Bitter Blood
Chapter EIGHTEEN

CLAIRE
It took them a while to drag Michael's heavy, unresponsive body over the uneven ground and out to the hearse. Myrnin stuck his head out of the passenger window of the hearse to helpfully suggest that Michael could be dumped down the same hole he'd just crawled out of. Shane suggested that Myrnin bite him, hard. Myrnin declined.
And Claire drove, leaving Shane with Michael, by his own request. She was a little anxious about that; Shane held grudges, and it was going to be hard for him to see past what Michael had done to them, but it was at least a truce for now. Mortal danger trumped emotional pain. Temporarily.
Myrnin said, "Michael seems to be under Naomi's spel , just as Oliver and Pennyfeather must be. I have no idea how many she's suborned, but it's too bad she didn't try it on me." He smiled, and his expression was bleak and dark, and it wasn't only the streaks of black water staining his face. "Greater vampires have tried, including her black-hearted father. I believe my blood made Bishop sick for a month."
"Where should we go?" she asked. He sighed.
"I suppose we really have no choice," he said. "Retreating to the Glass House wil simply give them an easy point to attack, and we cannot defend the place, not from a concerted attack. So we wil have to take the fight to them."
"Where?"
He shrugged wearily. "To Amelie herself. Ultimately, she is Naomi's target. Oliver's seduction of her-or at least, part of it-was Naomi's effort to weaken her, to stir up trouble against her. She must be warned of what's to come or she'l be taken unawares, by those she trusts."
"How the hel are we supposed to get into Founder's Square?" Claire asked. "Do you have some secret passage or something?"
"They're allshut up, I'm afraid," Myrnin said. "Oh, and I'm ruining your friend's lovely upholstery. Sorry about the mess. Imagine if they'd left me down there for months. That did happen, once. I was dumped into a cel no larger than a doghouse for half a year. allthey did was throw down the occasional chicken or hog...disgusting. I seem to have lost my slippers."
"I'l buy you new ones."
"I expect we're going to have to rely on Michael," Myrnin said, switching suddenly back to the original question. "The boy has an automatic entrance to Amelie's presence, as her offspring. The difficulty is that he's hardly in a position to voluntarily assist us, and by the way, Shame, why did you shoot him?"
"It's Shane, and if you cal me that again, you'l be getting the next dart."
"The question still stands."
"Because he was going after Claire. Again." Shane didn't look at her, not even a glance in the rearview mirror; Claire knew, because she was waiting for it-for some sign that his anger was starting to wear off.
"Again?" Myrnin asked, and his eyebrows rose. "My. Things change so quickly with you young people. Claire, are you enemies now with Michael?"
"Not exactly," she said. Shane cut her off.
"Last time he just tongue-kissed her," Shane said. "This time it looked a little more extreme than that. So I didn't take the chance of being wrong."
That earned her a sharp, interested look from Myrnin. "Wel . We'l have to have the ful story, then."
"We really don't," she said. "Something's wrong with Michael, all right. And I saw Naomi, with Oliver. They're working together."
"That-is very, very unpleasant," Myrnin said. He frowned and pulled at a stray thread on his shirt, threatening to unravel an entire piece of it.
"Naomi was kil ed in the attack on the draug, or so it was said. I had my doubts. It seemed too convenient, considering that Naomi had begun working to undermine Amelie. I imagine she wanted to take her place even then, but Amelie's not someone who fails to respond to a chal enge."
"You mean Amelie had Naomi killed?"
"Possibly. Or possibly Oliver did, to protect her. But if so, he must have had a change of heart, since, or Naomi secured control of him. I've never trusted the Roundhead, myself. A man of low character and high ambition. Naomi wouldn't be above using him to achieve her dreams of ruling."
"Then we have to tel Amelie he's stabbing her in the back." Claire took a deep breath. "You have to tel her. She won't believe me, or Shane, and Michael's not able to tel her anything, even if he wanted to."
"I can't," he said. "Look at me. I'm in no fit state to-"
"You're the official bearer of bad news," Shane said, and pointed the rifle at Myrnin. "End of discussion."
"Yes," Myrnin said instantly. "Of course. No problem at all."
There was quite a lot of animated debate about how to make it into the guarded area around Founder's Square. In the end, they propped Michael up in the passenger seat, next to Myrnin, who held him upright with a friendly arm around his shoulders; when Claire rolled down the passenger window, the Founder's Square vampire guard took one look inside, saw Michael and Myrnin, and nodded them through without any questions. "Amazing," Myrnin said, squeezing rank water out of his hair. "You'd think someone might notice my general appearance."
"Funny, I'd think you'd notice that it's not that different from how you usually look," Shane said. He hadn't lowered the rifle; he sat braced in the back, aiming it generally in Myrnin's direction.
"Really? I'll have to work on that, clearly. Tel me, are you really so angry at Claire that you're wil ing to fire that weapon in an enclosed vehicle, with a distinct chance of hitting her?"
"I'm not angry," Shane said. "I'm careful." That, Claire noticed, didn't really answer the question at all.
It did shut Myrnin up for a while, at least until they'd parked the hearse in the underground lot of Founder's Square. Shane was forced to leave the gun, but he grabbed Claire's backpack and filled it with a selection of the handiest possible weapons.
"We're not going to be able to fight our way in, or out again," Myrnin said. "You might keep that in mind during your packing frenzy."
"Shut up." Shane put the backpack over his shoulder, and for the first time, looked at Claire directly. "He's your responsibility. Keep him from doing anything too crazy."
"I'l try," she said. It was the first real conversation-brief and businesslike as it was-that they'd had in hours, and it made her feel just a tiny bit less awful...until he turned his back on her in the elevator, in preference to watching the numbers flicker until they'd arrived at the right floor. Myrnin led the way, which was a good thing, because the first intersection brought them face-to-face with two of Amelie's black-uniformed guards.
"We were told you left," one of them said to Myrnin.
"You were il -informed, then," Myrnin said loftily, and drips of filthy water ran down his feet to leave stains on the carpet. "I'm here to see the Founder."
"Like that?" The guard gave him an up-and-down look, eyebrows raised.
"Would you like me to shower and change before warning her of potential disaster? Because of course one wouldn't like to deliver that news in a less-than-pristine state."
The guard accepted that, but then he turned the analysis on Claire and Shane. "And them?"
"With me," he said. "Entourage. You know."
"Backpack," the second guard said to Shane, and gestured. He hesitated. "Now."
"Oh, give it up. I told you we couldn't use those anyway," Myrnin said. "Do it. Quickly. We have little time left, for heaven's sake."
The guards were ignoring him now, focused on Shane and the potentially lethal contents of his bag, and as soon as they'd turned away from him, Myrnin reached out, grabbed each of the guards by the side of the head, and knocked them together, hard. Claire shuddered at the sound of bone crunching. Both men dropped to the carpet, twitching.
