THE SECRET GARDEN'S SECRETS

"I wondered how long it would take you to make it out here," Nicholas said, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at me. Two hurricane lamps cast a golden glow across his torso, which was currently covered by a Chicago Marathon T-shirt. He'd skipped the suit for a T-shirt, and he'd also skipped the suit pants for jeans.

I walked to the center of the circle and glanced up at him, my smile tenuous. "I'd nearly forgotten this was out here."

Nicholas made a sarcastic sound that bobbed his shoulders. "I doubt very much, Merit, that you'd forget about the castle."

Although a corner of his lip lifted as he said it, his expression sobered again quickly enough. He scanned my dress, then lifted his gaze to mine. "The vampires appear to have accomplished what your father was unable to do."

I stared at him for a second, unsure if he meant to insult me, or my father, or Ethan, although it felt like a shot at all three of us. I opted to ignore it, and walked around him to trace the perimeter of the circle that marked the inner core of the labyrinth. It was probably fifteen feet across, marked by facing gaps in the hedge that allowed entrance and egress, and curved wooden benches along the side walls that currently held the lamps.

"I didn't expect to find you outside Cadogan House," I admitted.

"I didn't expect to find you inside Cadogan House. Times change."

"People change?" I asked, glancing back over my shoulder.

His expression stayed the same. Blank, guarded.

I decided to start with niceties. "How have you been?"

"I'm more interested in how you've been. In the... thing you've become."

I lifted my brows. "The thing?"

"The vampire." He fairly spat out the word, as if the sound on his lips disgusted him. He looked away, glanced out at the woods. "People do change, apparently."

"Yes, they do," I agreed, but managed to keep my thoughts about his current attitude to myself. "I didn't know you were back in Chicago."

"I had business."

"You're back to stay?"

"We'll see."

More important question: "So you're working? In Chicago, I mean?"

His gaze shifted back to me, one dark eyebrow arched. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable discussing my plans with you."

It was my turn to arch an eyebrow. "You asked me to meet you out here, Nick, not the other way around. If you weren't comfortable discussing things with me, you probably should have let me stay in the house."

He looked at me for a long time. An intense time, those steel gray eyes fixed on mine, as if he could see through me to ferret out my intentions. I had to work not to shift my feet in the silence.

"I want to know why you're here," he finally said. "In my parents' home. In my family's home." Given the distrust in his voice, I guessed it wasn't a coincidence that Julia was the only Breckenridge at the party.

I clasped my hands behind my back, and looked at him. "It's time that I recall my family obligations."

He responded with a dry look. "I've known you for twenty years, Merit. Family obligations aren't high on your priority list, especially when those obligations involve black-tie affairs. Try me again."

I didn't know what he was up to, but I wasn't about to spill all my secrets. "Tell me why you were outside Cadogan House."

He glanced up at me, his expression a challenge: Why should I answer your questions?

"Quid pro quo," I told him. "You answer mine, and I'll answer yours."

He wet his bottom lip while he silently considered the offer, then looked up at me. "I'm investigating," he said.

"You're writing a story?"

"I didn't say I was writing a story. I said I was investigating."

Okay, so he was investigating, but not in order to write a story - about vampires or otherwise. So what was he investigating? And if he had questions, why was he looking for answers in a knot of paparazzi outside the House, instead of using his own connections? More importantly, why Nick, and why not Jamie?

Nick stuffed his hands into his pockets and bobbed his head at me. "Quid pro quo. Why are you here?"

A second of consideration before I told him. "We're doing our own investigating."

"Of whom?"

"Not precisely who, but what. We're trying to keep our people safe." Not the whole truth, but true enough.

"From what?"

I shook my head. It was time to dig a little deeper. "Quid pro quo. While we're discussing the Brecks, what's the family been up to? How's Jamie these days?"

Nick's expression changed so suddenly I nearly took a step back. His jaw hardened, nostrils flaring, and his hands clenched into fists. For a second, I could have sworn I felt a brief pulse of magic - but then it was gone.

"Stay. Away. From Jamie," he bit out.

I frowned, trying to figure out where the anger had come from. "I just asked how he was, Nick." Mostly to figure out if he's trying to sacrifice us to win props from Papa Breck, but Nick didn't need to know that. "Why do I need to stay away from him? What do you think I'm going to do?"

"He's my brother, Merit. Family history or not, personal history or not, I'll protect him."

I frowned at him, put my hands on my hips. "Are you under the impression that I'm going to harm your brother? Because I can tell you - promise you, in fact - that isn't the case."

"And vamps are known for their reliability, aren't they, Merit?"

