Текст книги "Ghost Town"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

That had been a mistake, and now there were dead people. Dead kids.

Claire called up the Morganville Police Department and asked to be put through to Chief Moses. Hannah wasn’t in the office, but the switchboard put the call through to her in her patrol car. She sounded stressed. “What is it, Claire? It’s a busy day.”

“I understand, but I need to get into the Elders’ Council today. Can I go with you?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I need to tell them about what I think is causing these problems around town.”

Hannah was quiet a moment, then said, “All right. I’ll come get you in half an hour. Stay there. Don’t go outside.”

Claire felt a stab of unease. “Why?”

“Things are getting worse. We lost a whole family last night, and there are plenty of other problems. Just stay where you are, all right? This is important.”

“I’ll be here.” Claire hung up and stared down at her blank cell phone screen as if it might contain the secrets of the universe. Then she went to the window and looked out.

At first, she couldn’t see anything odd at all, but then she saw flashing police lights three streets over. She could just make out struggling shapes.

One of them was on fire. Like a vampire who’d decided to stroll around in the daylight.

Claire stepped back from the window and ran into Michael, who was standing behind her. She whirled, slammed her hand into his chest, and pushed him back. “Hey!” she said sharply. “Creep much, Michael? Man, don’t do that!”

He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “What?” she demanded. Her heart was still pounding from the shock. She was waiting for him to say booor laugh or shove her back, like they normally would.

He said, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking out the window?”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t just . . .” He hesitated, and seemed to waver a little, as if he’d gone dizzy. “Can’t just—”

“Michael?”

“Can’t just come in here and—”

“Michael! ”

He put a hand to his head, as if he hurt, and squeezed his eyes shut. Then he took a deep breath, looked at her, and said, “Oh, hey, you’re up. Is there any coffee?”

She just stared at him, trying to see any more signs that something was going wrong with him. She remembered the vampire at Marjo’s Diner—and how suddenly she’d flipped out on that poor waitress. Could it happen to Michael? Could she end up fighting him off any second? Not that she’d be ableto fight him off. Michael was tall, strong, and very, very fast. She’d have a better chance of punching a speeding truck.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said. “Okay, I’ll make the coffee. What’s up with the window?”

She wordlessly pointed out to the flashing police car lights. They’d thrown a blanket over whoever was on fire. Michael looked, and then said, “What do you think? International spy ring? Meth lab? People who pissed off Oliver this week?”

He sounded so normalnow. And he obviously didn’t even remember having that little . . . glitch. Claire cleared her throat and said, “I’ll make coffee.” It gave her an excuse to walk away from him, although he followed her into the kitchen. She got out the filters and the coffee and started loading the machine while Michael got down two mugs and put them on the table. “Hannah’s picking me up,” she said. “I’ll ask her about your international-spy-ring theory.”

“I’m betting on meth lab.”

Claire poured the water in and started up the machine, which hissed and gurgled and immediately reminded her of the gutted, reworked mechanical zombie of Ada under the basement of the lab. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, why? Didn’t you?”

She had, but now she wanted to crawl back in bed and pull the covers over her head. “Did . . . ah, did you have any dreams?”

Now he was really looking at her as if she was a mental case. “Sure, I guess. Why do you want to talk about my dreams all of a sudden? What did youdream? Am I going to be embarrassed I asked?”

She’d been hoping maybe he’d casually say, Yeah, I had this weird dream where I didn’t know you, but instead, she’d made him think there was something wrong with her. Perfect. The coffee machine started filling the pot, to her relief. Michael was easily distracted with coffee. Sure enough, as soon as there was enough for a cup, he got up, took it off the burner, and poured half in his mug, half in hers. That was nice of him. “Claire?” he asked, as he slotted the glass carafe back in its spot. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Not . . . specifically.”

“Why is Hannah picking you up?”

Oh, that. She was almost relieved. “I need to go to the Elders’ Council today, that’s all. Nothing dangerous, I promise.”

“You’re not trying to get that kid Kyle out of the cage, are you? Because that would be dangerous on a lot of fronts.”

Well, she might try to talk Amelie out of it, but she didn’t think Michael necessarily needed to know that. “I’m not going to do anything crazy,” she said, which was safe, because crazy these days was definitely open to interpretation. “I just want to talk to her about the machine. I don’t think it’s working right, Michael. And now people are—”

“Dying,” he said softly. “I saw the news. You think he killed his family because of whatever’s going wrong with the machine?”

