by Rachel Caine
Amelie said nothing. Not one thing.
No one moved. Not even Jason, who, Claire guessed, was starting to realize just how badly he’d screwed up his newfound immortality.
Naomi’s face went from impassioned to blank as the reality hit her that she had lost. Decisively.
“You missed the strong hint you were given before,” Amelie said. “Many of these were present when you fell among the draug. No one bent to save you then. And none will follow you now.” Her eyes blazed silver, an awful and beautiful color, and she didn’t even have to raise her voice at all. “Kneel to me, Sister.”
“No,” Naomi said. She was shaking now, as if about to collapse, but she was grimly clinging to whatever it was that had driven her this far. “No. I was made to rule.”
“Kneel,” Amelie whispered. “I won’t forgive you, but I can spare you. And I will. But you must kneel.”
“Never!”
But she did. It happened slowly as if she were being crushed under a huge, impossible weight, and Claire actually felt sorry for her as she finally collapsed to her knees, bent her head, and wept.
Amelie lifted Naomi’s chin, placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and said, “We share the darkest of fathers, you and I. And I don’t blame you. It’s a bitter thing, this blood of ours. You’ll have time to think on it. So much time, alone in the dark. A hundred years of it before your penance to me is done.”
Naomi said nothing. Claire wasn’t sure she actually could say anything. She covered her face with her hands, and Amelie turned away from her to look at the vampires.
“Naomi was not wrong,” she said. “I have been weak. I’ve allowed you to be weak as well, to indulge your passions as I indulged mine, as if there were no consequences to come. But my sister’s way is the old way, and it will destroy us…. You know the fever that hunting brings on us, and the destruction it will cause. Morganville was built to allow us to live without such risk, and with the human world encroaching on us at every turn, we cannot be weak. We cannot be indulgent.” She drew in a long, slow breath. “Tomorrow, you will learn to be stronger than you ever thought you could be. There will be no hunting. No killing. You will share my sister’s penance, for as long as it pleases me. And I will share it, too.” She turned to Hannah, and to the humans who stood there. “You’re free to go. And you may carry my pledge to the rest of Morganville: we will not kill. And if we do, the penalty for us is death, just as it would be for you to kill us. Only as equals can we keep the peace. It is not in our nature, but it is the only way to survive.”
Hannah nodded. So did Mayor Ramos. Monica finally slipped her high heels back on, flipped her hair back over her bare shoulders, and said, “You ruined a great party at my place, you know.” And she walked off without another word.
Claire almost laughed. Almost…and then Amelie turned toward her and said, “Explain to me about these ghosts.”
It was a very long conversation.
Claire, Myrnin, Shane, and Michael were taken out of Founder’s Square and back to Amelie’s office, where workers were already sweeping up the broken glass and boarding up the windows in preparation for morning. After a glance at the work in progress, Amelie moved them into the outer office, where her assistant cleared her desk for the Founder to sit down. A couple of Amelie’s guards carried Oliver in and stretched him out on the floor. He was silent, eyes shut tightly. His burns were healing, but there were still red patches all over his face, and his clothes were more char than fabric.
“I’ll give the edicts now. Bizzie, be sure they are filed tonight,” Amelie said. She looked tired, and desperately pale, but there was nothing but surety in her voice. “Myrnin, I wish you to return to your work. There’s much to be done to repair Morganville. We can’t do it without you, and your chances of survival outside are…slender, at best.”
Myrnin hesitated, then said, “I’ll consider it.”
“I could order you.”
“Well,” he said, and smiled a little. “You could certainly try, dear lady, but—”
Amelie shook her head and cast a look at her assistant. “Just put down that he agreed,” she said. “Michael, although what you did was not of your free will, you raised arms against your ruling queen and your sire. How do you intend to repay me? Think carefully about your answer. There’s only one that will satisfy the debt.”
