Текст книги "Ghost Town"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

The vampires didn’t look familiar to her, but then, she didn’t keep up with every bloodsucker in Morganville; she thought these were probably some of the ones Amelie had been concerned about, who weren’t taking the new human-rights decrees of the town quite so well. Well, vampires liked to be in charge, no doubt about that. And they didn’t like being challenged.

I just saw that boy die, she thought, but then shut that thought off, walled it away, because it wouldn’t help to think about it. Not at all. “Eve!” she yelled. “Eve Rosser! ”

From somewhere near the far edge of the human crowd, she saw a very white face turn toward them under a sleek cap of black hair. Eve didn’t say anything, but there wasn’t any time, because the vampires were coming for them.

Shane fired once, taking down one of the five, and as he reloaded, Claire threw the contents of the vial in an arc across the other four. Where the silver nitrate hit vampire skin, it hissed and bubbled like acid. That stopped at least one, and slowed down the others long enough for Shane to get off another shot. It went wide as the vampire batted the bolt aside in midair and lunged for them. Claire dived one way, and Shane the other; he hit the floor and rolled, came up on his knees, and reloaded another bolt in time to get the vamp square in the chest as it rushed him. It still reached him, and Claire uncapped the other vial of silver nitrate, heart pounding, but Shane rolled again, out of reach, and the vamp collapsed on the floor before it could claw him.

The other two still in the fight were women—one about her mom’s physical age, with gray streaks in her long hair, and a lean, mean face. The other looked barely older than Claire herself, with short red hair and a round face that might have been sweet-looking, if it weren’t for the glowing eyes and pointy teeth. Both had gotten burned by the silver nitrate, and they weren’t in a hurry to get another dose, but Claire realized that Shane was out of crossbow bolts, and she’d dropped the rest by the bag, ten feet away.

She made a dash for them. The red-haired vamp cut her off, laughing, and kicked the bolts into the far corner, along with the black canvas bag.

Claire yanked her silver stake out of the waistband of her pants. She was terrified, but she was also angry—angry that Eve had been penned up in the corner with all those people, like so many cattle. Angry about all the dead people. Angry for the probably-stupid boy who’d just gotten killed right in front of her. Angry that this was all happening because some vamp’s pridehad gotten hurt.

“Hey!” Shane yelled, and tossed his empty crossbow to the ground as he jumped to his feet. “You going to let her have all the fun? Come on, Vampirella! Let’s go!”

The older vamp turned on him with a snarl, and in one leap was all over him like some horrible jumping spider. Shane hit the ground hard, on his back, and tried to roll, but the vamp was too strong. She snarled again, jaws gaping wide, and Claire desperately threw the silver nitrate at her. It hit, but the vampire ignored the burns.

A blur flashed out of the hallway and hit the vamp in a full tackle, taking her completely off of Shane as she tried to bite him. Both Shane’s attacker and the newcomer hit the far wall with a hollow boom, and then jumped apart. Both snarling.

Both vampires.

Michael.He looked tremendously scary when he was like this, all eyes and teeth, and he looked strong. Claire swallowed hard and focused on the vamp in front of her, the redhead, who had been as surprised as Claire at Michael’s furious arrival . . . but was getting over it fast.

The vamp lunged for her, but came up short with a kind of funny squawking sound as her head was yanked backward, hard.

Behind her stood Eve, both hands in the vamp’s hair. “That’s my friend, you bitch!” Eve said, and—when she was sure Claire was ready—shoved the vamp at her, off balance.

Onto the point of Claire’s silver-coated, blinged-out stake.

The vamp cried out, and for a second her eyes met Claire’s, and Claire felt something terrible: guilt. There was terror in those alien eyes, and hurt, and surprise . . . and then the vamp went down at her feet, taking the stake with her.

The vamp girl had been somebody’s daughter once. Somebody’s sister. Maybe even somebody’s girlfriend. Maybe she hadn’t asked to be what she was now.

Claire felt sick and she wanted to cry, but there wasn’t time, because Shane was at her side now, pulling her into his arms.

“Eve?” he asked. “You okay?”

Claire turned her head to look at her friend. Eve didn’t look okay. Her Goth makeup was a mess, mascara smeared and running in thick, uneven streams down her face; her dress was torn at the shoulder, and she had long, red scratches down one arm that were still bleeding.

But it was her eyes that really told Claire how not-okay she was. They were wide and full of misery. Without even knowing why, Claire let go of Shane and hugged Eve, who hugged her back so hard it hurt. Eve was trying not to cry, from her hiccuping little gasps for breath.