“It’s like the vampire in the diner who went crazy. I think that man knew something was wrong, and he couldn’t deal with it.” Claire shuddered. “It must seem like a nightmare, and you can’t wake up. I tried to tell Myrnin, but he . . . he was weird about it. Weirder than usual, I mean.”

That made Michael pause in sipping his coffee. “He’s not doing anything he shouldn’t be doing, right?”

“Like what?”

“Like hitting on you.”

“Ew. No, of course not. He doesn’t see me that way.” Michael shook his head and went back to his coffee. “What? You think he does?”

“Sometimes he looks at you a little . . . oddly, that’s all. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he just wants you for your blood.”

“Again, ew! What’s with you this morning?”

“Not enough coffee.” The pot was filled now, so he got up and refilled his mug. She didn’t get a second free service, but, Claire reflected, maybe she didn’t need more coffee this morning. She was plenty jittery.

They got off of the subject of Myrnin, which was a relief, and onto things Michael liked to talk about, like the new songs he was writing. His demo CD was going to be out in the next two months, and he was supposed to see the packaging for it soon, too. That was cool.

He was telling her all about it when the doorbell rang. Hannah. Claire dumped out the rest of her coffee, told Michael she’d call if anything happened, and bounced.

Hannah was dressed in her cop uniform, looking serious and intimidating, even though she was lounging against a pillar on the porch with her arms folded. She turned her head as Claire came out and locked the door. She’d gathered up her braided hair, tied it, and put it up in a kind of bun; it looked cool, but then, Hannah always looked cool. It was something she just radiated, like body heat. “Morning, Claire.”

“Hey.” Claire nodded. “Do you want some coffee? We just made a pot.”

“I’ve got some in the car. Let’s go.” Hannah was already heading down the walk toward her cruiser, so Claire hurried after her, taking two steps for every one of Hannah’s longer legs. “Thanks for staying inside.”

Claire got in on the passenger side of the police car and put on her seat belt. As Hannah started the car, she said, “What was happening?”

“Where?”

“Over there.” Claire pointed in the approximate direction where she’d seen the other police cars. “Something happened.”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now.” That wasn’t like Hannah Moses at all. She was usually relaxed, calm, confident, and she was hardly ever evasive. Now she sounded tense.

Claire tried for humor. “Michael and I had a bet. He said meth lab. I say international spy ring.”

“Neither,” Hannah said, and pulled the car away from the curb. “What are you going to tell the council?”

“I . . . don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“You should,” Hannah said. “My lover woke up this morning and didn’t recognize me.”

Claire blinked. “Your . . . what?”

“Yes, get over it, Claire; women older than you have boy-friends. But he didn’t know who I was. He said he’d never met me.” Hannah was crying. Not a lot, just a shimmer of tears in her eyes, but it was chilling. Claire didn’t know what to say. “It lasted a while, and then he was fine. It’s been happening all over town, but only to some people. For some it’s worse than others, and it doesn’t seem to go away. You heard about the murders?” Claire nodded. “Do you know something about what’s causing it?”

“I—” Claire swallowed hard. “Maybe. Yeah. I think so.”

Hannah pressed harder on the gas. “Then let’s get you to the council, because I want this stopped. I never want to feel that again, and I never want to work another murder scene like the one I saw last night.”

Claire shuddered, and changed the subject. “Is . . . is he human? Your boyfriend, I mean.”

“Yeah, he’s human. Why?”

“It’s not just humans who get it, whatever it is. Vampires do, too.” Claire hesitated, then plunged on. “I think Michael forgot who I was this morning. Not for long, just for maybe a minute or two. But I don’t think it’s the first time he’s forgotten.”

Hannah looked, if possible, even grimmer. “That’s not good news. Not at all.”

“I know.” Claire couldn’t shake the memory of the vampire in the diner, who said the world was wrong, and then tried to kill the first person who came close. What if that happened to Michael? To Oliver? God, to Amelie? “That vampire who went crazy, the one from Marjo’s Diner the other night—how long did it take for her to come out of it?”

Hannah gave her a sideways look as she made the last turn toward Founder’s Square, and slowed for the security station they had to pass. “She didn’t,” she said. “Best we can tell, she never will.”

NINE

Kyle was still in the cage in the middle of the park, heavily guarded; Claire caught a glimpse of the barred square box and the heavy police presence as the car passed the borders of the square, and then took a ramp down to the underground parking beneath the buildings. Hannah had a reserved space, and as they walked toward the elevator it opened with a hiss. One of Amelie’s black-suited guards—the woman—nodded to Hannah and looked at Claire with pointed intensity.

