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“It’s Malik. I apparently missed some calls.”
    I did a quick calculation. “It’s nearly sunrise here, which means it’s already dawn there. He stayed up—past sunrise—to get you the message. You should take it.”
    He frowned, clearly torn by duty and desire. Since he’d normally have answered the phone immediately, I took that as a compliment.
    At least I could ease the agony of the choice. “Take the call,” I told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
    He pointed at me. “This isn’t over,” he said, and answered the phone. This time, he didn’t switch it over to speakerphone. As a vampire—and a predator with keen senses—it wouldn’t have been difficult for me to ferret out their conversation. But I respected his decision and didn’t pry. Besides, as soon as the call was over, he’d probably tell me everything anyway.
    I grabbed pajamas and a toothbrush from my bag and disappeared into the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.
    I probably should have checked a mirror sooner. My dark bangs were matted together, and my high ponytail barely contained a mess of tangles. Dried blood dotted a now-healed scrape above my eyebrow, and dirt still streaked my cheeks. I looked worse for wear, and certainly not like the object of anyone’s desire.
    Towels and washcloths were folded on a small table on the other side of the room. I wet a cloth and scrubbed my face clean, then pulled the elastic from my hair and brushed it until it gleamed. The bathroom’s claw-foot tub had been fitted with a showerhead and wraparound curtain, and I quickly scoured away the rest of the grime from our trip into the Ditch That Ate Ethan’s Mercedes.
    When I was clean and pajama clad, I walked back into the bedroom, eager for another try at the reunion we’d begun before.
    But the second I stepped into the room, I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Ethan was still on the phone, and the needle sting of magic in the air foretold that Malik’s news hadn’t been good. He murmured quietly for a few more minutes, then put the phone away again.
    “Give me the bad news first,” I requested.
    “It seems Malik’s ‘fuck you’ to the receiver did not go over well.”
    Concerned that Cadogan House was causing problems in Chicago and beyond, the Greenwich Presidium had assigned a receiver, a piece of work named Franklin Cabot, to temporarily take over the House after Ethan’s death. He’d implemented awful rules during his blessedly brief tenure, including limits on our ability to meet together and drink blood. Not exactly popular restrictions for vampires who were basically living in a fraternity house.
    When Ethan had returned, he and Malik unceremoniously kicked Cabot to the curb.
    “How unwell did it go?”
    “No decisions have been made yet, but Darius has called a shofet . It’s an emergency meeting where the GP discusses matters of urgency.”
    Darius West was head of the Greenwich Presidium. His rank was so high that even Ethan referred to him as “sire.”
    “Like a rebellious American House that doesn’t seem to respect their authority?” I asked.
    “Like that,” Ethan said, but didn’t elaborate. I began to work over mental scenarios about Cadogan’s vampires being cast out into the night. Along with the more dire problems, I’d have to find an apartment. In Chicago, in winter. That would not make me happy.
    “Exactly how serious is this?”
    “Serious enough.” Ethan frowned and rubbed his temples.
    “Are you okay?”
    He smiled a little. “Just a bit of a headache. It will pass.”
    The atmosphere in the room had changed, from unfulfilled desire to political and magical anticipation. The sun chose that moment to breach the horizon; I couldn’t see it through the draperies, but the sudden weight on my eyelids was telling enough.
    “It seems certain things are not meant to be,” Ethan said.
    I nodded, unable to do much more. Vampires slept during the day, not just because direct exposure to sunlight