“You’re okay now,” Claire whispered in her ear. “We came as fast as we could.”

Eve nodded and tried to smile. “Guess I can’t say you’re losers for at least a week, then.” Her voice sounded odd and muffled, but she blinked back the tears. “Thank you.” She kissed Claire’s cheek, then Shane’s. Shane stepped away, clearing his throat. “Oh, don’t go all boy on me.”

“Mikey!” Shane yelled. “You’d better finish it up! Your girlfriend’s trying to kiss—”

He didn’t finish, because all of a sudden the fight was over . . .

. . . and Michael lost.

It happened so fast Claire hardly had time to comprehend it, but one second, the two vamps were a blur of movement, and the next, Michael was down on the ground, crumpled like a broken toy.

The other vamp grinned with her sharp, sharp teeth gleaming in the light, and licked blood from her lips. Her eyes looked brilliant and insane, and redder than the blood. She kicked Michael’s limp body out of the way and came for the three of them, doing that creepy jumping-spider thing again.

Suddenly, there was a cold, still presence standing in front of them, and a white hand reaching up, grabbing the vamp in midair and slamming her down to the floor.

Amelie.

The Founder of Morganville had arrived, and she’d done it in force; as Claire looked behind her, she saw at least a dozen vampires, all looking very seriously dangerous, including Oliver and a number of others she knew by sight. They were all dressed in long black leather coats, like a kind of uniform, with the symbol of the Founder stamped into the leather on every one of them.

Amelie was wearing white. Pure ice white, almost shimmering in the dim light. Her hair was up in a woven crown, nearly as pale as her elegant silk suit.

“Do be quiet,” she told the fallen vampire. “You’re a worthless idiot, but I don’t want more blood tonight. Don’t make me kill you for what you’ve done.” Amelie’s voice was so cold that it seemed to drop the temperature in the overheated, stifling room by at least fiftydegrees.“Getup.”

The other vamp did, moving slowly. Claire didn’t see Oliver move, but suddenly he was right there, holding both the woman’s arms in a bone-shattering grip behind her. “No foolish moves, Patrice,” he said. “I don’t believe the Founder is joking.”

“Get her out of my sight,” Amelie said, and looked at the other fallen vampires. The one who’d been burned badly by Claire’s silver nitrate got up and limped over, looking thoroughly terrified. “This one, too. And release those others.” She waved a hand at the vampires Shane had nailed with the crossbow bolts. One of Oliver’s black-coated troopers glided over and pulled the arrows out. The two downed bloodsuckers, released from their paralysis, coughed and sputtered blood.

They’d live.

“Michael,” Claire whispered. Eve broke free and ran to him, throwing herself down on the floor and taking his head into her lap. He looked—oh, God—he looked . . . dead. His eyes were open, and he looked so pale, so still; there was a hole in the side of his throat, but not much blood. Claire skidded to a stop and put her hands to her mouth, trying to hold in a scream. She felt Shane’s hands close hard around her shoulders—that was probably his version of feeling the same rush of horror and denial.

Then Michael finally, slowly, blinked. Eve screamed. “Michael? Michael! Talk to me!”

“He can’t,” Amelie said. She had come up behind them, and was looking at Michael with a slight softening of her usual cool expression. Maybe, Claire thought, because Michael still reminded her of Sam, her lost love. Apart from the color of their hair, they’d looked a lot alike. “He’ll be all right once we get some nourishment into him. I’ll have my people take him directly to the blood bank.”

“I want to go with him!” Eve said.

“I’m not sure that’s wise. Drained and hungry vampires, even ones you know well, can be very unpredictable. I would hate for anything to happen that Michael might regret later.”

“What about what wemight regret later?” Shane asked under his breath. “Oh, right. Humans don’t count.”

Amelie heard him, and her head swiveled smoothly as she focused her cool gray eyes on his face. “I only meant that you would likely not be around to regret anything, Mr. Collins. Ms. Rosser. Explain what happened here. Now.”

Eve was combing her fingers through Michael’s blond hair, but now she looked up, startled. That lasted only a second, though, and then her attitude snapped back in place. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe a vampire attack?” she snapped. “It was a party; then the frat idiots crashed and started boasting about how tough they were; then these freaks showed up to teach us all a lesson. That’s what they said. They wanted to put us in our place.”

“I see,” Amelie said. “And you did nothing to provoke them?”