"Come on," Myrnin said. "They won't be down for long. But don't worry, their brains aren't complicated enough to be damaged."
"But-"
"Claire, we do not have time." He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along at a run, past closed doorways, painted portraits, flickering lights...
And into an open doorway.
Amelie's assistant rose to her feet in alarm at the sight of them and bared her teeth, and Myrnin bared his in turn. "Announce me," he said, and then shook his head. "Never mind; I'll do it myself."
He lowered his shoulder and ran at the inner door. The lock broke, and the door swung open...
On Amelie, held in Oliver's arms. Not as a hostage, as Claire originally thought, but in a position that could only be cal ed, ah, intimate. That was one hel of a kiss in progress, and there were fewer clothes than might be strictly formal.
The kiss broke off as Myrnin came to a sliding halt in the remains of the door, with Shane and Claire close behind, and said, "Wel , this is awkward. Beg pardon, but I believe Claire has something to tellyou."
Then he shoved her forward as Oliver stepped away from the embrace and began buttoning up his shirt. Amelie glared at Claire, then at Myrnin, then at Shane, as if deciding which of them to kil first.
Myrnin seriously wasn't going to do anything, Claire realized. He was standing back, watching. She wasn't sure what he was watching for, but he'd left her deliberately hanging there, wriggling like a worm on a hook.
"Wel ?" Amelie's voice was a crack of sound, like a sheet of ice snapping. "What could possibly be so vital that you intrude here on my privacy, like some assassin?" She grabbed Shane by the col ar and dragged him close, ripped the backpack from his hands, and shredded it open, spil ing weapons across the floor. "You come to use these, then? Are you in league with your father again? I warn you, this time, the cage won't go unused.
You'l burn for this, you little fool."
"Shane's just trying to protect us! Oliver's betraying you," Claire blurted. "He's working with-"
She didn't have time for more. Oliver was right on her, hand gripping her throat as he lifted her effortlessly off the carpet until her feet dangled and kicked uselessly. She clawed at his hand, but he wasn't going to let her breathe. Panic blinded her, smothered her, and allshe knew for a few seconds was that she was going to die before she could make things right again with Shane.
Myrnin reached down, grabbed the silver-tipped bat, and hit Oliver right between the shoulder blades, hard enough to knock him off-balance.
Claire was dropped to the carpet, where she whooped in a breath.
"Enough!" Amelie said. There was pale color high in her cheeks, and a furious red glitter in her eyes. "I've had enough of your foolish chatter and your betrayals. You come here unasked; you threaten my consort. I am done with you all. I've coddled you too long. I'll start with you, Col ins."
She grabbed Shane by the shirt when he tried to dart out of her way, and pulled back her other hand, claws sharp and extended. In one more second, she'd do it. She'd kil him.
"No!" Claire shouted through her agonizingly sore throat. "He's working with Naomi; Oliver's going to killyou!"
The Founder froze, and for a second her eyes went entirely back to gray as she stared into Claire's face, reading what Claire hoped was utterly the truth as she knew it.
And then Amelie let go of Shane and started to turn toward Oliver.
Oliver grabbed the bat out of Myrnin's hands and swung it at the Founder's head with deadly, blurring speed; even for a vampire, that blow would have been fatal if it had connected...but Amelie moved like water, flowing out of the way and taking Oliver's arm as it passed, then twisting until the bat flew out of his grip. It shattered the windows beyond in an earsplitting crash, sending glass flying out into the night. The basebal bat whipped end over end to land almost a hundred feet away on the grass of the park below.
Amelie shoved Oliver face-first into the wal , pinned his arm behind him, and said, "Tel me why. Why?" She didn't doubt it; Claire saw that.
Oliver's attempt to kil her had been clear enough. He cried out, and she twisted harder, though it was obvious from the expression on her face that she was hurting herself by hurting him. "Oliver, why do you betray me?"
He laughed. It was an awful, empty sound. "I don't," he said. "I was never loyal to you, you foolish woman. I've made a lifetime of toppling rulers. You're only the latest, and the most rewarding."
Amelie turned her head toward Claire and Myrnin. "He cannot be working with Naomi," she said. "She's dead."
"Sadly, and convincingly, not," Myrnin said. "I saw her with my own eyes. I am fairly certain Claire has her facts straight."
"And where in God's name have you been, then?"
"At the bottom of a pit," he said. "Which accounts for my current state of dress. Although Shane assures me it is not so odd."
Shane hadn't made a sound, and he hadn't moved; he'd probably judged, very rightly, that it was time to make himself a smal er target. From the way his lips tightened, he wished Myrnin hadn't mentioned him at all.
But Amelie didn't seem to care. She bent, picked up a silver-coated stake, and pressed it against the skin of Oliver's neck, just above the spine-just enough to tint the skin and start it burning. "So go traitors," she said. "In the old days, your head would have ended up as a decoration for a spike. I suppose I wil have to settle for something less...satisfying." There were tears in her eyes, then tears coursing down her pale, still face. "I trusted you, you traitor. I suppose I should have known better. I've never been lucky in love."
"I never loved you," he said. "Kil me. It changes nothing."
"It changes everything," she hissed. "You'l not die yet. Not untillyou help me find my wayward sister. Then I wil allow you to die. But not yet. Not yet."
"Why wait?" said a low, sweet voice from the doorway, and they allturned-even Oliver-to see Naomi standing there, with Michael behind her.
And Hannah Moses, carrying a crossbow with a heavy wooden bolt already in place. And more, behind her-humans and vampires alike. "Thank you, Claire. Sometimes a pawn is the very thing to use as a sacrifice to lure the queen from hiding."
At Naomi's regal nod, Hannah raised the crossbow and fired the bolt straight at Amelie.
It was impossible that it would miss, and it didn't, but...something happened, a blur of movement Claire couldn't understand until it was over, and Oliver was standing in Amelie's place, swaying. The wooden bolt was in his heart.
He dropped to his knees, then col apsed.
Amelie was a blur, heading for the broken windows. Hannah had a second bolt in the bow, and Naomi grabbed the crossbow, aimed, and fired just as Amelie leaped out into the night air.
It hit her cleanly in the chest. Claire gasped and watched her tumble gracelessly down to crumple on the grass below.
"Satisfactory," Naomi said. "Though I have no notion why Oliver chose to put himself in the way. Take them allto the cage. Now."
Not even Shane tried to fight, this time.
"Great," Shane said. Claire sensed he would have been pacing, if there had been room, but the steel cage in Founder's Square was just big enough to hold her, Myrnin, and the limp bodies of Oliver and Amelie without any room left over. "Just great. I'm still going to die in this cage, after everything that's happened. That's just perfect."
"Wel ," Myrnin said, and shoved Oliver's limp body over to stretch out his long, dirty legs, "at least we're dying in royal company. That's something." He reached out to pul the stake out of Amelie's chest, but as he did, a thin silver blade poked through the bars and cut his hand. He yelped and pulled back.
