![\"Luck](\"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/Luck-Break-Final-199x300.jpg\")
The world below us was dark, cities glowing in orange grids like electrical circuits strewn across black canvas.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is a beautiful world, Sentinel.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shifted my gaze to the vampire across from me in the cabin of his House\u2019s luxe jet.<\/p>\n
Tall, with golden hair that brushed his shoulders and eyes like cut emeralds, Ethan Sullivan sat in the ivory leather chair with the bearing of a Master. He was one, head of Chicago\u2019s Cadogan House and a member of the newly created Assembly of American Masters. It wasn\u2019t the position he\u2019d hoped for, but it was certainly the more democratic one\u2014he was now member of a democratic congress, rather than an imperial king.<\/p>\n
The psychological and physical testing he\u2019d gone through had been grueling, and it didn\u2019t help that we\u2019d been tracking a killer at the same time. The debacle had concluded with another bang: a note had been left in our Cadogan apartments purporting to be from Ethan\u2019s own maker, Balthasar, who was supposed to be long dead. There\u2019d been no other sign of him, but we\u2019d been walking a knife\u2019s edge of tension since we\u2019d found the handwritten message.<\/p>\n
Those had been only the most recent episodes in a long and dramatic year, and we needed a break. So we were heading west to spend a few days in Elk Valley, a quiet town in Colorado\u2019s Rocky Mountains, at the mountainside retreat of an old friend of Ethan\u2019s. We hadn\u2019t previously traveled together for reasons unrelated to magical drama, and I was both excited and apprehensive. But in the best possible way.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a big world,\u201d I said. \u201cI like to fly because it reminds me how huge the planet is and how small we are by comparison. I like that idea\u2014that we\u2019re inconsequential, so our troubles are inconsequential, too.\u201d<\/p>\n
A corner of his mouth lifted. \u201cYou could never be inconsequential, Merit.\u201d He glanced out his window, traced a knuckle across the glass. \u201cBut I take your point. Living in darkness reduces our visibility, seems to narrow the world. Up here, thirty thousand feet above the earth, you are reminded of its magnitude.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe wine is making you poetic.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me again with heat and fire, smiled with lazy confidence. \u201cShall we see just how poetic it can make me?\u201d
\nThe cabin door shushed opened and a petite brunette with a tidy cap of hair and navy skirt and jacket walked forward with a tray. \u201cRefreshments, sir? Ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n
Grinning, Ethan gestured her my way. \u201cIf she\u2019s awake, she\u2019s hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m fine, thank you,\u201d I said, holding up a hand to decline. The denial was mostly for form and principle, since the tray of petits fours and one-bite tarts looked amazing.<\/p>\n
The flight attendant nodded, straightened again. \u201cPlease let me know if you change your mind. I hope you\u2019re enjoying your vacation so far?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s only just begun,\u201d Ethan said. \u201cBut so far, so good.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled and nodded, then shushed back into the staff area, leaving us alone in a floating room of expensive leather and burled wood, seven miles in the air.<\/p>\n
Ethan smiled, crooked a finger at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not coming over there,\u201d I told him. \u201cWe\u2019re not exactly alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
He arched an eyebrow, his signature move. \u201cI believe I can manage not to ravish you for the duration of the flight, Sentinel. Just come sit with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wouldn\u2019t say I was the lap-sitting type, but it wasn\u2019t often we found ourselves with time to relax together. So I stood, crossed the small space between our chairs, and let him wrap me in his arms.<\/p>\n
Since we were officially on vacation, I\u2019d forgone my usual leather jacket and pants\u2014the uniform I\u2019d adopted as Sentinel of Cadogan House\u2014and paired a pale pink wrap sweater with jeans and flats, a combination that made me look more ballerina than vampire warrior. But even a warrior needed a night away from her sword, away from the battles and political intrigue that always seemed to find us.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy Sentinel,\u201d Ethan said, as he reclined the chair and dimmed the lights. Bodies entwined, we watched the world turn beneath us. \u201cIt has been a hard winter. Let us welcome the spring.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes, relished the scent of him, the maleness. His cologne was sharp and clean, and it overlaid the softness of soap and the slightly spicy scent that made him him. He was everything warm and familiar, and I still marveled that he was so decidedly mine.<\/p>\n
