The Morganville Vampires Collection (The Morganville Vampires #1-4) (40 page)

‘I know all that,’ Amelie said. ‘And it does not matter.’

Claire stopped, stunned. Her mouth was open, and she tasted woodsmoke on her tongue until she closed it and swallowed. ‘What?’

‘I know Shane is innocent of the crime of which he is accused,’ Amelie said. ‘And yes, I could countermand Oliver. But I will not.’

‘
Why?
’ It burst out of Claire like a scream, but it was really just a whimper, all the fight kicked out of it.

‘I have no reason to explain myself. Suffice to say that I have chosen to place Shane in that cage for a purpose. He may live, or he may die. That is no longer in my hands, and you may save both your breath and your hopes; I shall not stand up dramatically at the last moment as they light the pyres, and save your lover. Should it come to that, Claire, you must be prepared for the harsh reality that the world is not a fair or just place, and all your wishing cannot make it so.’ Amelie sighed, very lightly. ‘A lesson I learnt long, long ago, when the oceans were young, and sand was still rock. I am old, child. Older than you can possibly understand. Old enough that I play with lives like counters in a game. I wish this was not so, but damn me if I can change what I am. What the world is.’

Claire said nothing. There didn’t seem to be anything left to say, so she just cried, silently and hopelessly, until Amelie pulled a white silken handkerchief from her sleeve and gracefully held it out to her. Claire dabbed at her face with it, honked her nose, and hesitated with the silken square clutched in her hand. She’d grown up with disposable tissues; she’d never actually held a handkerchief
before. Not one like this, all beautiful embroidery and monogramming. You didn’t throw these away, right?

Amelie’s lips curved into that distant smile. ‘Wash it and return it to me someday,’ she said. ‘But go now. I grow tired, and you will not change my mind. Go.’

Claire slid off the chair and stood up, turned, and gasped. There were two of Amelie’s bodyguards standing
right there
, and she hadn’t even known they were behind her the whole time. If she’d tried anything…

‘Go to sleep, Claire,’ Amelie said. ‘Let things be. We shall see how the cards fall in our game.’

‘It’s not a game: It’s Shane’s life,’ Claire shot back. ‘And I’m not sleeping.’

Amelie shrugged and folded her hands neatly in her lap. ‘Then go about your quest,’ she said. ‘But do not come back to me, little Claire. I will not be so well-disposed to you again.’

Claire didn’t look back, but she knew the bodyguards followed her all the way to the door.

‘Was there not something else you wanted to tell me?’ Amelie asked, just before she went out. Claire glanced back; the vampire was still staring into the fire. ‘Did you not have another request?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Amelie sighed. ‘Someone asked you for a favour.’

Michael
. Claire swallowed hard. ‘Michael wants
to talk to you.’

Amelie nodded. Her expression didn’t change.

‘What do I tell him?’ Claire asked.

‘That is entirely your affair. Tell him the truth – that you did not care enough to deliver his message.’ Amelie waved a hand without even looking towards her. ‘Go.’

Lisa was sitting in the living room, frowning, arms folded, when Claire came back down the hall. She still looked fierce, never mind the bunny slippers, as she stood up to open the locks on the front door.
Warrior princess on vacation
, Claire thought. She guessed you grew up tough in Morganville, especially if you lived in a house Amelie could visit any time she felt like it.

‘Bad news,’ Lisa said. ‘Right?’

Did it show that much? ‘Right,’ Claire said, and wiped at her eyes again with the handkerchief. She shoved it in her pocket and sniffled miserably. ‘But I’m not giving up.’

‘Good,’ Lisa said. ‘Now, when I open this door, you’re gonna want to hurry. Go straight to the car out there. Don’t look left or right.’

‘Why? Is there something…?’

‘Morganville rules, Claire. Learn them, live them, survive them. Now
go
!’ Lisa yanked open the door,
put a hand flat on Claire’s back, and propelled her out onto the porch. A second later, Lisa slammed the door, and Claire heard the rattle of the locks being turned. She got her balance, jumped down the steps, and hustled down the dark path and through the picket gate, and yanked open the passenger door of the car. She scrambled in and hit the lock, and then relaxed.

‘I’m OK,’ she said, and turned to Detective Hess.

He wasn’t there.

The driver’s seat was empty. The keys were still in the ignition, the engine was idling, and the radio was playing softly. But the car was completely empty, except for her.

