by Rachel Caine
“You realize that you’re admitting to crimes, Eve.”
“No,” she said. “Because we’re sort of doing stuff for Amelie. Following up a lead. She’ll, ah, back us up.” She raised her eyebrows at Claire, a clear Right? in her expression. Claire shrugged. “Besides, Oliver’s his Protector, and Oliver won’t care what we did. If he’d gotten to him first, I’m pretty sure you’d be doing a whole lot more cleanup.”
Hannah was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “I remember when this was a quiet little town. That was nice.”
“It was never quiet, Hannah. You just went off to Afghanistan.”
“And it was quieter there, too. All right. I’ll check in on your prisoner. What are you girls up to?”
“Do you want to know?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“Uh…I don’t think you should,” Claire said. “Seeing as how you’d think you needed to do something about it, and staying out of the way is probably a whole lot safer right now.”
“Are you going to take your own advice?”
“We can’t,” Claire said. “Shane and Michael are in trouble. We’re going to get them out.”
“You’re sure I can’t help with that?”
“Yeah,” Eve said. “I’m sure. We’ve got all the help we can handle already.”
Myrnin whipped the wheel in a sharp movement that made tires squeal, and threw the girls around in the backseat of the car. Eve almost dropped her phone.
“Are you in the car that’s almost caused three accidents on North Vance?” Hannah asked. “Because I’m following you with my lights flashing, and whoever’s driving isn’t pulling over.”
“Let him go,” Claire said. “Trust me. You aren’t going to get him to stop.”
“Oh, God. It’s Myrnin, isn’t it?”
“Tell that police lady to stop chasing me,” Myrnin said, annoyed, from the front seat. “Really, I’m not that bad at this.”
All evidence to the contrary. But Hannah hung up on her end, and the wail of her siren died away. Claire supposed that at the moment, that was as much of a win as they might reasonably hope for. So here they were, hurtling into the dark on the tip of a terrified thief who might or might not be screwing with them, and they’d just refused police assistance.
This was turning out so well. But Claire had to admit, Eve was all kinds of awesome, when she had the chance to shine. She glittered and flared and was sharp enough to cut, just like a diamond. All Claire had to do was look reasonably intense, which right now wasn’t a problem. She felt intense, because she couldn’t stop thinking about Shane. Where he was. What he was doing. What was being done to him.
Gloriana.
Claire’s cell phone rang, and she jumped and looked at the screen.
Mr. Radamon, MIT.
Oh, God.
She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and answered. “Hello?”
“Ms. Danvers, hello. This is Mr. Radamon from MIT. I’m very sorry to bother you, but I need to check in and see how things are going. With your arrangements. As you can imagine, these places are very difficult to hold, and I do need your answer fairly soon to—”
“I know,” Claire said, and tried not to let her voice shake. She felt like she was being squeezed in a vise now, and her head was about to explode. “I’m sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something. I promise, I’ll call you as soon as I can, sir. Thanks.”
“All right, thank you—”
She hung up. Fast. Silence in the car. Eve gave her a curious look.
“Well,” Myrnin said quietly from the front seat. “I would suggest we focus on the problem at hand. The fewer distractions, the better, I believe.”
His tone of voice was entirely different than it had been before, and Claire realized that he’d heard the conversation. Heard every word on the other end of the line, too. No secrets from someone like Myrnin.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he was unnaturally still.
“Myrnin—” she began. He held up one stiffened hand in a sharp gesture.
“No,” he said. “We don’t discuss this now. Later, perhaps.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, and his eyes were dark and very troubled. “We should be at the address Mr. Anderson gave us in just a moment. You should be ready.”
“About that…” Claire forced herself to stop marveling at the incredibly bad timing, and remembered just what it was they were doing. “We know the safe entrances, but how are we going to do this? Go in together? Separately?”