Hannah was standing outside the bars, watching them with calm concentration. "Don't try it," she said. "No use. You leave the stakes where they are."
"Worried?" Myrnin sucked at the cut on his hand, and spat flecks of silver that burned on the floor. "You should be, Hannah. If you think supporting Naomi wil win your people freedom, you're a fool. She's worse than Oliver ever thought of being, because I think she honestly believes that what she is doing is for the best-wel , for her best, in any case." He cocked his head, staring at her, and then suddenly lunged at the bags, wrapping his hands around them. She didn't flinch, though she took a tighter grip on the knife she held. "She's Bishop's daughter. His spiritual child as well as his bloodline, with allhis gifts. She believes humans are her property, and the world is her larder. Don't be a fool. You can't believe that Claire and Shane should be in here with us, even if you hate vampires so desperately. What has either of them done to deserve it?"
She didn't answer. Myrnin waited, then nodded, as if she'd done exactly what he expected. "I see," he said, and his voice was unexpectedly gentle. "I am well aware how being under such control feels, my dear. allwil be well ."
"How?" Hannah asked. She sounded indifferent, but Claire thought she heard something new in her voice: pain.
He shrugged. "No idea," he said. "But I'm quite certain that it's unfolding even now."
It was the emphasis he put on the last two words that made Claire realize that by lunging forward, and drawing Hannah's ful attention, he'd left Amelie partially obscured. Shane was the closest to the fal en vampire. Claire frantically gestured to the wooden stake in her heart, and Shane didn't hesitate. He pulled it out-but not allthe way out. Just enough, Claire thought, to clear her heart.
Amelie didn't move. At this point, she probably couldn't.
If he'd done it right, though, maybe she would, when she was ready.
Founder's Square was as busy as a mal at Christmas. The big braziers surrounding the center of the square were being lit, bringing a barbaric splendor to the deep night; vampires were gathering, some looking sleepy and confused, some excited, some outright worried. There were humans, too-a group of them, herded together nearby. Claire recognized several of them, including the new mayor, Flora Ramos, and-incredibly -Gramma Day. One of them was complaining loudly. It was Monica Morrel . She certainly hadn't been rousted out of bed like the others; she was dressed to party.... well , that might not be true. Claire wasn't sure she didn't wear tube dresses to bed.
Myrnin sank back from the bars and crossed his arms, glancing at Shane. "Wel done," he said in an undertone. "Clever boy, taking it out only part of the way. I take back at least one bad thing I've ever said about you."
"What's happening?" Claire asked.
"Naomi prepares to declare her primacy," he said. "She'l have herself crowned, and then she'l spil blood-"
"Ours," Shane said.
"Oh no, not at all. It's a very old custom, one even Bishop respected. She'l kil the most influential residents of Morganville...Founder families, important business leaders, politicians.... I suppose Monica's there to represent her family; more's the pity for their memories."
"It's about more than ceremony," Shane said. "Most of those guys are on Captain Obvious's war council. I saw them. And Gramma Day is related to Hannah."
"Really?" Myrnin raised his eyebrows. "Interesting indeed. She's honoring the old customs and ensuring her own long-term survival. Masterful. Worthy of her father, in his better days."
"Could you maybe not admire the evil enemy quite so much, and focus more on how we're going to get out of this?" Claire asked. "Because I'm pretty sure we're going to die, too."
"Oh yes. But you and I are merely col ateral damage; this is a pyre for Amelie. And I see they've made improvements. See the grates underneath us? Natural gas. It's allvery fuel efficient, not like the old days with allthe logs...."
"Myrnin!"
He went suddenly very cool and sensible. "Bite marks," he said. "Michael's got one on his neck. So does Hannah Moses. So, in fact, does Oliver. alla very distinctive bite distance. It takes a delicate mouth to make such marks, such as, say-" He pointed a finger, and Claire followed the line of it to Naomi, who was standing draped in silver and white a few feet away. "She's got the gift, you see. Not every vampire can compel like that. Amelie can, though she never does, and Naomi can-both of them inherited that trait from their vampire father, Bishop. So whatever's been done, you can rightly assume she's the one pul ing the strings, and that no one had any choice in what's been done."
"Oh," Shane said, in a very different sort of tone. "Oh, crap. Michael-I left him alone with Naomi and Hannah. Hannah's Captain Obvious. I thought Naomi was just working with her, trying to get at Amelie. But its more than that. She was control ing the whole thing. And Michael."
Which, Claire realized with a sweet surge of relief, was why Michael had turned on them-and why he'd been so cruel to Eve, and to her, and to Shane. He'd had no choice. Thank you. She felt like kissing Shane in pure gratitude for having confirmed her suspicions, but Shane didn't look especially relieved himself; he looked disturbed. Maybe he'd just realized that he'd spent a whole day hating the guts of a friend who'd been innocent after all.
"She was control ing Oliver, too, though likely that wasn't quite so difficult," Myrnin said. "Oliver's influence on Amelie was a dark thing even without Naomi bending it to her uses. Once she had, though, she used Oliver to corrupt Amelie, agitate the town against her, create chaos and dissension...and then used you, Claire, to unmask him, giving her the chance to act directly while Amelie was distracted. My, if I didn't loathe her so much, I'd admire her."
"So how are we going to stop her?" Claire asked.
"We can't. Perhaps I failed to mention that we're locked in a cage and about to be burned alive...?"
"Does this cage have a lock?"
"A very good one," Myrnin said. "Right there, on the other side of the bars. I'm reasonably certain that neither of us is a certified locksmith, however."
"Wel , we can try."
"It's silver," Myrnin said. "I won't be able to break it."
"If the lock's pure silver instead of just plated, it's soft," Shane said. "We could use one of these stakes as a lever, maybe."
"And that wil sacrifice our element of surprise," Myrnin pointed out. "You always seem to have something secreted about your person of a dangerous nature.... Have you nothing to contribute?"
"They took it," Shane said, "including everything out of my pockets and my belt. Just like jail."
"Not like jail," Claire said thoughtfully. "They left you your shoes."
"And? I'm pretty sure a battered-up pair of kicks isn't going to get us anywhere...." Shane's voice faded at the look on her face. "What?"
"Laces," she said, and bent forward to untie her own shoes and began to pul the cords out. "Give them to me."
"I hardly think we should consider hanging ourselves, Claire," Myrnin said, looking a little worried. "And it wouldn't kil me, you know."
Claire grabbed the laces from Shane as he held them out, tied them end to end, and began quickly braiding them together with those from her own shoes in a rough twisted rope, which she wrapped around the center of the bars at the back. "Cover me," she said to Myrnin. He watched her for a few long seconds, then nodded and moved toward the front of the cage, shoving the limp body of Oliver out of the way, and began to loudly sing something in French. It sounded rude.
