Morganville - 10 - Bite Club (30 page)

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.

THIRTEEN

I
t was like CSI: Vampire, only without sunglasses.

The vampires brought lights, although they probably could have gotten along without them. It didn't take long for them to clear the potentially dangerous wreckage from overhead and get down into the basement, where Claire sat huddled at the foot of the steps. She was still staring at the drying blood on her hands when Oliver stepped down carefully, watching her as he did so.

"It's blood," she said, feeling tired and oddly calm now. "Is it going to make you go all crazy and bite me?"

"Do you go insane with hunger when you see an old, decaying hamburger on the ground next to a trash can?" he asked.

"No," she said. Then, belatedly, "That's disgusting."

"Then let me assure you, the idea of ingesting that filthy, contaminated blood has no appeal to me whatsoever." His voice was oddly quiet, and he looked from her to the pool of blood near the cage.

"You're afraid it's Shane's."

She swallowed and managed to whisper, "Is it?"

"No," Oliver said. He crouched down and touched the blood, rubbed it between his fingers, and cautiously sniffed it. "Doesn't smell like his. It's human, but not of the Collins bloodline." He lifted his head again and surveyed the room. More of his people came down the steps, bringing portable lights with them that they set up and turned on, bathing the room in merciless white light. The blood looked almost insanely red, drying to brown patches at the edges. Oliver stood up and stalked over to another spot, then another. "It's also not alone. There are many bloodstains here.

Some older; some only a few days old." He walked to the cage and swung open the unlocked door, which creaked like a haunted house. Claire shivered. It felt like that high-pitched squeal had gone straight through her head.

It isn't Shane's blood. She felt an immense, late-breaking wave of relief, and her hands, the hands she'd been holding so rigidly out from her, fell back to her sides.

She wanted to cry, but she wasn't sure she had it in her.

"More in here," Oliver said. "A lot more. Many different donors, and vampire blood, as well, as you'd expect from the fight recordings we saw."

"It's barbaric," Amelie said. Claire hadn't heard her arrive, but suddenly she was there, like a white and tattered ghost, glowing in the brilliant lights. If the sun hurt here, why didn't those bright lights? Maybe not the right spectrum. Claire's brain felt sluggish and too tired to work it all out. "Pitting men against each other like fighting dogs in a pit. I can smell the stink of fear and violence here."

Oliver nodded slowly and got to his feet from where he'd been kneeling, examining something Claire couldn't see. "They've been here very recently," he said. "Recently enough to kill someone and set the traps outside. Pressure mines, presumably, triggered when your guards advanced into the shadows. Someone knew precisely what you'd do when you arrived."

"They only misjudged how many I'd bring with me," she said. She seemed all bone and muscle now, and her eyes glittered like ice. "They've made a fatal error. They should have made sure to kill me."

"I'm sure they'll take that to heart," Oliver said. "They knew we were coming. That much is quite obvious."

Amelie turned. Claire thought at first that she was getting her attention, but no, the gray eyes were staring out at something else.

"They've moved operations," she said. "And we have no way of knowing where that is at present. But we will find them, and when we do...when we do, no one will be exempt. No one."

"But -- "

"No one," Amelie said. Oliver nodded. "They've allowed humans to fight on equal terms, and humans have the advantage of numbers. They will destroy us with this, even without the danger of exposure. It must stop. Dead."

That, Claire thought with a sick feeling, wasn't a metaphor.

She had to find them first and get Shane out.

Eve was waiting on the street next to her car when the limousine dropped Claire off at home. Amelien hadn't said a word to her, although Claire had tried to talk. It was like she no longer acknowledged Claire existed at all.

"What the hell is going on?" Eve demanded as the limo sped away, gliding like a sleek, black shark. She was dressed in a black corset dress with purple net underneath it, and her lipstick was a shocking magenta. When Eve got distressed, she sometimes channeled it into her wardrobe. And from how she looked today, she was screaming on the inside. "Claire? First Shane going over the edge, and you said you'd call! You didn't call! Was Michael there?" That was a sudden flare of hope that glowed inside her like a spotlight, but it dimmed suddenly at the look on Claire's face. "He wasn't.

