WHAT HAPPENS IN CHICAGO . . . STAYS IN CHICAGO

I woke suddenly, jolting upright in my bed in my room in Cadogan House amidst a pile of books about American shifters. I pushed my long bangs from my face, realizing I'd fallen asleep again in the midst of studying. That was the tricky thing about living by the fall and rise of the sun - it was a deep, dizzying descent into unconsciousness when the sun began to rise, and a gunshot ascent when twilight fell again.

"Welcome to the life of vampires," I muttered aloud, a greeting a former friend - a former boyfriend - had once passed along. I organized the books into piles on my bed, then stood up and stretched. I'd at least thought to change into pajamas before I sank into unconsciousness, my LICENSE

TO ILL tank top rising up as I lifted my arms over my head and stretched. The orange tank didn't exactly match the blue Cubs boxers I'd paired it with, but who was going to see it? As far as I was concerned, sleeping in ugly, comfy duds was one of the major advantages of being single.

And I was very definitely single.

I'd actually been single for a while, if you didn't count the few weeks I spent nearly dating Morgan.

He'd "won" the right to date me by challenging Ethan in front of half of Cadogan House, Noah, and Scott Grey. We'd had a handful of halfhearted dates afterward. Unfortunately, while the "half" part was from my end, Morgan seemed to be all-in from the get-go. I didn't feel the same, and he was convinced my reticence had something to do with my relationship, physical and otherwise, with Ethan. I could admit Ethan was on my mind more than made me comfortable, but calling our prickly interactions a

"relationship" was like calling an office softball team the Cubs. Bats were swung either way, but it just wasn't the same.

Having stretched out, I glanced back at the alarm clock. It was mid-June, so the days were still getting longer, my hours of awareness shrinking a little each day until the summer solstice would click the clock back in the other direction. Figuring I could delay my inevitable training session with Ethan for only so long, I put the stacks of books on the floor, then followed with my feet.

I didn't bother with a shower since I was training with Ethan, but I did change into my sports bra and yoga pants, then threw on a fitted Cadogan T-shirt. I was hungry and headed for a pre-training breakfast, and I didn't want to show up in my minimal workout gear. When I was dressed and shoed and had my katana in hand, I took the stairs up to Lindsey's third-floor room. She'd become my meal buddy. Her room was also my after-work hang-out. The value of bad television after a night of supernatural drama really should not be underestimated. "Mind-numbing" had its role in the life of a vampire.

Lindsey stood in her open doorway, cell phone in hand, when I arrived. Since she was the guard corps's resident psychic, I assumed she'd guessed I was headed her way. Unlike me, she was dressed in her Cadogan black suit, her long blond hair pulled into a sleek, low ponytail at the base of her neck. She crooked a finger at me, then walked back inside.

"Babe, I have to go. My breakfast date is here. I'll talk to you later. And don't forget about those pants I love. No - the latex ones. 'Kay. Hugs. Bye." She snapped her phone closed, then looked back at me, grinning at what I'm sure was a look of horror on my face. I really couldn't fathom a single thing to say.

But I'd apparently moved out of the Carmichael-Bell love shack and right into the House of Latex. I mean, I knew Lindsey had been flirting with Connor. He was, like me, a newbie Cadogan vamp. But

"latex" was not a word I needed to hear this early in the evening.

"I can't believe you aren't being supportive," she said, rolling her eyes. She toed into sensible black heels as she slid her phone into the pocket of her jacket.

"I'm - I'm supportive. Yay, Lindsey." My tone was flat, but I gave her a halfhearted fist wave.

Once she was shoed, she put her hands on her hips, one blond eyebrow arched. "I've found the love of my very long, very immortal life, and all I get is 'Yay, Lindsey'? Some friend you are."

"Love of your life? Connor? Are you sure?" That time, my voice actually squeaked.

She nibbled the edge of her lip like a love-struck teenager, then put her hand over her heart. "I'm wicked sure."

We stood there in silence for a minute. "Yay, Lindsey," I said again, when words failed me.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I'm not having a lusty, sordid affair with a hot, nubile Novitiate. That was my dry cleaner on the phone."