He shook his head. “You always get what you want.” Michael sounded exhausted and kind of…well, broken. He hadn’t really looked Claire in the eyes, or Shane. “Eve’s not going to forgive me. Not for any of it.”
“True,” Amelie said. “Yet there is no betrayal so bitter as that of a child. But I am prepared to allow you to go unpunished, under one condition.”
“Which is?”
She gave him a very cold look. “I warned you,” she said. “Again and again. I withheld my permission for your marriage not out of spite, but to protect you, and to protect Eve. She has suffered much, Michael, and some of it at your own hands; this is what I warned you against. Humans are fragile things, and we cannot resist the urge to exploit weakness. Already, you have felt this. So for your own good, I will allow you to go unpunished if you will leave your wife. Let her go, Michael. Do the kind thing.”
He looked stunned—and then there was a slow-burning anger inside him that caught fire in his eyes. “You can’t,” he said. “You can’t order me to do that.”
“I am not ordering you. I am offering you the chance to avoid a heavy and very public punishment.”
“Hasn’t she been hurt enough? Breaking us up was what Naomi wanted!”
“For reasons that have nothing to do with mine,” Amelie said. “I share a view with Hannah Moses, and many others. I believe that humans and vampires are best kept separate, for the safety of both. You have taken it too far. I am not angry at the girl, Michael; I am terrified for her. Do you understand how much danger you put her in, daily?”
He had to be thinking about seeing Eve in the hospital, Claire thought, and for a second she was sure he was going to agree, to just…walk away. And that was appalling.
But instead, Michael met the Founder’s eyes and said, “I love her.” Just that, simple and sure. “So whatever punishment you have to give me, go ahead. I’m not hurting her again.”
Across from him, Shane nodded and tapped his fist against his chest. Respect. Michael gave him a small, weary smile.
“Very well,” Amelie said. She didn’t look pleased. “Bizzie, please note that Michael Glass has accepted punishment as decreed by his sire.”
Bizzie’s pen scratched dryly on the paper. “And what is it?”
“I haven’t decided,” Amelie said. “But it will be very public.”
And then it was her turn, as Amelie’s cool eyes fixed on her. “Claire,” she said. “Always in the middle. What shall I do with you?” Claire stayed silent. She really didn’t know what Amelie was thinking, or feeling; there was a lot of anger inside her, a lot of sadness, and it was always easy to target weakness, as Amelie had pointed out to Michael. When she didn’t move and didn’t blink, Amelie turned to Myrnin. “Well?”
“I need her help,” he said. “Frank’s off-line.” Meaning dead, Claire suspected. “Without her, I’ll be ages getting all of the necessary protections back online. Oh, and I’ll need a brain. Something relatively undamaged. Not Naomi; I shouldn’t like to have her run Morganville’s systems, would you?”
“I thought you were planning to use Claire’s brain,” Amelie said casually, and flicked a glance back at her to see if she would flinch. She didn’t. “Very well. One will be located for you. Claire, you will—”
“No,” Claire said. Just that. A very simple word, but it meant throwing herself off a very high cliff. “You said I could leave Morganville once. Did you mean it?”
“Claire?” Shane blinked and took a step toward her. “What are you doing?”
She ignored him, watching Amelie, who was just as intently watching her. “Did you?”
&nbs
p; “Yes,” Amelie said. “If you wish. I can arrange for you to enter the university you wished—MIT, yes?—and have advanced study with someone who is friendly to Morganville, though no longer a resident. Is that what you require of me, as payment for saving my life?”
“No,” Claire said. “That’s what you owe me for saving all your lives, a bunch of times. What I require now is that you let Shane go, too. If he wants.”
“Claire, this is unwise,” Myrnin said. “You should not—”
“I want,” Shane said, interrupting him. “I definitely want.”
Claire nodded. She and Amelie hadn’t yet broken their stare. It was really hard to keep doing it; there was some kind of power in Amelie that affected people even when she wasn’t really trying, and it was giving Claire the shakes, and the faint outline of a headache. “I want you to get me into MIT. And for Shane to be able to go anywhere he wants. And for you to keep your word about Morganville. No killing. Not even to get Myrnin his brain.”