Claire began twisting the rope as fast as she could, rapidly getting it to the tension point. "I need something to use as a fulcrum," she said to Shane. "Something that won't break easily."
"Only thing in here is one of the stakes," he said. "Once we pul those, I'm guessing Hannah's got orders not to wait around for the official barbecue."
God, allshe needed was a stick....Claire cast her eyes about, frantic to find something, anything she could adapt to the purpose, and her gaze fel on, of allthings, the headband that Amelie was wearing to keep her long, loose hair back from her face. It was a nice, wide one, not made of plastic but covered in fabric.
Maybe.
Claire edged over, leaving the rope in Shane's hand, and pulled the headband from the vampire's head. She thought Amelie's eyes flickered, just a little, but the Founder didn't move. She looked...dead.
Claire flexed the headband in her grip. It had a metal core that bent side to side, but not back to front. And best of all, it didn't break.
She scooted back, slipped it into the rope, and began using it to twist the strands tighter and tighter around the bars. By the fifth round, she felt the tension; by the tenth, she saw the bars actually starting to bend in the middle, yielding to the slow but inevitable force.
I love you, physics.
"Hey," Shane said as she muscled another turn out of the makeshift device. "I probably should tellyou that after thinking it over, I'm an ass. And I'm-sorry."
"That must have been hard," Claire said. It was getting really difficult to turn the thing. The edges of the headband were digging into her hand deeply. She gritted her teeth and turned it again.
"Let me," he said, and took hold of the headband. For him, the next three turns were pretty effortless, and the bars bent slowly, steadily inward around the rope. "Damn, this really works. No wonder they don't let you have shoelaces in jail."
"This isn't why."
"I hurt you," he said, in the same tone of voice, without looking at her. "I swore I'd never do that again, and I did. I fel right for Naomi's easiest trick, turning us against each other. I should have trusted you, trusted him, and I didn't. So I'm sorry. And you have every right not to-" He was still turning the headband as he talked, but just then he broke off with a hissing gasp, and Claire saw the flash of red in his hand. Blood soaked quickly through the white fabric of Amelie's headband, but after a second's pause, he turned it again. "Not to trust me, or forgive me. But I hope you do."
"Let me see."
"It's just a cut, and if I let go, we're dead," he said. "It's fine." He kept turning the ever-tighter knot of cloth, and now Claire could hear the creaking of the bars. They were bowing strongly in the middle, and the gap was widening fast. Not only that, but she thought the welds at the top of one of the bars had weakened. This can work, she thought. It's going to work.
Then, with a sharp, snapping sound, the headband came apart in Shane's hands as he tried to crank it again. "Damn," he whispered, and looked at her. "Is it enough?"
"Let me see your hand."
He held it out, and there was a deep cut across the palm, one that made her ache to see it. Claire grabbed the tail of her shirt and pressed it against the cut, then fished around for the broken edge of the headband. The sheared metal in it was sharp, and she frayed enough of the cloth to rip a piece free to wrap around his hand. As she tied it in place, she looked up into his face.
"Do you forgive me?" he asked her. His eyes were warm and steady, and he had a little, tentative hint of a smile.
"No," she said. It made her sick to have to hurt him like this...but it was also right. It was necessary. "I want to, I really do, but you didn't trust me, Shane. You didn't believe me when I needed it. And that hurt me, Shane. It really did. It's going to take a little time and a lot of work for me to forgive you for that."
The breath went out of him as if she'd punched him, and his eyes widened. He'd just assumed she'd forgive him, she realized; she'd done that so many times before without any thought or hesitation that she'd made him think it was automatic.
But it wasn't. Not this time. Much as she wanted things to go back to normal, she needed him to understand that he'd hurt her.
From the look on his face, he did.
In the next second, he dropped his gaze and took a deep breath. "I know," he said. "I deserve it. If we get out of here, I promise, I'll make it up to you."
"Take the rope off the bars," she said, and reached forward to tip his chin up and kiss him, very lightly. She wanted to fal into his arms, but it wasn't the time, and it wasn't the message she wanted to send him. "And be ready for anything."
"Always." The cocky grin he flashed her was almost right. Almost. But there was a scared, tentative look in his eyes, and she wondered if he was thinking, as she was, We could die here, right now, and not be right with each other.
But she couldn't help that. She needed him to understand what he'd done to her, and to himself.
It was the toughest thing in the world, but she turned away from him. Myrnin was still belting out an endless chorus of whatever obnoxious song he was performing; no one was paying attention, but it was annoying enough that they were likely not paying much attention to her and Shane. When she tapped him on the shoulder, he coughed and broke off to say, "Are the two of you quite done with your sweet nothings? Because I might vomit."
"That would be perfect," Claire said. "It's been just a great day so far." She reached up, grabbed his pointed chin, and turned it to show him the bent bars at the rear of the cage. His eyebrows went sharply up. "Maybe you should rest a minute."
"Perhaps I should," he agreed. "Your shirt is torn. And you're wearing a lovely perfume, by the way."
"It's blood," she said. "Thanks. That's ever so comforting."
Myrnin crawled to the back of the cage, coming close to Shane as he did so. The two of them exchanged a look that made the hair rise on the back of Claire's neck; they were like two tigers sizing each other up, with Myrnin then leaning past her boyfriend to inspect the state of the bars. He made a soft hmmm sound and nodded, then-to Claire's surprise-pul ed Shane close and gave him an utterly unexpected kiss on the cheek.
"Hey!" Shane said, and tried to wriggle free, but then he paused, because Myrnin was whispering to him. Shane's gaze darted for Claire's, then quickly away, and when Myrnin finished, Shane nodded. When Myrnin let him go, Shane moved back-way back.
Claire mouthed, What the hell? But Shane just shook his head and looked away. Whatever Myrnin had just said to him, it was...disturbing.
Myrnin didn't pause for questions. He crawled over to where Amelie was still lying very still , and pulled her into his lap as he kneeled. "My poor, lovely lady," he said, and gently eased her fal en white-gold hair back from her ivory face. "Would you rather die in fire, or in glory? Dead is dead, of course. But I feellyou should choose, now."
Amelie hadn't moved at all. It was possible that something had gone wrong; maybe a splinter had broken off in her heart, freezing her in place, or something else had happened. A wooden stake wouldn't kil her, but it would paralyze her. And they needed her, Claire thought. Too many vampires. Even if the trick worked to loosen the bars, even if they could break them free...
"Something's happening out there," Shane said. "Heads up."
Naomi was moving forward at last, still ing the confused babble of the assembled vampires in the square. She was every bit a queen in her silver and black, and her voice was warm, sweet, and compel ing; she didn't need to bite people to convince them, Claire thought. She was persuasive enough without it. She'd only bothered to control the key players, and only for as long as she needed them. She was cold, but smart.
And now, she said, "My friends, I come before you in sorrow and pain to tellyou that Amelie, our Founder, has lost the right to rule."