“She’s with me,” Hannah said. “I’ll take responsibility.”

“Good enough,” the vampire agreed, and pressed the button for the meeting floor. “I’ll warn you, they’re not in a wonderful mood.”

“They never are.”

The vampire chuckled, a very human sort of sound, but somehow at least twenty percent more sinister. “Well, that’s true. Good luck.”

Once they’d stepped out of the elevator, the vampire was all business again, following Hannah and Claire as they walked down the long marble hall to a set of polished wooden doors that opened before they arrived, from inside. Claire supposed that was intended to look impressive, but it wasn’t any big trick; the vampires could clearly hear them coming.

There was only one guard in the room this time, and their escort stopped outside and pulled the doors shut behind them. Amelie was seated in her place, and so was Richard; there were folders on the table, each one neatly labeled.

Oliver was pacing, hands behind his back.

“You’re late,” he snapped at Hannah. The guard was right—he was clearly not in a good mood. Hannah sat down beside Richard, leaving Claire standing in indecision. “And you’ve brought a friend. How . . . nice.”

Claire quickly sat down in the first available chair. Oliver was eyeing her like a piece of trash he was considering taking out.

“Claire,” Amelie said. “This is unexpected.” Unexpected, Claire thought, did not mean welcome. Amelie, like Hannah, looked un-characteristically tense.

“I needed to talk to you,” Claire said. “Both of you.”

“ Mustwe always be distracted by the yapping of your favorite pet?” Oliver said, and crossed the room in a flash to slap both hands flat on the table, glaring at Amelie. “Silence her until we’re done. She shouldn’t be here.”

That was . . . shocking. Claire had never seen him quite that aggressive toward the Founder before. It occurred to her, uneasily, that maybe she ought to have called Amelie first before showing up.

Amelie didn’t flinch, blink, or react to Oliver’s anger in any way. “She’s not my pet,” she said evenly, “and I don’t take orders from you, Oliver. Truly, you must try to remember that from time to time.”

He showed his teeth, but not his vampire teeth. Not quite. He pushed off from the table and paced again, moving like a lion who wanted a gazelle very, very badly.

Amelie turned her attention to Claire and said, “You’ll wait until our business is done. He’s quite right. You shouldn’t be here.”

Claire nodded. She didn’t really want to wait—she wanted to blurt it all out—but there was a warning in Amelie’s cold gray eyes that made it clear blurting was not a good idea.

“You are on edge, Oliver,” Amelie said. “Sit, please.”

He threw her a filthy look and kept on pacing, back and forth. “I had to put down one of my own last night, like a rabid dog. Do you imagine I should feel relaxed?”

Claire bent her head close to Hannah and whispered, “What happened?” Hannah shook her head in warning. “But I—”

Oliver rounded on her, eyes flaring red. “Do you want to know what happened, Claire?” he said. “Which part of it? The part where one of my oldest associates lost her mind and began to attack humans in the street? The part where I couldn’t reason with her? Or the part where I was forced to kill her, on Amelie’sorders?”

That met with ringing silence. Amelie continued to watch him, face calm and smooth, body very still. After a moment, she said, very quietly, “You are overwrought. Sit down, Oliver. Please.”

“I will not,” he snapped, and turned his back.

After another moment of silence, Amelie went back to the open folder before her. “Then let us move on to the business at hand. This request to expand the hunting permits is unacceptable. They’re asking for four times the current limit, and they want to include the university grounds as well. This is highly risky to all of us. My proposal is that, rather than expanding hunting licenses, we discontinue the program altogether and seek another alternative. There are always a few humans who would willingly volunteer to be bitten.”

Richard started to say something, but he was crushed by Oliver. “This is an old, tired argument. Are we vampires or not? We hunt. That’s our nature. Restricting it, even outlawing it, doesn’t curb our instincts. It only makes us criminals for having them.”

“Oh, but I fully expect you to control your instincts, as I do. Unless you’re unable to master yourself. Are you, Oliver?” Amelie’s tone was sharper than Claire expected, almost . . . angry. It occurred to her, finally, that Amelie was upset, too.

Verybad combination, having both of them on edge, in a confinedspace.