“My friend—” Eve’s voice failed. Claire could see she was trying once again not to cry, and how much it hurt. “My friend Cory was just trying to have fun. That one, the redhead, she grabbed her and just . . . tore her up. Cory’s dead. I saw it happen.”

“Oh, man,” Shane whispered. Claire put her hand on top of his, where it lay on her shoulder. “Eve . . .” It sounded like he wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. She loved him for that.

Amelie waited a moment, and then said in a very low voice, “I am sorry for this experience, and for the loss of your friend. All who broke the law will be punished.”

Eve’s eyes grew brighter, but not with tears. With fury. “ Punished? What, like little kids going to bed without their blood supper? No TV for a week? Time-out?”

“I can assure you that the punishment will be severe.”

“Not enough!”

Now Amelie’s voice turned cool again. “It is enough for me, and that willbe enough for you, Ms. Rosser. Enough for all of you. Do I make myself clear?” She didn’t wait for an answer; she turned to Oliver, who was standing nearby, hands folded behind him, watching as the vampire prisoners and humans were herded out. “Vampires are dead here. I will expect a full investigation.”

“Of course,” Oliver said without turning. “And I expect the appropriate punishments will be meted out, according to the law.”

“Sir,” called one of Oliver’s men, who was kneeling over the red-haired girl with Claire’s stake in her chest. “You should see this.”

Oliver walked over, frowned, and crouched down to examine the girl more closely. “Silver,” his man said, and Oliver nodded. Oliver tugged on a pair of leather gloves and grabbed the stake, which he pulled out and immediately dropped with a clatter to the floor.

The girl didn’t breathe, move, or react.

Claire gripped Shane’s arm tightly, and waited, but the vampire stayed still on the floor, unmoving. There was a burned patch where the stake had gone in that continued to slowly burn outward.

“She’s dead,” Oliver said. “Silver poisoning. She must have been unusually allergic.”

Claire had killed her.

And the appropriate punishment for a human killing a vampire was death.

FIVE

“ But it was self-defense!” theguy seated next to Claire said. He’d been saying it a lot, and at a loud volume, and she thought his anger probably wasn’t helping any.

They were sitting in a quiet, wood-paneled room in the Elders’ Council building, a big faux-Greek temple that always felt to Claire like a funeral home. A really nice one. This particular room featured a long, highly polished table of dark wood, fancy chairs, and—of course—no windows. There were two doors, one at either end, but they were both guarded by Amelie’s personal security men. Claire knew them, slightly, but now they had their sunglasses hiding their eyes, and she knew they wouldn’t give her any breaks. They had their serious faces on.

Amelie sat at one end of the long table. Oliver sat at the other. Police Chief Hannah Moses was seated on one side, along with Mayor Richard Morrell, who’d taken his father’s seat on the council along with the not-too-fun job of governing the human side of Morganville. Richard was a nice-looking man, Claire had always thought, but he usually also looked tired, and like he didn’t smile nearly enough. But then, being Monica Morrell’s brother would probably take most of the sparkle out of life in general.

On the other side of the table, shackled, were one of the big EEK frat boys with blood all over his shirt, and Claire. Shane, Michael, and Eve had been shut out of the room, and Claire hoped they’d taken Eve home; she’d been pretty shaky, once the emergency was over, and had badly needed to clean up and change clothes.

Though Shane had wanted to stay, of course. It had taken all of Claire’s powers of persuasion to convince him not to start throwing punches when Amelie gave the order to leave. I’ll be okay, she told him, with confidence she didn’t completely feel. Amelie won’t let anything happen to me.

Looking at Amelie right now, sitting so cold and emotionless at the end of the table, Claire felt she’d probably overstated that. Maybe a lot.

“According to the testimony of both humans and vampires on the scene, the two of you are guilty of the deaths of two of my people,” Amelie said into the silence. The frat boy beside Claire shifted, and his chains rattled, but he didn’t say anything. He had a leather bracelet on his wrist, a Morganville band that identified him as belonging to some vampire in town. Claire wondered why the vampire wasn’t here. He or she was supposed to be, at any legal thing that involved their people.

“We’ll start with you, Mr. . . .” Oliver consulted a file in front of him. “Kyle Nemeck? Testimony of vampires and humans says that the trouble started with you and others from your fraternity group who arrived at the warehouse. Vampires tell us that you attacked a vampire, Ioan ap Emwnt, on the street, beat him severely, robbed him, and left him for dead. He is not dead, fortunately for you.” Oliver closed that file and opened another. “This vampire, unfortunately, was not as lucky.” He slid a color photograph out onto the table, and Claire had to look away. It was the decapitated body she’d seen in the club. Once had been enough. “Here’s his missing piece.” Another photo, this one probably the head; Claire definitelydidn’t look. “While your friends held this unfortunate down, you severed his head. Comments?”