“No need,” Myrnin said earnestly. “There are several in the morgue who will—”
Amelie raised her hand and cut him off instantly. “Agreed,” she said. “Note it down, Bizzie.” Bizzie did, without lifting her head as she wrote in quick, dry scratches on the paper. “Now. As to Oliver,” she said. Her voice had taken on a softer note, with something almost tentative about it. “As to Oliver, I will be seen as weak if I forgive him as well as Naomi. He was my most visible adversary, and the most visible knife at my back. So he must go. He is exiled from Morganville, until such time as I decide he may return.”
Oliver opened his eyes and turned his head. Amelie’s gaze fell on him, and for a moment, there was something so painful between them, it made Claire want to look away. It was a kind of desperate, angry longing she knew all too well.
And then Oliver said, “Yes, my liege.” And he closed his eyes. “As you wish. I accept your punishment.”
“You’re all dismissed,” Amelie said. “Oliver, you may gather your things. You’ll leave tomorrow.”
She went back into her office.
And…that was it. It felt oddly empty to Claire, where there should have been some sense of…of triumph. Of something. But she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. She just knew that she had to take control of her life, now, or it would never happen.
Michael stopped next to Claire and said, “So this is where I tell you how sorry I am. So, so sorry. Believe me, I—I can’t explain.”
“You don’t need to,” she said. “I was controlled by Bishop; I know how it felt.”
Michael sighed and shook his head. “Dammit. It’s not—I know you’ve got some issues with Shane, and that’s on me, not on you. I’m sorry. Let me fix things, if I can.”
She wasn’t sure that was remotely possible, but she smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said. It was the best she could manage. “But it’s my life, Michael.”
“I know,” he said. “I—I just don’t know what we are going to do without you.”
“You and Eve? You’ll be fine. You love her; everybody can see that now. I think you’d even give her up, if she asked you to, but not if they ask it. That’s real love, I guess.” On impulse, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. He flinched. So did she, a little. “I’ll be back. But I need—I need to have my own life for a while. Out there. Away. You know?”
He did; she saw it in his smile. “That’s what Eve and I were trying to explain to you guys,” he said. “Sometimes you just…need that. To be sure who you really are.” His smile faded. “You didn’t ask for Shane to go with you.”
“I didn’t,” she agreed, and walked away.
Shane was waiting at the hearse. He still wasn’t looking directly at her, or for that matter at Michael, as the two of them approached. He leaned against the side, arms folded, and said, “Shotgun.”
“Sure,” Michael said. “I’ll drive. Shane—”
Shane held out a palm to stop him. “Not now,” he said. “I’m not ready for any apologies. You fix it with Eve, then talk to me.”
Michael nodded. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, obviously, but it was the best he could have hoped for, really. We won, she thought. Why didn’t it feel any better?
“Sorry,” Shane said. He seemed flushed and awkward, suddenly, as she headed for the back of the hearse. “I—look, you should take the front and—”
“You called shotgun,” she said. “It’s okay.”
He stared after her, clearly trying to think what to say, and failing. For that matter, she wasn’t sure, either.
The drive home was weirdly silent.
Miranda met them at the door, face alight. Jenna was standing behind her, looking almost as proud. “You’re okay,” she said. “I knew you were going to need our help.”
“Actually,” Jenna said, “that was me. I had a vision of you locked in that cage, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“I did,” Miranda said. “Once I stopped being afraid of the others and really tried to talk to them, it was easier. I still have to be careful around them, but with Jenna holding on, they can’t feed on me as they could before. She can help me get out of the house. It’s perfect.”
Jenna didn’t seem to think so, but for the moment, at least she nodded.
“How’s Eve?” Michael asked. Miranda’s smile faded.