I resisted the urge to ask how she was going to explain "latex" the next time she talked to her dry cleaner. . . . On the other hand, that actually kinda worked.

"Thank God," I said. "I was having Mallory and Catcher flashbacks." She pushed me back out the door, then closed it behind us. We began the trek to the first floor and the Cadogan buffet. "Was it really that bad? I mean, Bell is hot. H-A-W-T hot."

"So hot you lost your appreciation for spelling?"

"Yeppers. Surface-of-the-sun hot."

"You know who else is hot?" I asked her.

"Don't say 'Luc.' "

"Oh. My. God," I said, putting my hand against my chest in mock surprise. "You are psychic." She grumbled, as she was wont to do every time I brought up the name of the boy she should have been chasing. Not that I was nosy . . . but they'd be so good together.

And then she brought out the big guns.

"I'll be ready to discuss Luc with you," she said as we trotted down two flights of stairs to the main floor, "when you're ready to talk about your plan to ensnare the second-prettiest blond vampire in the House."

"Is Luc first in that calculation?"

Lindsey snorted, then tugged at her own blond ponytail. "Hello?"

"Well, however you calculate it, I have no plans to ensnare anyone." We took the long, main hallway to the back of the House, where the old-school cafeteria was located. Wooden tables and ladder-back chairs were placed in front of a stainless-steel buffet where vampires could help themselves. There was not a slice of processed cheese or a cellophane-wrapped snack cake in sight.

"Uh-huh," Lindsey said, leading the way to the buffet. She got in line behind a dozen or so Cadogan vampires - all dressed in the requisite black. The room was filled with them, vamps preparing for an evening of work in the House or a night out in the Windy City. Cadogan House was akin to a company town, so some of the vamps were employed by the House - like the guards - while others worked in the Chicago metro area and contributed a portion of their income back to the House. (Cadogan House vamps got a stipend for being House members, so the work wasn't technically necessary, but vamps liked to be productive.) Of the House's three hundred eighteen vampires (having lost Peter and Amber), only about one-third actually lived in the House. The rest lived elsewhere but retained their affiliation, having sworn their oaths to Ethan and his fanged fraternity.

Lindsey and I moved slowly through the line, pushing our plastic trays along the steel rack and nabbing food and drink as we passed. Since I'd fought yesterday, and would be fighting again in a few minutes, I didn't want to overdo it, but there were a few essentials I needed: a pint of Type O; a mess of protein (satisfied today by sausage links and patties); and a solid dose of carbs. I plucked a couple of biscuits from a warming pan and arranged them on my tray before grabbing a napkin and silverware and following Lindsey to a table.

She picked a seat beside Katherine and Margot, two vamps I'd first met in Lindsey's room during a night of pizza and reality television. They smiled as we approached, then adjusted their trays to make sure we had room to sit down.

"Sentinel," Margot said, pushing a lock of gleaming, short dark hair behind her ear. She was absolutely gorgeous, with a bob of dark brown hair that curved to a point across her forehead, and long, whiskey-warm eyes that would have been equally well suited on a seductive tiger. "Training tonight?"

"Indeed," I said, sliding into a chair and popping a chunk of biscuit into my mouth. "After all, what would a day in Cadogan House be if Sullivan couldn't humiliate me?" Lindsey nodded. "Lately, that would be very unusual."

"Sad but true," I agreed.

"Were you serious about the barbecue?" Katherine asked, her long brown hair falling around her shoulders, a lock at the top pulled back with a small barrette. Kat was pretty in an old-fashioned way - with the big eyes and fresh face of a girl from a different time. She'd been born in Kansas City when the town was thick with stockyards and cattle. Her brother, Thomas, was also a member of the House.

"Aspen-stake serious. Folks have been asking for a mixer," I said, nudging Lindsey with an elbow. She snorted, then sipped orange juice from her glass.

"I'm not sure if you're aware," she said, "but I'm not up for a mixer." We all stopped and looked at her. Margot tilted her head. "Is that because you've dumped Connor, or because you're an official item?"