No one doubted what was going on, Claire thought, but a number of vampires out in the crowd began to voice their objections. It wasn't a lot of them, but it was enough to make it clear Naomi wasn't a popular choice.
She held up a hand in a sharp, angry gesture. "Our laws are clear: the strongest rules. My sister was strong; the past is littered with those who stood against her, and lost. Her strength carried us here, to this town, to a place where we can finally begin to regain our rightful glory. But don't be mistaken: she hesitated. She corrupted herself by compromising with humans, with their laws and morals, until she forgot what it was to be a proper vampire."
There were more shouts of protest, louder now. That might not have been what Naomi expected, Claire thought; there was a growing tension in her shoulders, and the hand she still held raised seemed to shiver, just a little. "There wil be no debate on this! My sister became weak and foolish, and she was brought down by treachery. Not mine, but the treachery of a lover she trusted. She is not fit any longer to rule. Fear not; I wil burn the traitor with her, and we wil start newborn."
This time, no one shouted. There was an eerie silence. Claire honestly couldn't tel whether Naomi had won them over, or whether something else was happening-something that didn't bode well for the would-be queen. Vampires weren't that easy to read, especially not in large groups. The humans in their pen had gone very quiet and still -even Monica. Frail little Gramma Day was standing very tal , hardly leaning on her cane at all. But there was someone new standing near them, almost invisible behind Monica's tal , long-legged form...another human, not a vampire.
Jenna? What the hel was the ghost hunter doing here? Trying to get a story? Was she insane?
No. She was holding hands with someone else; a smal , slight form that Claire spotted as Flora Ramos shifted to one side.
Jenna had hold of Miranda's hand.
Miranda shouldn't be solid. But she was, very solid, though clinging to Jenna's hand as if to a lifeline in a stormy ocean. Maybe Jenna's psychic ability was feeding Miranda's own power and holding her steady in her nighttime form outside the Glass House, but from the strained, scared looks on their faces, it wasn't easy.
What the hel were they doing?
Naomi hadn't seen them, or if she had, she didn't care. She was busy trying to charm her new subjects.
"Tomorrow marks our new age, and I wil lead you into it," she continued. "You have been robbed of your rights for so long, my friends-subjected to indignities, to the constant complaints and restrictions of those who are rightfully our property. And that is over. As a token of this, I give you the first blood of Morganville. It is yours to take, as is your right as the rulers of not only this place, but allthe world." She extended her white hand to point at the people held off to the side-twenty people, including Monica.
The vampires looked in that direction. None of them moved, and then Jason sauntered out of the crowd, and said, "About damn time somebody did the right thing."
He grabbed Monica and dragged her out of the fenced-in area.
She shrieked and hit him, hard enough to make him stagger back a bit, and Claire lunged forward and yanked the wooden crossbow bolt allthe way out of Oliver's chest. She threw it hard through the bars of the cage and yel ed, "Monica, catch!"
Monica leaned over backward as Jason tried to drag her closer, and saw the bolt tumbling end over end through the air. In a move that was shockingly graceful-and probably couldn't have been repeated if she'd really thought about it-Monica grabbed it and jammed it not into Jason's heart, but between his teeth. "Bite that!" she yel ed, and kicked her way free. Her shoes, Claire realized, had silver caps on the stiletto tips. She yanked them off and held them ready. "Anybody else want some?"
Jason spit the bolt out, looking furious and embarrassed, and when he tried to grab her, she planted the heel of her shoe into his hand. It burned.
"We have to move, right now," Myrnin said. "She creates a nice distraction, but it won't last."
"It doesn't need to," Amelie said. She pulled the last inch of wood free from her chest and smiled up at him. "I find that I choose glory, my dear Myrnin."
"Most excel ent," he said. "Claire has loosened the bars, and-"
Shane held up his bleeding hand.
"And Shane helped," Myrnin amended grudgingly. "But I believe we should go now. Naomi is losing the respect of her peers. It wil not go well for her. She wil burn us out of sheer desperation."
Amelie nodded and rolled to a crouch. She studied the bars at the back of the cage, made a fist, and hit with surgical precision at the point at the top of one of the bars where the weld was weakest.
It snapped.
Her hand was burned in a bright red stripe, but she ignored it, grabbed the loose metal, and bent it in toward them with shocking strength. It, too, snapped cleanly off at the base.
"Hannah!" Shane was yel ing behind them. "Hannah, no!"
Claire glanced back and saw that Hannah-probably still following Naomi's implanted instructions-was reaching for a button that almost certainly would turn the cage into a fry basket. Underneath them, the gas jets sputtered into pale blue flame.
"Out!" Claire screamed. "Get out now!"
Amelie had hit the second bar twice without breaking it, and Myrnin joined her, kicking it with his bare foot between her blows. About three seconds later, the whole thing bent and then snapped completely free.
It wasn't a huge opening, but it was enough.
Amelie lunged out, and Myrnin after her. Shane went next and held out his hand for Claire.
But Oliver wasn't moving.
"Leave him!" Shane yel ed. Hannah's hand was hovering over the button, shaking, as if she were trying desperately to fight for their lives, and losing. "Claire, come on, now!"
She couldn't, because Oliver opened his eyes and began to move.
Claire broke loose from Shane's grasp and lunged for the vampire.
Oliver opened his eyes as she started dragging him, and he reached out to grab the bars and hold himself in place. "No," he said. "I have to-I have to pay for what I did."
"Not like this," Claire said. "Come on!"
But he wouldn't let go. The idiot wouldn't let go....
She saw Naomi's head turn; she saw her take in the fact that her prisoners were getting loose, and she glared sharply at Hannah-Who lost the internal battle, and hit the button that turned on the gas burners.
"Let go!" Claire shrieked as the flames shot up. She rolled for the hole in the cage bars and felt Shane yank her free into his arms. Her shirt was burning. He slapped the flames out.
Amelie reached past them, grabbed Oliver's burning form, and yanked him out with allher strength. The bar he'd been holding snapped in half, but he slid free.
Stil on fire.
Amelie stared down at him for a bare second with true horror written on her face, then threw herself down on him, smothering the fire with her body and her hands. He was scorched and smoldering, but alive.
Oliver's burned hands moved, caressing her shoulders, and he whispered, "Forgive me."
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. Hush."
"Stop me before I hurt you again."
"I wil ." She sat up as he closed his hands around her neck, and she drove the wooden arrow that she'd pulled from her own chest into his heart.
Oliver went limp.
But Michael and Hannah had just rounded the corner, armed and ready to kil , and there was nothing but Naomi's wil in their expressions now.
They were puppets-deadly puppets.
Amelie didn't seem to know, or care. Myrnin grabbed Hannah, avoiding the silver-edged knife as she expertly sliced it at him, and tried to throw her off-balance. "Don't hurt her!" Claire cried. "It's not her fault!"