That one stung, and widened my eyes. Not just animosity, not only some sense of fraternal protectiveness, but a thick, acrid prejudice. I just stared at him.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that, Nick." My voice was quiet. Part shock, part dismay that a friendship had gone so awry.

Nick apparently wasn't sympathetic to that dismay; he nailed me with a glare that raised the hair on my neck. "If something happens to Jamie, I'm coming after you."

One final threatening look, then he turned away and disappeared through the opposite gap in the hedge.

I stared after him, tapped my fingers against my hip, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. Not only the fact that Nick wasn't writing a story (or so he said), but the sudden protectiveness for his formerly loafing youngest brother. What the hell was going on?

I blew out a breath and glanced around the labyrinth. The glow of the hurricane lamps wavered as the oil began to run out. The light fading, and with more questions than I'd arrived with, I started back through the boxwood.

Nick's anger, his distrust, made the walk back through the woods a little less sentimental - and a little scarier. Nocturnal or not, I wasn't thrilled to be wandering through the woods in the middle of the night. I carefully picked my way back through the trees, eyes and ears alert to the presence of creepy or crawly things that lived and thrived in the dark.

Suddenly, without warning, there was shuffling in the trees.

I froze, my head snapping to the side to catch the sound, heart pounding in my ears....

And the pique of interest by my vampire.

But the forest was silent again.

As quietly as I could, I slipped my hand beneath the hem of my dress and reached for my holstered blade. Ever so slowly, ever so quietly, I pulled out the dagger. I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to do with it, but having it in hand slowed my heart's percussion. I squinted into the darkness, trying to pierce the thicket of trees.

Something padded through the woods. An animal, four-legged by the sound of it. It was probably yards away, but close enough that I could hear the pat-pat of feet in the undergrowth.

I tightened sweaty fingers around the handle of the dagger.

But then, standing there in the dark, the blade in my hand, my heart pounding with the rush of fear and adrenaline, I remembered something Ethan had told me about our predatory natures: For better or worse, we were the top of the food chain.

Not humans.

Not animals.

Not the thing that roamed the woods beside me.

Vampires.

I was the predator, not the prey. So, in a voice that sounded a little too breathy to be my own, my eyes on the spot between the trees where I imagined it to be, I advised that animal in the dark, "Run."

A split second of silence before sudden movement, the sound of trampled earth and snapping twigs, feet moving away as the animal darted for safety.

Seconds later, the forest was quiet again, whatever thing had been there having sought safety in the other direction, away from the threat.

Away from me.

That was a handy skill, if a mildly disturbing one.

"Top of the food chain," I whispered, then resumed my trip back to the house, the dagger's handle now damp in my hand. I kept it there until I cleared the copse of trees, until I could see the welcoming glow of the house. When I hit the grass, I resheathed the blade, then ran the final yards full out. But like Lot's wife, I couldn't resist a final glimpse over my shoulder.

When I looked back, the woods were dense, bleak and un-welcoming, and sent a chill down my spine.

"Merit?" I reached the patio, looked up. Ethan stood at the top of the brick steps, hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

I nodded, passed him by, and moved to the stash of accessories I'd left at the banister.

The walk across dewy grass had cleansed the forest from my feet, and I slipped the heels back on.

Wordlessly, he walked to me, stood and watched as I shoed myself, collected my purse.

"Your meeting?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'll tell you later." I glanced back one final time and took in the expanse of trees. Something flashed in the woods - eyes or light I couldn't tell - but I shuddered either way. "Let's get inside."

He looked at me and cast a glance back at the trees, but nodded and followed me back into the house.

Mrs. Breckenridge spoke, thanked the partygoers for attending. Volunteers were introduced, made polite speeches about the importance of the Harvest Coalition to the city of Chicago, and were applauded. Money was raised, numbers exchanged, and Ethan and I cut a swath through the wealthiest citizens in the Chicago metropolitan area. Just an average Friday night in the upper echelons.

When we'd done our parts and made our own contribution to the cause on Cadogan's behalf, Ethan signing a check with a flourish, we thanked Mrs. Breckenridge for the invite and escaped into the quiet of the Mercedes.

The interior of the car smelled like his cologne, clean and soapy. I hadn't noticed that before.

"And your meeting?" he asked when we were back on the road.

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"I need both, unfortunately."

"There's a maze behind the house. He was waiting for me. Gave me some snark about becoming a vampire, then said he was waiting in front of Cadogan because he was investigating. Not working on a story," I clarified before Ethan could ask, "but investigating."

Ethan frowned. "Which indicates what about Jamie's supposed vampire story?"

"No clue," I said. "And now for the bad news - I asked about Jamie, a totally innocuous question, and he flew off the handle. Told me to stay away from Jamie. He seems to think we have it in for him."

"We?" Ethan asked.