“I assume the priority is to find your friends and remove them from the premises first, before calling in Amelie and Oliver—that being equivalent to summoning a nuclear strike. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Eve said. “Shane and Michael, first priority. Oh, and not getting killed. That one’s big, too.” She frowned and grabbed Claire’s cell phone back. “Hey, is this thing Internet ready?”
“Yeah, it’s a smartphone,” Claire said. “Why?”
“I think we should see what’s going on at the Web site,” Eve said. She worked with the phone for a minute or so, then held it out so Claire could also see the small but clear screen. The Immortal Battles site loaded slowly, but it loaded, and Eve expanded the part that talked about upcoming bouts.
There was a countdown counter going, and it was winding down fast. The banner read live event. There was a video embedded next to it that started playing when Claire clicked it.
Vassily again, dressed in his dumb Halloween interpretation of a vampire (although, truthfully, Myrnin wasn’t costumed so differently right now). Vassily looked excited and a bit nervous as he leaned toward the camera, enough that it caught glimpses of his long, white teeth. “Hello, members,” he said. “We have a very special treat for you, so get ready to place those bets. On one side, we have our reigning champion, Shane ‘The Hammer’ Collins.” And Vassily drew back to show Shane sitting there in a chair, stripped to the waist, all those awful bruises showing. He wasn’t tied up or anything. He seemed fine, but very focused.
Vassily moved on, and the camera moved with him. They went through some kind of a door, very walk-and-talk, and all of a sudden the camera fumbled and focused on another familiar face. Michael. He seemed okay, but unlike Shane, he was tied up—no, chained. Chained to a wall. He lunged for Vassily, but he came up short. Vassily flashed fangs at him. Michael flashed them right back.
“And this, my friends, is our newest warm-up contender for our champion…Michael! These two have been building a grudge match for more than a year, and it’s all the more violent because they were once best friends. So, who do you think will come out on top: the current victor, or the vampire? Place your bets! The match starts in just a few minutes, with the winner meeting our special benefactor…”
Vassily was walking and talking again, leaving Michael’s frustrated, anguished face behind. The camera jostled after him, through tunnels and darkness, and quite suddenly, apparently to Vassily’s surprise, there was a man standing in his way. His patter faltered and stopped.
It was Mr. Bishop. Not the skeletal, desperate thing that Claire had seen before…no, Bishop had showered, found fresh clothes, and, clearly, fed until he was completely recovered. He looked younger than before. And very, very strong. The menace came off him like black light.
“Well,” Vassily said awkwardly. “Uh, sir, I don’t think you should be—”
“Shut up, Vassily. I make the decisions here,” Bishop said. “And I have decided that today—I will fight the winner of today’s match. I feel the need for a bit of exercise before we move on to bigger prey.”
“Sir, this isn’t…this isn’t what we agreed—”
Bishop’s eyes went red and his fangs came down, and Claire almost dropped the phone. Even whoever was running the camera was moving backward. “I’m changing our agreement, minion. Tonight I’m changing all the agreements. Tonight we will take the fight out of the cage. Into the streets. To the Founder.”
�
��Sir—”
Bishop hit Vassily hard enough to knock him into the wall, and stood there staring down at him. “I’ve waited long enough,” he said. “I don’t need your filthy money. What I need is to feel her blood in my mouth. Are we understood?”
Vassily got up, cringing, and bowed his head. “Yes, sir. Understood. Uh, but first, we bring you the fighting…?”
“By all means,” Bishop said, and smiled. “I want to see these two do damage to each other. It would please me a great deal.”
The video ended. Claire fumbled with the phone and, hands shaking, pulled up the counter again. Next to it were odds. Shane was favored over Michael two to one. Bishop was heavily favored to beat either one of them.
And the counter……
The counter for the fight had run out.
“No,” Claire whispered. “No…” Bishop didn’t intend for this to go on much longer; he’d gone on camera in open defiance of Amelie. He was serious; this would end in slaughter, whatever happened in the cage match.
They were out of time.
