TWELVE
Claire got up early, mostly because she just couldn't sleep, and checked Shane's room. Empty, and just as messy as it had been the last time she'd seen it. The pillow was even in the exact same position, half off the bed, with the sheets twisted over the side next to it. She noticed things like where his head had been the last time he'd slept there. She walked over, like a sleepwalker, and in the gray predawn
light put her hand in the hollow where his hair had been pressed not so long ago. It was cold, of course.
She picked up the pillow and hugged it, burying her face in it, and the smell of him flooded into her, overwhelmed her, and she sank down on the narrow bed and just...collapsed. Her eyelids felt raw from lack of sleep and crying, and she felt empty. Exhausted. When her eyes were closed, all she could see was that cold, set expression on Shane's face as he'd punched that vampire over and over. It wasn't the same Shane who'd been here with her, who'd been right here in this bed, holding her, who'd critiqued new songs with her until she'd lost her breath laughing, and tickled her and kissed her and whispered how much he loved her. That Shane wasn't here, and she didn't know if he was anywhere or if he was coming back.
No. He's coming back. I'm going to get him back.
Somehow.
She wasn't thinking of anything specific, nothing on the order of a plan, but all of a sudden she had a vision of the Web site. Immortal Battles.Someone knew something, and it wasn't just Vassily and Bishop and Gloriana. Vampires weren't generally computer savvy. A few, maybe, but it was much more likely that a human was doing their Web work for them.
Maybe even someone inside Morganville, since they'd specially coded it to be invisible to Morganville's monitoring sensors.
She sat straight up in Shane's cold bed, pillow still held in her arms, and stared at the mirror on the wall. She looked awful--dark circles around her eyes, hair a mess, skin sallow. But shefelt better.
Because she had a good idea of what to do next.
Was it safe? No, definitely not. But waiting to see if Shane might change his mind was worse than torture. It was like being eaten an atom at a time.
Claire raced back to her room, grabbed clothes, showered in record time, tied her shoulder-length hair back in a sloppy knot, and was down the stairs and out the back door without even stopping for coffee, although she did take her book bag, mainly because it contained her wallet and some potentially useful vampire-repelling equipment.
Because she was going to see the wizard. Not Myrnin...thereal wizard.
"Excuse me?" Amelie said. "You barge in on me without an appointment,in my office , and you expect me to grant your request without an adequate explanation? Not like you, Claire. Not like you at all."
Amelie, regardless of the hour, looked cool and fresh and unnaturally beautiful. She was wearing pale blue today, in a straight, subdued style, although she'd condescended to put on pants. She even had on pearls. At six in the morning.
Claire stood, because she hadn't been invited to take one of the thick leather armchairs next to the desk, and, besides, she wasn't in a sitting kind of mood. Amelie's office in Founder's Square had been a little tricky to access; she didn't want to use portals, and popping in uninvited on the Big Vampire Boss (much less popping in with a bag full of antivampire equipment) probably wasn't a fabulous survival tactic,
anyway. But getting through the levels of guards and social secretaries also hadn't been easy. Amelie had hired someone to sit at a desk in front of her office, and that vampire--the nameplate on her desk said her name was Bizzie O'Meara, and she'd looked deadly serious about her job--hadn't been at all understanding about the concept of emergencies.
Amelie herself had opened the door, looking cross at all the noise, and waved Claire inside. That didn't mean, however, that Claire was welcome. Just stuck.
"Well?" Amelie said. That tone was about as close as the Founder of Morganville ever came to showing temper, at least with humans. There was an icy, cutting edge to it that left the unmistakable impression of a threat, even if the details weren't exactly specified. "Explain yourself."
"I can't," Claire said, and readjusted the book bag on her shoulder. "Not yet, anyway. I'm investigating. When I'm sure about what I know, I'll tell you. But in order to get proof, I need access to someone who's being held for crimes against Morganville."
Amelie raised her eyebrows about a millimeter. "Really. Of course, the answer to that would be no."
"But I need--"
"Prisoners who are held on that particular charge don't get visitors, Claire. Nor do they get furloughs. They are mine, for life, to do with as I wish. And this...individual...may not even be alive, for all you know."
That was scarily true. Claire hesitated, then said, "Kim."
"Kim," Amelie repeated, as if she had no idea who Claire was talking about. "Oh.Her. Well, yes, she is alive--I'd hardly execute someone so young, even if she is unpleasant and unmanageable. She remains in custody, as she will at my pleasure until she proves to me that she deserves to see daylight once again."
"She's good at doing things online that even you and Myrnin couldn't find, and that's pretty rare. I need her expertise." Claire was in danger of giving things away and she knew it; she had no idea if Frank would lie to the Founder, or even if hecould. Part of what drove him was machinery and programming; his human brain might want to lie for his son, but what about the rest of him? She couldn't be sure about anything. "I need her help to find someone."
"Does this have to do with my father?"
That was an extremely dangerous question, because it did, in a small and indirect way, but to answeryes meant spilling everything. It was ninety percentno , anyway. "Not directly," Claire said. "But it might help."
"Hmmm. And do you think she'd actually help you?" Amelie sat down at her desk, looking every inch the woman in charge. "I think you don't know this Kim very well. She loathes you, in particular, more than anyone else. Even more than me, I believe."
"Because of Shane. Yeah, I know. She likes him."
Amelie just shrugged, completely uninterested in mere mortal feelings.
"I think she'll help me on this. Please. Just let me talk to her. I do need her help."
Amelie drummed her pale-pink-painted fingernails on the desk in a slow rhythm, staring at Claire with those unsettling gray eyes. Her phone gave a low buzz for attention. She ignored it. "I don't like you assuming that you have the run of my office, Claire. Are we understood?"
"Yes."
More drumming. Claire couldn't stop glancing at those long, shapely, pale fingers, with their razor-sharp (and perfectly manicured) nails. As Amelie probably intended.
"All right," Amelie said. "I'll give you access for five minutes. If you can get that person to agree, I will let her help you on this...project. But she cannot leave her confinement. Are we understood?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Amelie said. "You're not going alone." She pressed a button on the phone, which had stopped buzzing, and said, "Bizzie. Please get Michael Glass to my office immediately."
"Ma'am," Bizzie's disembodied voice said. "Oliver is calling for you."
"Oliver can wait. I want Michael here. Send a car."
