Текст книги "Bite Club"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Claire told them about it on the drive to Myrnin’s lab. It was darkest night now, and only vampires went out by choice; they took Michael’s shiny, town-provided Vampmobile, with highly tinted windows, because Claire wasn’t absolutely sure that they’d be back home before dawn, and, besides, it provided her and Eve with some extra protection from snack-inclined vampires. Just in case.

“So, wait,” Michael said. “Back up. Myrnin chopped Frank’s brain out and put it in a jar to hook up to his machine, after Amelie told him he was officially not supposed to be working on that machine. Is that about right?”

“Amelie was mad at him,” Claire said. “But Myrnin was going to do it, anyway, and I think she knew it. It was just…timing. And whose brain he was going to get to use. Considering that he was thinking about using mine…”

“Yeah, I get it; it’s a solid win.” Michael shook his head, bemused. “Remind me to have myself cremated if I ever get killed around here. Can’t trust anybody these days. But I have to say, if I had to pick somebody to trap in a jar for eternity, I’d vote Frank Collins every chance I got. He didn’t deserve to live, but he did deserve to suffer. He’s suffering, right?”

“Well…I guess.” Claire hadn’t seen much evidence of suffering, actually, but Michael seemed pretty happy about the whole idea. “The point is that Frank is connected to a lot of sensors, cameras, cell phone networks, Internet feeds…. I’m guessing that the site we looked at was encrypted, though, because he didn’t start yelling about things until we started talking about them. He couldn’t see it.”

“Somebody knew enough to take precautions,” Michael agreed. “Somebody on Team Vampire.”

“Like Vassily,” Eve said. “Or Gloriana, that bitch.”

“She’s not that bad.”

“Michael, you’re going to want to stop defending her now before I have to cut you somewhere you’ll feel it.”

“Ouch.”

“Fiancée,” Eve said, pointing one black fingernail at her chest. “Do notdefend her to me. She tried to drag you off to her lair. I’ll bet she has a lair. And a boudoir in her lair.”

Michael gave up. Claire thought she saw him smiling, but if he did, he made it vanish pretty fast. “Who’s Frank likely to tell? Myrnin?”

“Maybe,” Claire said. “And Myrnin will blab to Amelie, and then—”

“And then the vampires involved get a slap on the wrist, and the humans involved get dead, and we redefine snafuin our time,” Eve said. Michael made a left turn. Claire had no idea where they were; it was featureless blackness out the windows. Michael was the only one who had the super eyesight to make anything out. “We should have taken the portal.”

“And what happens if Frank decides to lock down the portals to keep us from leaving?” Michael said. “I like having my own transportation.”

He had a point. Claire didn’t trust the portal system, which Amelie and Oliver—and sometimes Myrnin—used to skulk around the town. Sure, it was all magically amazing until it stopped working. She’d seen it stop working midtransit. The results hadn’t been pretty.

Michael braked. “We’re here.”

“Maybe you guys should—”

“Go in with you,” Eve said. “Because we’re not dumping you off on the curb like an abandoned puppy, Claire. You know that’s not happening.”

She did know, and she was grateful. Very grateful.

Michael, though, had one more question, as they were walking down the alley toward the lab, lit eerily by the bobbing flare of the little flashlight Eve kept in her bag for emergencies. “Does Shane know? About his dad being kind of alive?”

“No,” Claire admitted. “I didn’t want to tell him. I thought, Maybe later. It was too soon. He’d just come to terms with losing him. I couldn’t stand to see him hurt all over again.”

“I probably would have done the same thing,” Michael said.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Just because I’d have done it doesn’t mean it was right.”

That was not exactly comforting. Claire thought about it all the way inside the leaning, dry-rotted shack that stood at the end of the narrowing alley, and down the unlit steps that led to Myrnin’s lab.

She was prepared for Myrnin to be there, but he wasn’t. She found the light controls and brought up the glow on the wall sconces. The lab looked its usual disorderly self, half cool steampunk junk shop, half dump. She still hadn’t broken him of the habit of leaving stacks of books everywhere, including blocking the paths between the lab tables. He’d just gotten in a new shipment, she saw. More alchemy books. The top one, designed in garish black and yellow and white, was titled Alchemy for Idiots. He’d probably picked that one out just for her.

