The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Ethan was on his feet before Luc appeared in the doorway. “What’s happened?”

   “We aren’t entirely sure,” Luc said. “But you should come see.”

   We followed him down the hallway, found vampires gathered in the foyer that had been empty only a few minutes ago. The buzz of concerned magic peppered the air.

   They parted as we walked past them to the staircase. Margot sat on the second step from the top, her right eye swollen and going a miserable purple-black. She still wore her party dress, but she’d added a white Cadogan House apron and exchanged her heels for the clogs chefs seemed to favor.

   Lindsey sat beside her, pressing an ice pack to Margot’s forehead.

   “What happened?” Ethan asked.

   “Nothing,” Margot said. “Just a little bump. I tripped.”

   “You didn’t trip,” Lindsey said, then looked back at us. “She didn’t trip. Someone shoved her down in Tunnel Three.”

   Cadogan House was an old building, and there were several brick passages beneath the House, part of the extensive system that ran beneath Chicago. Being a careful Master, Ethan had shored them up in case we needed to make a quick and unseen exit. I’d been in Tunnels One and Two but not Tunnel Three. It was the longest of the three, running north a full quarter mile from the House’s basement.

   “‘Someone’?” Ethan carefully asked, a threat in the word. “One of my vampires?”

   “No,” Margot said.

   Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Someone broke into the House?”

   “No,” Margot said, and gave Lindsey an arch look. “Lindsey’s making more of this than there was. We’re all just on edge because of Sorcha.”

   I didn’t disagree that we were on edge, but Lindsey wasn’t one to exaggerate, at least not about something related to House security. The look in Ethan’s eyes said he didn’t think so, either.

   “It’s not a big deal,” Margot said with what sounded like warring fear and frustration.

   “It is a big deal,” Lindsey said.

   The buzz of magic grew into a tingle of alarm. Ethan glanced back at his Novitiates.

   “I’ll ask you all to go about your business so we can determine what’s happened and help Margot heal. Please,” he added with an indulgent smile that had them smiling in response, shuffling upstairs past us or down the main hallway.

   When they were gone and quiet fell across the foyer again, Ethan turned back to Margot. “What happened?”

   Margot sighed heavily, shoulders sagging with the effort. “After the shower, I had this idea for something I could try for the wedding.” She looked up at me. “A kind of mini beef Bourguignon slider. But I needed more Pinot Noir. We keep the good reds in Tunnel Three.”

   Tunnel Three apparently moonlighted as a wine cellar.

   “I went down there, was perusing the Pinots—” She smiled at Ethan. “We need to open a bottle of the Romanée-Conti I found hiding down there.”

   “Then we will,” he said, his voice soothing and encouraging at the same time.

   Margot nodded. “I was looking through the wine, and this really cold breeze blew through the room. It does that sometimes, because the tunnels are so cold. But this felt different.”

   “How?” Ethan asked, the word carefully and precisely spoken.

   Margot frowned. “I don’t know. It was a different kind of cold. Not just temperature cold, but sensation cold. Like there was something—I don’t know—thick in the air.”

   I didn’t need to see Ethan’s face to know what emotions marked it: alarm and concern at the similarity between what Margot was telling us now and what we’d felt earlier tonight.

   “I didn’t like it,” Margot said, “so I hurried a little faster. And then . . .” She paused, obviously struggling with what to say. “I found the bottle I wanted, had just turned around to head back out. And I felt a push.” She half turned, showing her back. “Right in the middle of my shoulder blades. I’d have sworn I felt a cold hand in the middle of my back, like heaving me forward. But that’s impossible, right?”

   She looked up at us, and I wasn’t sure if she wanted us to say yes or no. Margot was as steady and reliable as they came; whatever had happened down there had clearly left her shaken.

   “You didn’t see anyone?” Ethan asked. “Or hear anyone?”

   “I was alone down there. Or I thought I was. I fell, hit my head on one of the shelves. When I got up and didn’t see anything, I felt a little crazy.”

   “Someone pushed you down in Tunnel Three.” Ethan’s recitation was matter-of-fact, but I knew emotion bristled behind the words. Confusion, anger, surprise.

   One of the vampires on Margot’s staff brought over a steaming mug scented with honey and bergamot.

   “Thought you could use this,” the vampire said, then nodded at the rest of us.

   “Thanks,” Margot said, and wrapped her fingers around the mug. “I’m all right,” she said. “Go on back to work.”

   “A good idea for everyone,” said a voice behind us.

   Delia, the House’s physician, stepped forward. She wore pink scrubs and tennis shoes beneath a white doctor’s jacket, and must have just come in from the hospital. “It’s doctor-patient time.”

   “She’s the real boss,” Ethan said, and bent down to press his lips to the top of Margot’s head. “We’ll just be down the hall. Call if you need us.”

   “Ditto that,” I said, and squeezed her hand. She nodded gratefully, then let Delia get to work, the doctor’s dark hands moving carefully across Margot’s face, checking for injuries.