{"id":5494,"date":"2014-12-04T08:00:14","date_gmt":"2014-12-04T14:00:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=5494"},"modified":"2017-05-23T22:21:54","modified_gmt":"2017-05-24T03:21:54","slug":"dark-debt-the-first-chapter","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=5494","title":{"rendered":"Dark Debt – The First Chapter"},"content":{"rendered":"

CHAPTER ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Clever Girl<\/strong><\/p>\n

Early April<\/em>
\n Chicago, Illinois<\/em><\/p>\n

\"darkdebt_small\"There were two seasons in Chicago: winter and construction. If it wasn\u2019t snowing, orange cones narrowed the Dan Ryan, or lower Wacker was closed. Snow and traffic defined our lives as Chicagoans.<\/p>\n

Nested within those seasons were the other activities that defined life for many in Chicago. During baseball season, it was Cubs versus Sox. During tourist season, you served them, you screamed at them, or, if you worked at Billy Goat\u2019s, both. During summer, the beaches were open. And for a few spare weeks, the water of Lake Michigan was even warm enough for a dip.<\/p>\n

Not that I\u2019d had much occasion to sunbathe or swim recently. They didn\u2019t make sunscreen strong enough for vampires.<\/p>\n

But when spring rolled around and construction cones popped onto asphalt like neon flowers, even vampires shook off winter. We exchanged quilted jackets, electric blankets, heavy boots, and balaclavas for tanks, sandals, and nights in the warm spring air.<\/p>\n

Tonight, we sat on a blanket on the grass at Milton Lee Olive Park, an expanse of green and fountains near Navy Pier honoring a soldier who\u2019d given his life to save others, and won a Medal of Honor for his sacrifice. A burst of spring air had warmed the city, and we\u2019d taken advantage, finding a quiet spot for a picnic to celebrate the end of a long, cold winter. At two o\u2019clock in the morning, the park was definitely quiet.<\/p>\n

Ethan Sullivan, Master of Cadogan House and now one of twelve members of the newly established Assembly of American Masters, sat beside me on a piecework quilt, one knee bent, one leg extended, his hand at the small of my back, rubbing small circles as we watched the lights of Chicago blink across the skyline in front of us.<\/p>\n

He had a tall and rangy body of hard planes and sculpted muscle, and golden blond hair that just reached his shoulders and surrounded honed cheekbones, a straight nose, deep-set green eyes, and imperious eyebrows. I was his Novitiate and the Cadogan\u2019s Sentinel, and I was utterly relieved that winter had finally weakened its grip on the city.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is not a bad way to spend an evening,\u201d said the girl on the blanket beside ours, her striking blue hair drawn in a complicated braid that lay across her shoulder. Her Cupid\u2019s bow mouth was drawn into a smile, her hand clasped in the long fingers of her boyfriend\u2019s. He was well built and shaved-headed, with piercing green eyes and a generous mouth. And, like her, he was a sorcerer. He had a thing for snarky T-shirts, and tonight\u2019s gem was black with keep calm and fireball in clean white text across the front.<\/p>\n

Mallory Carmichael was my oldest friend, and Catcher Bell was her live-in beau. Catcher worked for my grandfather Chuck Merit, the city\u2019s Supernatural Ombudsman.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s not,\u201d I agreed. \u201cThis was a very good idea.\u201d I sipped from a bottle of Sweet Summer Blood4You, a blend of blood and lemonade that I enjoyed against my own better judgment. The drink was good, and the air was sweet with spring and the scent of white flowers that drifted down from the trees like snow, forming constellations on the new grass. Ethan\u2019s hand warmed the skin on my back. This was as close to a day at the beach as I was ever likely to get. And it was a pretty good substitute.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought some fresh air could do us good,\u201d Mallory said. \u201cIt\u2019s been a long winter.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was the understatement of all understatements. There\u2019d been murder, magic, mayhem, and too much mourning to go around, including episodes that had put Mallory in the hands of a serial killer and nearly cost Ethan his life. He was fine and she was recovering, and the incident had seemed to bring her and Catcher even closer together.<\/p>\n