"Please say 'dumped,' " I murmured. "Please say 'dumped.' " This time, she elbowed me. "We are no longer an item. He's just so . . ."

"Young?" the three of us asked simultaneously.

"Sometimes," she said, "I wonder what life as a vampire would be like without all these other vampires around."

Margot stuck out her tongue at Lindsey.

"You'd miss us terribly," I reminded her. "And you'd miss Luc." She got quiet.

"I'm not responding to that," she finally said.

Margot, Katherine, and I grinned at one another, figuring that was answer enough.

Ethan was already in the Sparring Room, already in his gi pants and a white jacket belted with a purple sash. He was barefoot in the middle of the tatami, unsheathed katana in hand, sparring with an invisible opponent. He thrust the sword behind him, then turned and pulled it back, wrenched it upward, and swung it around his head. When the sword was down again, he executed a butterfly kick, legs flying parallel to the ground, the tip of the sword following, a deadly punctuation to the move. He was fast enough that speed blurred his movements, making him a haze of white and gleaming steel amidst the antique weapons and wood of the room.

He was a thing to behold, was Ethan Sullivan.

He fought alone for two or three more minutes, then came to a stop on his knees, katana raised before him. I pulled off my Cadogan T-shirt, then stood at the edge of the mat.

He lifted his verdant gaze to me, and we stood there for a moment just watching each other.

Ethan shook his head. He rose to his feet, then moved toward me. "You have an audience, Sentinel," he said by way of warning, as if there'd been a risk of my taking him right here on the Sparring Room floor.

I humphed. I'd said no to him before. I could do it again. But that didn't mean I was thrilled to be on display again. I lifted my gaze to the balcony. It wasn't as bad as an "audience" - only a dozen or so vampires in the seats - but that was a dozen more than I needed. "Awesome," I muttered. I began to slip the katana from its scabbard, but he shook his head.

"No need to unsheath it. You won't need your sword." I slid it home again, then looked at him in confusion. We were supposed to be picking up where Catcher and I left off. Since I clearly needed to work on my sparring technique, I had assumed that was where we'd pick up. Now I was just confused.

Ethan resheathed his own sword and placed it on the mat, then outstretched his hand. When I handed him my scabbard, he did the same to it. Then he stood again and tilted his head, gesturing to someone behind me. "Luc, if you please."

I hadn't realized Luc was in the room, so I turned around to say hello. But before I could find him, the lights went out - literally. The room was suddenly pitchblack.

"Ethan?"

"We're working on a different skill today," he said, his voice moving away.

I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping that would help me adjust to the darkness, then opened them again when I heard his footsteps move closer. Because I was a predator, my vision was better than it might have ordinarily been in the dark, but I still couldn't see much. That was how he caught me with a low kick that sent me sprawling across the mats.

"Sullivan! What the hell?" From my new spot on the floor, I blew the ponytail from my face and pushed up on my hands. I stood up, keeping my body bladed, my hands before me, my knees soft, in case he pounced again.

"You must learn, Sentinel, to anticipate."

I rolled my eyes. The first time I'd fought him, he'd used all the Matrix moves. Now he was working Star Wars for techniques. He really did not have an original training thought in his head.

"And how do I anticipate?" I asked him.

"We've discussed your senses having improved after you completed the change." I didn't answer. I didn't know how good his vision was, but I wasn't going to give away my position and give him another easy shot. Still, I could hear him moving around me, slinking around in a circle like a big cat preparing to attack.

"You've been working over the last week to tune out the ambient noise. To manage the increased sensitivity in your hearing, your sight, your smell. Certainly, that much awareness can be a distraction. But you are vampire. You must learn to utilize all your senses, to use that noise, that information, to your advantage."

I heard the whip of his pants as he kicked. I ducked down just as the cotton whistled over my head.

Then I heard the pat of his feet when he touched down again.

"Good," he said. "But don't just defend. Fight back." I heard him pace away. I rose again and assumed the basic defensive position again. If I became a member of the Red Guard, was this how Ethan and I would find ourselves? Battling each other under cover of darkness? Not quite enemies, but not quite friends? I'd been putting off my decision about the Red Guard. It was probably time to give that some thought. . . .

