Lord of Misrule tmv-5
Page 22
He didn’t look so sure.
At the end of the stone hallway, they took a left, heading down the dark, paneled hall that Claire remembered, but they passed up the door she remembered as Myrnin’s cell, where he’d been chained.
He didn’t even slow down.
“Where are we going?” Eve gasped. “Man, I wish I’d worn different shoes—”
She cut herself off as Myrnin stopped at the end of the hallway. There was a massive wooden door there, medieval style with thick, hand-hammered iron bands, and the Founder’s Symbol etched into the old wood.
He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Of course. Claire windmilled her arms as she stumbled to a halt, and braced herself against the wall, chest heaving.
“Shouldn’t we be armed?” Eve asked. “I mean, for a rescue mission, generally people go armed. I’m just pointing that out.”
“I don’t like this,” Shane said.
Myrnin didn’t move his gaze away from Claire. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
“I will if you take your meds,” she said.
He shook his head. “I can’t. I have my reasons, little one. Please. I must have your word.”
Shane was shaking his head. Michael wasn’t seeming any too confident about this, either, and Eve—Eve looked like she would gladly have run back the other way, if she’d known there was any other choice than going back into that darkness.
“Yes,” Claire said.
Myrnin smiled. It was a tired, thin sort of smile, and it had a hint of sadness in it. “Then I should apologize now,” he said. “Because I’m about to break that trust most grievously.”
He dropped Claire’s hand, grabbed Shane by the shirt, and kicked open the door.
He dragged Shane through with him, and the door slammed behind him before any of them could react—even Michael, who hit the wood just an instant later, battering at it. It was built to hold out vampires, Claire realized. And it would hold out Michael for a long, long time.
“Shane!” She screamed his name and threw herself against the wood, slamming her hand over and over into the Founder’s Symbol. “Shane, no! Myrnin, bring him back. Please, don’t do this. Bring him back. . . .”
Michael whirled around, facing the other direction. “Stay behind me,” he said to Eve and Claire. Claire looked over her shoulder to see doors opening, up and down the hall, as if somebody had pressed a button.
Vampires and humans alike came out, filling the hallway between the three of them, and any possible way out.
Every single one of them had fang marks in their necks, just like the ones in Claire’s neck.
Just like the ones in Michael’s neck.
There was something about the way he was standing there, so still, so quiet. . . .
And then he walked away, heading for the other vampires.
“Michael!” Eve started to lunge after him, but Claire stopped her.
When Michael reached the first vampire, Claire expected to see some kind of a fight—something—but instead, they just looked at each other, and then the man nodded.
“Welcome,” he said, “Brother Michael.”
“Welcome,” another vampire murmured, and then a human.
When Michael turned around, his eyes had shifted colors, going from sky blue to dark crimson.
“Oh hell,” Eve whispered. “This isn’t happening. It can’t be.”
The door opened behind them. On the other side was a big stone hall, something straight out of a castle, and the wooden throne that Claire remembered from the welcome feast was here, sitting up on a stage. It was draped in red velvet.
Sitting on the throne was Mr. Bishop.
“Join us,” Bishop said. Claire and Eve looked at each other. Shane was lying on the stone floor, with Myrnin’s hand holding him facedown. “Come in, children. There’s no point anymore. I’ve won the night.”
Claire felt like she’d stepped off the edge of the world, and everything was just . . . gone. Myrnin wouldn’t look at her. He had his head bowed to Bishop.
Eve, after that first look, returned her attention to Michael, who was walking toward them.
It was not the Michael they knew—not at all.
“Let Shane go,” Claire said. Her voice trembled, but it came out clearly enough. Bishop raised one finger, and Michael lunged forward, grabbed Eve by the throat, and pulled her close to him with his fangs bared. “No!”
“Don’t give me orders, child,” Bishop said. “You should be dead by now. I’m almost impressed. Now, rephrase your request. Something with a please.”
Claire licked her lips and tasted sweat. “Please,” she said. “Please let Shane go. Please don’t hurt Eve.”
