Where were they now?
At the end of the line was the cell where Myrnin had spent his days, off and on, when he was too dangerous to be in the lab or around anybody—even other vampires. It had been furnished with his home comforts, like a thick Turkish rug and a soft pile of blankets and pillows, his ragged armchair, and stacks of books.
No sign of Myrnin, either.
Ada glided to the end of the hall, then turned to face Claire, flickering from a back view to a front view like a jump cut in a movie.
“That’s really creepy,” Claire said. “You know that, right?”
Her phone rang. She opened the clamshell. “You were seeking Dr. Mills,” Ada said. “He is here.”
“Where?”
“Follow. He requires assistance.”
Claire kept the phone to her ear as Ada turned around again and misted right through the stone wall. Claire stopped, her nose two inches away from the surface of the barrier. She slowly reached out, and although the stone looked utterly real—it even smelled real, like dust and mold—there was nothing under her hand but air. Still, her brain stubbornly told her not to take another step, or she’d end up with a bruised face at the very least. In fact, her whole body resisted the order to walk on.
Claire forced her foot to rise, inch forward, and step into the stone. Then the other foot, shuffling forward to match it. It didn’t get any easier, not for five or six tor-turous inches, and then suddenly the pressure was gone, and she stepped through into a large, well-lit room.
A room full of vampires.
Claire froze as dozens of pallid faces turned toward her. She’d never gotten to know the inmates—they’d mostly been anonymous in the shadows—but she recognized a few of them. What were they doing out of their cages?
The voice on the phone at her ear snapped, impatiently, “Would you come, then?”
Claire blinked and saw that Ada was drifting in the middle of the room, staring at her in naked fury. “They’re not going to—”
“They will not hurt you,” Ada said. “Don’t be absurd.”
It really wasn’t all that absurd. Claire had seen some of these same vampires clawing gouges in stone with their fingernails, and gnawing on their own fingers. She was like a doggie treat in a room full of rabid rottwei lers.
None of them lunged at her. They stared at her as if she was a curiosity, but they didn’t seem especially, well, hungry.
She followed Ada’s image across the room to a small stone alcove, where she saw Dr. Mills lying very still on a cot.
“Oh no,” Claire whispered, and hurried over to him. “Dr. Mills?”
He groaned and opened reddened eyes, blinking to focus on her face. “Claire,” he croaked, and coughed. “Damn. What time is it?”
“Uh—almost five, I think. Why?”
“I just went to sleep at four,” he said, and flopped back to full length on his cot. “God. Sorry, I’m exhausted. Forty-eight hours without more than a couple of hours down. I’m not a med student anymore.”
She felt a wave of utter relief. “They didn’t, you know—”
“Kill me? Other than by working me half to death?” Dr. Mills groaned and sat up, rubbing his head as if he was trying to shove his brains back inside. “Amelie wanted to use the serum to treat the worst cases first. I got everyone housed here, except for Myrnin. I have two doses left. There won’t be any more if we don’t get blood from Bishop to culture.”
She’d almost forgotten about that. “Have you seen Myrnin?”
“Not since Amelie brought me here,” Dr. Mills said. “Why?”
“He’s sick,” Claire said. “Very sick. I was looking for you to try to help him, but I don’t know where he is now. Amelie took him, too.”
He was already shaking his head. “She didn’t bring him here. I haven’t seen them.”
Claire sensed a shadow behind her and, turning, came face-to-face with a vampire. A smallish one, just a little taller than her own modest height. It was a girl barely out of her teens, with waist-length blond hair and lovely dark eyes, who smiled at the two of them with an unsettlingly knowing expression.
“I am Naomi,” she said. “This is my sister Violet.” Just behind her was a slightly older girl, same dark eyes, only a little stronger in the chin, and with midnight-black hair. “We wish to thank you, Doctor, for your gift. We have not felt so well in many years.”
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Mills said. He sounded tense, and Claire could understand why; the vamps were all on their best behavior, but that could change, and she saw a shadow of it in Naomi. “I’m sure Amelie will be along to get you soon.”
The two vamps nodded, bobbed an old-fashioned curtsy, and withdrew back into the main room. There was a soft buzz of conversation building out there, a kind of whisper that sounded like a calm sea on the shore. Vampires didn’t have to speak loudly to be heard, at least by one another.
