The Morganville Vampires Collection (The Morganville Vampires #1-4) (72 page)

‘Well?’ Myrnin demanded.

‘This is wrong,’ she said, and flipped back to the first third of the notebook. ‘Right here. See? The formula’s wrong. The variable doesn’t match up with the prior version, and the error gets replicated going forward—’

Myrnin gave out a fierce, sharp cry, like a hunting hawk, and snatched the book away from her. ‘Yes!
Yes, I see it! That fool. No wonder he sustained me only for a few days. But you, Claire, oh, you are different.’

She knew she ought to be afraid of the slow, predatory smile he gave her, but she couldn’t help it.

She smiled back.

‘Give me the next one,’ she said. ‘And let’s start making crystals.’

When it wore off, it hit Myrnin first. He took more, but she could see it wasn’t really working this time. Diminishing returns. That was why he’d only taken a few crystals last time, to prolong the effects even if the change hadn’t been as dramatic.

This crash was like hitting a brick wall at ninety miles an hour.

It started when he lost his balance, caught himself, and knocked a tray off the lab table; he tried to catch it in mid-air, a feat he’d been more than capable of an hour before, and missed it completely. He stared at his hands in frustration and viciously kicked the tray. It sailed across the room and hit the far wall with a spectacular clatter.

Claire straightened up from spreading the crystals out on the drying tray. She could feel the effects, too – her brain was slowing down, her body aching. It had to be worse for Myrnin, because of the disease.
It was wrong to do this
, she thought. Wrong, because his manic phase always led to dementia, and he’d wanted so badly to be himself again.

But the crystals drying on the tray could change that, or at least, she hoped they could. It wasn’t that Myrnin had been wrong, but that his last assistant had made mistakes; whether deliberate or not, Claire couldn’t tell. But the crystals in the tray would be more effective, and longer lasting.

Myrnin could stabilise again.

‘It isn’t a cure,’ Myrnin said, as if he were reading her thoughts.

‘No, but it buys you time,’ Claire said. ‘Look, I can come tomorrow. Promise me you’ll leave these here, all right? Don’t try to take them yet; they’re not ready. And they’re more powerful, so you’ll have to start with a small dose and work up.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ Myrnin barked. ‘Who is the master here? Who is the student?’

This was familiar, and dangerous. She lowered her head. ‘You’re the master,’ she said. ‘I have to go now. I’m sorry. I’ll come back tomorrow, OK?’

He didn’t answer. His dark eyes were fixed on her, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Or even
if
he was thinking. He was right on the edge.

Claire took the shaker of the less effective crystals and stuffed it in her backpack – there wasn’t that
much left, but enough for one more dose for them both, and if he did something to the crystals during his manic phase, they might need it. She needed to ask Amelie for some kind of strongbox where she could store things…

‘Why?’ Myrnin asked. She looked up at him, frowning. ‘Why are you helping us? Isn’t it better for humans if we waste away and die? By helping me, you help all vampires.’

Claire knew what Shane would have done. He’d have walked away, considered it a win all around. Eve might have done the same thing, except for Michael.

And she…she was helping.
Helping
. She couldn’t even really explain why, except that it seemed wrong to turn away. They weren’t all bad, and she couldn’t sacrifice people like Sam and Michael for the greater good.

‘I know,’ Claire said. ‘Believe me, I’m not happy about it.’

‘You do it because you’re afraid,’ he said.

‘No. I do it because you need it.’

He just stared at her, as if he couldn’t figure out what she was saying. Time to go. She shivered, shouldered her backpack, and hurried for the stairs. She kept looking behind, but she never saw Myrnin move… Even so, he was in a different place, closer,
every time she looked. It was like a child’s game, only deadly serious. He wouldn’t move while she was looking at him.

Claire turned and walked backward, staring at him. Myrnin chuckled, and the sound echoed through the room like the rustle of bat wings.

When her heels hit the steps, she turned and ran.

He could have caught her, but he didn’t. She burst through the doors of the shack into the alley, breathing hard, sweating, shaking.

He didn’t follow. She didn’t think he could, past the steps. She wasn’t sure why – maybe the same way that Morganville itself kept people in town, or wiped their memories, kept Myrnin confined in his bottle.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stir, and then she heard a voice. Whispering and indistinct. Shane? What was Shane doing here?