“Myrnin?” She called out, but not very loudly. No sign of him. When she raised her eyebrows at Michael, he shook his head. Not here, then.

That was confirmed by the flickering black-and-white ghost dressed in motorcycle leathers that appeared at the far end of the lab and came toward them at a brisk walk, passing through everything in his way…stacks of books, lab tables, and Eve, who wasn’t looking the right way at that moment. She squawked and jumped back as Frank Collins’s arm thrust its way through her stomach. “Hey!”

He smiled. With Frank’s craggy, scarred face, it was a gruesome sight, especially in horror-movie black-and-white. “Don’t stand in the way if you don’t want to get hurt,” he said, and dropped his arm back to his side. “I see you brought your friends, Claire.”

“I didn’t have a choice. They needed to know about you.”

“In your opinion.”

“Yes. In my opinion.” Claire stared at him, and he stared back, and finally Frank shrugged.

“Fine by me, but keep my son out of it. By the way, Myrnin’s not home.”

“Where is he?”

“Hunting,” Frank said.

Claire stiffened. “Myrnin doesn’t hunt. He has regular blood deliveries.”

Frank just looked at her, then at Michael. “You. Best friend. What the hell’s going on with my son?”

Michael exchanged a quick glance with the others, then said, “Probably easier if I show you. Got a computer? One with Internet?”

“Yeah, over there.” Frank pointed, and Claire led the way to the laptop that she kept in the corner, the one that she’d set up for Myrnin but he never seemed to use. “I was monitoring your keystrokes, but I couldn’t see the Web site. Somebody’s gone to some trouble to blind me.”

Claire pulled up the Immortal Battles site. “Can you see it now?”

“No.” Frank’s insubstantial, flickering ghost leaned forward, frowning. “Just a blank screen. White noise.”

“Try this,” Eve said. She took out her cell phone and turned on the camera, then focused it on the screen. “Can you see it now?”

He wasn’t looking at her cell phone screen, but he grunted in acknowledgment. “That works,” he said. “I can see your cell in real time, so I can watch it through your camera. Good thinking. All right. Show me.”

He didn’t have any comment until Claire loaded up the video of Shane’s first fight. As he watched the boy get thrown into the fence and then turn it around on the vampire, he did the thing Claire most dreaded.

He smiled in genuine pride.

“Hey!” she said sharply. “Your son is being hurt.I know you’re an abusive asshole, but could you maybe focus on the fact that he could have been killed? Maybe?”

Frank lost the smile, but the pride remained. “He won,” he said. “My son won a bare-knuckles fight with a vampire. You, Glass. You want to tell me how unlikely that is?”

“Pretty damn unlikely,” Michael said. “But Claire’s got a point.”

“I trained my son to survive in Morganville. I’m not apologizing for that.”

“You beat the hell out of him,” Michael said, and behind his soft tone there was steely anger. “I remember how many times he came to my house to stay the night because he couldn’t face going home to you. How many times he had bruises from your training. My parents didn’t do that to me to train me to survive.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “And look how you turned out, Glass, with all the blood drinking. No offense.”

“Lots taken,” Michael said. “And by the way, you wound up with fangs, too. So screw you and your self-justification for being Worst Parent of Our Lifetime, Drunken Ass Division.”

“I’d kick your disrespectful butt if I still had legs, but I’ll let it go. For now,” Frank said. “So my son’s tangled up with this. I’ll admit, it’s risky, but it’s right up his alley.”

“He’s doing it for money,” Claire said.

“Good for him. I’d have done the same thing myself if it had been around in my day. Good training and cash, plus the chance to pound some bloodsucker in the face.”

“It’s illegal!”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe. But who cares?”

“Frank, it’s run by vampires. They’re getting rich off your son’s blood!” Michael said. Frank raised his eyebrows.

“You think that’s a news flash? That’s how it’s been from the beginning, Glass. Humans get boned; vampires get rich. It’s their whole lifestyle.”

Claire shook her head. “Maybe, but I guarantee you that Amelie doesn’tknow about this particular little project, and she’s going to care big-time. Anything that puts Morganville on the radar is a bad thing, right?”