"Yes, Madam Founder."
"You, Claire," Amelie said, lifting her finger from the phone button, "will sit and be quiet. I am greatly annoyed with your behavior. I realize that it is all the rage among young people to defy authority, but I do not tolerate it. Not in my presence."
"It's not--" Oh, what was the use? Claire dropped her book bag to the floor and sat, folding her arms. She knew that looked defensive. She didn't care. "I'm not defying you. It's just that I want to be sure of things before I tell you about them."
"That's quite an interesting assumption to make, as I may not require the gift of your expertise," Amelie said. "For instance, I am well aware that my father, Bishop, is missing. I am also aware that several vampires once loyal to him have been acting oddly, and several who were not are now missing. I am aware that Gloriana's presence in this town is somewhat...unsettling for many, although perhaps not for Oliver." She sounded just a shade sharp on that last part. AboutOliver ? Weird. "Has Gloriana, perhaps, decided to practice her wiles on your Shane, then?"
That wasway too close to the truth. "Oliver says she's not interested in human boys that way." That was true. It just didn't quite answer the question. "She went after Michael; that's what Eve said."
"Yes, I'm aware of that. But it seems to have passed without any significant bloodshed." More fingernail drumming. When Claire glanced at Amelie's face, she saw the vampire was staring out her tinted windows, which minimized the rising sun. There was a distant expression on her face. Amelie could look almost as young as Claire herself sometimes; she'd probably been only about twenty when she'd become what she was now. But just now, she looked her actual age, with all the weight of centuries on that smooth, unlined face. "You're well aware how dangerous this town is, Claire. But what you may not understand, not fully, is that it is held together by will. My will. Without my influence, vampires would fight for control, and humans would be slaughtered in the streets. Not all my kind have the vision to understand that such behavior is...counterproductive to the long-term survival of my species. Like some
of your own contemporaries, younger vampires want what they want, when they want it, regardless of consequences." She paused for a moment. Claire didn't know if she was supposed to say anything, so she kept quiet. "I've been struggling to educate them for many years. And, in truth, I'm growing tired of the struggle. I remember what it was like when I had no responsibilities, no worries. And that is beginning to seem quite good to me."
That seemed ominous. "What...what do you mean?"
Amelie's gray gaze came back to her, but the expression didn't change. "Morganville is an experiment," she said. "One I've fostered and encouraged for a long time, in human terms, and even for a significant period in vampire measures. But it doesn't seem to me that my kind have learned much about living among humans productively. Or that humans have learned how to tolerate our differences. Oliver thinks it's a fool's errand, you know. And he may be right about that."
"It's not," Claire said. "I know there are problems; there are always problems. People--people can't even live with each other without violence and problems, much less with you. But somehow we manage. Wecan manage."
"I've always thought so," Amelie said softly. "And I've fought for that principle. I've bled for it. I've buried loved ones for it. But what if I'm wrong, Claire? What if Morganville is a folly of arrogance? You know as well as I that there are humans who will never accept living with us. And vampires who will never accept living with humans. What are we fighting so hard to prove?"
Claire didn't know how they'd gotten to this; it felt completely wrong to be having this conversation. She wasn't old enough; she didn't understand where it was coming from. And hearing thatAmelie had doubts...that hurt. And it scared her.So many things crashing down. Maybe she wasn't the only one with that feeling, she realized with a start. That was a new and entirely unpleasant sort of thought.
It actually made her blink.
She fell back on something her parents had taught her. "Anything worthwhile is worth fighting for," Claire said. "Not always with guns and stuff. But with...taking a stand. Right?"
Amelie seemed to focus on her again. For a few seconds she regarded her, frowning, and then smiled just a little. "So I recall," she said. "Not all wars are waged with bullets and swords, indeed. Some are wars of wills and ideas. It's good we both remember that." The smile faded. "But not all ideas win the war, and not all wills are strong enough. Darkness can descend so easily."
"It won't here," Claire said. "We just have to be stronger."
Amelie inclined her head, but Claire couldn't tell if it was agreement. She frowned again, this time at the phone, and after a hesitation, pushed the intercom button. "Bizzie?" she asked. "Have you confirmation that Michael is in the car?"
The answer came back immediately. "No, Founder. The car is there, but the others in the house report that Michael Glass isnot there."
"Not there," Amelie repeated. "Very well. Call his cell phone. I believe he has one of those. I will wait."
Bizzie left the speaker on as she dialed. It rang and rang on the other end, and then Michael's recorded voice said, "Michael Glass's phone. Leave a message," over the sound of his guitar. It cut off. Bizzie
said, "Madam? No answer."
"I can hear that," Amelie said. She looked at Claire. "Do you know where he is?"
"No," Claire said. She felt her stomach tightening unpleasantly. "He--We all went home last night. I don't know why he's not there." But she did. Deep down, she did. Michael had tried something, something that had got him in trouble--and, worse, he hadn't even told anyone.
Eve was going to kill him. And if Eve didn't, Claire decided she'd be next in line. The idea of Michael going missingnow made her feel as shaky as if the earth under her feet had moved. Michael was a rock; even the first time she'd met him, as a half ghost, he'd been the calmest and most capable one of the group.
But this time, if he'd gone off on his own, he'd made a mistake. A big one.
Amelie must have read something on her face, because she said, "Have my car brought around, Bizzie. The usual complement of guards."
"Yes, Founder."
Amelie rose to her feet. Claire just stared at her in confusion, until she said, "I am, of course, going with you. And you will tell me where you believe Michael might have gone, because I am not losing yet another of my people to this mystery."
Claire resisted the urge to say,Yes, Founder , and silently--in defeat--followed her to the limousine.
Byusual complement , Amelie must have meant "more vampires than a Dracula convention" because besides Amelie and her driver, there were two silent, suit-wearing guards in sunglasses, and a heavily tinted town car carrying four more that followed along. Amelie ignored their presence--but then, she'd grown up in an age when servants were no more than moving furniture--and leaned forward, hands clasped. She still sat like a lady, knees together and demurely angled, even though she was wearing pants. "Now," she said. "You will tell me everything you declined to tell me earlier. We are past the amusingly amateur portion of this problem. If you know where my father is, or even suspect you have a clue, no matter how small, youwill tell me. "
Claire felt sick, hot, and trapped--mostly because shewas trapped, no doubt about it. She squeezed her eyes shut and said, "If I tell you everything, you have to make me a promise."
