“Hands in the goddamn air,” the cop said again, tension rising as Ethan and Reed stared at each other.
I could see Ethan wanted to move. He wanted to ignore the cops, step forward, and give back some of the pain Reed had caused us. But that wouldn’t have helped. It wouldn’t have done anything but land us in even more trouble.
Step back, Ethan, I said. Now.
I will have my chance at him, Sentinel. For all that he has done to us, I will have my chance at him.
Not here, and not now.
It took Ethan a long moment to weigh justice against consequence, honor against action.
He is mine, Ethan said, but took a step back, lifted his hands into the air.
The cop stepped forward, pulled Ethan’s arms behind him, forced him to his knees. A second cop did the same thing to me. I winced as I hit the ground hard, my bare knees scraping across the rough stone of the path. My arms were wrenched behind me, my wrists zip-tied together, because I was obviously a threat in a ball gown and stilettos.
“You should use two ties,” Reed said. “I understand that’s more effective on vampires.”
The cop was last on the list of people I hoped to battle tonight. Reed, for being an unmitigated monster, was number one on the list. Sorcha, for just watching as the officers cuffed us, was second. And Ethan, whose stubborn ass had gotten us into this, fell in at third.
“We were, of course, prepared,” Reed said as they pulled Ethan to his feet, hands cuffed behind him. “I was afraid you’d show up and cause a scene, so we requested the additional security. The CPD was happy to oblige.” He looked at the officers. “If you’ve got them in hand, I’d like to get my wife to safety.”
For the first time, the cops looked unsure of their steps. “We’ll need to talk to you and your wife,” said the one who’d cuffed Ethan. “Formalize the report.”
“Of course. We’ll just be in the main building. My wife becomes distressed by these two. I just want to get her away from them. I’m sure you understand.”
“Well, all right,” he said after a moment, gesturing to his partner. The other cop stepped aside so Reed and Sorcha could walk past him. The humans who’d gathered nearby to watch nodded as they walked by, offered supportive words.
“You disgust me,” said the first cop as I was pulled to my feet. Then they escorted us in the same direction Reed and Sorcha had gone, past the same gauntlet of humans.
When we passed beneath an overhead light, the second cop happened to glance at me. “Oh, shit,” he said, pulling me to a stop. “You don’t know who they are?”
Ethan’s cop looked at him, then back at me. “No. Should I?”
“These are those Cadogan vampires. The ones who are always in the news. I think one of ’em’s related to a cop, too.”
“Chuck Merit,” I said, uttering the first words I’d said in many long minutes. And when Ethan and I were alone, they wouldn’t be the last. “He’s my grandfather.”
The second cop shook his head ruefully. “I know Chuck Merit. He’s a good guy. You doing this? Putting him in this position? That’s a damn shame. You need to change your ways, ma’am. You need to get your shit together, and change your ways.”
“I have my shit together,” I muttered as we were led back toward the main building.
But right now that felt like a complete lie.
? ? ?
When we reached the visitors’ center, they called my grandfather, agreed to wait until he arrived. He was the city’s supernatural Ombudsman, after all. That put us squarely in his jurisdiction.
It took half an hour for him to arrive with Jeff in tow. No sign of Catcher, but Jeff and my grandfather looked irritated enough to fill Catcher’s usual quota.
“I don’t believe they need to be cuffed, gentlemen,” my grandfather said. “It’s your call, of course, but these two aren’t violent. They may not be especially smart, but they aren’t violent.”
The cops looked at each other; then the first cop looked at my grandfather. “You’ll vouch for them?”
“I will. She’s my granddaughter, and he’s her beloved. They both usually have more sense than this.”
There was a pause before the cops reached some agreement, stepped forward, and cut the zip ties. My wounded arm sang with pain, and I rolled it to release some of the tension.
“Might I have a word with my granddaughter?” my grandfather asked, and the cops shared a glance and stepped away.
My grandfather stared down at us, the disappointment clear in his face.
I hadn’t gotten in trouble much as a kid. I hated the feeling of it, the violation of trust, the sickening sense that I’d disappointed someone, the humiliation that came with having done something wrong. I hadn’t been the type of child who handled it well.