Even the vacation Ethan and I had just taken\u2014a trip to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado that should have been filled with relaxation, elk watching, and plenty of sex\u2014had been interrupted by a century-old feud between vampires and shape-shifters.<\/p>\n

We\u2019d needed a break from our break, so we\u2019d sipped and snacked with Mallory and Catcher on the goodies Margot, the House chef, had packed. Grapes, cheese (both regular and almost preternaturally stinky), thin crackers, and small cookies coated in lemony powdered sugar with just the right balance of sweet and pucker.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been eyeing that last lemon cookie for seven minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

I glanced back at Ethan, gave him a dour look. \u201cI have not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSeven minutes and forty-three seconds,\u201d Catcher said, glancing at his watch. \u201cI\u2019d grab it for you, but I\u2019m afraid I\u2019d lose a finger.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop torturing her,\u201d Mallory said, carefully picking up the cookie, handing it gingerly to me, then dusting powdered sugar from her hands. \u201cShe can\u2019t help her obsession.\u201d<\/p>\n

I started to argue, but by then my mouth was full of cookie. \u201cNot an obsession,\u201d I said when I was done. \u201cFast metabolism and rigorous training schedule. Luc has us on two-a-days now that Ethan\u2019s been upgraded.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOoh, Ethan two-point-oh,\u201d Mallory said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think technically we\u2019re now at Ethan four-point-oh,\u201d Catcher pointed out. \u201cHuman, vampire, resurrected vampire, AAM member.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan snorted, but even he didn\u2019t argue with the timeline. \u201cI prefer to think of it as a promotion.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou get a raise out of it?\u201d Catcher asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn a manner of speaking. I\u2019ll nearly be able to afford to keep Merit in the culinary style to which she\u2019d like to become accustomed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the one with the expensive taste.\u201d I gestured to the bottle of wine. \u201cDo I even want to know how much that cost?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan opened his mouth, closed it again. \u201cLikely not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd there you go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA vampire cannot survive on Italian hot beefs and Mallocakes alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSpeak for yourself, fancy pants.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not fancy,\u201d Ethan said imperiously. \u201cI\u2019m particular. Which is actually a compliment to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe did pick you after four hundred years of wild-oat sowing,\u201d Catcher said, earning an elbow from Mallory. He grunted, but he was smiling when he lay back on the blanket, hands crossed behind his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou make it sound like Ethan picked her up at a farmers\u2019 market,\u201d Mallory complained.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would require Merit to eat vegetables,\u201d Ethan said, grinning at me. \u201cCould you differentiate between a rutabaga and rhubarb?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but only because my grandmother made the best strawberry-rhubarb pie I\u2019ve ever tasted.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think that counts.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, it counts,\u201d I said with a nod. \u201cThat pie was sublime. I\u2019ve got solid culinary chops.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy culinarily chopped vampire missed a spot of powdered sugar,\u201d Ethan said, leaning forward, swiping his thumb across my lips just slowly enough to heat my blood.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet a room,\u201d Catcher groused. He was grouchy but loyal, and had followed Mallory through her stint as a Maleficent wannabe and on to the other side. He was also unfailingly dedicated to my much-beloved grandfather, which gave him points in my book.<\/p>\n

But I still gave him the much-deserved stink eye. \u201cDo you know how many times I\u2019ve seen you naked? You and Mallory considered the entire house your personal love shack.\u201d Mallory and I had been roommates once upon a time, before Catcher had moved into the town house we\u2019d shared, and I\u2019d moved into Cadogan House to escape the nudity.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour\u201d\u2014I waved my hand at his body\u2014\u201crod and tackle touched pretty much everything in the place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy body is a wonderland\u201d was his only response.<\/p>\n

\u201cBe that as it may,\u201d Ethan said, \u201cMerit is not your Alice. I\u2019ll thank you to keep your rod and tackle away from her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNowhere near my agenda,\u201d Catcher assured him.<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s phone beeped, and he pulled it out quickly, checked the screen.<\/p>\n