But not before I took this opportunity to kick his ass.

I heard him walk around me, circling again, waiting for his moment to strike. Could he hear as well as I could? Were the lights on for him, metaphorically, because he could detect my movements?

Well, either he could or he couldn't. It didn't matter; it was my turn to move. He circled counterclockwise, two or three feet behind me. I waited until he was at six o'clock, then shifted my weight, raised my left knee, and stuck out with a fierce back kick. I might have hit him had he not completely anticipated the move and dropped down beneath my kick. By the time I'd made it around and brought down my kicking foot again, he was up and spinning out with a low roundhouse. I had no time to react, and just as he'd done the first time I challenged him, he knocked my feet right from under me.

I hit the mat again.

"Again," he said into the darkness.

I silently mouthed a curse, but I got up again. This time, I didn't wait for him to prepare. When I could hear him in front of me, I turned my hips and aimed a roundhouse kick at his head. I missed, but I heard him stumble backward, feet tripping across the mat as he dodged the move.

"So close," I murmured.

"Too close," he said back. "But that's better. You're listening for movement, which is good. But that's not all you can do. Luc," he said again, and my heart tripped a little, wondering what else he had in store.

Binding my hands together? Flooding the room with water?

Luc answered back a second later, this time with sound. A cacophony of noise - barking, talking, screaming, honking, clanking, chirping - began to pour into the room. It was completely deafening, the bass loud enough that I felt the vibration in my bones, in my echoing heartbeat. Ethan didn't even give me a moment to adjust. He punched, but he'd misestimated my location, and his fist glanced off my shoulder.

Of course, he was still a Master vampire, and the strike still hurt. Had I been closer to him, he'd have broken bone. I wondered if the sound was distracting to him, too. A second later, he was in my head.

You cannot rely only on sound, he said. You must quiet the noise, be able to feel an enemy beside you, be able to fight even in utter darkness. How am I supposed to learn that? I asked back, shifting my weight from front to back as I waited for him to strike again. You are a nocturnal predator, he said. You don't need to learn how. You just need to learn to trust yourself. I was on my way there, I hoped.

I took a moment and closed my eyes. Technically, that was pointless, given the depth of the darkness in the room, but it helped psychologically, like I was actively working to shut out the din. My eyes closed, I focused on the noise and worked to build up my mental blockade. But I didn't have time to get it done.

He was on me again. This time, he punched forward not to injure me, but to taunt. His fist hit my left shoulder, but before I could throw him off, he was gone. Then his heel hit my back - not with enough force to knock me down, but with enough force to push me. I stumbled forward, arms waving as I tried not to trip over my own feet.

Thank God the lights were off. The Master vampire taunting the Novitiate would have been a pretty comical sight. You're not concentrating, he silently said, his voice ringing over the clamor of honking trucks.

My skin was beginning to itch with irritation. It was loud, and it was dark, and I was being pushed and prodded by a Master vampire who relied on action flicks to teach me how to fight.

I'm doing the best I can, I assured him.

He kicked again, the back of his foot hitting my side. I parried my forearm against his leg, but he was gone and away without effective contact. I'd forgotten about his speed . . . the fact that he could move with supernatural efficiency. I was fast at the Katas, of course, but those were practiced moves. As we obviously knew, sparring was an altogether different kind of animal.

I've seen you do better, he answered.

A tingle of magic lifted in the air, maybe related to the teasing cant of his words. I felt that tingle - like a breeze in the air - across my face. He was standing in front of me.

It took me a second to realize what I'd done - that I'd determined where he was standing with neither hearing nor sight . . . but with magic. Might as well take advantage.

I punched out, but he blocked me with his forearm. Before I could protest, he turned, and his back was to mine and his hand was on my arm and he was using his leverage to throw me to the ground.

And there I was, flat on my back again.

The fall hadn't been especially hard, but it was hard enough to take the wind out of me. When I could breathe again, I barked out a curse. You're hardly trying, was his response. This time, there was venom in his voice.

I picked myself up off the ground. I don't know what you want me to do.