Ominous silence, broken only by the faint hiss of the road noise beneath the car. Claire had no idea where they were heading, and realized that she'd just done the same thing Michael had: she'd taken off without letting anyone know where she was going. She could disappear just as quickly. She risked a look at Amelie, and saw the same expectant, waiting expression. No anger yet.
Amelie smiled, very slightly--in fact, if Claire hadn't known her as well as she did, she'd never have seen it at all. "You're always asking for promises, Claire. Sometimes that seems charming, as if you simply expect me to be honorable enough to keep them."
"How about today?" Amelie inclined her head. That wasn't a yes, though; Claire could see it in the cold glitter of her eyes. "It's just that if Shane...if Shane's got anything to do with this, it's because he's been
glamoured. By Gloriana. It's not his choice. And he'd never, ever help Bishop. You know that." It came out in a rush, and even to her ears, it sounded incoherent.
Amelie straightened, settled back in her seat, and said, "From the beginning."
Claire tried. She thought about holding some things back, but the truth was that it was all going to come out sooner rather than later, and lying to Amelie's face...well, that wasn't a good strategy. Amelie was understanding sometimes. Still, Claire cringed when she had to mention Shane. All she could think about was how bad it had been when he'd been accused of the murder of one of Amelie's own, when he'd been trapped and condemned and she'd felt so useless to save him.
Here it was again--that black, swelling, suffocating sense of utter helplessness.
Amelie made no comments and had no physical reactions to what Claire said. She looked not at Claire, but at the scenery beyond the tinted window--visible to her eyes, presumably, though Claire felt like she was confined in a crowded black box--while she listened. When Claire finally paused, feeling short of breath, Amelie inclined her head slightly.
"Thank you," she said. "A very honest accounting. I had wondered how much you'd try to conceal from me. I'm pleased you didn't attempt it."
Claire squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. "You knew."
"Of course I knew," Amelie said. "Most things, at least. The Web site is new, and therefore of great interest; I have operatives tracing its origins now, though you are entirely correct that a more expert approach will be needed. But the role of Gloriana and Vassily--these things were already known to me and to Oliver."
Oliver. Of course. "He was keeping an eye on her for you," Claire realized. "That's why he was hanging around her."
"Gloriana believes it is due to her own charm, of course, but Oliver is not so easily manipulated as that. He knows her too well, and has good reason to be wary of her and her motives." Amelie finally looked at her, unsmiling. "How my father is involved in all this is somewhat of a mystery, but it will be solved."
"Do you know where he is? Bishop?"
"No." Amelie looked away again. "One thing he's very good at is hiding when he feels threatened. He's within the town's borders. Alerts would have gone off if he'd crossed the boundaries. We'll find him, even should he be buried in the dirt like some hunting spider." She sounded bitter and cold at the end, and Claire shivered a little. "When he's found, I will ensure that this particular danger to us doesn't return. You have my word on that."
The car slowed, and Amelie nodded to one of her guards, the one sitting on her left side. He nodded back, and as the limousine drifted to a smooth stop, he immediately opened the door and exited. Claire couldn't have tried to get out even if she'd wanted to; there were two guards between her and the outside.
And Amelie didn't move. She sat, composed and erect, until the first man looked back into the car and said, "Clear, Founder." Then there was a sudden scramble from the guards on both sides, and Claire and Amelie were left sitting across from each other, temporarily alone. Amelie began to slide toward the exit.
"Wait," Claire said. "Shane."
Apart from a very small hesitation, Amelie didn't respond to that at all. She simply continued on her way. A guard offered her a hand, and she left the car in a graceful stride.
Claire gulped air and scrambled out to follow.
There was a moving wall of black-suited vampires around Amelie, escorting her away from the idling limousine and up a covered walkway leading to......
Claire blinked. She knew this building. She'd been in it at least five or six times, mostly to add or drop classes, pay fees--that kind of thing. It was the Admin Building of Texas Prairie University--closed, of course. Nobody around.
Amelie's guards had keys.
Inside, they didn't proceed the way Claire had always been, toward the main processing area; instead, Amelie turned left, down a paneled hallway filled with the fading photographs of university presidents, donors, and not-very-famous alumni. It ended in what looked like a blank wall, except for an ornate brass lock plate.
This one Amelie herself unlocked, with a key she kept in the small clutch purse she carried. She didn't bother to open it; she had people to do that for her. She merely handed it over. Claire trailed her into the next room and was surprised when only two of the guards came in behind her. One of them shut the door, which sounded like it locked with a snap.
They were in a plain concrete room with a white table that was, as far as Claire could tell, bolted to the floor, as were the two chairs on either side of it. There was a big steel ring locked onto the table on one side. Apart from that, it couldn't have been more blank and boring.
Only two chairs. Claire wondered if she was supposed to sit across from Amelie, but no, that didn't make any sense unlessshe was the one being questioned. Unfortunately, that wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.
It was a guilty relief to hear the sound of metal grinding and doors opening and closing somewhere else. Finally, a thick silver door on the far wall slid open and a guard came in, wearing not a black suit, but a black knit sports shirt and blue jeans. There was a hard-to-see emblem embroidered in the same color on the shirt. Amelie's Founder symbol.
He was a vampire--that much was obvious from the unnatural shade of his skin--but other than that, he looked boringly mundane. An all-American kind of guy, no different from half the boys Claire went to college with daily. Neatly cut brown hair, a friendly and professional smile, a confident set to his expression. He looked more like a personal trainer than a prison guard.
He stepped aside, and Kim shuffled in.
Claire drew in a sharp breath. She remembered Kim way too well; she'd been a lying, traitorous bitch, but she'd started out okay enough. She'd always had a kind of bizarre charm, but there was no trace of that now. Her face was pale, set, and expressionless; Claire saw faces like that in the hospital when she'd visited her dad after his last heart attack. People who looked like that were focused on just getting
through the minute, the hour, the day. They had no future and no hope of one.
Kim's hair had grown out long around her shoulders, and part of it was still dyed Goth black, but the rest was dirty blond. Her visible piercings were no longer so visible, even in her ears, because she wore no jewelry at all. She was wearing a knit shirt like Mr. All-American, only hers was in bright yellow. The embroidery on the front read prisoner in giant black letters, with Amelie's symbol up in the corner. Claire guessed it was the same on the back. She wore stretchy, yoga-style pants and sandals.