Every phone call put us on high alert, because a ghost\u2014or someone pretending to be one\u2014had staked a claim on our lives. That ghost was Balthasar, the vampire who, on a battlefield nearly four hundred years ago, had made Ethan immortal and nearly turned him into a monster in his own image. Ethan had escaped his maker, made a new life for himself, and believed Balthasar had died shortly after he had escaped. Ethan hadn\u2019t yet told me the details, but he hadn\u2019t indicated any doubts about Balthasar\u2019s death.<\/p>\n

And yet, three weeks ago, a note had been left in our top-floor apartments in Cadogan House. A note purporting to be from Balthasar, who was alive and excited to see Ethan again.<\/p>\n

A note\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. and then nothing.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d made no contact since then, and we\u2019d found no evidence he was alive, much less in Chicago and waiting for an opportunity to wreak havoc, to wage war, to exert control over Ethan once again.<\/p>\n

So we waited. Every phone call could be the call, the one that would change the life we\u2019d begun to make together. And there were so many more calls these days. The AAM was still working out the operational details, but that hadn\u2019t kept vampires from lining up outside Cadogan House like vassals, seeking protection, requesting Ethan\u2019s intervention in some city dispute, or offering fealty.<\/p>\n

And vampires weren\u2019t the only ones interested. Chicago was home to twenty-five percent of the country\u2019s AAM members, and humans\u2019 fascination with Ethan, Scott Grey, and Morgan Greer, who headed Grey House and Navarre House, had ballooned again.<\/p>\n

It was a strange new world.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, not to interrupt the mirth making,\u201d Mallory said, \u201cbut there\u2019s actually a reason we asked you guys to come out tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho says \u2018mirth making\u2019?\u201d Catcher asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI do, Sarcastasaurus.\u201d She elbowed him, with a grin. \u201cAnd we\u2019re here for a reason?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, okay,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I\u2019m going to need that on a T-shirt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was just thinking that,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd you\u2019re making me nervous. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

Catcher nodded. \u201cWell, as it turns out\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

As it turned out, Catcher was interrupted by an explosion of noise, our phones beeping wildly in obvious warning.<\/p>\n

I got to mine first, saw Luc\u2019s number, switched it to speaker. \u201cMerit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Luc\u2019s nose loomed on the screen. \u201cSorry to interrupt date night.\u201d<\/p>\n

I grimaced at the image. \u201cStep back from the camera. We don\u2019t need to see your sinuses.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d he said, leaning back so his nose moved back into proper perspective, right in the middle of his very charming face, which was surrounded by tousled blond-brown curls. \u201cYou\u2019re alone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re with Catcher and Mallory,\u201d I said, then glanced around to ensure that no curious humans were eavesdropping. \u201cWe can talk. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMedia vans at the House. Four of them. Mess of reporters, all gathered at the gate, ready and waiting.\u201d Luc\u2019s pause, matched with his drawn expression, made me nervous. \u201cThey\u2019re asking questions about Balthasar.\u201d<\/p>\n

We went quiet enough to hear the strains of a lone saxophone being played near the pier, probably a song being sold for tourists\u2019 cash.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat questions?\u201d Ethan asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re asking about a supposed reunion,\u201d Luc said. The answer made T. S. Eliot echo alarmingly in my head. This is the way the world ends.<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s reaction was as hot and fast as Luc\u2019s had been cautious.<\/p>\n

\u201cDouble the guards on the gate,\u201d Ethan said. \u201cWe\u2019re on our way.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him he\u2019d be safer staying put than running toward whatever reunion this Balthasar had planned. But Ethan was a stubborn and careful man. He wouldn\u2019t leave the House to face danger without him, and certainly not when the danger was a monster from Ethan\u2019s own past. Ethan still hadn\u2019t forgotten the things he\u2019d done when he was with Balthasar, or forgiven himself for his own complicity. He was still looking for redemption. And he\u2019d meet that opportunity head-on.<\/p>\n