This time, Oliver did flash fangs at her. “You’re on dangerous ground, woman. Don’t push me.” Amelie’s guard took a step away from the door. “And don’t presume to have your dogs threaten me, either. I’ve supported your rule in this town. I’ve even agreed to your experiments and social rules of behavior. But I will notallow you to make us into pale copies of humans. It is not who we are, or who we should be, and you know that better than anyone.”

“I take it you will not entertain any alternative plans,” Amelie said after a moment. “Then we will leave the program as it is, with a limited number of licenses, and the university remains protected ground.”

Oliver laughed. “Are you listening? They won’t obey you for much longer. They’ll do as they choose, regardless of the law. They’re angry, Amelie. You’ve allowed humansto kill vampires and walk away. If you choose to punish vampires for following their natures, you’re as stupid as you were when you thought you could manipulate your way onto a throne as a girl of twelve. You never did reach that goal, did you? I’m sure dying a mere princess never sat well with you. That must be why you appointed yourself queen here.”

Amelie stood up, and the room went very, very quiet. Claire no longer felt the urge to try to talk. She felt the urge to crawl under the table. It was as if she, Richard, and Hannah no longer existed, at least to Amelie and Oliver.

“Are you telling me that you no longer want to serve as my second?” Amelie asked him. “Because that is what I hear.”

“Amelie . . .” Oliver’s voice was full of angry frustration. He, at least, hadn’t forgotten the presence of others, and glanced quickly aside at the humans. “Send them out. We need to settle this. It’s been a long time in coming.”

“Richard and Hannah are equal members of this council. I will not dismiss them like servants.”

He laughed, and Claire saw the sharp glitter of his fangs. “ Equal?How long have you been deluding yourself like this? You think any of them are ever equalto us? You are ceding control of this town to fools and mortals, bit by bit, and we are all going to suffer for it. Diefor it. It cannotgo on!”

“Sit down,” Amelie said. “Now.”

“No. You are destroying us, Amelie, and I can’t—I won’t permit it to continue.”

They froze in place, staring at each other, and Claire hardly dared to breathe at all.

Oliver didn’t blink. He finally said, “Your human pets are turning on us. They’re turning on you. The boy in the cage down there is proof enough of how much in contempt the humans hold your rules, and you. And they’re not wrong, because we are killers, and they are our natural victims. If we let them have control, they will destroy us. They have no choice.”

“That’s not true,” Claire said. She hadn’t exactly meant to say it, but now it was out, hanging in the air, and Oliver’s attention was on her like a freezing blanket of snow. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

He whirled to face her, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “So what is your solution, little Claire? Keep us in zoos, the way you keep other predators who threaten you? Exterminate those you can’t control? That’s what humans do.We know this. We used to be just as flawed, just as human.” Oliver looked back at Amelie. “I’d have wiped all vampires off of the face of the land, in my breathing days. If I could have managed it.”

She smiled thinly. “I know very well what you would have done,” she said. “You did the same in your day with humans who worshipped differently from you and yours. But not all humans are as genocidally inclined as you.”

He hit the table so hard it vibrated. “I did what was right!”

“You did what was right for those who agreed with you, and that is all in the past. We are talking about our future. Oliver, we cannot live as we did. We cannot hide in the shadows and run when discovered, like rats. In this modern age, there is no hiding among the humans, not for long. And you know it.” She hesitated, and then said softly, “You must trust me, as you once did.”

He laughed, a rusty, raw sound, and turned to go.

Amelie flashed around the table in a white blur and put her back to the door before he reached it. He paused just a step away from her. Seeing them that close together, Claire realized how tall he was, and how he towered over her. Amelie looked fragile, suddenly. Vulnerable.

“Don’t make me do this,” Amelie said. “I value you. Don’t destroy the peace we have.”

He reached out and fastened his hand on her arm. The guard moved toward them. Amelie shook her head, and the guard stopped, but stayed ready to jump. “Out of my way,” Oliver said. “This is useless. I’ve bowed to you for too long, and if I continue to do it, we will all suffer. You can’t change us, Amelie. You can’t change me.For the love of God, stop trying.”

“Sit. Down.”

“No. I’ve been your trained dog long enough.”

She broke free of his grip and slapped her hands on both sides of his face, freezing him in place. Her eyes . . . her eyes went white. Pure, cold, icy white. Claire looked away, because what howled through the room just then was a feeling of wild power nothing like she’d ever felt from Amelie before. Hannah and Richard had moved out of their chairs and were pressed against the far wall. Even the guard was backing up.