Michael was still coming. Shane let go of her and faced off with him. "Not gonna happen, bro," he said. Michael bared fangs at him, and Shane held up the stake in his hand. "Not in this lifetime. I already had a vamp kiss me today. Not going allthe way-"
But the banter wasn't slowing Michael down, and before Claire could take a breath, Michael had rushed forward, grabbed Shane's arm, and was relentlessly bending it back until the stake rattled on the granite slab. It rolled toward the cage and caught on fire from the inferno raging inside.
At that moment, Claire saw Miranda and Jenna step into view behind them, and Jenna let go of Miranda...and the air turned darkly electric with the rush of whispers.
Even Michael paused. There was something terrifying in that sound, something wrong.
Claire blinked, because she could see shadows now in the glare of the fire-shadows that moved on their own. Human-formed, they rushed forward past Miranda. Some piled onto Hannah, and although Claire could hardly see them, they must have had an effect, because Hannah staggered and stopped trying to stab the hel out of Myrnin. He let go and backed away, and she swatted at the whirl of shadows around her, movements growing more and more frantic and erratic.
And weak.
And then she went to her knees, and fel .
The same was happening to Michael, a storm of ghost-fury around him, and as Shane backed away, Claire saw one of the shadows break loose from the angry swarm and come toward her boyfriend.
The smal figure took on shape and a glassy kind of reality as it approached him.
"Lyss," Shane whispered, "thank you."
She held out her hand; just for a moment, Shane took it. Claire saw the power that ran between them, a burst that exploded like a star in Alyssa's shadow-body and gave her, just for a few seconds, reality.
"I love you," Alyssa said, still holding on. "I just had to tellyou it wasn't your fault."
Then she let go and faded into starlight.
Gone.
Shane staggered backward, and Claire caught him. His heart was beating fast, and he felt cold despite the inferno-like temperature of the gas jets nearby.
Michael was down now, and the ghost-swarm buzzed on for a few seconds before Miranda-cal ed them back? That was what it looked like, Claire thought. The ghosts gathered like a cloak around her, crowding and whispering, and Miranda shuddered and turned very, very pale, almost translucent.
Jenna grabbed her hand, and she stabilized again.
"Bring them," Amelie said, pointing to Hannah and Michael. She stared at Jenna and Miranda for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do with them, then inclined her head just a tiny bit. It was a bow of recognition, if not approval.
"What are we going to do?" Shane asked as he bent to grab Michael under the arms. Michael moaned, but he didn't move much on his own.
"Now," Amelie said with allof hel in her eyes, "we'l find out who plays this game better."
She was a mess, Claire thought-dress torn, smudged now with soot and blood from Oliver's scorched body, hair in a tangle around her face.
But she'd never looked more savage, or more like a queen, than when she walked out from behind the cage and faced Naomi.
The whole crowd froze, a mass of a hundred or more vampires, alldeciding what to do; the humans panicking in their sacrificial corral; Jason and Monica, locked in a fashionista battle stance. Nobody moved.
Not even Naomi, who looked utterly cool and perfect. But her smile looked stark and-just for a moment-false.
"It's fitting," she said then, "that you die at the hands of your successor. Try to do it with dignity, Amelie."
"I always loved you," Amelie said. "It's a pity you were never worthy of it." Her eyes flared bright silver white, and she nodded toward Claire, who was standing nearest. "Bring them."
Claire guessed she meant Michael and Hannah, and she gestured. Myrnin carried Hannah over, and Shane dragged Michael.
Naomi laughed. "This is your army, dear sister? Pathetic."
"Is it?" Amelie extended her hand toward Michael Glass. "I'l have my fledgling back now."
Whatever hold Naomi was keeping over him, it broke with an almost audible twist; Michael grabbed his head, and for a few seconds he looked as if he might col apse-but he pulled himself upright, wiped blood from his nose, and walked past Naomi to stand next to Amelie. Next to Shane, too. His eyes flashed over Claire, as well , and she read the horror and sorrow in them. Oh, Michael.
"And you, too, Hannah." Amelie moved her pointing finger to Hannah Moses. "I free you. Join your people."
Myrnin let her down, and Hannah blinked, staggered, and whipped her head around to glare at Naomi. The blind fury in her eyes was terrifying...but then she backed off from the vampires, and she went to where Monica was holding Jason at bay with her silver-capped shoe.
Hannah said, "Put those back on. This works better." And she handed Monica the silver knife.
"What about you?" Monica asked as Jason took a big step away.
Hannah shrugged. "If he wants to come at me, he'l find I don't need anything else. Not for the likes of him."
Jason backed allthe way to the first rank of vampires behind him.
They shoved him forward, into no-man's-land.
"Now," Amelie said to Naomi, in the hiss of the burning torches and the roar of fire in the empty cage, "tel me again how you plan to rule in my town, Sister. Tel me how you wil command the obedience of allthese gathered here. Show me."
Naomi didn't lack for guts, Claire thought. She turned to the assembled vampires of Morganville, raised her hands, and said, "You know what Amelie offers. I wil give you freedom. I wil give you glory. I wil give you back the world that you deserve. allyou need to do is take one step forward, just one, and you wil be free!"
Amelie said nothing. Not one thing.
No one moved. Not even Jason, who, Claire guessed, was starting to realize just how badly he'd screwed up his newfound immortality.
Naomi's face went from impassioned to blank as the reality hit her that she had lost. Decisively.
"You missed the strong hint you were given before," Amelie said. "Many of these were present when you fel among the draug. No one bent to save you then. And none wil follow you now." Her eyes blazed silver, an awful and beautiful color, and she didn't even have to raise her voice at all.
"Kneel to me, Sister."
"No," Naomi said. She was shaking now, as if about to col apse, but she was grimly clinging to whatever it was that had driven her this far. "No. I was made to rule."
"Kneel," Amelie whispered. "I won't forgive you, but I can spare you. And I wil . But you must kneel."
"Never!"
But she did. It happened slowly as if she were being crushed under a huge, impossible weight, and Claire actually felt sorry for her as she finally col apsed to her knees, bent her head, and wept.
Amelie lifted Naomi's chin, placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and said, "We share the darkest of fathers, you and I. And I don't blame you. It's a bitter thing, this blood of ours. You'l have time to think on it. So much time, alone in the dark. A hundred years of it before your penance to me is done."
Naomi said nothing. Claire wasn't sure she actually could say anything. She covered her face with her hands, and Amelie turned away from her to look at the vampires.