He was inside. He was inside and he was in trouble; she had to go to him…

Claire found herself reaching for the door to the shack before she knew what she was doing.

‘Myrnin, stop it!’ she gasped and pulled away. She turned and ran down the alley towards the relative safety of the street.

It was only when she got there that she saw it was already nightfall.

Eddie wouldn’t come for her after dark, and she was a long way from home. Too far to walk.

Claire was about to dial Michael at home when she spotted a police car cruising slowly down the cul-de-sac. Not a vampire squad car – this one had only light tinting on the front windows, although the back was blacked out. Claire squinted against the harsh brightness and waved. The effects of the crystals were ebbing fast, and she felt clumsy, strange, and exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep. She’d have taken a ride with Satan in his big red handbasket if it had helped her get off her feet for a few minutes.

The cruiser pulled to a stop, and the passenger-side window rolled down. Claire bent over to look inside.

Officer Fenton. ‘You shouldn’t be out by yourself,’ he said. ‘You know better. Everybody’s looking for you. Your friends called you in as missing.’

‘Oh,’ she said. That hadn’t even occurred to her. She hadn’t realised how long she’d been away. ‘I just… Can I get a ride home? Please?’

He shrugged. ‘Hop in.’ She did, gratefully, and buckled herself in. Everything ached now – her head, her eyes, every muscle in her body. And she had the feeling it was going to get worse before it got better. ‘Speaking of your friends, how are they? Heard about that thing with Shane. Damn shame.’

‘He’ll be OK,’ she said.

‘And the other one? Michael?’

‘Yeah, he’s fine,’ she said. ‘Why?’

‘Just checking. Probably good to keep an eye on him, since he was the target of the hit in the first place,’ Fenton said. He turned the patrol car in a slow, crunching circle and headed back out, away from the alley. ‘Since the guy was looking for him, specifically.’

Claire’s head hurt too much for conversation. ‘I guess,’ she agreed faintly. And then some last flash of cognitive clarity put together strings of chemicals, and she felt her heartbeat jump and hammer harder.

‘How did you know that?’

‘What?’

‘I mean, about Sam not being the real target? He was unconscious when you found him. He couldn’t have said anything.’

‘Unconscious, crap. He was dead.’

‘But anyway, he couldn’t have said—’ Things clicked into place, and the pattern looked bad. Very bad. ‘You were there before the sirens.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘When we first looked out, we saw you parked behind Sam’s car and we just thought you’d found him there. But you didn’t just find him lying in the street—’

Officer Fenton pressed the gas pedal, and the cruiser shot forward at a high rate of speed. He turned on the lights. She heard the harsh clicking sound they made, and the night was flooded with flashes of blue and red strobes.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Shut up.’

Claire put her hand on the door handle, but they were going so fast she knew she couldn’t jump. She’d be badly hurt, at the very least. ‘If you hurt me, the Founder—’

‘That’s what we’re counting on,’ Fenton sneered. ‘Shut up.’

Shane would have totally got off on the whole vampire-killer-secret-society thing. Claire just wanted to go home. Badly.

In addition to Officer Fenton, the group that gathered in the shed behind the photo processing store included Fenton’s wife, the unpleasant nurse who treated Claire as though she were carrying some totally disgusting disease. She even wore latex gloves to tie Claire to the chair.

Claire barely recognised the others. One was a maintenance worker from the university; she’d seen him a few times. One was a bank teller. One was the smooth-faced, unremarkable guy who’d delivered
Amelie’s note to her that afternoon. He’d killed her courier, Claire found out. He spent a lot of time tracking down who worked for Amelie and trying to find out where she stayed.

He was the one who leant over into her space, hands braced on the arms of the chair, and said, ‘We don’t much care for collaborators. Even little underage ones.’

Claire’s mouth felt foul and dry, and she was shaking now with the after-effects of the crystals. Myrnin had been right: the consequences weren’t going to be pleasant. ‘Captain Obvious, I presume,’ she said.

He laughed. He had nice, white teeth, no sign of vampire fangs. ‘Aren’t you the clever one. Living up to your reputation, I see.’ He tapped a finger on her gold bracelet. ‘Not too many breathers have ever seen the Founder, much less become her pet. Sam Glass was the last one, before you. Did you know that? This is his bracelet you’re wearing. Probably sized down a little, though.’

