The Morganville Vampires Collection (The Morganville Vampires #1-4) (60 page)

‘I wish we’d got the boy instead,’ Gretchen said, clearly disappointed. Her voice was low-pitched, throaty, with a heavy foreign accent. Not quite German, but not quite anything else, either. An old accent, Claire thought. ‘He was so rude to us when last we spoke. And surely his father deserves a lesson, even if the boy does not.’

‘Amelie says just bring this one,’ Hans said, and put the car in gear. He looked at Claire in the rear-view mirror. ‘Seat belt, please.’

She had trouble wrapping her head around that – why did he care? – but she clicked the safety restraint shut and sat back. Like the ride in Sam’s car the day before, she couldn’t see a thing outside the windows except a faint grey dot where the sun was rising.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked. Gretchen laughed. Claire caught the flash of fangs, but Gretchen didn’t really need them to be scary. Not at all.

‘To the Elders’ Council,’ she said. ‘You remember it, Claire. You had such a good time there when last we visited.’

There was Morganville – the dry, dusty, run-down town that was all most people ever saw – and then there was Founder’s Square, a lush little piece of Europe where people with a pulse weren’t welcome. Claire had been inside once, and it wasn’t a fond memory; no matter how cute the little cafes were, or how nice the shops, she could see only the centre of the square in the park, with the cage where they’d locked up Shane.

Where they’d been meaning to burn him alive as punishment for something he hadn’t even done.

For some reason, Claire had expected to be parked in the same place as last time – outside of the square, at the police checkpoint – but of course that wasn’t possible, was it? A few of the older vampires might be able to stand the sun, but they wouldn’t willingly stroll around in it. Morganville was built
for the convenience of vampires, not humans, and when Claire’s door opened, and Gretchen impatiently gestured for her to get out, they were in an underground parking garage. It was full of cars, all nice ones, with darkened windows. Like a Beverly Hills mall or something.

There were armed guards. One of them started towards them as Gretchen pulled Claire out of the car, but Hans flashed him a badge, and the other guy – vampire, presumably – backed off.

‘Let’s go,’ Hans said. ‘Your Patron is waiting.’

Gretchen chuckled. Not a happy sound. Claire stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up as the two vampires set off at a brisk walk, Gretchen’s iron-hard grip on her upper arm setting in with bruising force. Claire was short of breath by the time they got to a long double flight of stairs, which the vampires took at a jog. At the top of the stairs was some kind of fire door, with a code panel. Claire didn’t dare try to sneak a look at what Hans entered; knowing the vampires’ paranoia, it wouldn’t do her any good. The machines were probably calibrated to exclude anybody with a heartbeat.

Which made her wonder: was Myrnin behind the town’s security, too? Was that something else she was supposed to learn? It could really come in handy if she could persuade him to show her…

She was obsessing on technicalities to avoid feeling the terror, but as soon as the door lock released, she had nothing else to focus on except fear, and it washed over her in a sticky, cold wave. Gretchen seemed to sense it. She looked down at Claire with those cool, mirror-grey eyes, and smiled. ‘Worried, little one?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Worried for yourself, or for your friends?’

‘Worried for Sam,’ Claire said. Gretchen lost her smile, and for just an instant, she seemed honestly off balance and surprised. ‘Is he alive?’

‘Alive?’ Gretchen’s armour slid firmly back in place, and she raised a slender arched eyebrow. ‘He may yet be saved, if that is what you mean. I suppose your friend Shane will have to try again.’

‘Shane didn’t do anything!’

This time, Gretchen’s smile got positively cruel. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said. ‘Perhaps not
yet
. But be patient. He will. It’s in his nature, as much as killing is in ours.’

Claire had to save her breath, because they were walking again, big strides across thick maroon carpet. Claire’s first impression of the Elders’ Council building had been that it was a funeral home; it still felt like that to her, all hushed and quiet and elegant. They’d had roses in the last time, when the vampire they’d thought Shane killed had been lying in state.
She didn’t see any flowers this time.

Gretchen led her down a hallway and through thick double doors, into the round entry hall. There were four armed vampire guards in the room, and Gretchen and Hans had to stop and show ID, and surrender their weapons. Claire got searched – quick, competent pats from cold hands that made her shiver.

And then the doors opened, and she was pulled into a big round room with a high ceiling, chandeliers like falls of ice, and dim, expensive paintings on the walls. She hadn’t imagined the smell of roses. In the centre of the room stood a massive round conference table, surrounded by chairs, and in the centre was a vase filled with red, red blooms.

Nobody was at the table. Instead, a group of at least ten was standing at the other side of the room, looking down.