I smiled as his arms tightened around me. \u201cSo what will we be doing in Elk Valley, Colorado?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBeyond the obvious?\u201d he asked, nipping my earlobe. \u201cThere will be long walks, beautiful vistas, rolling rivers in which we can dip if it\u2019s warm enough. And, considering your particular interests, some exquisite dining.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am more than the sum of my culinary desires.\u201d<\/p>\n
He chuckled. \u201cI never doubt it. Most of all, Merit, we can be ourselves. Man and woman without politics or chaos between us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds pretty good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt will be. I intend to spoil you, Sentinel.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou keep saying that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I do. Let\u2019s see how well I keep my word.\u201d<\/p>\n
# # #<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat,\u201d I asked an hour later when we stood on the tarmac, \u201cis that?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a monster of a vehicle. Heavy-duty, square frame. Big tires and lots of ground clearance. The exterior was so blindingly orange I was half-surprised it didn\u2019t emit its own light.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat,\u201d Ethan said, stepping beside me, hands on his hips and a decidedly alpha gleam in his eye, \u201cis our ride.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause we fear a zombie apocalypse? And we hope they\u2019re color-blind?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause we need the four-wheel drive. We won\u2019t be sticking to paved roads on this trip.\u201d<\/p>\n
I had mixed emotions about roaming through the woods of Colorado. Not because I was afraid of the forest; I was a predator, after all. Even if the view was limited, darkness was familiar to me, and forests home to any number of things I could best if the need arose. Night was our territory.<\/p>\n
But because to get there, I\u2019d have to ride in the Orangesplosion.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m calling it the Orangesplosion,\u201d I announced to Ethan.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo what you must do,\u201d he said, assisting the steward in loading our bags, then opening the passenger door for me. \u201cAnd as your Master, I\u2019ll do as I will.\u201d<\/p>\n
That came as a shock to precisely no one.<\/p>\n
# # #<\/p>\n
The sun might have been down, but the moon was high, a gleaming disk of white that blazed above us. We drove through narrow valleys surrounded by tree-covered slopes, then moved into the mountains, tracing curved roads that rose gently upward. Ethan had lowered the windows, and the trickling of a stream to our right became the music of our journey. I glanced up at the tree-dotted hills, remembered a family trip to Aspen when we were younger. My brother, Robert, my sister, Charlotte, and I had skied with abandon down hills I should have been too young to attempt, but I\u2019d been too enamored of the speed to decline. I\u2019d gotten a broken arm for my trouble.<\/p>\n
But the skiing wasn\u2019t the point . . . The trees were.<\/p>\n
\u201cThose are aspens, right?\u201d Aspen stakes were the only kind that could kill vampires.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey are,\u201d Ethan said, both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, as he maneuvered the vehicle around bends he probably could have handled better in his own sleek Ferrari. But the Orangesplosion had been his choice.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it ironic that you chose for our vacation a place full of tools for vampire hunting?\u201d And the type of tool, I thought, that had once brought him down and turned him to ash.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is,\u201d he agreed. \u201cBut that\u2019s Colorado, or this particular part anyway. And I\u2019ve no intention of being staked now or later.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t doubt he was earnest, but I still knocked on the dashboard to ward off bad juju. I\u2019d seen too many things in my year as a vampire to doubt the danger to him\u2014especially considering his new position\u2014or the efficacy of precautions, even superstitious ones.<\/p>\n
Ethan turned onto a side road, asphalt becoming bumpy gravel and hairpin turns. The sound of the creek grew louder, joined now by the tumble of rocks beneath the car. We snuck by a sheer granite wall that was so close to the road I could have reached out and touched rock or the water that trickled down it.<\/p>\n
One more curve, and the road opened suddenly into a wide valley between aspen-covered hills. In the middle of the meadow stood an enormous log and stone building, precisely the type I\u2019d expected to see in the wilds of Colorado. Huge beams, giant boulders, and a roof made of red metal sheets folded together at the seams like architectural origami. The steep roof pitched at angles here and there, and the entire house glowed golden as if every room was filled with candles.<\/p>\n
A porch extended across the entire front of the house, its railing made of wide hewn logs. A stone patio sat to the house\u2019s right, scattered with heavy wood furniture and adorned with a stone-surrounded hot tub that steamed in the chilly spring air.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd here we are,\u201d Ethan said, pulling the car to a stop in the wide, curved drive. \u201cWelcome to Ravenswood.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s beautiful,\u201d I said, opening the door and hopping out onto ground still soft from recently melted snow. I crossed the patterned stone walkway to the porch.<\/p>\n