Her fingernails were short, and two were bleeding from where she'd bitten too deep. No funky nail polish now. Kim looked sad and alone and more than a little frightened, especially when she saw Claire and Amelie.
She fixed on Claire, though, and took a step forward. Her guard tapped her on the shoulder gently, and Kim looked away and went still. He guided her to the chair. Without a word, she sat and put her hands on the table.
He pulled out a set of handcuffs and hooked one to her right wrist and one to the steel ring on the table. Then he stepped back and turned into a parade-rest statue near the metal door.
Kim kept staring down. Where was all that bad attitude she'd displayed from the beginning? Or the bitterness? Or the crazy--that was what Claire remembered her best for at the end. Now she was just...empty.
Amelie said, "Claire, sit down. You wanted five minutes. You have them. I suggest you use them well."
She hadn't wanted it like this, with the two of them surrounded by staring, listening witnesses. Claire was suddenly very glad she'd spilled the beans to Amelie in the limo, because having this conversation while trying to hold all that inside would have been very difficult. Probably impossible.
Kim didn't look up even when Claire sat down. She looked cold. "Kim?" No response. "Kim, you remember me, right?"
Kim looked up then, and her eyes were hot and angry. "Of course I do. Who forgetsyou ? How's Shane, by the way? Getting tired of schoolyard crushes yet?"
The sudden flare of rage made Claire flinch, but after a glance at the man standing behind Kim's chair, she wet her lips and continued. "Shane's in trouble," Claire said.
"Good." Kim sat back in her chair, as far as the cuffs would allow. "Hope it's fatal for both of you this time."
That was harsh, even for Kim. Claire was surprised. She could understand Kim's anger toward her, but why Shane? He'd always been the focus of her stalkerish obsession. "You don't mean that," Claire said.
"Oh, I completely do. I've had therapy, you know. I'm in touch with my feelings and crap." Kim raked untidy hair back from her face with her left hand and laughed. It sounded raw and aggressive. "He never cared about me; I know that now. So screw him. And you. Thanks for dropping in." She glanced backward, at her guard. "I'm ready to go back now, sir."
"Kim," he said, still smiling. He had dimples, even. "Her five minutes aren't up yet. Be nice."
Kim faced Claire again, once again back to that thousand-yard stare and closed-down expression.
"There's a Web site that's operating," Claire said. "Running encrypted video. Do you know anything about it?"
"Because I did the whole encryption thing first?" Kim shrugged. "Why would I? They haven't given me a computer to play with, you know. Said I had to earn one. Screw that. I'm not playing the games to get what I want."
"You were working with someone outside Morganville, though. You were planning to make a deal for a TV show. That was what all the streaming video was for. I think whoever it was found another...source. And another program."
"Good for them." Dismissive words, but Kim was eyeing her with a little more interest. "What kind of show are they running?"
"Pay-per-view," Claire said. "Extreme fighting."
"Withvampires ?" Kim actually laughed. "Dude, that's brilliant. I should have thought of that. Would have been a lots-better show than you sickeningly cute couples playing house and getting your wild thing on."
Claire wanted to smack her--badly. But she took a deep breath and said, with unnatural calm, "I need to know how to break the encryption and figure out how to trace it to the source. I figured you'd know."
"Sure, I know, if it's the same encryption I put together," Kim said, and leaned back in her chair. "But why should I tell you?"
"Because it's the right thing to do?"
Kim rolled her eyes. "Wow, you actuallyare an idiot. Do you think the vamps are going to do the right thing once you point the finger at whoever's behind it? You think this is all going to end with somebody getting a slap on the wrist and a fine? I was lucky, you know. Lucky to still be breathing.People are going to die. You need to get that through your head. It isn't about theright thing. It's about the thing that gets you something. If you think the world works any other way, you're just as stupid as you look."
Claire said, "You know, you've got something wrong."
"What is that? I swear, you're more clueless than a Care Bear."
"You think that because I want to do what's right, because I want to make things better, I'm weak," Claire said. "Or that I'm stupid. But I'm not. It takes a lot more strength to know how bad the world is and not want to be part of that, give in to it. And Ido know, Kim. Believe me."
Kim's sneer faded as Claire stared at her very steadily. Then she looked away. "You should say that after you spend a few months in this hellhole."
For the first time, Amelie stirred from where she stood at the back of the room. She advanced to the table, leaned forward, and rested her palms on the flat surface. Her gray eyes were intent and level on Kim, and again Kim couldn't hold her stare.
"You might bear in mind that in earlier times, young lady, your crimes would have meant you died in a particularly horrible way, with your screams ringing in the ears of decent folk," Amelie said. "You're kept in a clean cell, with decent if unremarkable food. You receive reading material and have television. In what way is that ahellhole ? What can someone of your age possibly know of survivinghell ?" There was a keen edge to her voice that Claire had rarely heard. "The man guarding you today knows of hell, very well. He can tell you what it was like to survive in a prison camp with nothing to eat but crawling insects and rotten bread, foryears , until one night his life was taken--"
"Saved," the guard in the knit shirt said.
"Saved, by one of us," Amelie finished softly. "Askhim about the kindness of your treatment, and then speak to me or him ofhellholes. " She let that sink in for a moment before she said, in a brisk and businesslike tone, "Now, you wanted to know what helping us means for you. That entirely depends on what you can do forus. Can you reverse the encryption and tell us the location where these...people are staging and broadcasting their fights?"
"Yeah," Kim said. She picked at a rough spot on the table with a short, well-chewed fingernail. "I could do that. But not for free."
Amelie didn't seem too surprised. "Your price?"
"I want out of here."
"That will not happen. And you know it will not happen."
Kim smiled down at her lap--a secret, cynical kind of expression that made Claire feel a little tingle of alarm. "Oh, I don't know. You want to keep Morganville's big secret, right? How are you going to do that with millions of people watching vampires flashing fangs at each other on pay-per-view? Maybe most don't believe it, but maybe some do; maybe somebody decides to come check it out, like a news crew. Then where do you run?"
"Farther and faster than you can, Kim. You'd do well to remember that."
Kim said nothing. Amelie, after exchanging a look with Claire, shook her head. "Take her back to her cell, please. We're getting nowhere."