FIFTEEN
SHANE
He’d been crazy to try it.
When I saw Michael show up at the barn, Vassily and Gloriana had been loading us up in the van to take us to the new place. I don’t know how he found me; I could have sworn nobody at the gym knew anything about where we were, but there he was, Michael effing Glass, walking up in his stupid black vampire coat and hat and gloves, trying to talk to me like we knew each other.
Like he hadn’t stabbed me in the back the second he’d agreed to stop being human.
He’d joined them, the vampires. Our masters, who’d made my dad a loser and let Monica Morrell run wild, doing whatever, which turned out to be fatal for my sister. They’d sent killers after my mom. Michael should have known better. He should have known that no matter what, I couldn’t forgive him, not deep down. They’d taken my family away.
Vassily and Glory had had him grabbed, of course, and stuffed in the other van, the one that held the vamps. They didn’t try to transport us together, not anymore. Too many fights. He kept yelling at me, but I just watched until they had him locked down and then I walked away.
He used to be my friend, and, damn, it still hurt to know he’d done this to us, to me. He’d changed everything. About time he knew how that felt.
Maybe it was the shock of seeing him—I don’t know—but I found I wasn’t feeling quite as pumped up about the upcoming bout as before. My head was hurting and I was tired; sleep hadn’t come easy lately because of all the bruises and cracked bones. When Glory was around, it was better. I didn’t think so much. But now, in the van, I noticed how there was a thick wire mesh between us human fighters and the driver’s seat, like we were vicious dogs or something. When I looked around at the others, I thought maybe that was true. There were four of us in here, and, to be honest, I was probably the toughest. I didn’t look it, though. They looked like my dad’s biker buddies, all sweat and muscles and tats, with shaved heads and goatees. They were ready to tear it up. I guess I was, too, or at least I would be once we got where we were going.
Once Glory smiled at me again.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, and instead of seeing Glory’s wicked, cool smile, I saw Claire’s sweet one, the one she gave only me, the one that had made me forget all about being angry or tough or hurt. With her, things were good. I was good. Because of her. It was the exact opposite of what Glory’s presence did; hers made me remember all the bad stuff, boil it up and over, and want to take it out on anybody who was in the way. Claire made me forget all that and realize that I didn’t have to be angry.
No, I was doing this for her. For her. I needed to earn my passage out of town, before it was too late. She’d even said that the other night, before that awful moment at the gym when she’d been so close to Michael, and I’d—I’d thought…
I knew it wasn’t true. I knew Claire wouldn’t hurt me like that.
I opened my eyes and took in a quick breath. I needed Glory. I couldn’t stay tough if I thought about Claire; I missed her, and I hated that it made me feel weak and sick. She’d left me first, hanging out with that bastard Myrnin, sneaking out to be with him. No matter what she said, that was the truth.
But I couldn’t help it. I wanted her. I wanted her with me, and the only way it could be right was away from here. Out of Morganville.
“Hey, Collins, don’t fall asleep on us!” yelled Brett, who had his first match coming up later, after mine. “Gotta get hot, my man!” He punched me in the shoulder, right where I had a big, spreading bruise and swelling. I didn’t wince, but the pain that shot through me made me see waves of red, and it was suddenly tough to breathe. I rode it out and forced myself to grin back at him.
“I get any hotter, I’ll burn you alive,” I said. He howled like a wolf. Some guys didn’t need Glory’s influence to go nuts; Brett was like that. “Hit me again, and I’ll bust you up, man.”
He flexed his fists and grinned, but he took me seriously and sat down against the wall of the van. “You thinking about that girl again?”
“No,” I lied. I was trying not to, because it hurt. It hurt thinking that somewhere out there she might be looking for me. All I could think about was that somewhere she could be alone, afraid, maybe crying. Because of me.
I shut my eyes again and banged my head on the wall of the van, enough to hurt and leave a dent. I wished Glory had ridden with us.
I really, really did.