Bishop considered, then nodded. “I don’t need the girl,” he said. He nodded to Michael, who let Eve go. She backed away, staring at him in disbelief, hands over her throat. “I have what I want. Don’t I, Myrnin?”
Myrnin pulled up Shane’s shirt. There, stuffed in his waistband at the back, was the book.
No.
Myrnin pulled it free, let Shane up, and walked to Bishop. I’m about to break that trust most grievously, he’d said to Claire. She hadn’t believed him until this moment.
“Wait,” Myrnin said, as Bishop reached for it. “The bargain was for Theo Goldman’s family.”
“Who? Oh, yes.” He smiled. “They’ll be quite safe.”
“And unharmed,” Myrnin said.
“Are you putting conditions on our little agreement?” Bishop asked. “Very well. They go free, and unharmed. Let all witness that Theo Goldman and his family will take no harm from me or mine, but they are not welcome in Morganville. I will not have them here.”
Myrnin inclined his head. He lowered himself to one knee in front of the throne, and lifted the book in both hands over his head, offering it up.
Bishop’s fingers closed on it, and he let out a long, rattling sigh. “At last,” he said. “At last.”
Myrnin rested his forearms across his knee, but didn’t try to rise. “You said you also required Amelie. May I suggest an alternative?”
“You may, as I’m in good humor with you at the moment.”
“The girl wears Amelie’s sigil,” he said. “She’s the only one in town who wears it in the old way, by the old laws. That makes her no less than a part of Amelie herself, blood for blood.”
Claire stopped breathing. It seemed as if every head turned toward her, every pair of eyes stared. Shane started to come toward her.
He never made it.
Michael darted forward and slammed his friend down on the stones, snarling. He held him there. Myrnin rose and came to Claire, offering her his hand in an antique, courtly gesture.
His eyes were still dark, still mostly sane.
And that was why she knew she could never really forgive him, ever again. This wasn’t the disease talking.
It was just Myrnin.
“Come,” he said. “Trust me, Claire. Please.”
She avoided him and walked on her own to the foot of Bishop’s throne, staring up at him.
“Well?” she asked. “What are you waiting for? Kill me.”
“Kill you?” he repeated, mystified. “Why on earth would I do such a foolish thing? Myrnin is quite right. There’s no point in killing you, none at all. I need you to run the machines of Morganville for me. I have already declared that Richard Morrell will oversee the humans. I will allow Myrnin the honor of ruling those vampires who choose to stay in my kingdom and swear fealty to me.”
Myrnin bowed slightly, from the waist. “I am, of course, deeply grateful for your favor, my lord.”
“One thing,” Bishop said. “I’ll need Oliver’s head.”
This time, Myrnin smiled. “I know just where to find it, my lord.”
“Then be about your work.”
Myrnin gave a bow, flourished with elaborate arm movements, and to Claire’s eyes, it was almost mocking.
Almost.
W
hile he was bowing, she heard him whisper, “Do as he says.”
And then he was gone, walking away, as if none of it meant anything to him at all.
Eve tried to kick him, but he laughed and avoided her, wagging a finger at her as he did.
They watched him skip away down the hall.
Shane said, “Let me up, Michael, or fang me. One or the other.”
“No,” Bishop said, and snapped his fingers to call Michael off when he snarled. “I may need the boy to control his father. Put them in a cage together.”
Shane was hauled up and marched off, but not before he said, “Claire, I’ll find you.”
“I’ll find you first,” she said.
Bishop broke the lock on the book that Myrnin had given him, and opened it to flip the pages, as if looking for something in particular. He ripped out a page and pressed the two ends together to make a circle of paper, thickly filled with minute, dark writing. “Put this on your arm,” he said, and tossed it to Claire. She hesitated, and he sighed. “Put it on, or one of the many hostages to your good behavior will suffer. Do you understand? Mother, father, friends, acquaintances, complete strangers. You are not Myrnin. Don’t try to play his games.”
Claire slipped the paper sleeve over her arm, feeling stupid, but she didn’t see any alternatives.
The paper felt odd against her skin, and then it sucked in and clung to her like something alive. She panicked and tried to pull it off, but she couldn’t get a grip on it, so closely was it sticking to her arm.