"Vampires. He said something about how we aren't known for our reliability."

"Hmm," he said. "And how did you leave it?"

"Before he stormed off, he promised that if anything happened to Jamie, he'd come after me."

"These people you associate with are charming, Sentinel." His tone had gone back to chill, prissy. I hated that tone.

"They're the people you've asked me to associate with, Sullivan. Don't forget that. And speaking of which, why the change of plans? Since when does my father have full access to vampire secrets?"

"I opted for a last-minute change in strategy."

"Understatement," I muttered. "What exactly was that strategy supposed to accomplish?"

"I had a hunch. Your father is incredibly well connected, but lacks relationships among supernaturals. That's no doubt why he was eager to work with you, and eager to meet with me. However, his lack of connections doesn't mean he doesn't do his homework.

Did anything about his reaction surprise you?"

"His total lack of surprise surprised me." I glanced over at him, an appreciative smile tilting one corner of my mouth. "Very sneaky, Sullivan. Without asking, you managed to get him to indicate that he's been paying very close attention to Celina's situation."

"I manage a redeemable idea now and again."

I made a sardonic sound.

"But you're right - it seems unlikely that anything we discussed came as a surprise."

"Tell him what you think you need to," I said, "as long as you know that if he thinks he can accomplish some end of his own, he'll use that information against us."

"I know, Merit. I'm canny enough to have taken his measure by now."

My stomach growled ominously, and I pressed a hand to it. I could feel the gnawing ache of hunger, and I wasn't about to risk a bout of bloodlust while strapped into a roadster with a man I already had issues with. I could admit that Ethan was a little bit delicious, but I wasn't eager to have my vampire aching for a taste.

"I need a break," I warned him. I glanced out the window and noted a freeway exit ahead of us, then tapped a finger against the glass. "There."

Leaning to the side to check out the exit, he arched a brow. "A break. A break for what?"

"I need food."

"You always need food."

"It's either food or blood, Ethan. And given that it's just me and you in this car right now, food would be considerably less complicated, don't you think?"

Ethan grumbled, but he seemed to get the larger point and aimed the Mercedes toward the exit, then coasted into the parking lot of a roadside hamburger joint. Given the hour - nearly three in the morning - we were one of only a few proud, late-night, burger-hungry scragglers in the lot.

He parked next to the building and glanced through the driver's-side window at the tacky aluminum siding, the scrubby landscaping, and the marquee at the former Dairy Blitz (the marquee now reading only DA RY LITZ), which had clearly seen better days. I rolled down the window, and the smell of meat and potatoes and hot grease wafted through the car.

Oh, this was going to be good. I just knew it.

He turned to look at me, one eyebrow arched. "The Dary Litz, Sentinel?"

"You'll love it, Sullivan. Smell those fries! That batch is just for you."

"We just had a meal of ceviche and prawn parfait." There was a snicker in his voice that I appreciated.

"Seriously - we ate whipped shellfish, can you believe that? And you've made my point.

Drive around."

He made some vague sound of disagreement, but not a very earnest one, before backing up the car and maneuvering it into the drive-through lane.

I scanned the illuminated menu, vacillating between a single or double bacon cheeseburger before deciding on the triple. It was sunlight or an aspen stake, not cholesterol, that would bring me down eventually anyway.

Ethan stared at the menu. "I have no idea what to do here."

"There's the proof positive you made the right decision by bringing me on staff."

I offered some suggestions and when he argued with me, ordered enough for both of us - burgers, fries, chocolate shakes, an extra order of onion rings. He paid with cash that he slipped from a long, thin leather folder in his interior jacket pocket.

When the Mercedes was full of vampires and fried food, he drove to the exit, then paused at the curb while I made a sleeve of the paper wrap around his burger. When I handed it to him, he stared at it for a moment, eyebrow arched, before taking a bite.

He made a vague sound of approval while he chewed.

"You know," I said, biting into an onion ring, "I feel like things would go a lot smoother for you if you'd just admit that I'm always right."

"I'm willing to give you 'right about food,' but that's as far as I can go."

"I'll take that," I said, grinning at him, my mood elevated by our escape from Nick and my father, and probably from the impact of greasy fast food on my serotonin level.

Feeling no need for ladylike delicacy, I took a massive bite of my own bacon-laced burger, closing my eyes as I chewed. If there was anything for which I owed Ethan Sullivan thanks, it was the fact that I could eat what I wanted without gaining weight.

Sure, I was hungry all the time, and had once nearly latched onto his carotid, but all in all it was a small price to pay. Life was a smorgasbord!

All that serotonin, that relief, probably motivated my next comment. "Thank you," I told him.