"Naomi was not wrong," she said. "I have been weak. I've allowed you to be weak as well , to indulge your passions as I indulged mine, as if there were no consequences to come. But my sister's way is the old way, and it wil destroy us.... You know the fever that hunting brings on us, and the destruction it wil cause. Morganville was built to allow us to live without such risk, and with the human world encroaching on us at every turn, we cannot be weak. We cannot be indulgent." She drew in a long, slow breath. "Tomorrow, you wil learn to be stronger than you ever thought you could be. There wil be no hunting. No kil ing. You wil share my sister's penance, for as long as it pleases me. And I wil share it, too." She turned to Hannah, and to the humans who stood there. "You're free to go. And you may carry my pledge to the rest of Morganville: we wil not kil . And if we do, the penalty for us is death, just as it would be for you to kil us. Only as equals can we keep the peace. It is not in our nature, but it is the only way to survive."
Hannah nodded. So did Mayor Ramos. Monica finally slipped her high heels back on, flipped her hair back over her bare shoulders, and said, "You ruined a great party at my place, you know." And she walked off without another word.
Claire almost laughed. Almost...and then Amelie turned toward her and said, "Explain to me about these ghosts."
It was a very long conversation.
Claire, Myrnin, Shane, and Michael were taken out of Founder's Square and back to Amelie's office, where workers were already sweeping up the broken glass and boarding up the windows in preparation for morning. After a glance at the work in progress, Amelie moved them into the outer office, where her assistant cleared her desk for the Founder to sit down. A couple of Amelie's guards carried Oliver in and stretched him out on the floor. He was silent, eyes shut tightly. His burns were healing, but there were still red patches allover his face, and his clothes were more char than fabric.
"I'l give the edicts now. Bizzie, be sure they are filed tonight," Amelie said. She looked tired, and desperately pale, but there was nothing but surety in her voice. "Myrnin, I wish you to return to your work. There's much to be done to repair Morganville. We can't do it without you, and your chances of survival outside are...slender, at best."
Myrnin hesitated, then said, "I'l consider it."
"I could order you."
"Wel ," he said, and smiled a little. "You could certainly try, dear lady, but-"
Amelie shook her head and cast a look at her assistant. "Just put down that he agreed," she said. "Michael, although what you did was not of your free wil , you raised arms against your ruling queen and your sire. How do you intend to repay me? Think carefully about your answer. There's only one that wil satisfy the debt."
He shook his head. "You always get what you want." Michael sounded exhausted and kind of...wel , broken. He hadn't really looked Claire in the eyes, or Shane. "Eve's not going to forgive me. Not for any of it."
"True," Amelie said. "Yet there is no betrayal so bitter as that of a child. But I am prepared to allow you to go unpunished, under one condition."
"Which is?"
She gave him a very cold look. "I warned you," she said. "Again and again. I withheld my permission for your marriage not out of spite, but to protect you, and to protect Eve. She has suffered much, Michael, and some of it at your own hands; this is what I warned you against. Humans are fragile things, and we cannot resist the urge to exploit weakness. Already, you have felt this. So for your own good, I wil allow you to go unpunished if you wil leave your wife. Let her go, Michael. Do the kind thing."
He looked stunned-and then there was a slow-burning anger inside him that caught fire in his eyes. "You can't," he said. "You can't order me to do that."
"I am not ordering you. I am offering you the chance to avoid a heavy and very public punishment."
"Hasn't she been hurt enough? Breaking us up was what Naomi wanted!"
"For reasons that have nothing to do with mine," Amelie said. "I share a view with Hannah Moses, and many others. I believe that humans and vampires are best kept separate, for the safety of both. You have taken it too far. I am not angry at the girl, Michael; I am terrified for her. Do you understand how much danger you put her in, daily?"
He had to be thinking about seeing Eve in the hospital, Claire thought, and for a second she was sure he was going to agree, to just...walk away. And that was appal ing.
But instead, Michael met the Founder's eyes and said, "I love her." Just that, simple and sure. "So whatever punishment you have to give me, go ahead. I'm not hurting her again."
Across from him, Shane nodded and tapped his fist against his chest. Respect. Michael gave him a smal , weary smile.
"Very well ," Amelie said. She didn't look pleased. "Bizzie, please note that Michael Glass has accepted punishment as decreed by his sire."
Bizzie's pen scratched dryly on the paper. "And what is it?"
"I haven't decided," Amelie said. "But it wil be very public."
And then it was her turn, as Amelie's cool eyes fixed on her. "Claire," she said. "Always in the middle. What shal I do with you?" Claire stayed silent. She really didn't know what Amelie was thinking, or feeling; there was a lot of anger inside her, a lot of sadness, and it was always easy to target weakness, as Amelie had pointed out to Michael. When she didn't move and didn't blink, Amelie turned to Myrnin. "Wel ?"
"I need her help," he said. "Frank's off-line." Meaning dead, Claire suspected. "Without her, I'll be ages getting allof the necessary protections back online. Oh, and I'll need a brain. Something relatively undamaged. Not Naomi; I shouldn't like to have her run Morganville's systems, would you?"
"I thought you were planning to use Claire's brain," Amelie said casually, and flicked a glance back at her to see if she would flinch. She didn't.
"Very well . One wil be located for you. Claire, you wil -"
"No," Claire said. Just that. A very simple word, but it meant throwing herself off a very high cliff. "You said I could leave Morganville once. Did you mean it?"
"Claire?" Shane blinked and took a step toward her. "What are you doing?"
She ignored him, watching Amelie, who was just as intently watching her. "Did you?"
"Yes," Amelie said. "If you wish. I can arrange for you to enter the university you wished-MIT, yes?-and have advanced study with someone who is friendly to Morganville, though no longer a resident. Is that what you require of me, as payment for saving my life?"
"No," Claire said. "That's what you owe me for saving allyour lives, a bunch of times. What I require now is that you let Shane go, too. If he wants."
"Claire, this is unwise," Myrnin said. "You should not-"
"I want," Shane said, interrupting him. "I definitely want."
Claire nodded. She and Amelie hadn't yet broken their stare. It was really hard to keep doing it; there was some kind of power in Amelie that affected people even when she wasn't really trying, and it was giving Claire the shakes, and the faint outline of a headache. "I want you to get me into MIT. And for Shane to be able to go anywhere he wants. And for you to keep your word about Morganville. No kil ing. Not even to get Myrnin his brain."
"No need," Myrnin said earnestly. "There are several in the morgue who wil -"
Amelie raised her hand and cut him off instantly. "Agreed," she said. "Note it down, Bizzie." Bizzie did, without lifting her head as she wrote in quick, dry scratches on the paper. "Now. As to Oliver," she said. Her voice had taken on a softer note, with something almost tentative about it. "As to Oliver, I wil be seen as weak if I forgive him as well as Naomi. He was my most visible adversary, and the most visible knife at my back. So he must go. He is exiled from Morganville, until such time as I decide he may return."
Oliver opened his eyes and turned his head. Amelie's gaze fel on him, and for a moment, there was something so painful between them, it made Claire want to look away. It was a kind of desperate, angry longing she knew alltoo well.
And then Oliver said, "Yes, my liege." And he closed his eyes. "As you wish. I accept your punishment."