The word \u201cRavenswood\u201d was burned into the wood of a thick sign that hung from two hooks above the door. The silhouette of a raven, just as dark, perched above the second \u201co.\u201d I wrapped fingers around one of the beams that supported the porch\u2019s wide roof, the wood cool and slick as plastic. Adirondack chairs were situated here and there, and a swing of the same hewn logs hung from the far end. I imagined passing a night rocking in the swing, book in hand, Ethan at my side.<\/p>\n
Still. While the style of the house wasn\u2019t surprising, the size was. I glanced back at Ethan. \u201cI thought we were staying at a guesthouse.\u201d<\/p>\n
He grinned. \u201cThis is the guesthouse.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn,\u201d I said. \u201cHow big is the main building?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLarge,\u201d he said, gesturing to a path that led downhill and into the woods. \u201cThe house is through the woods, should you need to goggle,\u201d he added with a grin, then pulled the bags and our scabbarded katanas from the back of the vehicle before closing the hatch again. He handed the katanas to me, then pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy wooden door.<\/p>\n
\u201cWelcome to your vacation, Sentinel.\u201d<\/p>\n
The house\u2019s d\u00e9cor echoed the exterior. Wood floors, log walls that gleamed like honey, and at the end of the long front room, an enormous fireplace that rose two stories to the vaulted ceiling. The furniture was leather and oversized, arranged to face a wall of windows that opened to the valley beyond.<\/p>\n
A glass door led to a wooden deck that flanked the window wall and mirrored the one on the front of the house. I opened it, walked outside, gasped at the view. The valley spread before us like a gift, mountains rising high on either side, a small river moving sinuously through the middle until it disappeared into the distance. Green had begun to sprout through ground spotted with snow, and the entire scene was illuminated by a moon that hung heavy in the sky.<\/p>\n
Ethan\u2019s body pressed warmly against mine, wrapping his arms around me as I stared greedily at the view, memorizing every outline, every boulder and crag and curve of trickling water.<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps the world isn\u2019t so narrow after all,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
I nodded, smiling as a warm breeze, the breath of spring, rustled my long, dark bangs. \u201cMaybe not.\u201d<\/p>\n
We stood there together for a long, quiet moment, until our eyes had adjusted to the darkness and our ears to the unusual silence. Chicago wasn\u2019t a quiet city. Even Hyde Park, which was miles away from downtown, had a constant level of noise. Air traffic from Midway, cars, neighbors, dogs, sirens.<\/p>\n
At first, there was nothing. But as our ears grew accustomed, sounds emerged. The slip and fall of water around rocks. Wind rustling through grass, frogs and crickets hiding among the spears of it. The creak of wood as the house settled, as if it, too, was relaxing into the darkness.<\/p>\n
The sudden pealing of the doorbell was an explosion of sound. It rang once, then again, with obvious urgency.
\nEthan cursed, released me, glanced back.<\/p>\n
I instantly went on alert. \u201cWho knows we\u2019re here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo one in the state, as far as I\u2019m aware, other than Nessa and her husband.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nessa McKenzie was our host, the owner of Ravenswood and its accompanying main house, the leviathan that lurked down the wooded path.<\/p>\n
I followed Ethan to the door, waited beside him as he checked the security peep and pulled it open without a word.<\/p>\n
She stood in the doorway, a vampire in the form of a voluptuous brunette.<\/p>\n
Her hair, a dark mane of curls, pitched forward over one shoulder. Her eyes were big and brown, and streaks of blood stained her hands and her dress.<\/p>\n
\u201cNessa,\u201d Ethan said, with obvious surprise and concern as he looked her over. \u201cWhat\u2019s happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s Taran,\u201d she said, her eyes filling with tears. \u201cHe\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Order\u00a0LUCKY BREAK now\u00a0at:<\/strong><\/p>\n – 1 – The world below us was dark, cities glowing in orange grids like electrical circuits strewn across black canvas. \u201cIt is a beautiful world, Sentinel.\u201d I shifted my gaze to the vampire across from me in the cabin of his House\u2019s luxe jet. Tall, with golden hair that brushed his shoulders and[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":5181,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5511","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5511","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=5511"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5511\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7568,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5511\/revisions\/7568"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5511"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"amazon1\"](\"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/amazon1.jpg\")
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