Morganville - 10 - Bite Club (37 page)

So Shane walked with her to the blood bank, picked up the cooler, and carried it all the way back to the alley and down the steps, into Myrnin's lab.

Same old crazy place. Myrnin was standing stiffly in one place, hands behind him, just behind one of the lab tables. He was wearing that white coat over his Hawaiian shirt, looking like the world's least reliable scientist ever.

"Hey," Claire said. "We brought it." Myrnin didn't move and didn't speak. She frowned. "Are you feeling all right?"

He twitched slightly, blinked, and said, in a flat voice, "Hungry. Just leave it there."

"Here?" Shane asked, and when Myrnin didn't reply, shrugged and dropped it.

"Okay. There's your fast-food delivery. We're going now."

"I thought you wanted to apologize," Claire whispered. Shane's jaw looked tight and set, and he sent her a quick, unreadable look.

"I did," he said. "But now I don't. It's just about maxed me out, not punching him. So let's go, okay? I don't want to feel like this. Not anymore."

"Wait," said a new voice. Female. Myrnin snapped his head around toward it, and Claire blinked as she saw Kim -- Kim? -- step out of the shadows and walk toward them. "I knew you'd come with her. Hi, Shane."

Shane blinked, clearly as confused as Claire felt. "Uh, hi?" He looked at Claire.

"Where did she come from?"

Oh. She hadn't had a chance to explain -- Kim, the escape, all that. She'd figured Kim would have run for the borders of town, not come here. Why would she?

"Myrnin, what's she doing here?" Claire asked. She knew she sounded a little on edge, but it was very weird of him to have guests. Especially guests that Amelie wanted to arrest.

"She's doing exactly as she pleases," Myrnin said, and turned slightly so they could see the silver chains wrapped around his arms, from elbows down to wrists. Some of it was covered up by cloth, but not all.

Where it touched his flesh, it was burning him. "I'd very much prefer it if you'd take these off."

"How did she -- ?"

"She posed as my delivery person," he said. "I was focused on signing for the blood.

Really not my fault, Claire."

Kim was still coming toward them -- no, toward Shane. Her eyes were focused on him with weird fascination. "You don't look so good," she said. "I heard Bishop almost killed you."

"One of us is still standing," Shane said, and held out a hand to fend her off when she got too close.

"Hang on. We are not hugging."

"Oh, we will," Kim said. "You and me, Shane. It's always been the two of us. All we need to do is get rid of the interference."

Shane's eyes widened, and he looked from Kim to Claire. "No -- "

A narrow hissed across the room, a blur of wood and metal, and Shane shoved Claire out of the way.

The arrow plunged into his shoulder, and she felt the warm spatter of Shane's blood across her face.

He spun away from her and fell.

Who was shooting? Claire tried to get to shelter, but another shot came her way, ricocheting off the wall, and brought her to a quick, skidding halt.

Kim was smiling, and now it had turned bitter and cruel. "I don't come without friends," she said.

"Boys?"

There had been two men in the jeep that had rescued her in the desert, Claire realized, and now she saw them, dressed in camouflage, blending into the shadows. Both had crossbows.

"Friends," Claire said. "You don't have friends, Kim. You stab your friends in the back -- "

"Just shoot her," Kim said. One of the men aimed and fired again, but Claire managed to duck. The arrow tugged at her hair. She hid behind one of the lab tables.

Kim rolled her eyes. "Wow, you guys are terrible. You can't shoot her?"

They had all pretty much forgotten about Myrnin, but suddenly, there was a sound of metal snapping.

Kim looked over at him, startled. "Weak link," he said. "How appropriate." He ignored Kim and flashed across the lab in a zigzag pattern, then veered into one corner. The camouflaged man there cried out, then went quiet. The other one tried to shoot at Myrnin, but it didn't go so well, either.

Myrnin was heading for Kim when she picked up a crossbow lying on a table nearby and shot him point-blank in the chest.

He staggered backward, muttered, "Not again," and then went down, wood through his heart. Not enough to kill him. Just enough to immobilize him.

Kim dropped the crossbow.