‘Oh God,’ Claire whispered. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God.’ Because she
could
drive the car, but that would mean stranding Detective Hess, if he’d gone off doing police things. Stranding him without his partner to help him. She’d seen enough cop shows to know that wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he’d just gone off to talk to somebody and was coming right back…or maybe he’d been snatched out of the car by some hungry vamp. But didn’t Hess have some kind of special Protection?

She had no idea what to do.

While she was thinking about it, she heard voices. Not loud, but a steady stream of conversation. It
sounded like Detective Hess, and he wasn’t far away. Claire cautiously rolled down the window and listened hard; she couldn’t make out any words, but there were definitely voices.

Claire unlocked her door and eased it open, straining to catch the words, but they were just sound, no meaning. She hesitated, then slipped out of the car, eased the door shut, and hurried towards the sound of the voices. Yes, that was Detective Hess; she recognised his voice. No question about it.

She didn’t even realise where she was going – she was so intent on listening – until she realised how
dark
it was, and the words weren’t getting any clearer, and she wasn’t at all sure now that was Detective Hess’s voice after all.

And she was halfway down an alley with tall, rough board fence on both sides, trapping her.

She’d gone into the alley
. Why the hell had she done that? Hess had warned her. Granma had warned her. And she hadn’t listened!

Claire tried to turn around, she really tried, but then the whispers came again, and yes, for sure that was Detective Hess, there was no safety back there in the car, the car was a trap waiting to spring, and if she could just get to the end of the alley she’d be safe, Detective Hess would keep her safe, and she’d be—

‘Claire.’

It was a cold, clear voice, falling on her like ice down her back, and it shocked her right out of the trance she’d fallen into. Claire looked up. On the second story of Granma’s house, bordering the alley, a slender white figure stood in the window, staring down.

Amelie.

‘Go back,’ she said, and then the window was empty, curtains blowing in the wind.

Claire gasped, turned, and ran as fast as she could out of the alley. She could feel it at her back, pulling at her –
it
, whatever
it
was, it wasn’t a vampire as she understood vamps in Morganville; it was something else, something worse.
Trap-door spider
, that was how Granma and Lisa had described it. Panic whited out its song in her head, and she made it – somehow – to the end of the alley and burst out into the street.

Detective Hess was standing at the car, looking straight at the alleyway. Gun drawn and held at his side. He visibly relaxed at the sight of her, came around, and hustled her to the passenger side of the car. ‘That was dumb,’ he said. ‘And you’re lucky.’

‘I thought I heard you,’ she said faintly. Hess raised his eyebrows.

‘Like I said. Dumb.’ He shut the door on her, came
around, and put the car in gear.

‘Where’d you go?’

He didn’t answer. Claire looked back. There was something in the shadows in the alley, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

Just that its eyes reflected the light.

It was coming up on deep night, when most sensible people were fast asleep in their beds with their doors bolted and windows securely locked, and Claire was knocking on the door of Common Grounds. It had a C
LOSED
sign in the window, but the lights were on in the back.

‘You’re sure you want to do this,’ Hess said.

‘You sound just like my subconscious,’ Claire said, and kept knocking. The blinds twitched and tented; locks rattled.

Oliver opened the door of the coffee shop, and the smell of espresso and cocoa and steamed milk washed over her. It was warm, welcoming, and so very wrong, considering what she knew about him.

He looked very humanly harassed at her arrival. ‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

‘I need to talk to you about—’

‘No,’ he said very simply, and looked at Hess over her head. ‘Detective Hess, you need to take this child home. She’s lucky to still be alive today. If she wants
to continue that winning streak, then she ought to be a little more cautious than to run around Morganville in the dead of night, knocking on my door.’

‘Five minutes,’ Claire promised. ‘Then I’ll go. Please. I never did anything to hurt you, did I?’

He stared at her for a few cool seconds, and then stepped back and held the door open. ‘You, too, Detective. I hate to leave anyone with a pulse outside of shelter this evening.’

I’ll bet
, she thought. Oliver’s peace-and-love hippie act no longer worked on her. Amelie had a kind of noble dignity that let her get away with pretending concern; Oliver was different. He was trying to be like Amelie, but not quite making it.

And I’ll bet that pisses him off, too
.