She squirmed a little, but the ropes were too tight. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘Leverage,’ said Officer Fenton. ‘Vamps seem to like you.’

‘Not all of them,’ Claire said. If they asked Oliver to come running to her rescue, it wasn’t too likely
he’d so much as yawn. ‘And if you think Amelie’s going to sacrifice herself for me, you’re crazy.’ Amelie had already sold her down the river, by sending her to Myrnin with the clear expectation that Myrnin would…eat her. The fact that he hadn’t was just Claire’s good luck. ‘In fact, I don’t think any of them would raise a finger—’

‘Michael Glass would,’ Captain Obvious said. ‘And he’s the one we want. She knows that, of course. She’s done everything she could to keep him away from us.’ He flipped open the phone and pressed something on speed dial. ‘Tell him where you are.’

Claire glared. ‘No.’ She clamped her lips shut as she heard Michael’s distant hello on the other end.
I’m not going to talk; I’m not going to make a
sound
…

The door at the back of the shed opened, and someone came in. Thin, greasy, dressed in a black leather jacket with a hole in the pocket. Crazy eyes. Fang marks on his neck.

Jason.

He took the phone from Captain Obvious. ‘Hey, Mikey, it’s Jason. Just shut up and listen. I’ve got Claire, and I’m thinking about all the things I can do with her until you get here. Better hurry.’

‘No!’ Claire blurted, and realised it was a mistake. She’d just confirmed that she was there, and now
Michael wouldn’t have any choice, would he? ‘Michael,
don’t
!’

She could hear the sound of Michael’s voice, but not what he was saying. Jason put the phone back to his ear and listened. ‘Yeah, that’s right. You’ve got half an hour to show, or I’ll bring her home in pieces. Oh, and it’s not a trap; it’s a business proposition. You walk in alone, you both walk out alive.’ Pause. ‘Where? Oh, come on, man. You know where. The captain’s waiting.’

He snapped the phone shut, tossed it in the air, and caught it, smiling. His eyes never left Claire.

Michael wouldn’t do it. He just wouldn’t be that stupid, right? But Shane was in the hospital. He didn’t have anybody he could turn to for help except the other vampires, and they wouldn’t lift a finger to save Claire. She wasn’t sure anymore that Amelie would bother, unless she was just saving her as Myrnin’s midnight snack.

The door to the shed opened again, and both Captain Obvious and Jason turned to look.

Detective Travis Lowe stepped inside and closed the door, and for a second Claire felt a wild jolt of relief and satisfaction, but it faded just as quickly. Lowe looked at Jason and Captain Obvious as though he was expecting to find them there, and when his gaze moved to Claire, he didn’t react except to seem
angry and harassed.

Oh God
. He was one of them. Whoever
them
might be.

‘Could you screw this up any more?’ he asked, low and vicious. ‘I told you, Glass isn’t important. We don’t need to do this.’

‘He’s the youngest. He’s a symbol, man,’ Captain Obvious said. ‘And he was one of us. He’s a traitor.’

One of us?
Did he mean – no, he couldn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that Michael
knew
these people, that he’d been part of this skanky little conspiracy…but Jason had acted as though Michael knew where they were.

Nurse Fenton destroyed that hope by saying, ‘We’ve already been over this. Michael knows too much. If he decides to talk, we’re all dead. We can’t take the risk. Not anymore.’ She shot her husband a dark look. ‘If you hadn’t screwed up—’

‘Don’t blame me! Vampire car pulling out of the vampire’s house, how was I supposed to know it wasn’t him?’

Of course. No wonder that had bothered her all along – the house had woken all of them up not because of the threat to Sam, but the threat to Michael, its owner. Even though Michael wasn’t there, it was reacting to intent.

Officer Fenton hadn’t been the first man on the
scene; he’d been the one who staked Sam and left him to die, then pretended to be Johnny-on-the-spot. If Richard Morrell hadn’t shown up to scoop and run, he would have succeeded.

Claire swallowed hard and focused on Detective Lowe. ‘I thought you were a good guy.’

Something weary and painful passed across his face. ‘Claire—’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not as simple as that. Not in Morganville. You don’t just get to be one thing around here.’

‘It’s not his fault,’ Jason said, and grinned like a wolf. ‘If he wants his partner back, he’s not going to do anything stupid.’