Some of them turned, and Claire’s gaze fixed irresistibly on Oliver. She hadn’t seen him since he’d threatened her life, trying to lure Shane out of hiding, and as he stood up, now she had a flash of that again, how icy and hard his hands had been around her throat. How scared she’d been.

Oliver snarled, low in his throat but loud enough to be heard, and his eyes were like a wolf’s. Not human at all.

‘I see you brought us a criminal for punishment,’ he said, and moved towards them.

Gretchen looked at Hans, and then shoved Claire behind her. ‘Stop,’ she said. Oliver did, mostly in surprise. ‘The girl asked to come, to see her Patron. We have no proof she is guilty.’

‘If she lives in that house, then she’s guilty,’ Oliver said. ‘You surprise me, Gretchen. When did you begin taking the side of the breathers?’

She laughed, but it had a bright, false sound to it. She said something in a language that Claire didn’t recognise; Oliver spat something back, and Hans put a big hand on Claire’s shoulder.

‘She’s our responsibility,’ he said. ‘And she’s Amelie’s property. Nothing to do with you, Oliver. Move.’

Oliver, smiling, raised his hands and backed away. Hans moved Claire forward, past him, and she felt his stare on the back of her neck, as sharp as knives.

The circle of people parted as Hans approached. It was mostly (Claire guessed) vampires; they didn’t wear tags or anything, but most of them had the same cool, pale skin, the same whip-snake quickness when they moved. In fact, the only two humans – breathers? – she saw were Mayor Morrell, looking miserably uncomfortable as he stood near the edge
of the group, and his son Richard. Richard’s uniform was damp in places, and it took Claire a few seconds to realise that it was wet with blood.

Sam’s blood.

Sam was lying on his back on the carpet, with his head cradled in Amelie’s lap. The elder vampire was kneeling, and her hands were stroking gently through Sam’s bright copper hair. He looked pale and dead, and the stake was still in his chest.

Amelie’s eyes were closed, but opened as Hans pushed Claire towards her. For a long second the older vampire didn’t seem to recognise Claire at all, and then weariness flashed through her expression; she looked down at Sam, her fingers trailing across his cheek.

‘Claire, assist me,’ she said, as if they were continuing a conversation Claire hadn’t even been in on. ‘Give her room, please.’

Hans let go, and Claire felt a wild urge to run, run out of this room, get Shane and just go, anywhere but here. There was something too big to understand in Amelie’s eyes, something she didn’t want to know. She started to take a step back, but Amelie’s hand flashed out and grabbed her wrist and pulled, and Claire fell to her knees on the other side of Sam’s body.

He looked dead.

Really, really dead.

‘When I tell you, take hold of the wood and pull,’ Amelie said, her voice low and steady. ‘Not until I tell you.’

‘But…I’m not very strong…’ Why wasn’t she asking Richard? Asking one of the vampires? Oliver, even?

‘You are strong enough. When I tell you, Claire.’ Amelie closed her eyes again, and Claire scrubbed her damp palms nervously over her blue jeans. The wooden stake in Sam’s chest was round, polished wood, like a spike, and she couldn’t tell how deep it was in his body. Was it in his heart? Wouldn’t that kill him, once and for all? She remembered they’d talked about other vampires who’d been staked, and they’d died…

Amelie’s expression suddenly twisted in pain, and she said, ‘Now, Claire!’

Claire didn’t even think. She fastened her hands around the stake and pulled, one massive yank, and for a terrifying second she thought it wouldn’t work, but then she felt it sliding free, scraping against bone as it went.

Sam’s whole body arched, as though he’d been shocked with one of those heart machines, and the circle of vampires moved back. Amelie kept hold of him, her fingers white as bone where they pressed on
the sides of his head. Her eyes flew open, and they were pure blazing silver.

Claire scrambled backward, clutching the stake in both hands. Someone plucked it out of her grip – Richard Morrell, looking grim and tired. He put it into a plastic bag and zipped it shut.

Evidence.

Sam went limp again. The wound in his chest was bleeding a steady, slow trickle, and Amelie took off her jacket – white silk – and folded it into a pad to press it against the flow. Nobody spoke, not even Amelie. Claire sat there feeling helpless, watching Sam. He wasn’t moving, not at all.

He still looked dead.

‘Samuel,’ Amelie said, and her voice was low and quiet and warm. She bent closer to him. ‘Samuel. Come back to me.’

His eyes opened, and they were all pupil. Scary owl eyes. Claire bit her lip and thought again about running, but Hans and Gretchen were at her back and she knew she didn’t have a chance, anyway.