After a moment of searing pain, it loosened and slipped off on its own.
As it fluttered to the floor, she saw that the page was blank. Nothing on it at all. The dense writing that had been on it stayed on her arm—no, under the skin, as if she’d been tattooed with it.
And the symbols were moving. It made her ill to watch. She had no idea what it meant, but she could feel something happening inside, something . . .
Her fear faded away. So did her anger.
“Swear loyalty to me,” Bishop said. “In the old tongue.”
Claire got on her knees and swore, in a language she didn’t even know, and not for one moment did she doubt it was the right thing to do. In fact, it made her happy. Glowingly happy. Some part of her was screaming, He’s making you do this! but the other parts really didn’t care.
“What shall I do with your friends?” he asked her.
“I don’t care.” She didn’t even care that Eve was crying.
“You will, someday. I’ll grant you this much: your friend Eve may go. I have absolutely no use for her. I will show I am merciful.”
Claire shrugged. “I don’t care.”
She did, she knew she did, but she couldn’t make herself feel it.
“Go,” Bishop said, and smiled chillingly at Eve. “Run away. Find Amelie and tell her this: I have taken her town away, and all that she values. Tell her I have the book. If she wants it back, she’ll have to come for it herself.”
Eve angrily wiped tears from her face, glaring at him. “She’ll come. And I’ll come with her. You don’t own jack. This is our town, and we’re going to kick you out if it’s the last thing we do.”
The assembled vampires all laughed. Bishop said, “Then come. We’ll be waiting. Won’t we, Claire?”
“Yes,” she said, and went to sit down on the steps by his feet. “We’ll be waiting.”
He snapped his fingers. “Then let’s begin our celebration, and in the morning, we’ll talk about how Morganville will be run from now on. According to my wishes.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I had an especially great track list to help me through this book, and I thought you might enjoy listening along. Don’t forget: musicians need love and money, too, so buy the CDs or pay for tracks.
"On and On" Nikka Costa
"Everybody Got Their Something" Nikka Costa
"Above the Clouds" Delirium & Shelly Harland
"2 Wicky" Hooverphonic
"Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby" Rae & Christian Remix, Dinah Washington
"Enjoy the Ride" Morcheeba
"Hate to Say I Told You So" The Hives
"See You Again" Miley Cyrus
"Feber" Sarah Vaughn, Verve Remix
"Peter Gunn" Max Sedgley Remix, Sarah Vaughn
"Blade" Spacekid & Maxim Yul Remix, Warp Brothers
"Aly, Walk with Me" The Raveonettes
"Hunting for Witches" Bloc Party
"Cuts You Up" Peter Murphy
"Hurt" Christina Aguilera
"Run" Gnarls Barkley
"Electrofog" Le Charme
"Where I Stood" Missy Higgins
"Children (Dream Version)" Robert Miles
"Grace" Miss Kittin
"Walkie Talkie Man" Steriogram
"Living Dead Girl" Rob Zombie
"Saw Something" Dave Gahan
"Boy with a Coin" Iron & Wine
"Fever" Stereo MC's
"Kaybettik" Cadran Ercetin
"Playing with Uranium" Duran Duran
"Staring at the Sun" TV on the Radio
"The Moment I Said It" Imogen Heap
"This IS the Sound" The Last Goodnight
"Juicy" Better Than Ezra
"One Week of Danger" The Virgins
"Wolf Like Me" TV on the Radio
"Poison Kiss" The Last Goodnight
"Beat It" Fall Out Boy
"Old Enough" The Raconteurs
"I Will Possess Your Heart" Death Cab for Cutie
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In addition to the Morganville Vampires series, Rachel Caine is the author of the popular Weather Warden series, which includes Ill Wind, Heat Stroke, Chill Factor, Windfall, Firestorm, Thin Air, and Gale Force. Rachel and her husband, fantasy artist R. Cat Conrad, live in Texas with their iguanas, Popeye and Darwin; a mali uromastyx named (appropriately) O’Malley; and a leopard tortoise named Shelley (for the poet, of course).
Please visit her Web site at www.rachelcaine.com and her MySpace, www.myspace.com/rachelcaine.
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