“Eh,” Frank said. “They’re playing it for the cheap seats, all opera capes and bad Transylvanian accents. Nobody out there’s going to take it seriously. They’re watching it for the fighting. They don’t believe for a second there are actual vampires involved. Not much of a risk.”

“Maybe not, but what happens when somebody takes it seriously and sends somebody to check it out? It would make a hell of a 60 Minutesstory,” Michael said. “One guy already tried to extort them for money. He’s dead.”

“Wait,” Claire said as Frank opened his mouth to reply. Not that he needed to have a mouth to talk; it was just theater. His voice was coming out of her phone. He waited while she thought for a second. “Michael. Bishopkilled Stinky Doug. That’s what Jason told me.”

“And—Oh.” Eve’s eyes grew very wide. “Wait. You saw Jason? Where?”

Dammit, againshe was saying things she shouldn’t have been. Too late to call that back, anyway. “He’s been arrested,” Claire said. “Again. Sorry.”

“And you were going to tell me that my brother was in jail when, exactly?”

“When they said I could. I’m sorry, Eve, but that’s not the point. Jason accused Bishop.”

“Wait, theBishop? Evil old man who is supposed to be dead—that Bishop?”

This was a house of cards, and it was all crashing down around her. Claire decided she couldn’t care about that, not now. Better to try to get it all out in the open. “Bishop broke out,” she said. “And the next thing anybody knew, he grabbed Jason and had him take him to Stinky Doug. Then he killed him. Jason didn’t know why.”

“But we do now,” Michael said. “Doug was trying to blackmail Immortal Battles. He lifted vampire blood and was probably planning to go to a reporter with it, along with his story and the Web site evidence. Proof.”

“Proof nobody could afford, not even Bishop,” Claire said. “So no more Doug. But the thing is, Bishop had to already know about the fighting. He was in on it. Or behind it. Amelie’s got a full-scale search going for Bishop, and she’s going to find out about this, probably soon.”

Michael leaned against a lab table and crossed his arms. “That means Shane will be just as guilty as everybody else, for aiding and abetting,” he said. “You know how she’s going to feel about that. And if we knew and didn’t tell her, we’ll be there right alongside him.”

“I know how I’mgoing to feel,” Eve said. “I’m going to feel sorry, because I don’t look good in prison clothes. Or I’ll be dead, in which case I won’t feel much. Claire, sweetie, I hate to say this, but I don’t think we have a choice. We have to tell somebody. We haveto.”

“But Shane—”

“Shane needs to understand that this little sideshow is over, like it or not,” Frank said. “And that he’s falling with it if he stays. He’d better decide to end up on Amelie’s side, not Bishop’s, because Claire is right: Bishop in the mix changes it from illegal fun to a serious threat.”

“Shane doesn’t know about Bishop’s involvement. I’m sure. He’d never have anything to do with it if he had any clue,” Claire said. “We just have to tell him, that’s all. He’ll break it off.”

“That’s all,” Michael said. “You were there, right? The last time we tried to talk to him?”

Claire took a deep breath. “No offense, Michael, but I think—I think it was you who really caused the problem. Not what you said. What you are.Somehow he’s gotten conditioned to be angry whenever it involves vampires. You saw how he treated Eve, and he likesEve. I think I have to talk to him alone.”

“No!” Eve blurted that out, but she didn’t back down when Claire turned to her. “No, seriously, just…no, honey. You can’t, Claire. You saw how he was. If you go alone he might…he might hurt you. I know you don’t think he will, but I saw him. I know he could. I hate it, and I wish it wasn’t true, but…you can’t take that risk.”

“ Youtake that risk all the time with Michael,” Claire said, and stepped forward to touch Eve’s choker, beneath which lay bite marks. “You trust he’ll know how far to go. Right? I trust Shane. I have to trust him.”

“Well…they’ll never let you in,” Eve said, but she sounded doubtful now rather than definite. “You’d never make it past the bouncer.”

Claire locked eyes with her and held the stare, trying to put all her grief and passion into it. “I have to,” she said. “Please understand. Please.”