Sam blinked, and his pupils began to shrink slowly to a more normal size. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

‘Breathe in,’ Amelie said, in that same quiet, warm tone. ‘I’m here, Samuel. I won’t leave you.’ She stroked fingers gently over his forehead, and he
blinked again and slowly focused on her.

It was as though there was nobody else in all the world, just the two of them.
Amelie was wrong,
Claire thought. It isn’t just that Sam loves her. She
loves him just as much.

Sam looked from Amelie to the circle of people, searching it for someone. When he didn’t find the right one, he looked at Amelie again. His lips formed a name.
Michael
.

‘Michael is safe,’ Amelie said. ‘Hans. Fetch him here.’

Hans nodded and left, walking quickly.
Michael.
Claire realised with a jolt that she’d forgot he’d be here, forgot all about him in the shock of all that had happened. Sam was, at least, looking better with every passing second, but Amelie continued to press the makeshift bandage to the wound in his chest.

Sam’s hand crept up, clumsy and slow, to cover hers, and for a long few seconds they looked at each other silently, and then Amelie nodded and let go.

Sam held the bandage in place and, with Amelie’s help, pulled himself to a sitting position. She helped him lean against the wall.

‘Can you tell us what happened?’ she asked him. Sam nodded, and Claire looked up to see Richard Morrell crouching down, notebook and pen at the ready.

Sam’s voice, when it finally came, was soft and thin, and it was clearly an effort for him to speak at all. ‘Went to see Michael,’ he said.

‘But Michael was here, with us,’ Amelie said. ‘We summoned him during the night.’

Sam’s hand – the one not occupied holding the jacket to his chest – rose and fell helplessly. ‘Sensed he wasn’t home, so I backed out of the drive. Someone pulled open the car door – Taser, couldn’t fight back. Staked me while I was down.’

‘Who?’ Richard asked. Sam’s eyes closed briefly, then opened.

‘Didn’t see. Human. Heard the heartbeat.’ He swallowed. ‘Thirsty.’

‘You must heal first,’ Amelie said. ‘A few more moments. Is there anything at all you can tell us about this human who attacked you?’

Sam’s eyes opened again, with an effort. ‘He called me Michael.’

Michael arrived just in time to hear that last part. He looked at Claire, wide-eyed, then crouched down beside Sam. ‘Who did? The one who did this?’

Sam shook his head. ‘I don’t know who. Male, that’s all I know. He used your name. I think he thought I was you.’ Sam’s lips curled in the pale ghost of a smile. ‘Guess he didn’t see the hair before he staked me.’

The article in the newspaper.
Captain Obvious
. Somebody had decided to take out the newest vampire in town, and it was sheer luck that they’d got Sam instead. It could have been Michael lying in the street.

And from the look on Michael’s face, he was thinking the exact same thing.

Amelie was agitated. It wasn’t really obvious, but Claire had seen her enough to know the difference. She moved more swiftly, and there was something less calm than usual in her eyes. Claire shivered a little when Amelie summoned her into a side room. It was small and empty, probably some kind of meeting room. Amelie didn’t come alone; a tall blond vampire guy followed along and stood with his back to the door, a flesh-and-blood deadbolt. No getting out quickly, or at all, really.

‘What happened?’ Amelie demanded.

‘I don’t know,’ Claire said. ‘I was asleep. I woke up when—’
When I heard the sirens
, she’d been about to say, but again, that wasn’t really true. She’d felt something, a flash of alarm that had come out of nowhere. And Shane and Eve had felt it, too. It normally would take a nuclear explosion to blast Shane out of sleep in the predawn hours, but he’d been wide-awake. ‘It was like some alarm went off in
the house.’

Amelie’s face went very still and smooth. ‘Indeed.’

‘Why? Is that important?’

‘Maybe. What else?’

‘Nothing…we went downstairs. The sirens were going outside, and by the time we got down there it was all over, I guess. Sam was down on the road, and the cop was already there.’

‘You saw no one else?’

Claire shook her head.

‘And your friends?’ Amelie asked. ‘Where were they?’

It wasn’t a casual question. Claire felt her pulse speed up, and tried to stay calm. If Amelie didn’t believe her… ‘Asleep,’ she said firmly. ‘Shane was with me, and I saw Eve come out of her own room. They couldn’t have done it.’

Amelie shot her a look. Not one that made her feel any too secure. ‘I know how much you value their lives. But understand, Claire, if you lie for them, I will not forgive it.’

‘I’m not lying. They were in their rooms when I came out. The only one missing was Michael, and he was here with you.’

Amelie turned away from her and paced the length of the room in slow, graceful steps. She looked so perfect, so…
together
. Unable to help it, Claire
blurted out, ‘Aren’t you worried about Sam?’