The frat boy—Kyle—was sweating. He looked younger now, and very scared. “I . . . sir . . . ma’am—it was self-defense. They came after us.”

“They thought you had killed one of our own,” Amelie said. “Any vampire can, by law, pursue such an offender and claim him for trial. Your actions, defensive or not, sent this legally pursuing group into a blood rage. Everything that followed, including all the human deaths, can be laid directly at your door. Am I correct, Mayor Morrell?”

Richard was reading his file, frowning. Now he looked up, directly at Kyle. His brown eyes were narrowed, and there wasn’t any hint of sympathy. “Correct,” he said. “If it were only the human deaths, I could argue for a life sentence. With vampire deaths involved, it’s out of my hands. You’re a native, Kyle. You know better.”

Kyle looked as if he might start to cry. Oliver took the photos back, neatly stacked them, and closed that folder, too. “Any defense?” he asked, not as if he really cared.

Kyle’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “I . . . Look, we didn’t know that first dude was a vampire. I mean, we never would have . . . I swear.”

“So your defense is that you’d have done the same thing to a human. Which would almost certainly have killed him.”

“I—” Kyle clearly didn’t know what to say to that. “I just mean we didn’t know he was one of you.”

“Weak,” Oliver said. “And the vampire you did manage to kill, do you claim to not know what hewas? Because I think you recognize him very well, since his name appears on the bracelet you wear around your wrist.”

Claire took in a slow breath. Kyle had killed his own Protector. She didn’t know if there was a law for that, but if there was, the punishment wasn’t going to be anything less than gruesome.

Kyle shut up. He looked so pale he might have been a vamp himself.

“Well?” Oliver snapped. “Yes or no, did you recognize your Protector before you beheadedhim?”

“I . . . The lights . . . I don’t . . . No, I didn’t know who it was; I just knew it was a vamp coming after my friends.” He gulped. His voice sounded faint and rusty. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Oliver whispered. “I suppose that excuses everything, doesn’t it? He was seven hundred and sixty years old. But you’re sorry.” Oliver shoved his chair back from the table as he stood up, so hard it tipped over and crashed against the floor with a bang. “This is what being soft with the humans gets us, Amelie. You already know my vote. Guilty. I’m done with this nonsense.”

“And what about Claire?” Amelie asked quietly. “She’s charged with a similar offense.”

Oliver was heading for the door, but he hesitated, just a brief step. He didn’t look back. “Guilty,” he said. “She should have left it to us to police our own. I’d be hypocritical if I said anything different, wouldn’t I?”

The security guard let him out, closed the door behind him, and took up that waiting, alert pose again.

Claire was having trouble breathing. Guilty.She’d been defending herself. Defending her friends. And Oliver knew that, and he’d still voted against her.

“Mayor Morrell,” Amelie said. “Your vote on Mr. Nemeck.”

Richard rose slowly, put his hands flat on the table, and looked at Kyle as he said, “Guilty. I’m sorry, Kyle, but you left me no choice.”

“Chief Moses?”

Hannah got up, too. She looked as focused and cold as Amelie. “Kyle,” she said. “One question first. Do you swear you really didn’t know who you were killing?”

“Yeah, I swear!”

Even Claire could tell that he was lying. He’d known. He’d thought he could get away with it in all the confusion.

Hannah shook her head. “Guilty as hell, I hate to say.”

Amelie hesitated, then rose smoothly to her feet. “By unanimous verdict, Kyle Nemeck, you are found guilty of the highest crime of Morganville: the murder of your own Protector. I had sworn that the more barbaric punishments we once practiced would be outlawed, for the sake of harmony with humans, but I see no alternative than to punish you as harshly as you deserve. You will be placed in a cage in the middle of Founder’s Square for ten days and nights, so that all may come and read an account of your crime. After that, you will die in the traditional way. By fire.”

“No!” Kyle screamed, and threw himself out of his chair, stumbling around in his hobbling chains. “No, you can’t do this to me! You can’t! No!”