He's not with Amelie, either."

"No," Claire said very reluctantly. She took a step toward her friend. "I don't know where he is, but I think Michael went to go talk to Shane without us, to try to get him to snap out of it."

"And that didn't go well," Eve finished. Her eyes were dark and bleak. "Guys. Why do they never listen? Even the cute, hot, smart ones? Didn't we agree you'd talk to Shane?"

"I think Michael was trying to protect me," Claire said. She felt miserable, and she ached all over. "In case Shane got violent. I'm sorry, Eve. I'm so sorry." She wanted to cry. Everything had gone so wrong, and unlike most times, she felt like she couldn't control any of it. Everybody was lying or sneaking around or under someone else's control. Amelie had gone all Warrior Princess on her, and Oliver -- well, he was being Oliver, but squared. Even Kim had boned her, and she'dexpected that one.

But it still hurt, at least physically.

"Oh, honey, it's all right," Eve said. She blinked and looked closer. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Kim lured us into a trap. A building blew up."

"A building blew -- " Eve edited herself, backed up, and said, "Wait, did you just say Kim? My Kim? I mean, the Kim we all hate now who's inprison ? That one? Were you locked up? When were you locked up? Why were you -- "

"They let her out," Claire interrupted, and squeezed her eyes shut. "And it was my idea. I thought she could help us trace the signal to where they were holding the fights."

"Oh? Oh. Well, that was a pretty good idea, actually."

"It was a terrible idea. She alerted them somehow. They almost killed us. And they royally pissed Amelie off." Claire's tears were really threatening now, triggered by the warm, concerned look Eve was giving her. "It's all coming apart. I don't know...I think they know we're looking for them. I think -- oh, God, Eve -- I think Amelie's going to kill everybody now and I don't know what to do!" It came out as a plaintive little wail, and Claire instantly felt ashamed of herself. She was falling apart, and it wasn't like her. She'd stood up to Oliver. To Bishop. To Amelie. Even to Bad Crazy Myrnin.

The problem was that this time, the enemy, though known, was for all intents and purposes invisible. Faceless. Worse, the enemy she'd seen, faced, wasShane. And that hurt; it had cracked some fundamental, unshakeable strength in her that she needed right now. Desperately. There wasn't anyone or anything she could stand up to, because they were shadows, smoke, invisible or untouchable, like Bishop and Gloriana and Vassily.

Or like Kim. The thought hit her and vanished. God, she hated her. She hated her most, truthfully, for saying that she hoped Shane died.

That, Claire couldn't forgive. It burned in her guts like a beaker full of acid.

"I'm sorry," she said, and caught her breath. Her voice sounded ragged. "I'm sorry.

It's been a very bad morning."

"You look like somebody dragged you by the hair through an ash factory," Eve said.

"Come in. You need a shower."

"No. We need to find Michael and Shane!"

"And we're not going to do it without getting a plan together, right? Because I'm pretty sure that wherever they are, they're not wandering the town looking forus ."

Eve, suddenly, was all business.

Usually Claire was (or, at least, thought she was) the logical, planning part of the team, while Eve provided the passion and intuition. But today, Eve was in charge, and she took Claire firmly by the shoulders and steered her up the walk, toward the steps. "I called the police and talked to Hannah. No sign of the boys, or this messed-up fight club they've gotten themselves mixed up with. It's quiet out there. They've searched the gym, too. No sign of them there."

"Eve, we have to do something."

"I know," Eve said. "And the first thing you're going to do is take a shower, wash off the -- Oh, my God, is that blood?"

"It's not his," Claire said. "It's not Shane's, I mean."

"Or Michael's?"

She hadn't even asked. That made her want to beat her head against the wall...but then she remembered Oliver had been specific. "No, it was human blood, but it wasn't Shane's. So not Michael's, either."