“Do notdefy me,” Amelie said fiercely. “I don’t want to destroy you, but I will rather than allow you to hunt and kill as you wish. Do you understand me?”

It had to be impossible for Oliver to do anything but agree. Claire felt the pressure in the room increase, a kind of heavy psychic weight that made her gasp and want to curl into a ball—and it wasn’t even aimed at her.

Amelie opened her mouth, and her fangs slid down, elegant and slow. She was no longer vulnerable. Not at all. She was . . . terrifying.

Oliver had to kneel to her. He had to. Claire could feel just the edges of what Amelie was doing, but the pressure on Oliver must have been like the weight of the ocean, driving him to submit.

He took a deep breath and brought his arms up sharply between hers, and knocked her hands away from his face. Amelie’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he reached out and put hishands on herface.

Amelie’s eyes faded back to gray, then turned very dark. “No,” she said. “No.”

“Yes,” Oliver said. “I warned you before. I won’t be ruled. Not even by you. I don’t wish to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Amelie was shuddering now. Power was pouring out of Oliver, and unlike Amelie’s cold control, his felt hot, blood-hot, pounding like a pulse. Overwhelming. Claire’s head was splitting from the pressure, and she saw that Richard and Hannah were feeling the same pain.

“Submit,” Oliver said. “Submit and I’ll spare you the humiliation of kneeling.”

“No,” she whispered, but it was weak. Only a thread of sound. Her eyes had turned black. “You will never have me, Oliver. Never.”

“I already have you,” he said.

“No.”

“This has been coming for so many years. You knew it. Let go. Amelie, I don’t want to hurt you.”

It seemed to take everything Amelie had, but she struck his hands away from her face, just as he’d done to her. Her eyes paled back to gray. She was breathing, visiblybreathing, which for a vampire meant she’d just done something extremely hard. “I will never be your creature, Oliver,” she said, voice trembling. “I will accept you as an equal. Never as a conqueror. You should know that by now.”

He stared down at her, and Claire felt the pressure in the room slowly bleed away. She should have felt relieved, but instead she just wanted to collapse and sleep. Hannah and Richard were holding hands, she noticed. That seemed odd. Maybe they were just as freaked-out as she was.

“Equals,” Oliver said. “How could we ever be equals, do you imagine? We aren’t made for such things. We both need to rule. It’s in our natures.”

“Then force me to submit. Or walk away.”

Oliver shook his head, and Claire thought he started to turn, but then his right hand shot out and closed around Amelie’s throat, slamming her back against the wood. She tried to speak, but his grip was cutting off her voice.

“We can’t be equals,” he said. “I’m sorry. I never wanted it to come to this.”

And he bit her in the throat.

Claire screamed.

Oliver was drinking Amelie’s blood. Amelie was fighting him, but he was too strong for her, and her guard . . . her guard wasn’t moving.

“Do something!” Claire screamed at the guard, but he just stood there. She dashed to the other door and threw it open. The female vamp was on guard there, and turned when Claire screamed at her, too.

But she didn’t do anything, either.

Oliver suddenly let go of Amelie and stepped back, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of one hand. She stood there, eyes closed, and put a trembling hand over the wound on her neck. There was blood spilled on her immaculate white jacket. She didn’t speak.

Oliver turned to the guard and said, “See her to a chair. Gently.”

The guard bowed his head briefly, then came toward her, but Amelie’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, but he didn’t obey her. Not at all. He took her arm and guided her back to a chair at the side of the table . . . not the head, where she’d been sitting before. Amelie shook free and sank down. She looked ill now, and angry, and humiliated.

Oliver stood where he was for a moment, then turned and addressed the other guard. “Go get Ysandre and John,” he said. “I want them here.”

The guard nodded and left. “ Ysandre?” Claire said. “You’re bringing herin here?” Ysandre was a stone-cold menace. Amelie had kept her in prison for a while, and Claire hadn’t seen her much recently. She’d hoped that someone had accidentally thrown her under a bus.

Ysandre had tried to hit on Shane. And that alone was reason enough to hate her.

“Quiet,” Oliver said. “Sit down, all of you. You have no reason to panic. The situation is under control.” Under hiscontrol, which was in itself plenty of cause for panic, not to mention freakout. But Claire didn’t dare notobey, not until she understood what had happened, and why.

Richard looked at Amelie and asked, “Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and made her face into a smooth mask, showing nothing of whatever she was feeling now. “I’m well enough,” she said. She took her hand away from her throat. The wound was already closed and healing. “Don’t interfere. This is an internal matter.”