Wrapped burger in hand, he pulled onto the road again, and we resumed our journey back to Hyde Park. "For what?"

"For changing me."

He paused. "For changing you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not saying there hasn't been an adjustment period - "

Ethan snorted as he reached into the box of onion rings perched between us. "That's rather an understatement, don't you think?"

"Give me a break, I'm trying to Gratefully Condescend."

Ethan snickered at the reference to the anachronistic Canon tradition - Grateful Condescension being the attitude I was supposed to adopt toward Ethan, my Liege.

And not the kind of condescension I usually got from him - this was the old-school, Jane Austen version. The kind where you deferred to your betters and employed all the social niceties. Definitely not my bag.

"Thank you," I said, "because if I hadn't been changed, I couldn't eat this incredibly unhealthy food. I wouldn't be immortal. I'd be completely useless with a katana - and that's a skill every twenty-eight-year-old Chicagoan needs." At his flat smile, I nudged him gently, teasingly, with an elbow. "Right?"

He chuckled softly.

"And you wouldn't have me to harass. You wouldn't have my connections or my fabulous fashion sense."

"I chose that dress."

I blinked back surprise. The admission surprised me and kind of thrilled me, although I didn't admit it. I did point out that it wouldn't look nearly as good on him, and got a

"hmph" for my trouble.

"Anyway, thank you."

"You're welcome, Sentinel."

"Were you gonna eat the rest of those fries?"

We noshed until we reached the House again. We took the long way around the building, avoiding the tangle of paparazzi outside the gate. Ethan waved his access card at the parking gate, a section of it sliding aside to allow him entry to the underground ramp. After he slid the Mercedes into his parking spot, we got out of the car, shut the doors behind us, and Ethan - despite the fact that the car was parked behind a ten-foot iron gate beneath a House of vampires in a garage accessible only by secret code - beeped the Mercedes' security system.

Halfway to the door, he stopped. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Because of your willingness to go home, and although we seem to have additional questions regarding Nicholas' involvement, we've made some inroads, and we know more now than we did before." He cleared his throat. "You did good today."

I grinned at him. "You like me. You really, really like me!"

"Don't overplay your hand, Sentinel."

I pulled open the basement door and waved him ahead with a hand. "Age before beauty."

Ethan hmphed, but I caught a glimpse of a smile. "Funny."

When I turned to walk to the Ops Room, figuring I should do my duty, check in, and let Luc know that I'd managed to keep Ethan alive during our jaunt off campus, Ethan stopped me with an arm.

"Where are you going?"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm not up for an after party if that's what you're offering."

At his flat stare, I explained. "I need to check my folder in the Ops Room."

He dropped my arm, then slipped his hands into his pockets. "You aren't excused yet," he said. "I'll wait."

Frowning, I turned and walked to the closed Ops Room doors. I had no idea what he was up to, and that wasn't the kind of mystery I enjoyed.

When I opened the door and slipped inside, I was greeted by catcalls that would have made a construction worker proud.

Juliet swiveled around in her chair to get a look, then winked at me. "Looking good, Sentinel."

"She's right," Lindsey said from her own station. "You clean up surprisingly well."

I rolled my eyes, but pinched the hem of my skirt and did a little curtsy, then plucked my folder from its hanger on the wall. There was a single piece of paper inside, a printout of a memo that Peter had e-mailed to Luc. The memo contained the names of the paparazzi who'd been assigned to cover Cadogan House, and the papers, Web sites, and magazines they pimped for.

I lifted my gaze, found Peter looking at me curiously. "That was quick work," I said, waving the paper at him.

"You'd be amazed what fangs will get you," he said. He gave me a blank look, then turned back to his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.

He was a strange one.

"I assume your Liege and mine made it through the evening?" Luc asked.

"Healthy and hale," said a voice behind me. I glanced back. Ethan stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"Shall we?" he asked.

I silently cursed the question, knowing exactly what the rest of the guards were going to think about it. Namely, they would imagine much more lascivious things on his agenda.

His attraction to me notwithstanding, I knew better. I was a tool in Ethan's vampire toolbox, a pass card to be pulled out when he needed access.

"Sure," I said, after giving Lindsey a warning look. Her lips were pinched together, as if she was only just managing not to snark.

I slipped my folder back into its slot and, memo in hand, followed Ethan into the hallway, then up to the first floor. He took the hallway to the main staircase, then made the corner and took the stairs to the second floor. He paused in front of the doors that I knew led to the library, but hadn't yet had time to explore.

I stepped beside him. He slid me a glance. "You've not been inside?"

I shook my head.

He seemed gratified by my answer, an oddly satisfied smile on his face, and gripped the door handles with both hands. He twisted, pushed, and opened the doors. "Sentinel, your library."