Claire stood up. She wasn’t shackled; maybe that was a sign they respected her more, or just weren’t afraid of her at all. She didn’t know. But she looked directly at Amelie and said, “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

“He’s guilty of the worst crime that may be committed, short of attempting to kill me,” Amelie said, and Claire had the feeling she was no longer talking to the sometimes-almost-kind person Amelie could become. She was talking to the Founder, or to the long-ago royal princess Amelie had once been. “There are times one cannot afford mercy without showing weakness. Weakness invites worse outrages.” She nodded to her guards. “Remove him to the cage.”

Claire opened her mouth to protest again, but she saw both Richard and Hannah sending her warning looks. Hannah actually made a “sit down” gesture and mouthed, Don’t be stupid.

Claire slowly sank into her chair as Kyle was dragged out of the room. She felt sick and angry, but mostly, she was scared. While the guards were busy, she could have made a run for it, found Shane, done . . . what? Tried to get out of Morganville? She knew better than to even try it. Security was tight, and getting tighter.

Amelie was still watching her, and anyway, Amelie could catch her before she got within touching distance of the door.

“Now to you,” Amelie said, as Kyle and the security detail disappeared down the hall, and his screaming was muffled by distance. Another security guard, this one female but dressed in the same black suit and sunglasses, stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.

It seemed very, very quiet.

The Founder sighed and sat back in her chair, and it seemed to Claire as if she became a different person. One who was irritated and unhappy and sad. Hannah and Richard sat down, too. After a moment, Amelie continued. “Claire, this is a very unfortunate situation. You know that, don’t you?”

Claire nodded, thinking, It’s really damn unfortunate for me.But she didn’t say it.

“Having just harshly sentenced Kyle, I can now afford to show leniency toward you. There are mitigating factors—you were definitely acting in defense of your own life, and all of the witness statements support it. The vampire you staked was known to be extraordinarily violent, and we have been considering for some time what to do to restrain her appetites; you have removed this problem for me, and although I can’t be seen to celebrate this, I must acknowledge that you did me a service in this matter. Again.”

Amelie’s long white fingers tapped the table in a little dry clicking rhythm, and her eyes went half-closed as she stared at Claire. Finally, she looked to Richard Morrell. “What say you?”

“She acted in self-defense. It’s unusual, but there are plenty of precedents—I did it myself once, and you found that what I did was justified. I don’t support any kind of punishment for her.”

Amelie looked at him for several long beats after he’d finished, and neither of them blinked. She turned her attention to Hannah. “And you?”

“Not guilty,” Hannah said. “You changed the rules in Morganville. You gave humans rights to defend themselves, even if it cost vampire lives. Claire was within the law to do what she did, and she saved her own life and the lives of at least some of the people in that room.”

Amelie closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “I’d have preferred you to use nonlethal methods in your heroic defense, but I cannot deny that there is right on your side. On mine, there is only tradition, but tradition is a very powerful force to vampires. It will be quite difficult to convince them that you shouldn’t join young Kyle in the cage. Oliver already cast his vote. I will be obliged to overrule him.”

Claire knew, without Amelie saying so, that overruling Oliver in his angry mood would be hard, if not impossible. Amelie and Oliver had struggled for control of Morganville in the past, and even though they had developed a kind of respect, that didn’t mean they couldn’t fight. Viciously, if necessary.

Amelie opened her eyes and said, “As the Founder of Morganville, I rule that Claire Danvers is innocent of the crime of deliberate murder. However, she is notinnocent of all charges. Claire, I give you two alternatives. First, you will be given into Myrnin’s charge until you complete the repairs for which he requires your assistance. During this time, you cannot leave his lab, nor see your friends or family, nor rest until the repairs are completed to Myrnin’s satisfaction. I will not deny you food and water, however.”

Claire swallowed. “What’s the second alternative?”

“You can choose someone to suffer punishment in Founder’s Square in your place,” Amelie said. “One of your friends, or your family. It will not be the punishment Kyle faces, but it will be severe, and it will be public.”

If a vampiresaid it was severe, then it was nothing Claire even wanted to think about. And choosing one of her friends? Her mom or her dad? She couldn’t do that. She could never do that.

“Think carefully,” Amelie said softly. “The first alternative may sound reasonable, but there will be no sleep, no rest, no contact until you have finished your work. It may well be a death sentence on its own, if the problem is as complex as Myrnin tells me. You’ll find that such a sentence is brutal in itself.”

“At least it’s my risk to take,” Claire said. “I’ll do it.”

Hannah sighed and looked grim, and Richard shook his head. “For the record, I lodge an objection to this,” he said. “She isn’t guilty. You’re bending the laws to benefit vampires.”