"Thank God." Eve rested her shoulder against the wall of the house for a second, next to the door, and squeezed her eyes shut. She looked almost dizzy with relief. "Okay, inside. I don't know whose blood it is, but it doesn't need to be all over you."

No arguing with that, really.

Cleaning up had a definite stabilizing effect, to Claire's surprise; she got her emotional bearings again, dressed, and found Eve pacing downstairs in the living room, talking on the phone. When she saw Claire descending the stairs, she hung up and dropped her cell back in her pocket. "Listen, I was thinking. What if we go talk to Frank again? Now that Kim busted open the encryption on that Web site, maybe he can tell us more. What do you think?"

"I think I should have thought of it," Claire said, and managed a smile. "I'll call Myrnin. We can use the portal."

"Ugh. I hate that thing," Eve said. "But yeah, okay, I'm up for scrambled molecules today. But if that thing ruins my dress, I am hurting somebody. Probably your boss."

She reached down and grabbed a black canvas bag, which she slid across to Claire as she lifted another, identical one.

"What's this?"

"Picnic lunch. What do you think it is?"

"Antivampire kit?"

"Yes. And lunch. I made us sandwiches. I even cut off the crusts." Eve grinned fiercely. "You and me, girlfriend. Let's go rescue the men folk for a change." She held up her hand, and Claire high-fived it and returned the grin just as fiercely.

Suddenly, she felt like herself again: in control, with a plan, armed. No Shane at her back, but that was okay. She and Eve would do it. Together.

She faced the wall, did the mental calculations, and created the portal that led through to Myrnin's lab. It was dark on the other end, and she sensed the presence of the locked door. "Dammit." She pulled out her phone and dialed. "Myrnin? Open the portal. I need to get through."

"It's not a good time," Myrnin said. He sounded distracted.

"That's too bad. I'm coming through. If you don't want to see me get splattered and killed, open the door."

He sighed in exasperation and dropped the phone, which might have been read as whatever, but in the next moment, she sensed the door unlocking and opening, and beyond, a slice of light widened and became the lab. Myrnin was standing there, holding open the door, looking just as harassed as he'd sounded.

"Well?" he demanded. "Are you coming through or creating a breeze?"

Claire gestured for Eve to go ahead of her, which she did, moving fast, dancing around Myrnin on the other end. Claire followed and let the portal snap shut behind her. Myrnin slammed and padlocked the door, then rolled the bookcase in front of it before he whirled around, clasped his hands behind his back, and said, "I have gotten a series of calls from Amelie. You've been keeping secrets, Claire. From me.

And I do not appreciate it."

"Normally, I'd care about that," Claire said. "But right now, you're going to have to get over your hurt feelings, because we've got things to do. A lot of things, probably.

And you're going to help us."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Claire said. "You owe me, Myrnin." She pulled the neck of her shirt down to show the silvery bite scars that never quite seemed to go away. "You're going to help. That's all there is to it."

He looked...completely puzzled. "You can't talk to me this way, Claire."

"I can and I am and I will," she said. "And you're going to help us find Shane and Michael before Amelie and Oliver do."

"I'm definitely not. I'm on thin enough ground with Amelie at the moment. I won't cross her just for the sake of your wandering boyfriend."

"Myrnin, this is serious. Amelie could kill him, if she gets her hands on him first, and it's not his fault. It's Gloriana. Shane wouldn't do these things, say the things he's said...not unless someone was manipulating him. I know him."

"And Michael's just trying to help him," Eve put in. "You can't let Michael get hurt, can you?"

"Dear girls, I can let anyone get hurt, because in my world, my safety and well-being come first," he said. "I thought you knew that by now."

"I was hoping that I was wrong," Claire said. Her mind was racing, and all of a sudden, she knew just how to get Myrnin to help, after all. She made sure her voice sounded uncaring as she continued, "But, anyway, we don't need you, Myrnin. We need Frank."