over again. “I do.”

Jeff nodded, gestured toward them. “There don’t appear to be many dry eyes right now, but just to make certain everyone’s appropriately emotional, would you like to address each other, offer some vows?”

Catcher scratched absently at his neck, and I waited for
his gruff refusal. But instead he nodded deeply. “Yeah, actually, I would.”

“Me, too,” Mallory said. She handed me the peony, and they took each other’s hands, turned to face each other.

For a moment, they said nothing. They stood with love between them, in a silence that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

I ignored the tears that fell now, let them slide down my cheeks.

“We’ve had some tough times, kid,” he said, and a warm chuckle spread through the crowd. “I know, understatement. So they were the toughest times. Times when we didn’t know which way was up, or who we were individually—or together. I let you down. Jesus, did I let you down. I let my own petty bullshit blind me, let it keep me from seeing you for who you were, and who you were becoming. And that’s
on me, and it will be forever.

“But it didn’t matter that I’d let you down, because you were strong enough for both of us. You put in the effort. You did the work, even when it was humiliating. Hell, you did the work
because it was humiliating, and you started from scratch. And that meant a lot. ’Cause yeah, you did it for you, so you could find yourself again. But I think you also did it
for us.”

Tears spilled over Mallory’s lashes as she nodded.

“I love you,” he said. “I don’t like to talk about feelings, primarily because I have testicles, and I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I think I’ve known I loved you since the first time I saw you, right before I kicked Merit’s ass for the first time at the gym.

“Since that moment, I never stopped loving you. I was afraid
for a while, sure, but I never stopped. And I won’t. For better or worse, I won’t ever stop.”

“Well said,” Ethan remarked, and we all applauded the speech before turning our eyes to Mallory.

“I haven’t known much of family,” she said. “A bit here and there, but not in the way most people do. That bothered me for a really long time, and I searched for it for a really long time. And then
I made a new kind of family.” She glanced at me. “I met Merit, and we had some wonderful times.”

I smiled back at her.

“And then I met Catcher, and we had some wonderful times. But something was still off, inside me.” She frowned. “I screwed up pretty monumentally, mostly because I mistook power for comfort. I was looking for peace, to fill that well inside me that hadn’t ever really been
full before, and I thought magic was the way to do it.” She looked around at all of us. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you all, but I think it’s important that I say it now. I thought I needed to fill that empty space. But the more I filled it with magic, the darker and emptier it became.”

Tears slipped to fall down her cheeks. “I betrayed a lot of people in that time, a lot of trust.”
She shook her head, smiled a little. “But you people were stubborn, and you wouldn’t let me go. You
just kept interfering, trying to pull me away from it. And eventually, you did.”

She looked back at Catcher. “That darkness is still there. That emptiness. It’s like a well in the plane of my soul. But I’ve learned, I guess, that
I
have to fill that up. That it’s my responsibility to do that.
So, I guess I wanted to explain that to you all, to let you know that I’m working on it.”

She shook her head again as if to clear it, raised her gaze to Catcher. “Of all the supernatural bombs dropped on me that very first week, you were easily the biggest. Pain-in-the-ass sorcerer, grumpy most of the time, addicted to
Lifetime
. But you loved me, even with the well, even with the darkness.
And you didn’t give up, even when you could have walked away. And that means more to me than you will ever know.” She sniffed. “I love you, Catcher Eustice Bell.”