Hess urged her across the threshold and followed her in. Oliver locked up, walked to the coffee bar, and, without being asked, began to put together three drinks – cocoa for Claire, strong black coffee for Detective Hess, and a pale tea for himself. His hands were steady and sure, the activity so normal that it lulled Claire into relaxing just a little as she sat down at a table. She ached all over with exhaustion and the tension she’d run through her body at Amelie’s.

‘Miles to go before you sleep,’ Oliver said, as he stirred the cocoa. ‘Here. Steamed milk and spiced
cocoa. Hot peppers. It does have an amazing effect.’

He brought it to the table and handed it off to her, put Hess’s coffee down, and retrieved his own brewing teacup before sitting. All very normal-life casual.

‘You’re here about the boy, I would suppose,’ Oliver said. He dunked his tea bag and watched the results critically. ‘I really must get a new supplier. This tea is pathetic. America just doesn’t understand tea at all.’

‘He’s not
the boy
. His name is Shane,’ Claire said. ‘And he’s not guilty. Even Amelie knows that.’

‘Does she?’ Oliver raised his gaze to fix it on hers. ‘How interesting, because I, in fact, don’t. Brandon was hideously and cruelly tortured, then murdered. He might have had his flaws—’

‘What, like molesting children?’

‘—but he was born into a different time, and some of his habits were difficult to change. He had his bright side, Claire, as do we all. And now that’s gone, along with any harm he might have done.’ Oliver wouldn’t let her look away. ‘Hundreds of years of memory and experience, poured out like water. Wasted. Do you think it’s so simple to forget such a thing for me? For any of us? When we look at Brandon’s body, we see ourselves at the mercy of humans. At
your
mercy, Claire.’ He glanced at
Detective Hess. ‘Or yours, Joe. And you must admit, that’s a terrifying prospect.’

‘So you’ll just kill anyone who frightens you. Who
could
hurt you.’

‘Well…yes.’ Oliver took the tea bag out of his cup and set it aside on the saucer, then sipped. ‘A habit we learnt from you, really. Humans are all too ready to slaughter the innocent with the guilty, and if you were older, Claire, you would know this. Joe, I’m sure, is not so naive.’

Hess smiled thinly and sipped coffee. ‘Don’t talk to me. I’m just the driver.’

‘Ah,’ Oliver said. ‘How generous of you.’ They exchanged some kind of a look that Claire didn’t know how to interpret. Was that anger? Amusement? A willingness to get up and beat the crap out of each other at a moment’s notice? She couldn’t even figure out what Shane and Michael were thinking, and she knew them. ‘Is she then aware of the price of your services?’

‘He’s trying to get you rattled, Claire. There’s no price.’

‘How interesting. And what a departure.’ Oliver dismissed Hess and got back to Claire, who hastily took a sip of her cocoa.
Ohhhhhh
…it just kind of exploded in her mouth, rich cocoa, warm milk, and a spicy edge that she didn’t expect. Wow. She blinked
and took another sip, carefully. ‘I see you like the cocoa.’

‘Um…yeah. Yes, sir.’ Because somehow, when Oliver was being civilised, she felt compelled to still call him
sir
. Mom and Dad had a lot to answer for, she decided. She couldn’t even be rude to evil vampires who’d caged her boyfriend and were preparing to roast him alive. ‘What about Shane?’

Oliver leant back, and his eyelids drifted down to half-mast. ‘We’ve covered this subject, Claire. Quite thoroughly. I believe you might even have the bruises to remind you of my opinion.’

‘He didn’t do it.’

‘Let us deal in facts.
Fact
, the boy came back to Morganville with the clear intention of disrupting the peace, at the very least, and more likely killing vampires, which is an automatic death sentence.
Fact
, he concealed himself from us, along with his intentions.
Fact
, he communicated with his father and his father’s friends both before they came to Morganville and after.
Fact
, he was at the scene of the crime.
Fact
, he has offered little in his own defence. Need I go on?’

‘But—’

‘Claire.’ Oliver sounded sad and wounded. He leant forward, braced his elbows on the table, and placed his chin on top of his folded hands. ‘You’re
young. I understand that you have feelings for him, but don’t be a fool. He’ll drag you down with him. If you force me to it, I’m sure I could uncover evidence that you knew about the presence of Shane’s father in Morganville, and you had knowledge of their agenda. And that, my dear girl, would mean the end of your precious Protection, and put you in a cage alongside your boyfriend. Is that what you want?’