We said our good-byes, and I tucked the phone into my pocket again, tried to mentally prepare myself for what we might face\u2014what Ethan might have to face, and the emotional storm that might rip through both of us.<\/p>\n

And then I looked at Mallory and Catcher, remembering they\u2019d been on the verge of making their own announcement.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo,\u201d Catcher said, even as Mallory began stuffing food back into the picnic basket. She was playing the trouper, but I could see the frustration in her eyes. \u201cYou want us with you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan shook his head. \u201cThere\u2019s no point in dragging you into this debacle. Balthasar is dead; this is someone else\u2019s ploy for attention.\u201d<\/p>\n

Catcher nodded. \u201cI\u2019ll tell Chuck, put him on alert just in case.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBe careful,\u201d Mallory said, and squeezed me into a hug.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will,\u201d I said, searching her gaze for answers, and finding none. \u201cYou\u2019re okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine. We can talk about this later. Take care of your House first. Go,\u201d she said when I hadn\u2019t moved, and turned me toward the street.<\/p>\n

We went, jogging back toward Grand and the tall man with blond hair who waited for us in front of a glossy black Range Rover with a license plate that read cadogan. He wore a trim black suit and a sleek black tie, hands clasped in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSire,\u201d he said, bowing his head. Brody was a Cadogan House guard who\u2019d been appointed Ethan\u2019s official driver. Luc had outfitted Ethan with all the necessary perks, including the car, which was equipped with a complete security system, a small arsenal, and a comm center.<\/p>\n

\u201cLuc called,\u201d Brody said, pivoting smoothly to open the door, one hand on his tie as he waited for Ethan and me to climb into the backseat. He closed the door with a solid thud, then rounded the car and slid inside onto the driver\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n

The car was comfortable, and I appreciated that Ethan had extra security, but I missed Moneypenny, my vintage Mercedes convertible. She was currently parked in the basement of Cadogan House, weeping from neglect. I missed the freedom, the quiet, the solitude of a good long drive\u2014as most drives anywhere in Chicago tended to be.<\/p>\n

Unless Brody was driving.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I?\u201d he asked, meeting Ethan\u2019s gaze in the rearview mirror, not doing a very good job of fighting back a smile. Brody had been a new guard, and he was still pink around the edges. But he did have one particularly enviable skill.<\/p>\n

The boy could handle a car.<\/p>\n

He was Chicago\u2019s version of the Transporter\u2014master of the smooth ride, but equally adept at weaving and dodging through Chicago\u2019s gnarly traffic. Luc had given Brody a dressing-down the first time he\u2019d ridden with him. But when the time came to assign Ethan a driver, he turned to Brody first.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you can get us there in one piece,\u201d Ethan said, and managed not to flinch when Brody dashed into traffic like a cheetah in pursuit.<\/p>\n

Brody just avoided nicking a cab, then slipped smoothly into a gap in the other lane.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not sure when I\u2019m going to get used to this<\/em>, Ethan said silently, using the telepathic connection between us.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re just irritated you aren\u2019t the one driving.<\/em><\/p>\n

I have a Ferrari for just such occasions. And speaking of occasions, what was Mallory\u2019s and Catcher\u2019s production about? She\u2019d looked upset.<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m not sure<\/em>, I admitted. But if it was really bad news, I don\u2019t think she\u2019d have arranged a picnic. There were plenty of milestones that might merit a picnic, but I wasn\u2019t sure they\u2019d put that look on her face.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll call her<\/em>, I promised, and ferret out the truth. But for now, let\u2019s deal with vampires.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Order DARK DEBT now at:<\/strong><\/p>\n

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CHAPTER ONE Clever Girl Early April Chicago, Illinois There were two seasons in Chicago: winter and construction. If it wasn\u2019t snowing, orange cones narrowed the Dan Ryan, or lower Wacker was closed. Snow and traffic defined our lives as Chicagoans. Nested within those seasons were the other activities that defined life for many in Chicago.[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":4556,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5494","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5494","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5494"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5494\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7570,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5494\/revisions\/7570"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4556"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5494"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}