“I know, but if you need me to help—”

“You can’t help. I tried to keep my position. I failed.” She lowered her gaze to the table. “Oliver leads the town now.”

“No,” Claire whispered. “No, that can’t be true. That isn’t right. You’re the Founder; you’re—”

“Defeated,” Amelie said. “Enough, Claire. There is nothing to be done now. He spared me some of the more humiliating aspects that could have accompanied the transfer of power. I won’t disrespect that favor by rebelling now.”

Oliver didn’t say anything. He took his seat at the head of the table, and a moment later the vamp guard came back, with two others—John, who owned the hospital and several clinics in town, including the blood bank. John had long blond curly hair and a proud, sharp face. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. And next to him . . . Ysandre.

Ysandre was just exactly as Claire remembered her from her days as Amelie’s father Bishop’s follower. She was beautiful, and smoky, and sexy in a sleazy kind of way—that was mostly her clothes, because she loved low-cut crop tops and even lower-cut jeans. She trailed fingers over the back of Richard Morrell’s neck, and he slapped them away with a glare.

“Temper,” Ysandre purred, and even in that one word Claire could hear the sickly sweet Southern accent. “I’m just trying to be friendly. We’re all friends here now, right?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, do shut up,” John said wearily. He had an English accent that was a lot more charming than Ysandre’s put-on drawl. “Founder? You had something to—” Awareness dawned in his face, and Claire thought he must have sensed what had happened. His expression looked a lot like horror, and he stared at Oliver. “No. No, that’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Oliver said. “You command loyalty from many of Amelie’s closest friends and supporters. I need you to spread the word. I am now in charge. You may hear it from her own lips.”

John definitely looked horrified now. Claire couldn’t blame him. She was feeling pretty awful herself. “Madam?” He went to one knee beside Amelie’s chair. “Command me and I’ll obey.”

“There is nothing to command,” she said. “You can feel the shift of power. It is a fact of nature, one none of us can fight. Obey him, John. I wouldn’t wish to see you, or any of you, harmed.”

John took her hand and pressed it to his forehead in what looked like real grief, and then stood up and faced Oliver. “No one will support this,” he said. “Watch your back, Oliver. You were well treated, and you’ve betrayed her. We won’t forget.”

“John, don’t,” Amelie said. She sounded tired.

“I’m not threatening. I am stating facts. Which you know well, Oliver.”

Oliver nodded. “I don’t care how you feel about it. Bargain with yourself as you wish, but go and tell your fellows that I am now in charge, and I won’t take any challenges to my power. I am not Amelie. Test me, and I’ll destroy you.”

John’s eyes flared a rebellious red, but he bowed stiffly and walked out of the room.

Ysandre laughed. “What a sanctimonious old frog,” she said. “Well, Ollie? I think I threw my lot in with the winning side this time. We’re going to have a wonderfultime. Where should we start? Let’s just declare open season on the humans and kick it off right. I feel a good hunt coming on.”

Oliver looked at her with the same kind of distaste he’d just gotten from John. “You’re notmy second,” he said. “Don’t presume to be informal with me. I spared your life for a specific reason, but don’t think that it has anything to do with fondness.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, I’m not your second? Who’s going to challenge me for it, John?”

“There’s to be no challenge. Amelie is my second.”

“Amelie?”Ysandre sounded furious, and Claire saw her hands clench. “You can’t be serious. You can’t keep her around. She’ll have a dagger in your back the first chance she gets—”

“Like you would? I’ve seen how you treat your friends as well as your enemies, presuming you make any distinction between the two at all. Don’t push me. I interceded for you when Amelie wanted to wall you up in a cell with Bishop. You can show your gratitude by remembering your place, which is definitely not at my side,” Oliver said. “Go to my people. Tell them what’s happened. Tell them I expect nothingto change until they hear differently, but that change will come. But it will be controlled, and measured, and I will look badly on any attempts to push it faster.”

Ysandre stared at him through narrowed eyes, and Claire thought she was just as angry as John, but for different reasons. She finally shrugged and said, “Whatever you want, boss man. If you want to be a fool, go right ahead. You just got the big chair. Good luck holding on to it, with that kind of attitude.” She turned her attention to Claire, on the other side of the table, and smiled. “Well, if it isn’t the little bit of nothing. How’s Shane?” She licked her lips. “I’ve been missing him.”