"Wait!" Kim said as the vampire behind her stepped forward. "Wait. You want these people, right? I can find them. I'm probably the only one in Morganville who has the skills!"
"I doubt that, but you are the one I have readily available."
"Then come on. What do I get for it?"
Amelie's eyes turned red--a muddy, rippling crimson that sent prickles of warning across Claire's skin, like the feeling before lightning strikes. "You get to survive this meeting with me, little girl. And I warn you, that possibility is fading with every unpleasant word you utter. Be careful."
"You wouldn't do it. You're likeher ." A flick of Kim's eyes included Claire in her scorn. "Full of talk, short on action."
Amelie smiled, very slowly. It was one of the most unsettling things Claire had ever seen her do...as if a
mask had been pulled away and somethingterrible looked out of her eyes. Kim saw it, too. Her handcuffs clicked as she tried instinctively to draw away. "Oh, child," Amelie said. "I have worked very diligently to achieve that image, because a ruler should be seen as just and fair and merciful. But you wouldnot like to see me take action. I am, after all, my father's daughter. Now. You will give me the help I require to trace this signal that Claire has found, and you will be grateful that I choose to allow you to continue in your presently comfortable state. Once you have demonstratedresults , we may discuss an improvement in your conditions."
Amelie rarely exerted the power that Claire knew she had, but she felt it now--heavy, suffocating, full of dread. It pressed down on everyone in the room; she even saw the other vampires shift uncomfortably.
But mostly it was directed at Kim, who crumbled like a sugar cookie. "Okay," she said, after about a second's delay of false bravado. "But I can't do it in here. I need access to the Internet."
"We can arrange that."
"And I need to get out of here. Just for a little while." Kim looked up, and Claire saw that, incredibly, she wasstill trying to bargain. Maybe she wasn't quite the sugar cookie, after all. "A day. Just a day. I need--I need to see the sun."
Amelie didn't move, and the dark atmosphere didn't let up, but finally she gave a regal nod and stepped back. It felt like a storm had passed without breaking, and Claire instinctively took in a deep breath, and heard Kim do the same. "A day," Amelie said. "First, you locate the source of this transmission for us. Then you will be supervisedclosely on your furlough. Mr. Martin will go with you--" Mr. Martin, the vampire standing behind Kim, inclined his head. "And Claire."
"Wait," Claire said, at the same time as Kim. They both had identical tones of alarm. Claire kept talking. "You're making me stay withher ?"
"You don't like her," Amelie said. "And therefore you won't give her any...breaks, I think you call them. At the first sign that Kim is misbehaving, tell Mr. Martin, if he doesn't know already, and she will be immediately returned to custody."
"But I--"
"No arguments," Amelie said. "The deal is done. Mr. Martin, arrange for the girl to have her Internet access, but I want it to be closely monitored. You are not to leave her for a moment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Founder." Mr. Martin inclined his head. "What if she's unable to complete the task?"
"She has an hour," Amelie said. "If she can't solve the problem within that time frame, I no longer need her."
Kim, tough-chick 'tude or not, flinched at that pronouncement. There was no mistaking what it meant. "An hour's not enough time!"
"I sincerely hope you're wrong," Amelie said. "Let's call it...motivation."
Claire felt an unexpected sense of sympathy for Kim's stricken expression.... She'd been there not long ago. She'd been under threat of death, or having her friends and family suffer, if she wasn't able to live up
to Amelie's expectations. It wasn't a comfortable place, especially if you weren't sure you could get it done.
But she just couldn't sympathize much in the end. Kim was a cold-blooded sociopath, at least as far as Claire was concerned, and she'd never shown any sign of remorse. No point in empathizing with someone who'd turn around and stick a knife in your back, with a smile.
Claire felt the minutes ticking away as the details were dealt with...the computer located, the Internet access enabled and hooked up, the security protocols negotiated. Then, finally, Mr. Martin moved out of the way and Kim sat down in front of the keyboard.
She drew in a breath, put her fingers on the keys, and said, "Okay, what's the URL?"
"ImmortalBattles-dot-com."
Kim typed it in, then flipped to a view of the code, then started up a new coding window.
"What are you doing?" Amelie asked.
"Running a trace route."
"And that is how you will find them."
Kim laughed. "No way in hell. A six-year-old could figure out a way around that. But it'll give me a starting point, and I can work from that."
Amelie settled back in her chair. Mr. Martin leaned over Kim's shoulder, watching the screen intently. If he didn't know what he was looking at, he gave a good imitation of it. Kim cast him doubting looks from time to time, and once he asked her to stop and explain what she was doing. She did it in quiet, calm tones, apparently creeped out by having him hovering so closely.
Claire sipped a cold drink that had been delivered by one of Amelie's guards and waited. She checked her watch from time to time, feeling useless and increasingly worried; every minute they sat here was another minute that something bad might be happening to Shane or to Michael.
She was also aware, though she didn't particularly want to be, that the minutes were counting down for Kim, who was looking paler with every tick of the second hand. Her fingers worked fast, blurring motion, then stopped and hovered indecisively as she leaned closer to the screen.
Thirty minutes. Forty. Forty-five. Claire drained her glass and felt the tension growing in the room. Mr. Martin, hanging over Kim's shoulder, glanced up at Amelie, who gave him some imperceptible signal Claire couldn't read. It probably wasn't good, at least for Kim.
Although Amelie never so much as glanced at a watch, it was exactly sixty minutes by Claire's timepiece when the Founder said, in precise and soft tones, "Your time is up, Kim."
Kim froze, then looked up with glittering eyes through the tangled hair that had fallen over her face. She shoved it back, and for the moment, at least, she looked defiant and unafraid. "Yeah? Well, good thing I'm done, then."
"Get up."
Kim did, and Mr. Martin moved her away from the computer and fastened handcuffs on her again, looping them through a solid ring set in the concrete wall. He studied the screen of the computer and said, "I have an address here. And a map."
"It had better be accurate," Amelie said. "I won't look kindly on misdirection."
"Do I get my day outside?" Kim said.
"Indeed, though you may not enjoy it," Amelie said. "You're coming with us. Mr. Martin, you're in charge of her. Claire, you also have responsibility. Are we clear on this?"
"Yes," Claire said. Mr. Martin nodded.
"Then put her in less...attention-getting clothing," Amelie said. "I have calls to make."