Eve didn’t want to, but she finally, unwillingly nodded. When Michael tried to interject, she shook her head firmly. “She’s right, Mike. She’s not a little kid; we can’t always be there. And she’s also right about how Shane feels about vampires. If either one of us shows up, it kicks it up to a whole new level. If she’s alone, it’s more personal. And no matter how wack Shane may be right now, I can’t believe he would hurt her, not on purpose.”

Michael clearly had his doubts, but he held up both hands to signal surrender. “First we wait to see if he comes home tomorrow,” he said. “If he doesn’t, then we’ll drive you to the gym and wait for you—and Frank monitors your signal. Any sign of trouble, he pushes the alarm button, and all bets are off. Oh, and we tell Amelie. Immediately, regardless of how that conversation goes with Shane.”

Claire didn’t like it particularly, but she could see the wisdom of it, too. It hadn’t occurred to her, but since she knew Frank could use the camera, too, she could be wearing her cell phone around her neck with the camera activated, and he could see and hear everything. He’d wanted eyes and ears inside the gym; this was the best she could do.

“I’ll go there tomorrow,” she said. “If he doesn’t come home tonight.”

“Hang on,” Frank said. “What about this Web site?”

“Can you block access?”

“Only for people inside of town.”

“How about, you know, launching some kind of attack? Like a virus or a denial of service?”

Frank blinked. “No idea what you’re talking about. Look, I was never the Internet guy. And it’s pretty freaking strange to be—this. I got no idea how to do that denial of whatever. And I don’t have any viruses.”

“What if I give you one?”

“Try it, and you won’t need to be afraid of what my son does.”

“Okay, right. Never mind,” Claire said. “It was just an idea. Obviously not a very good one.”

“Bad enough I’m stuck like this, without you getting any ideas about making me sick like the last occupant.” Meaning Ada, Myrnin’s old assistant. And girlfriend. Claire was suddenly glad she hadn’t suggested the whole virus thing while Myrnin was around, because he would surely have been veryunhappy with her.

And as if she’d conjured him up, thanks to even thinking his name, Frank suddenly turned to face the side of the lab where the portal door was located. “He’s coming back,” he said. “Nobody tells him nothing.” And just like that, Frank vanished, leaving behind nothing but a trailing hiss of static in Claire’s cell phone speaker, just as a pool of darkness formed inside an open doorway, then rippled into what looked like a dimly lit library.

Myrnin stepped through, and the portal collapsed behind him into darkness. He shut the wooden door and padlocked it, rolled the bookcase back in front of it as additional cover, and, without turning around, said, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, uninvited guests?” He didn’t sound happy. Or even, as was more typical for Myrnin, wacky. Bad sign.

“I…needed to check on something,” Claire said. “Sorry. We were just leaving.”

“Were you?” He turned, clasping his hands behind him. He looked very old-school Myrnin, formally dressed, even down to shiny boots. Well, the shirt and vest mighthave clashed, but apart from that, he’d obviously been somewhere that didn’t accept his usual wardrobe choices. Like, say, Amelie’s office. “There are a number of odd things happening in this town, Claire. Most notably, the behavior of you and your friends. Including that boy most strangely absent from your little group. I don’t often see him separated from you.”

She felt a prickling of fear and tried not to let it show. “He’s busy,” she said. “So am I.” She nodded to Michael and Eve and headed for the stairs.

Myrnin got there ahead of her. She came to a fast stop, wondering what the hell was up with him thistime. She’d seen so much insanity from him that it was tough to work up real terror anymore. He’d wig out on her and grow fangs, or not. But she wasn’t going to let him stop her.

“Wait,” he said. Not angry after all, and not crazy. He looked worried and sad. “You know that you can trust me, don’t you? You understand that I’m your friend. I am. I have always tried to be.”

“I know,” she said. It sounded hollow, because it wasn’t true. She’d seen Myrnin be a whole lot of things, and she knew better than anyone how fragile he was. She couldn’t depend on his current mood. She just couldn’t.There was too much at stake.

“You’d tell me if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t you? Something with which I might help?”

“It’s—” She swallowed and studied her scuffed shoes. “Shane and I had a fight. That’s all. It’s—making me feel pretty awful. I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself.”