"Stop," Shane said. His voice sounded ragged and anguished, and as Claire looked, she saw him getting to his feet. "Just stop. What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry you got hurt. They weren't aiming for you," Kim said. "I don't want to kill you, Shane. I spent a lot of time thinking about this. How to get it right."

Kim sounded earnest and very crazy. Claire didn't know who she was more afraid for -- Shane, wounded, with blood running down his fingers to pool around his feet, or the vampire lying completely still nearby.

"You are crazy," Shane said, and meant it. "If you're expecting me to love you -- "

"You do love me." Kim sounded utterly sure of it. "It's just that she's in the way."

"Trust me, that's not it."

"So you're saying you don't want me?"

"Pretty much."

Kim pulled a gun out of her pants pocket, and she aimed it right at Shane. He didn't flinch. Maybe he was just too tired.

"How about now?" she asked. "Do you want me now?"

Shane sighed. "About as much as cancer. So shoot me already."

She was going to -- Claire could see it in her eyes -- but then Frank Collins flickered into view just a foot away from Kim's face.

She shrieked in terror. Even crazy people could do that when a ghost with the vicious face of Shane's father showed up in their moment of triumph.

"Not my son," Frank said. "You're not hurting my son."

Shane's eyes snapped open. "Dad?" He sounded dazed and disbelieving, but he could see it, too -- the flat, black-and-white image of his father, translucent and standing between Shane and his would-be killer.

Kim fired, but the shot went wild, missing Shane by at least a foot. Claire gasped and ran as fast as she could through the maze of books, discarded clothing, and glass beakers. She vaulted over a chair and landed next to an open cabinet where Myrnin kept all kinds of things that were too dangerous to handle.

Including a set of silver stakes that Eve had made for Claire, and that Myrnin had confiscated and put in the cabinet for safekeeping.

Claire grabbed one and threw it desperately, just as Kim tried to aim again. It didn't kill her, but it did hit her solidly in the head, snapping her skull sideways, and she staggered and went down to one knee.

Frank Collins turned to Claire and yelled, "Handcuffs, second shelf! Hurry up, dammit!"

She found them. They were silver, but they'd work just fine. She got to Kim just as the girl was climbing to her knees, and knocked her down to put the restraints on her.

Kim yelled and kicked and cursed, but Claire held her down. She wanted to bang Kim's stupid head into the floor, but didn't dare, because she knew she wouldn't be able to stop. She was shaking all over with rage.

She looked up and saw Shane staring at them with an empty, horrified expression on his face. She couldn't think why for a second -- it couldn't be Myrnin; he didn't care about that. He wasn't worried about Kim, surely......

And then the adrenaline haze faded, and it hit Claire with a sickening thud what he was looking at.

His father.

Frank Collins.

The black-and-white ghost of a man he thought was safely, and even heroically, dead.

"Hello, son," Frank said. His voice sounded gentle but inhuman as it whispered out of the radio and phone speakers all over the lab. "Sorry you have to learn about it like this. I never meant it to be this way. I never wanted you to know."

Shane had an arrow in his shoulder, but it seemed like he'd forgotten all about it, because this hurt so, so much worse. He took a step forward, then another, then seemed to just...collapse. Claire did bang Kim's head into the floor then, just once, enough to make her stop struggling for a minute, and then she went to her boyfriend's side.

Frank Collins stayed where he was, a safe distance away. "Don't take the bolt out,"

he said. "Best to do that at the hospital. Could have nicked an artery."

"You're dead," Shane said. "You're dead."

"I still am," Frank agreed. "It's just a picture, son. I'm not really here."

"Yes, you are." Shane's throat worked as if he was trying to swallow a huge, unchewable chunk of shock and sorrow. "He did this. Myrnin brought you back. For his machine."

"Don't blame Myrnin. It was either me or Claire. I'd rather it was me."

Shane shook his head. He wasn't looking at his dad anymore, or at Claire, or at anything but the bloodstained fabric of his blue jeans. His face was pale from shock, his eyes very wide.

"Shane...I'm calling the ambulance," she said. "You're going to be okay. It's all -- "

"It's not," he said, and met her eyes. She flinched. "You knew. You knew. And you didn't tell me."

"I told her not to," Frank said.