"You're alldismissed," Amelie said. "Oliver, you may gather your things. You'l leave tomorrow."
She went back into her office.
And...that was it. It felt oddly empty to Claire, where there should have been some sense of...of triumph. Of something. But she wasn't sure of anything anymore. She just knew that she had to take control of her life, now, or it would never happen.
Michael stopped next to Claire and said, "So this is where I tellyou how sorry I am. So, so sorry. Believe me, I-I can't explain."
"You don't need to," she said. "I was control ed by Bishop; I know how it felt."
Michael sighed and shook his head. "Dammit. It's not-I know you've got some issues with Shane, and that's on me, not on you. I'm sorry. Let me fix things, if I can."
She wasn't sure that was remotely possible, but she smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. It was the best she could manage. "But it's my life, Michael."
"I know," he said. "I-I just don't know what we are going to do without you."
"You and Eve? You'l be fine. You love her; everybody can see that now. I think you'd even give her up, if she asked you to, but not if they ask it.
That's real love, I guess." On impulse, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. He flinched. So did she, a little. "I'l be back. But I need-I need to have my own life for a while. Out there. Away. You know?"
He did; she saw it in his smile. "That's what Eve and I were trying to explain to you guys," he said. "Sometimes you just...need that. To be sure who you really are." His smile faded. "You didn't ask for Shane to go with you."
"I didn't," she agreed, and walked away.
Shane was waiting at the hearse. He still wasn't looking directly at her, or for that matter at Michael, as the two of them approached. He leaned against the side, arms folded, and said, "Shotgun."
"Sure," Michael said. "I'l drive. Shane-"
Shane held out a palm to stop him. "Not now," he said. "I'm not ready for any apologies. You fix it with Eve, then talk to me."
Michael nodded. That wasn't what he wanted to hear, obviously, but it was the best he could have hoped for, really. We won, she thought. Why didn't it feel any better?
"Sorry," Shane said. He seemed flushed and awkward, suddenly, as she headed for the back of the hearse. "I-look, you should take the frontand-"
"You cal ed shotgun," she said. "It's okay."
He stared after her, clearly trying to think what to say, and failing. For that matter, she wasn't sure, either.
The drive home was weirdly silent.
Miranda met them at the door, face alight. Jenna was standing behind her, looking almost as proud. "You're okay," she said. "I knew you were going to need our help."
"Actually," Jenna said, "that was me. I had a vision of you locked in that cage, and I didn't know what to do."
"I did," Miranda said. "Once I stopped being afraid of the others and really tried to talk to them, it was easier. I still have to be careful around them, but with Jenna holding on, they can't feed on me as they could before. She can help me get out of the house. It's perfect."
Jenna didn't seem to think so, but for the moment, at least she nodded.
"How's Eve?" Michael asked. Miranda's smile faded.
"She's awake," she said. "She's waiting on the couch. We told her what happened."
"Thanks. You saved our lives." Claire hugged Miranda, then followed her into the living room. Eve was sitting up on the couch, and already her bruises were loads better; the ice packs on the floor were probably part of that.
She was watching Michael with a fragile kind of hope in her eyes.
He was a few steps away, as if he didn't dare make a move. Shane came to a halt behind him and leaned against the wal , arms crossed.
Claire knew that pose; it was his bodyguard look. He was, at the moment, guarding Eve, from Michael.
But Michael didn't try to come closer.
"I hurt you," he said. "I never wanted it, but that happened. I could tellyou I didn't mean it, and that it wasn't me, and that's true, but it was me, and I know you can't forget it. I-" He spread his hands wide. "I hate myself, Eve. That's allI can say. I hate myself. And if you want me to go, I'll go. I'll do anything. Anything."
There were tears glittering in her eyes. "Miranda told me," she said. "About Naomi. About her biting you. That you didn't have a choice in what you did. But it felt real. You know?"
"I know," he said. "It felt real to me, too. And it scared the hel out of me."
"Don't ever do it again."
He smiled. "I won't," he said. "I love you, Mrs. Glass."
She opened her arms, and he hugged her, as carefully as if she were a fragile piece of crystal.
Shane cleared his throat. "Um, you should know that Amelie tried to make him give you up," he said. "Because Michael's probably not going to tellyou that. And he refused. So now he's on her bad side, again."
"Oh, baby," Eve said, and drew back to look at Michael's face. "How bad?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
And Eve's smile was ful of delight as she laid her head on his shoulder. Claire met Eve's eyes and got a very smal smile. It was a little thing, but it was a start. "I love you, too, Eve," Claire said. "I'm sorry."
"Hush up," Eve said. "Who wouldn't want to kiss him? Forgiven and forgotten."
That was more charity than Claire thought she could ever earn. Then Michael whispered something to Eve that clearly wasn't meant to be overheard, and the sense of intruding on something so precious and private was more than she could take.
Shane must have felt it, too; he pushed off the wal and went up the stairs toward his room. Claire hesitated, then headed that way.
"Hey." It was Michael's voice, soft and a little rough, and she glanced over at him as he untangled just a bit from Eve. "That thing, the one you were working on for Myrnin. There's something to it. I felt it. I thought you should know."
She was-surprised, she guessed, and a little elated. "Thanks," she said. The thing was sitting like a particularly large engine part on the dining room table, and she went back, retrieved it, and wondered, again, what exactly it would be able to do if she could really, truly make it work.
Something wonderful, maybe.
Or something awful.
She carted it upstairs, and at the hal way, she hesitated. allthe doors were shut, including Shane's. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and began walking in that direction.
It felt a bit like going to her own funeral.
Shane's door was shut. She knocked and got silence for an answer. He doesn't want to talk about it, she thought, and even though she'd wanted to keep him at a distance for now, to let him understand how badly he'd hurt her when he'd failed to trust her...it ached.
So she went to her room, feeling lost and alone. She left the lights off. The exhaustion, the chil , the despair, were suddenly...too much. She just wanted to crawl into bed and cry until she died. Tomorrow, she'd have to think about how to leave Morganville behind, how to go off to a new town, a new school, a whole new world...and somehow do it without Michael, or Eve, or even Myrnin.
And maybe even without Shane.
But she just couldn't face it now.
She dumped the machine on the dresser and didn't even bother to take her clothes off, just stripped back the covers, kicked off her shoes, and crawled beneath...and instantly felt the warmth of a body beside her, moving closer.
Oh.
Shane's arms went around her. It was slow, and tentative, and done in complete silence. He pulled her closer, and closer, until she was pressed against him, back to front. His lips pressed a slow, soft, burning kiss on the soft, tender skin at the back of her neck.
"I know you didn't ask me," he said. "I know you may not want me to go. But I'm going to Boston, and I'll be there when you need me. You don't have to say anything. I know I have to earn your trust back. It's okay."
She caught her breath, sighed, and felt her heart break allover again, in a whole new and beautiful way.