When I got out of the van, we were at some falling-down old warehouse, another crappy piece of Morganville ancient history that nobody cared about. I saw fading letters on the outside. It must have been some kind of carpet mill. Big brick building, not many windows, and what windows had been there were broken out three stories up by some local kids with good arms. Not a lot of time for sightseeing, but I recognized the area; you don’t grow up in this stupid town without prowling around the places your parents don’t want you to go. Me and Lyss had poked through some of these abandoned warehouses when she was about twelve and I was stupider than usual. We’d gotten away with it, but looking back on it now, I couldn’t believe we’d ever taken that chance.
Now that she was gone, it made me cold to think all the risks I’d let her take. If I could make things right again, make that fire stop, get her out of the house before all the smoke and the flames…then I’d never let her take another risk again. I’d protect her. That’s what a big brother is supposed to do: protect.
But no, I’d been a jackass to her, and I’d fallen asleep on the couch, and by the time I woke up, the house was burning and I couldn’t get her out. I don’t know if she woke up. I hoped not. I hoped she never knew, never felt the kind of screaming fear that I did while trying to get to her.
Shake it off, Collins. Lyss was gone. My mom and dad were gone. I had to focus on getting myself through the next two hours or so without joining them. If I did this right, I’d make a lot of money: enough to buy my way out of town, get lost, make a new life. Forget Claire.
That was what I had to do. Forget. Forget everything.
It was easier when Gloriana prowled over and took my arm. She was a vamp, yeah, but she didn’t feel like one; I didn’t hate her and I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted to please her, in all kinds of ways—not that she wanted anything from me except to put up a good fight. She went for the fanged boys. Like Michael.
Just another reason to hate him. Like I needed more.
“Are you ready?” she asked me. “Are you going to be my knight in shining armor, Shane, protecting me from all the big, bad men?” She said it with a smile, but I had the feeling she didn’t mean it. She seemed to be making fun of me, but I couldn’t get too upset about it. There was something about her…something that deep down I knew I hated but still couldn’t resist. “Because we have a lot riding on you tonight. We need you to make us a lot of money, very quickly, and we’re going to take that money and pay off some debts. Old debts, to so
meone we’d rather not owe, if you know what I mean. Then there will be new owners for Immortal Battles, and Vassily and I will be safe. And we can all be out of Morganville forever.”
She was telling me things that I knew she didn’t intend for me to understand, and on some level I did understand…and I knew that something was very wrong. But it was too late for any of that, for caution or thinking or resistance.
I hated her kind, but I’d do anything for Gloriana, and she knew it.
“Now,” she said, and patted my hand the same way she would have patted a dog on the head. “You’re not going to have a problem with your warm-up match, are you?”
“Who am I fighting?”
“Your old friend. Michael.”
Michael. I turned that over in my sluggishly working brain, and I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t quite get it to come out of my mouth. Instead, I said, and I meant it, “Sure, no problem.” Michael and I had fought before. Hell, I’d put him down on the ground a couple of times, even though he was vamp-fast. I could take him.
“I only ask because it would be inconvenient if you had…second thoughts. We’re going to do this live, not on tape, you see. More excitement that way. More money. There will be a live audience as well as one online.”
Didn’t matter to me who was watching or why. “I fight vampires,” I said. “That’s what I’m supposed to do. Doesn’t matter who they are or who they used to be. Right?”
“Right,” she said, and laughed. I tried not to notice the flash of fangs in her mouth. “I love a man who knows what he wants, Shane. Oh, and remember…this fight doesn’t stop until one of you gets carried out. No mercy.”
“No mercy,” I said. I felt weirdly hollow inside, empty where I’d been full of all kinds of stuff before. There was only the hate now, glowing and radiating inside of me, and it was starting to feel like something toxic. Something that was eating me up inside, spawning cancers like black clouds.
But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered when she opened the door and I saw the cage in the middle of the bleachers, and the people getting in their seats.