Then he was in front of me again. I struck out, but he grabbed my arm again and yanked me closer.

Fight, goddamnit. Too pissed off to consider the possibility that he'd baited me, I did just that. I rotated my wrists to grab his hand, then pushed his arm up at the elbow. I twisted, and then used my body weight to push him off balance and throw him down. I finished the move on his side on one knee. Better, he said, flat on the ground, but there wasn't much time for celebration. Before I had a chance to react, he was up again, and he'd pulled me around and down on my back.

And then he was back in his favorite position - spreadeagle on top of me, his hands pinning my wrists to the floor. I rolled my eyes in the darkness.

Ready to tap out? he asked.

I ignored the perk of physical interest and answered with action, lifting my left leg in a scissor kick and using inertia to reverse our positions. I managed to get on top of him, but I didn't stay there for long. He rolled me over again, and then I rolled him over again, and there we were, two vampires, rolling around on the floor like children. I was again glad the lights were out and we were out of view of the rest of the House. (Or so I assumed. Were they better than I at seeing in the dark? If not, they were getting a pretty crappy show.)

I finally managed to throw him off, then scrambled to my feet and felt the slight vibration in the mats as he bounced back onto his. We circled each other for a moment, but when I raised a hand to block a shot I was sure was headed toward my face, he grabbed my wrist, then yanked me toward him until my body was snug against the long line of his.

My heart tripped.

We stood there in darkness, my mind absorbed by the feel of one of his hands around my wrist, the other pressed to the small of my back. Ethan was tall enough that the top of my head just reached his chin. I kept my gaze level with his collarbone - afraid that if I looked up, he'd use the move as an excuse to look down. Our lips would align, and that would be the end of me.

Slowly - treacherously slowly - he lowered his head, his lips against my hair. Goose bumps rose on my arms; my eyes drifted closed; my skin tingled with an intoxicating combination of lust and power. We were leaking magic again, the sharp, bright prickle of it filling the space Ethan and I occupied. That was when my eyes flashed open, as I realized what he'd been trying to teach me.

He let me loose my hands, and I pressed one palm against his chest to push him back a few steps. He moved willingly and gave me space to learn. I couldn't see in the dark, and I certainly couldn't hear with the din of noise around us . . . but just as I'd done a moment ago, I could sense the magic in the air. That punch hadn't been a fluke. Detecting magic was a different kind of sight, but it was a kind of sight just the same. There, in the dark, a few steps in front of him, I lifted a hand and trailed my fingers over the electric currents around us, feeling the bumps and ridges of magic as it leaked from our bodies. I could sense the knotted mix of our magic in the space between us, and the slow fade of sensation the farther I drew my fingers away.

I let my fingers rise and fall as the pressure shifted, not unlike sticking a hand outside a moving car's window. Most important, the current shifted as he moved, creating a breezy tingle beneath my fingers. I felt him move to my right, body straight as he faced me and then aimed a roundhouse kick at my face.

It was his favorite move, and he'd signaled it perfectly.

I dropped low, and as he came around I offered up my own roundhouse, a low kick that brought his other leg out from beneath him. He hit the ground.

As if by his silent command, the music went off, and the lights came on. I blinked into the sudden vacuum of noise and the brightness of the overhead lights. The room, the audience, was completely silent, probably absorbed by the sight of the Sentinel on her feet - and their Master on the ground. I wouldn't call it a victory. After all, I only really tripped him.

But that was something. It wasn't everything, but it was a step forward.

Ethan put his hands behind him, then lifted his legs, rolled his body weight, and flipped onto his feet. He slid me a glance. I swallowed, not entirely comfortable that I'd put my Master on the floor again, even if I had eventually come to learn the lesson he'd been trying to teach. Then his expression softened.

"Better," he said.

I bowed respectfully, the student thanking the teacher for a lesson well taught. That lesson done, it was time to move on to the next crisis. "When do we leave for the pre-meeting?"

"In an hour. Get changed and meet me in the basement." I nodded, then walked back to the edge of the mat and grabbed my T-shirt, shoes, and, most crucial, my katana. I assumed I was going to need it.