"Now, this is more like it," Kim said, once they were all inside the limousine again. It was a tight fit, with Mr. Martin and Kim added to Amelie, Claire, and the two other guards, but Amelie managed to arrange for her own personal space. It was the rest of them who were crowded. Kim was in the middle, but she didn't seem to care; she was busy running her hands over the plain black hoodie she'd been given to put on and the blue jeans. The Skechers had to be hers, from before; they looked ragged, well-worn, and had tribal patterns of black thorns and roses all over them, hand-painted. She'd tied her hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band. No fancy hair things available, Claire guessed, or at least none Kim wanted to wear. All in all, she made it look reasonably her again. "I wish we could see out."
"Nothing much to see," Claire said. "It's Morganville. Rusty buildings, flat desert, dusty, tumbleweeds. You know the drill."
"You'd be surprised how good that sounds when all you've seen for months are gray walls. So, how's Eve?"
"She's fine." Oh, sheso didn't want to talk about her friends with Kim, of all people. "And she doesn't want to see you."
"Call her and see."
"No." The last thing Claire wanted was for Eve to get sucked back into the black hole of Kim. That hadn't turned out well for anyone last time.
Kim laughed dryly. "She still dating that vamp hottie Michael?"
"Would you please, please,please shut up now?"
"I guess that's a yes. He's going to dump her, you know. Sooner or later."
Claire felt stung, mostly because she'd wondered about that herself, guiltily, from time to time. "No, he's not! They're--they're getting married." She blurted it out, and Amelie's head turned toward her with eerie, machinelike precision.
"Are they." It didn't sound like a question. It also didn't sound like Amelie was pleased with that particular news. "I'll have to have a chat with Michael. He's failed to inform me of his plans."
Kim smirked. Claire fought the urge to hurt her, but mainly because there wasn't any room to get in a good punch.Maybe, she thought,Shane is rubbing off on me with this prone-to-violence thing. Dammit! She should have thought before she said anything about that; she should have known better. Michael and Eve weren't exactly the most popular couple among the vampire side of town, much less the human side; it made sense that Amelie wouldn't be completely happy about the idea--and that Michael wouldn't have come right out with it to the head vampire, either.
Kim had goaded her into saying it, just as Kim manipulated everyone around her and always had. Claire made herself breathe slowly, through her nose, trying to calm down. She had to think clearly and go slowly. Otherwise, Kim would drive her into saying other things, worse things. There were all kinds of secrets Kim didn't need to be part of, starting with...well, everything.
Amelie ignored the two of them and held out her hand to the guard seated next to her. Without a word, he took a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it over. She dialed, waited, and said, "We are on our way. You have the address, yes? I will expect you there. And, Oliver? Come prepared for a fight. We're going to wipe out this nest of vipers. There can be no delay. Things have gone far enough."
But what about Shane?Claire reached out toward Amelie but didn't touch her; she didn't dare try. As it was, a guard grabbed her wrist and held it there in midair, frozen. He didn't hurt her, but there was no doubt that he could have. "Stop," he told her. "Think what you're doing."
"Amelie," Claire said. "I told you, Shane's not part of this. Please don't--"
She didn't take the phone away from her mouth. She looked directly at Claire with no expression in her iron gray eyes and said, "Detain everyone. We will determine guilt or innocence on-site." She handed the phone back to her flunky, who turned it off and put it away. "Why do you have your hand out toward me, Claire? Do you believe that I would harm your...friend, without proof?"
Actually, Clairedid believe that. She'd seen Amelie go full contact before, and she knew that she wouldn't hesitate to sentence Shane if there was even a suspicion that he was willingly part of all this stuff.
Not reassuring.
And right on cue, Kim was there to articulate all that terror in her head. "She's going to kill them all," Kim said. "And you and me, we're the ones to blame for that. If Shane's still there, she'll go all Red Queen on him, too. Off with his head. Talk about poetic justice."
That was exactly what Claire was afraid of, and what she was afraid to put into words. Trust Kim to blurt it out, make her worst fears real. Amelie didn't confirm or deny any of it. She looked toward Mr. Martin, who took Kim's hand in his and said, "Enough." He sounded quiet and not especially threatening, but Kim shivered. Claire felt it. "Be quiet, now. Enjoy your hours of freedom."
"You call this freedom? I'm trapped in a town car with a bunch of fanged prison guards. Oh, andher ." Kim bumped shoulders with Claire, not too gently. "The Team Vampire mascot."
"I actually am going to punch you," Claire said.
"Yeah, I am absolutely terrified, Danvers. Without Shane around to fight your battles, do you think you
can take me?"
Claire turned and stared Kim full in the face. "Yes," she said. "I'm pretty sure I can."
She meant every word of it, and Kim must have decided to back off--or Mr. Martin's presence decided it for her. They lapsed into a heavy silence as the limousine drove and drove and drove...and, finally, to Claire's simultaneous relief and terror, began to slow down.
Claire took out her phone. Amelie gave her a sharp look. "I'm only calling Eve. I want her to know I didn't just disappear. Like Michael and Shane. You know how she is."
Amelie looked bemused and nodded. "Do not tell her where we are."
"I don't actuallyknow where we are." Claire dialed. Eve picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?" Her voice was tense and madly uncontrolled. "Michael?"
"No, it's Claire--"
The yell blasted out of the cell phone loud enough to echo around the inside of the car. Claire yanked it away from her ear, and she could still hear very clearly what Eve was shouting. "What the hell are you doing? Where are you? You can't just run off and leave me and not even leave anote . My God, you're as bad as the boys. How do I know the vamps haven't dragged you off and snacked on your--?"
"Eve," Claire said, yelling into the phone. "Eve!Shut up! I'm with Amelie!"
Silence, and then much lower in volume, "Oh. Sorry."
Claire put the phone back to her ear. Next to her, Kim was smirking again. Claire sincerely wanted to put her shoe through that smile, but again didn't. She took a deep breath. "We may have found out where the fights are being held. I'll call you if Michael's here, okay?"
"Okay," Eve said. "Uh, you're being careful, right?"
"Sure." She glanced around at the heavily fanged contingent. "Safe as houses."
"I've been in some pretty shaky houses."
"I'll be fine. Call you later."
