“They demanded I join a House,” I said. “Which means they know what we talked about—that I wasn’t Initiated or Commended.”
“You aren’t in our registry,” Dad said. A crease of worry appeared between his brows. “We provide information to the AAM regarding all Novitiates, Initiates. The AAM may have noticed your absence. Obviously you have an open invitation to join Cadogan House. Or you could join Washington House. Malik would offer you a position.”
“I know.”
“That would be an easy solution,” Mom said, pushing her dark hair behind her ears. “All things considered. Fealty isn’t so hard as it seems,” she offered, her tone so gentle, so full of hope. “It wasn’t how I imagined my life would go, but I adjusted.” She slid my father a knowing glance. “Mostly.”
“I can’t swear fealty to someone, to a House, just to ease the minds of the AAM. They don’t want me to join a House for the benefits. They want to know someone is watching me, or that someone can use me.
“It probably doesn’t feel like it,” I said, meeting their gazes, “but it’s not personal. I’m glad I grew up in Cadogan, and I’m proud of what you did for its vampires. I just . . . need something different.”
“Maybe the Pack—” my father said, and I shook my head.
“No fealty to the Pack, either,” I said. “I wouldn’t substitute one for the other. And the Pack can’t offer sanctuary to a vampire.”
My father’s eyes narrowed, probably because I already knew the answer and he’d now begun wondering why.
“Fealty isn’t the only thing they want,” I said, changing the subject. “They also want me to be tested.”
When my parents looked at each other—and something unspoken passed between them—my belly tightened.
“What?” I asked.
“Did they give any specifics?” my father asked.
“No. I assume they meant the usual Testing for would-be Masters. Why?”
My mother was the one to finally speak, and it took her a moment to meet my gaze. “This isn’t the first time they’ve inquired about Testing.”
I stared at her, and even the monster was concerned enough to sink down lower. “They asked you to let them test me? How? When?”
“It started when you were maybe eleven or twelve,” Dad said. “The first time, they visited Cadogan House, asked our permission to test you. They said it was because you were unique. Because we’d been so fortunate to have you, and they wanted to understand how it had happened.”
“But we’d already told them how,” my mother said. “They knew about Mallory and the magic and the—biological component.”
I held up a hand. “Skip the details of the biological component, please.”
My mother didn’t smile like I’d hoped, which made my fear heavier. “Then they changed their story. They said Testing would be for your protection, for ours . . . and for theirs. They wanted to know if you were stronger than other vampires. If you had unique talents.”
I was something new, something not seen in the millennia of vampire history—and immortals didn’t care for that kind of novelty. Or for the possibility, however small, that I would be different. Better.
“If I was a threat,” I said, finishing her thought. “You said they came to the House?”
Now I wondered if I’d seen them. There had been plenty of vampires in and out of Cadogan, and I didn’t know all of them. But I had a distinct memory of seeing my parents meet with a group of unfamiliar vampires, all of them dressed in formal black. There’d been something about this group—or maybe about the magic they’d triggered from my parents—that had stood out. That had made me think they weren’t entirely friends of the House.
I’d been, like Dad had said, maybe twelve, and I’d finished with my classes for the day—the tutoring that served as my school. I’d been hungry, and I’d walked by my father’s office on the way to the Cadogan kitchen. The door had been open, which wasn’t unusual. The vampires were inside, their expressions cold. And when they’d seen me in the doorway, their eyes narrowed.
There’d been footsteps, and Dad had come to the doorway. He’d smiled at me. “We’ll eat as soon as we’re done in here,” he’d said kindly, and closed the door.
I looked at my parents. “You told them no, obviously.”
“We did,” my mother said.
“Vehemently,” Dad added.
“And they accepted that?”
“After the third or fourth time,” Dad said. “Each time they asked, we told them you owed them nothing and they would not question you, examine you, or test you without your consent.”
“He means he scared them,” my mother said with a smile. “And they didn’t ask again.”
“They never contacted me,” I said. I’d gone to college, made no waves, and had done nothing terribly interesting from a vampiric or magical standpoint. Maybe they’d decided I wasn’t a threat.
But I’d interested them again, and I’d handed them a reason to pursue formal Testing this time. Not just because they were curious or afraid, but because they believed it was justified.
“You should have told me,” I said, as kindly as I could manage. But even the monster was annoyed; I could feel the jagged edge of its betrayal. “I would have been better prepared for this.”
“We’re sorry,” Mom said. “We thought it was over, that they’d been satisfied you were just . . . a vampire.”
Oh, I was anything but that.
* * *
* * *
They promised their support, and to talk to Nicole again. I went back into the living room and found Connor on the couch, arms crossed and frowning as he stared at his screen.
“What now?”
He kicked down his legs and sat up, giving me his attention. “What?”
“You’re glowering at whatever you’re looking at there,” I said and gestured toward the screen. “More bad news?”
“Oh, no. I was reading.”
“Reading what?”
His expression was flat. “A book, brat.”
“Shifters can read?”
He grunted. “I was reviewing a manual about the care and feeding of vampires.”
I sat down beside him, put my head on his shoulder. “What did you learn?”