“Yes,” Myrnin said a little helplessly. “Well. I see how that might—and I’m, of course, the last one to criticize anyone for not being themselves—but are you sure it’s not…? Perhaps it’s for the best that you and the boy—”

She felt tears burning in her eyes, real and instant, and looked up to glare at him through them. “Just leave it alone, okay? It’s personal!”

He was so surprised that he stepped aside, and she charged up the steps, panting with emotion that she couldn’t control and didn’t have the vaguest idea of what had brought it up. Everything, she guessed. Stress, worry, Shane, Morganville, Myrnin. Constantly being the one who had to be okay.

She was so tired of being okay.

Outside, in the alley, she realized that Eve was yelling her name, but she hit the pavement running. She had to run; she couldn’t control it, even though it was dark and a dumb idea, and when she hit a trash can with a crash and went flying, she expected, with a kind of fatalistic satisfaction, to get hurt. Maybe badly.

Only she didn’t, of course, because Michael had gotten ahead of her by doing that vampire jumping thing and was there to catch her, and she yanked free of his kindness, still furious. “Just leave me alone!” she shouted. It was shockingly loud. Lights went on after a few seconds in the Day House, next to the alley. She’d woken up old Gramma Day, another thing to feel bad about. “I don’t need your help!”

Except she had, of course. She wasn’t quite stupid enough to run the rest of the way; she walked, kicking bottles and trash out of her way with bitter anger, until she arrived back at Michael’s car. She yanked at the handle, but it didn’t open. Locked, of course. It beeped at her softly as Michael remotely unlocked it, but he didn’t come closer as she pulled it open and got in and slumped in the backseat, feeling blackly miserably. She probably should apologize, she realized. But she didn’t care.

Michael got in the driver’s side, and Eve, after bending over to look at her over the seat, got into the shotgun position. Nobody said a word. The engine started and the car pulled away with a crunch of tires, and Michael said, “I think Gramma Day thinks I’ve just abducted you.”

“Why?” Claire snapped.

“Because she’s out on her porch, loading up a shotgun.” He hit the gas. “Good thing she doesn’t keep it ready and waiting, or we’d be in a little bit of trouble.”

“Oh.” Some of her anger managed to fade away as she considered what could have happened. What if Eve had gotten caught in the crossfire? Michael wouldn’t have been hurt, but Eve…“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Eve cupped her ear at Claire. “I’m sorry—was that an apology? Because it didn’t sound like one.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m not, but you’re acting like a drama princess.”

“Drama queen.”

“Hello, no. You need a lotmore practice at door slamming, flouncing, and pouting before you can even pretendto deserve my throne, bitch. But you’re coming along.” Eve paused and fixed her with a long, serious look. “That wasn’t a compliment, by the way. In case you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Good.” Eve faced forward. “I get it, though. It’s all coming down around you, you don’t know what to do, it’s all too big and too scary to face, much less fight, so the first person who shows you compassion gets slapped. Been there so often, I pay rent.”

“I—” Claire intended to defend herself, but after running it through her head, that was a pretty accurate assessment, all things considered. She finally shrugged. “I guess.”

“Progress.” Eve laughed. “I love you, CB, but let’s face it: we can all be tools. It’s in our DNA. Yeah, even yours, Michael.” She punched his arm. He pretended to feel it. “So. Next step. We go home, get a good night’s rest, hope Shane slinks back with his tail between his legs and realizes what a douche he’s been. Right?”

“That’s the plan,” Michael said. He didn’t sound optimistic. “Give him some time. But one way or another, tomorrow we go to Amelie and tell her everything we know. Including about Shane.”

Claire raised her chin and stared at the back of his curly blond head, because that hadn’t sounded quite right, either. Not the words; the tone. Something just a shade off. “Michael? You’re not going to run off and do anything dumb tonight, are you?”

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one running full speed in the dark in Vampireville.”

That checked her for long enough until they pulled up at the curb at their house on Lot Street, and by the time Eve and Michael were out of the car, Claire had forgotten the original question.

It was only later, when she woke up in the middle of the night, wondering if she’d heard Shane’s door open and close, that she realized that Michael hadn’t actually answered her at all.