Amelie raised her pale eyebrows. “Of course I am,” she said. “Morganville is still my town, Richard. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Then why have us sitting here? Just to make it look legitimate?” Richard shoved his chair back. “The kid’s not guilty. And you’re manipulating things to get what you want.”

Amelie didn’t bother to reply this time. She looked at the security guard instead. “I believe Mayor Morrell and Chief Moses are finished,” she said. “Please see them out.”

The vampire woman nodded, opened the door, and gestured for the two humans to proceed. Hannah looked like she might protest, but it was Claire’s turn to shake her head. Don’t, she mouthed. I’m okay.

“No, you’re not,” Hannah muttered, but Richard put a hand on her shoulder, and they left the room together.

That left Claire and Amelie. No guards. No witnesses.

“You knew I wouldn’t let anybody else take my place,” Claire said. “Why’d you even ask?”

“Because if I had not, Oliver would demand that I did so,” Amelie said. “I asked, you chose; there is not much room for him to disagree with the outcome.”

“This is bad for you, isn’t it?”

Amelie looked down at her clasped hands. “It is not the best situation I can imagine. Oliver has been increasingly unhappy with the attitude of the younger humans, and the liberties they’re taking. I can’t blame him; I am less than happy myself. This incident . . . We cannot allow humans to roam in packs like animals, victimize our people, and commit cold-blooded murder. It would destroy us. Measures must be taken.”

“Why not? You allow vampiresto do it!”

“It isn’t the same.”

“But you promised that things would change! You promised at Sam’s funeral!”

Amelie looked up sharply and said, “Mind your place, Claire. I know what I said. And I know what Sam would have said, were he here. He would agree with me, though it would pain him. You hardly knew him at all. Don’t presume to lecture me on the rights of humans, or my responsibilities.”

There was a restless fire in her eyes, something that made Claire shiver, and she couldn’t help but look away. “You said I could stop to eat,” she said. “Can I go home for that?”

“Myrnin will provide you with meals. I will guarantee it.”

“What . . . what do I tell everybody? Shane, Michael, Eve, my parents?”

“Nothing,” Amelie said. “Because you will not speak to them at all. You leave this room and go directly to Myrnin’s lab, and you begin your work. I will speak with those who need to know of your choice.”

“That’s cruel.”

“It’s merciful,” Amelie said. “I am sparing you good-byes to those whose tears will cause you pain.” She hesitated, then said very quietly, “And if you fail me in this, Claire . . . then you will never see them again. That is my wish.”

“But—” Claire couldn’t seem to find the words, and then they came in a rush of clarity. “You mean if I don’t fix the machine, you’ll killme?”

Amelie didn’t answer. She looked into the distance, her face a blank mask, and Claire felt sickeningly sure that she had it right: Amelie expected results, or else.

The female vamp guard came back, and Amelie pointed to Claire. “Take her to Myrnin,” she said. “No stops. She speaks to no one. I will tell Myrnin what must be done.”

The guard nodded and gestured to Claire, who suddenly didn’t want to get out of the chair, uncomfortable though it was; she was scared, and cold, and she wanted to go home. She asked, “Amelie? What if I can’t? What if I can’t fix it?” Because that was, after all, a very real possibility.

Amelie was silent for a moment, then rose from her chair and looked down at her from what seemed like a million miles away. “You mustfix it. The consequences of this town remaining unprotected are too severe. This is the only chance I can offer you, Claire. Prove yourself worthy, and live. Fail, and you will wish you’d taken the second option I offered, harsh and unforgiving as it was.”

Amelie swept out of the room, head high, not looking back. Claire slowly got up, tested her trembling legs, and walked over to the waiting guard.

“What’s your name?” Claire asked.

“As far as you’re concerned, I don’t have one,” the vamp said. “Move.”

She’d never thought of Myrnin’s lab as a prison before. The unnamed vampire guard—Claire decided to call her Charlotte, at least in her own mind—escorted Claire to the underground parking lot beneath the council building, loaded her into a standard blacked-out vampire sedan, and drove her without making any further conversation. They got out at the entrance of the alley next to the Day House. It was dark, all the lights off. Overhead, the moon was setting, abandoning everything to the night.

The fence closed in on either side, narrowing and narrowing, until it ended at the run-down wooden shack that was the entrance to the lab.

Myrnin, wearing a gigantic red velvet hat with feathers, and some kind of long cloak, was standing outside the door, waiting. He nodded to Charlotte, took Claire’s arm, and, without a word exchanged, hustled her inside. He padlocked the door from within, and then escorted her—more like dragged her—down the steps into the lab proper.