“She’s awake,” she said. “She’s waiting on the couch. We told her what happened.”
“Thanks. You saved our lives.” Claire hugged Miranda, then followed her into the living room. Eve was sitting up on the couch, and already her bruises were loads better; the ice packs on the floor were probably part of that.
She was watching Michael with a fragile kind of hope in her eyes.
He was a few steps away, as if he didn’t dare make a move. Shane came to a halt behind him and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Claire knew that pose; it was his bodyguard look. He was, at the moment, guarding Eve, from Michael.
But Michael didn’t try to come closer.
“I hurt you,” he said. “I never wanted it, but that happened. I could tell you I didn’t mean it, and that it wasn’t me, and that’s true, but it was me, and I know you can’t forget it. I—” He spread his hands wide. “I hate myself, Eve. That’s all I can say. I hate myself. And if you want me to go, I’ll go. I’ll do anything. Anything.”
There were tears glittering in her eyes. “Miranda told me,” she said. “About Naomi. About her biting you. That you didn’t have a choice in what you did. But it felt real. You know?”
“I know,” he said. “It felt real to me, too. And it scared the hell out of me.”
“Don’t ever do it again.”
He smiled. “I won’t,” he said. “I love you, Mrs. Glass.”
She opened her arms, and he hugged her, as carefully as if she were a fragile piece of crystal.
Shane cleared his throat. “Um, you should know that Amelie tried to make him give you up,” he said. “Because Michael’s probably not going to tell you that. And he refused. So now he’s on her bad side, again.”
“Oh, baby,” Eve said, and drew back to look at Michael’s face. “How bad?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
And Eve’s smile was full of delight as she laid her head on his shoulder. Claire met Eve’s eyes and got a very small smile. It was a little thing, but it was a start.
“I love you, too, Eve,” Claire said. “I’m sorry.”
“Hush up,” Eve said. “Who wouldn’t want to kiss him? Forgiven and forgotten.”
That was more charity than Claire thought she could ever earn. Then Michael whispered something to Eve that clearly wasn’t meant to be overheard, and the sense of intruding on something so precious and private was more than she could take.
Shane must have felt it, too; he pushed off the wall and went up the stairs toward his room. Claire hesitated, then headed that way.
“Hey.” It was Michael’s voice, soft and a little rough, and she glanced ov
er at him as he untangled just a bit from Eve. “That thing, the one you were working on for Myrnin. There’s something to it. I felt it. I thought you should know.”
She was—surprised, she guessed, and a little elated. “Thanks,” she said. The thing was sitting like a particularly large engine part on the dining room table, and she went back, retrieved it, and wondered, again, what exactly it would be able to do if she could really, truly make it work.
Something wonderful, maybe.
Or something awful.
She carted it upstairs, and at the hallway, she hesitated. All the doors were shut, including Shane’s. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and began walking in that direction.
It felt a bit like going to her own funeral.
Shane’s door was shut. She knocked and got silence for an answer. He doesn’t want to talk about it, she thought, and even though she’d wanted to keep him at a distance for now, to let him understand how badly he’d hurt her when he’d failed to trust her…it ached.
So she went to her room, feeling lost and alone. She left the lights off. The exhaustion, the chill, the despair, were suddenly…too much. She just wanted to crawl into bed and cry until she died. Tomorrow, she’d have to think about how to leave Morganville behind, how to go off to a new town, a new school, a whole new world…and somehow do it without Michael, or Eve, or even Myrnin.
And maybe even without Shane.
But she just couldn’t face it now.
She dumped the machine on the dresser and didn’t even bother to take her clothes off, just stripped back the covers, kicked off her shoes, and crawled beneath…and instantly felt the warmth of a body beside her, moving closer.
Oh.
Shane’s arms went around her. It was slow, and tentative, and done in complete silence. He pulled her closer, and closer, until she was pressed against him, back to front. His lips pressed a slow, soft, burning kiss on the soft, tender skin at the back of her neck.