Shane ignored him. "You knew," he said as if his heart was breaking. He pitched over on his side and closed his eyes. "You knew, Claire."

She felt breathless and terrified. Was he dying? No, the bleeding wasn't that bad; surely he'd be okay.... Surely they'd be okay.......

"Claire." Myrnin's voice, just a bare whisper. "Claire, help. Help."

She looked over. His eyes were open, dark, and suffering...just like Shane's. It was the arrow. It hadn't hit him completely through the heart, but it was close enough that it was hurting him.

But that meant leaving Shane.

"Go," Frank said. "Shane's stable enough. See to Myrnin."

She didn't have a choice, but she knew that Shane didn't see it that way.

She went to her vampire boss and took hold of the bolt and yanked it free in three awful tugs.

Shane was curled up now, looking awful and beaten and defeated, and the second the bolt was free of Myrnin's chest, she left him and ran, ran back to Shane. She took him in her arms and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll never leave you again. They called me to go to MIT, but I won't go now, not in January, not ever. I won't. I love you...."

Shane's dark eyes opened and fixed on her, and she felt the whole world crumble into darkness underneath her.

"You knew," he said, and then a spark of understanding flared in his expression.

"January. You were going in January."

"No, I -- "

"You didn't tell me that, either."

"Shane, I -- "

"I can't do this. Just leave me alone."

Claire scrambled backward, through Frank's flickering image, back until she was pressed against the cold, heavy bulk of one of the lab tables.

Then she used her cell phone to call for help.

Shane didn't say another word to her. Not another word to anyone.

Not for days.

It had been almost a week, and Claire still felt frozen, stuck in a horrible, empty place that was full of darkness and loneliness. Eve tried to cheer her up. So did Michael.

But it was the specter of Shane, who never left his room except to get food or visit the bathroom, that haunted their house now.

Shane, who hated her.

The doctors had given him good scores on his wound; with a little time and rehab, he'd be fine. Kim was going back to prison for good. Myrnin had recovered in less than two hours, drained half the cooler of blood, and looked suspiciously interested in the bloody floor where Shane had been standing. But Claire didn't want to think about that. She hadn't talked to him, and he hadn't pressed.

Frank kept trying to talk to her on her phone, so she finally turned it off. Today was the first day she'd switched it back on.

There were three messages from MIT.

Claire lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, playing them one after another on the speaker. Ms. Danvers, just calling you to see if you've reached a decision.... Ms.

Danvers, I urgently need to hear from you by the end of the weekend if we're to hold your place for the next term.... Ms. Danvers, I'm concerned that you haven't returned our calls.......

She started to dial the phone. Her fingers felt numb and thick, and she wasn't sure she wasn't going to burst into tears, but she dialed.

He answered on the second ring. "Sir?" She'd been right; the tears threatened immediately. Claire cleared her throat. "Sir, this is Claire Danvers. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you."

"Oh, excellent. I've been waiting to hear from you," Mr. Radamon said. "Have you worked out all your arrangements? Can we confirm you for the records? Because I have to tell you, Ms. Danvers, it's a little puzzling that it's taken so long to hear from you. We normally have no hesitation at all."

Claire heard a sound at the door. Shane was standing there, looking at her. He had on a ratty old T-shirt and sweatpants, and his shoulder was still bulky with bandages. His hair looked like he'd combed it with an eggbeater...and still, she felt her heart skip and then race.

Claire sat up slowly, phone at her ear.

"About the January start," she said, and wet her lips. "I know you need my final decision." She was staring right into Shane's dark eyes, waiting for a sign. Waiting for something.

He didn't give her anything at all. But he was there. For the first time, he was there.

Claire drew in a sharp, hurting breath, and said, "I'm sorry, but I won't be available.

Thank you for considering me. If it's possible to put my application in again next year, I will."

"Ms. Danvers, I hope you realize that this is a very momentous decision," Mr. Radamon said. "MIT would be very happy to have you as a student."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." She hesitated, and tried to put all her love into the stare she was holding with Shane. "But I need to stay here for now. I absolutely can't leave.

Not now."

She hung up and dropped the phone on the bed.

Shane said, very quietly, "Did you do that for me?"