The car had come to a complete stop now. Amelie looked out through the heavily tinted windows. "There's very little cover out there," she said. "Move quickly. When we stop, get out and go directly to the shade. We may not have time for protective clothing. I assume all of you can handle the sun for a limited period."
Her guards murmured affirmations; then sunlight lanced in, bright and harsh, as the vampire guard threw open the door. He was out and moving fast, followed by the second guard. Mr. Martin practically yanked Kim's arm out of its socket dragging her from the car, and somehow, although she started moving as quickly as she could, Claire was the last one out of the limousine. Amelie was just ahead of her, though.
It was a good thing they were toward the back.
Claire was never sure exactly how it happened until much later. Right then, it was impressions: a big, empty desert area. A flapping, rusting tin barn, apparently abandoned, with a thick area of shade under a leaning awning that probably was used to park cars or something. The vampire guards in their black suits heading for it at top speed, with Mr. Martin slowed down by a foot-dragging Kim, and Amelie holding back, probably to stay closer to Claire.
And then the explosion.
It hit her as a hard, hot shove, and then she was down and rolling across the sand, and then the massive roar rattled in her ears and she saw the plume of fire and smoke, and finally,finally she realized that the building they'd been headed toward, the one Kim had led them to, had justblown up.
Claire sat up, staring. The tin building was collapsing in on itself, burning, sagging--a wreck. The awning, the one where the guards had been headed, was utterly gone, destroyed. Flames and smoke hissed straight up in a black-and-red column, and the wind caught it and blew it out in a plume that drifted west. There were pieces of wrecked metal and junk everywhere, still falling like flaming rain, and Claire covered her head as a thick piece of sharp-edged siding slammed down into the ground a few feet away.
Amelie lay on her side about ten feet closer to the explosion site. Claire got to her feet, weaved around a little, and shook off the lingering dizziness.
Amelie moved before she reached her--a twitch at first, and then she rose to a standing position in one unnaturally fast, smooth motion. There was blood running down her face. More cars were pulling up now, black and heavily tinted. Oliver got out of the first one, dressed in a heavy coat and hat, took one look at the burning building, and then moved in a blur. He reached Amelie, and when he paused, his hands were on her shoulders. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped up the blood; the cut had already closed. Claire saw the look on his face for a few seconds, and then it smoothed out into a cynical neutrality.
"Functional?" he asked her. She nodded. He let go, then stripped off his coat and hat and put them on her. "Get to the car. You should not be here."
"You think I will run from cowards who try to kill me from a distance?" Amelie laughed, and it sounded wild and strange to Claire's blast-deadened ears. "You are my second in command, not my bodyguard."
"Your bodyguards are indisposed," he said. "And at least one is not coming back. I can see parts of him in several places. Don't be foolish. Be safe."
Kim and Mr. Martin were getting up now. Kim was holding her arm like it hurt, and she was covered in ashes.
Amelie focused in on her with narrowing eyes. Oliver's head turned, too. Claire couldn't see his expression, but she saw the tension gathering in his shoulders.
"How very odd," Amelie said. "She begs for a day off and leads us here. To our deaths, presumably." She gestured to Mr. Martin. "Bring her here. Now."
Kim clearly didn't want to come; she was staggering all over the place, but Claire didn't think she was dazed. Just worried about her chances. "Wow," Kim said. "That was intense." Her lips curled into a
vicious little smile. "Guess we got the right address after all."
Amelie didn't seem to move quickly, but suddenly she had hold of Kim and was pulling her very, very close. Amelie's eyes had gone an intense, scary white that Claire had seen only once or twice. Kim stopped smiling and began to look very worried.
"Someone tipped them off," Amelie almost whispered. "And you, my dear Kim, are the most likely suspect. Convince me you didn't do this."
"Why would I?" Kim shot back. "I've got everything to lose. You'd kill me if I did that!"
"Yes. I would. I still might. Explain how this could have happened, if you didn't betray me."
Kim hesitated, licked her pale lips, and then said, "They could have been watching for any trace activity. Didn't even have to be a live person; it could have been a program. A trip wire. Once it knew I'd found the address, it could have sounded an alert. They'd clear out once they knew they'd been found."
"And the bombs? Surely that is not now a common home-defense mechanism."
"I have no idea, except maybe they planned it in case you showed up looking. Would I have been heading for the building if I'd known they were there? My arm is practically broken! Ithurts !"
"Yet you still breathe," Amelie said. "For now." Her white eyes were fading back to gray, though, and Claire knew Kim's moment of fatal danger was passing. That was almost too bad. "Very well. I will accept that this is not due to your will, except that you were negligent. Negligence is enough." She looked at Mr. Martin, standing with his arms folded behind Kim. "Take her back. Now."
"No!" Kim blurted, but Amelie pushed her roughly toward the other vampire. "No,please ! I didn't do anything, I didn't!You need me! "
"Why?" Amelie shot back. "You've performed the only task for which you were fit. You've proven yourself unworthy by your conduct and your words and your callous behavior. I am returning you to your cell, where you will live out your days in silence and solitude. No more films, Kim. No more books. No more soft living. You will be fed, but no one will speak to you, no one will acknowledge your existence. You will live as a ghost until you are one. Because in the end, I do not believe that you are innocent. I think you knew about the trip wire, as you call it; I believe you triggered it, knowing that they would run. I believe you didn't know about the bombs; you are far too fixed on your own self-preservation to be that daring. But I saw your smile. We all did. You knew."
Kim's face lost color, so much so that she almost looked like that ghost Amelie was talking about. "No," she said. "You can't do this. You can't prove anything."
"I am the Founder," Amelie said. "And I don't need to prove anything." She nodded to Mr. Martin. "Take her. I don't wish to look on her face again."
Kim's eyes met Claire's stare. "Help me!" she shouted. "Don't just stand there, bitch! I'm human! I'm one ofyou !"
Claire shrugged. "You're not anything of mine. You knew," she said, "and you didn't care."
Kim looked shocked for a flash of a second, and then she bared her teeth in a white, feral grin. "Yeah?
Well, you know what else I don't care about? Whether Shane was in that building or not. I hope he's dead. I hope he died thinking about you and wondering why youdidn't find him. "
Shane.
She hadn't thought about it at all; she'd just assumed...but he could be in there.
He could be burning.
Claire didn't even think about it. She started to run for the building, which was still belching red flame and black smoke high into the air.
