I kept my head down and my fangs to the grindstone as I watched and learned how things worked in the House. The truth was, I'd had trouble with Ethan at first - I'd been made a vampire without my consent, my human life taken away because Celina planned on me being her second victim. Her minions weren't successful in killing me, but Ethan had been successful at changing me - in order to save my life.
Frankly, the transition sucked. The adjustment from human grad student to vampire guard was, to say the least, awkward. As a result, I'd pushed a lot of vitriol in Ethan's direction. I'd eventually made the decision to accept my new life as a member of Chicago's fanged community. Although I still wasn't sure I had fully come to terms with being a vampire, I was dealing.
Ethan, though, was more complicated. We shared some kind of connection, some pretty strong chemistry, and some mutual irritation toward each other. He acted like he thought I was beneath him; I generally thought he was a pretentious stick-in-the-mud.
That "generally" should clue you in to my mixed feelings - Ethan was ridiculously handsome and a grade-A kisser. While I hadn't completely reconciled my feelings for him, I didn't think I hated him anymore.
Avoidance helped settle the emotions. Considerably.
"No," Mallory agreed, "but the fact that the room heats up by ten degrees every time you two get near each other says something."
"Shut up," I said, extending my legs in front of me and lowering my nose to my knees to stretch out. "I admit nothing."
"You don't have to. I've seen your eyes silver just being around him. There's your admission."
"Not necessarily," I said, pulling one foot toward me and bending into another stretch.
Vampires' eyes silvered when they experienced strong emotions - hunger, anger, or, in my case, proximity to the blond cupcake that was Ethan Sullivan. "But I'll admit that he's kind of offensively delicious."
"Like salt-and-vinegar potato chips."
"Exactly," I said, then sat up again. "Here I am, an uptight vampire who owes my allegiance to a liege lord I can't stand. And it turns out you're some kind of latent sorceress who can make things happen just by wishing them. We're the free-will outliers - I have none, and you have too much."
She looked at me, then blinked and put her hand over her heart. "You, and I'm saying this with love, Mer, are really a geek." She rose and pulled the strap of her bag across one shoulder. I followed suit, and we walked to the door.
"You know," she said, "you and Ethan should get one of those necklaces, where half the heart says 'best' and the other half says 'friend.' You could wear them as a sign of your eternal devotion to each other."
I threw my sweaty towel at her. She made a yakking sound beneath it, then threw it off, her features screwed into an expression of abject girly horror. "You're so immature."
"Blue hair. That's all I'm saying."
"Bite me, dead girl."
I showed fang and winked at her. "Don't tempt me, witch."
An hour later, I'd showered and changed back into my Cadogan House uniform - a fitted black suit jacket, black tank, and black slim-fit pants - and was in my soon-to-be-former Wicker Park bedroom, stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. A glass of blood from one of the medical-grade plastic bags in our refrigerator - promptly delivered by Blood4You, the fanged equivalent of milkmen - sat on the nightstand beside my bed, my post-workout snack. Mallory stood in the doorway behind me, blue hair framing her face, the rest of her body covered by boxers and an oversized T-shirt, probably Catcher's, that read ONE KEY AT A TIME.
"You don't have to do this," she said. "You don't have to leave."
I shook my head. "I do have to do this. I need to do it to be Sentinel. And you two need room." To be precise, Catcher and Mallory needed rooms. Lots of them. Frequently, with lots of noise, and usually naked, although that wasn't a requirement. They hadn't known each other long and were smitten within days of meeting. But what they lacked in time they made up for in unmitigated, bare-assed enthusiasm. Like rabbits. Ridiculously energetic, completely unself-conscious, supernatural rabbits.
Mallory grabbed a second empty bag from the chair next to my bedroom door, dropped it onto the bed, and pulled three pair of cherished shoes - MiharaPumas (sneakers that I adored, much to Ethan's chagrin), red