"No," Oliver said, and caught her around the waist, swinging her off the ground. "Not the time for your gallant suicide attempt, Claire."
"He could be in there!"
"Yes," Oliver agreed. "And if he is, you can't help him. Now just--"
That was when someone shot Mr. Martin in the back.
Claire didn't know what had happened; she heard a crack and saw him lose his grip on Kim and pitch forward. Kim didn't hesitate. She broke and ran.
Oliver dropped Claire and jumped for Amelie, taking her down flat. Claire staggered, off balance, and went down, too, which probably saved her life. She heard the crackle of guns--more than one--being fired, and staying down seemed like a good idea all of a sudden. Mr. Martin was lying near her, but he wasn't moving. His eyes were open, and as she looked at him, she saw him blinking.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Bullet in the spine. It will take a few moments," he said. "Where is she?"
Claire carefully raised her head. "Escaping."
Kim was running for the cover of the wreckage--not away from the guns firing at them, buttoward them. And they seemed to be deliberately missing her, too. Claire finally spotted a dusty, tan-camouflage jeep parked between two sand dunes. There were two men with rifles using it as a firing platform, and Kim was heading for it, fast. One of Oliver's men went dashing after her and almost made it before a bullet sent him spinning and crashing to the dust.
Kim jumped in the jeep, and it revved its engine and spewed up sand as it raced away. One last shot echoed in the dry air, and then they were gone.
"Get off!" Amelie barked, and Oliver rolled away from her and smoothly to his feet. He offered his hand, but she got up without needing it, looking bone-sharp and very, very angry. She glanced at Claire and Mr. Martin, then out toward where Kim and her rescuers had disappeared. "I misjudged," she said. "Kim didn't make a mistake. She's part of this. Somehow, she is part of it. I should have snapped the little animal's neck long before this, but I was too merciful. Too conscious of responsibility." She glanced down at Claire, but there was no sense of recognition in her eyes; she was too angry. "Get up, unless you're too badly injured to stand."
Oliver didn't evenbother to look down at Claire. Or Mr. Martin, for that matter. It was like they no longer even existed. "They're bold," he said. "And daring. That could have gone very badly for them."
"Yet it didn't," Amelie said. "It appears we have a war on our hands, Oliver."
He smiled. It was a lovely, almost charming smile, and that made Claire feel a little sick. "Finally," he said. "No more diplomacy, my lady. No more half measures. Give me rein and I'll bring you your enemies with their heads decorating my pikes.All your enemies. Humans and vampires."
This was out of control, going too fast. Kim gone, Shane, Michael...Bishop and Gloriana, the fights, Vassily...it was all a big, messy, bloody ball of confusion, and now Oliver was going to wade in and devastateeverything.
Amelie should have said no. Instead, she looked levelly at Oliver, folded her hands in front of her in a formal kind of way, and said, "So be it. War. Bring me their heads."
"Wait," Claire said, and scrambled to her feet. "Wait, youcan't. You can't kill everybody. I told you, Gloriana was using some kind of--"
"Glamour, yes, so you said," Amelie interrupted. "But you see, I no longer care. They've tried to assassinate me, and attacked and killed my own. There are times when mercy and measured justice is not appropriate. And this is one of those times."
Oliver inclined his head, turned on his heel, and stalked away, moving quickly in the sun. He was starting to turn a bright, sunburned red, but he was grinning viciously.
Mr. Martin.Claire looked down and saw that he, too, was burning, turning an alarming lobster shade. She found a piece of tin that was still mostly intact and dragged it over to shade him. He smiled at her gratefully and a little painfully. "I'll be on my feet in another minute," he said. "Amelie, I'm sorry. I should have stopped her."
Amelie gave him a distant look. "Yes," she said. "But I will overlook it. You are a valuable asset." She walked away, Oliver's black coat rippling in the wind, looking like a child dressing up as an old movie detective, but there was nothing soft about her. Small, but very deadly, like a snake. She called back, "Come away, Claire. There's nothing more for you to do here. I will require you elsewhere."
Claire looked down at Mr. Martin. He returned the look and shrugged a little. "She's very angry," he said. "You'd do well to obey promptly."
"Will you be okay if I leave?"
His smile faded. He seemed honestly puzzled. "Why do you care?"
"I don't know," she said. "I just do, I guess." Claire ignored Amelie and turned slowly toward the burning wreckage of the building and started to move. She was far enough from Oliver and Amelie at the moment, and their attention wasn't on her.
Shane.
Claire started to run. She heard someone shouting behind her, but she didn't stop. She sped up, leaping
over a bent piece of metal, then dodging a piece of burning timber.
"Oh, just let her go," Oliver said. Claire was afraid he'd be after her, but, in fact, he hadn't left Amelie's side. "She has a right to see for herself."
She arrived alone at a ruin of metal. The building had collapsed in on itself where it hadn't blown out in shreds. One part was sticking up at a strange, awkward angle where the supports were still standing. Claire ran for that, hearing the wreckage creak and shudder under the whipping wind.
She didn't think about the danger until she was inside, hearing the deep groans of metal shifting overhead. This place was going to come down, all the way down.
But first, she had to find out. She had to findhim.
"Shane!" She screamed it, but her ears were still ringing from the blast, and it came out oddly muffled. Maybe he couldn't hear her, either. Maybe that was why she didn't hear anything back. "Shane,answer me !"
She almost tripped over the stairway that led down from the cracked concrete floor. It had probably been covered up before, or had some kind of railing around it, but now it was just a dark, open space in the floor. A ray of sunshine pierced the shattered roof and shone down the steps, all the way to the bottom.
She followed.
Down there, the light didn't go far, but enough that she could make out a few things. The steel bars of a giant cage, for one thing. And the bleacher seats. She'd seen this room before, on the video. Shane had been here, fighting.
Claire edged forward, trying to see if there was anyone here, anyone at all. It looked empty.
She tripped over a piece of fallen metal and went down. She caught herself on the palms of her hands, but they skidded damply over the concrete, and she had to fight not to do a face-plant.
"Shane!" Her voice echoed back wildly from metal and concrete, and she could hear the grief and fear in it. "Shane, please answer me!"
No sound at all, except for the continued crashes and groans of the wreckage overhead. She edged back into the sunlight.
There was blood on her hands, bright and red. And on her pants where she'd fallen on her knees.
Fresh blood.
Claire screamed.