“Is Amelie coming?” Dr. Mills asked. “Because I’m starting to feel like the special of the day around here.”
Oh. He thought Claire was the scout riding ahead of the vampire cavalry. She looked around for Ada, but she didn’t see any sign of her now. She’d just faded out. Claire folded up the phone and put it back in her pocket, feeling a little stupid. “I don’t know,” she said. “I was told you needed help.”
He gave a jaw-cracking yawn, murmured an apology, and nodded. “I’ve got sacks of crystals, and some of the liquid. We need to distribute it all over town, make sure everybody who needs it gets medicated. It won’t last for long, and it isn’t the cure, but until I can get Bishop’s blood, it’ll have to do. Can you help me measure it into individual doses?”
Claire realized, as she was scooping measuring spoons of red crystals and putting them in bottles, that the burning urgency in her guts had finally, slowly faded away.
She pulled up her sleeve.
The tattoo was barely a shadow under her skin.
As she stared at the place where it had been, Naomi the vampire leaned over her shoulder and studied it with her. Claire flinched, which was probably what the vamp had intended, and Naomi chuckled. “I see Bishop marked you,” she said. “Don’t fear, child. It’s almost gone now. He marked my sister once.” The smile left her face, and it set in hard, cold lines. “Then he marked us both forever. Sister Amelie told us he was dead, long ago, but he isn’t, is he?”
Claire shook her head, unable to say anything with fangs so close to her neck. Naomi didn’t seem to be threatening, but she didn’t seem to be comforting, either.
“Then it’s come to it,” Naomi said. “It’s time for us to fight him. Good. For my sister’s sake, I’ll be happy to face him again.” Naomi’s cool hand stroked Claire’s cheek. “Pretty child. You smell warm.”
Claire shuddered. “Yeah, well, I, uh, am. I guess.”
“Warm as sunlight. So was I, once.” Naomi’s sigh brushed Claire’s skin, and then the vampire was gone, moving in a blur. The vampires were all moving faster now—recovering, Claire guessed. Growing stronger.
Dr. Mills was looking at them in satisfaction, but Claire couldn’t quite get there from here. Great, they were feeling better; she could get behind that.
But now they were healthy vampires. Which meant they could make more vampires, and that changed everything. It changed the entire dynamic of Morganville.
Didn’t it?
Her phone rang. No number displayed on the caller ID. Claire flipped it open and said, “What, Ada?”
“You must take Dr. Mills and leave,” Ada said. “I will dial the portal for you. Go now.”
“Would you mind telling me what—”
“Do as I say or I will leave you both alone in a room full of vampires who may crave an instant hot meal.”
Myrnin’s computer was such a bitch.
Claire snapped the phone shut. “Grab what you need,” she said. “It’s time to go.”
Dr. Mills nodded. He’d loaded the individual doses into a couple of duffel bags, and
he handed one to her as he hefted the other. He opened up a padded silver box and checked the contents.
Two syringes.
“Those are the last two doses of the serum, right?” Claire asked. “Maybe I’d better . . . ?”
He handed them over. “Make sure Myrnin gets one, and Amelie gets the other,” he said. “Oliver will try to hijack one for himself. Don’t let him.”
Like she stood a chance of saying no to Oliver on her own, but she nodded anyway. Dr. Mills seemed relieved to have the stuff out of his hands. He looked around at the vampires, who were all turning toward them. “Maybe we should be going,” he said. “I’m sure they’re all grateful, but—”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Let’s.”
Walking through the crowd was like walking through a giant pride of lions. They might be calmly observing, but there was no mistaking the predatory gleam in their eyes as they did it. Claire caught the glitter of fangs in one or two mouths, and made sure not to make eye contact.
Naomi stepped into her path. The young vampire—well, young-looking—blocked the way out. “May I beg a favor?” she asked. “A small one, I assure you.”
Claire licked her lips. “Sure.”
“Give this to my sister Amelie,” she said, and lifted a silver necklace off of her alabaster neck. It was a beautiful little thing, thin as a whisper, and it had a white cameo dangling from it. “Tell her that we are with her if she requires it.”
Claire put the necklace in her pocket, and nodded. “I’ll tell her.” Naomi didn’t move. “Did you want something else?”
“Oh, yes,” Naomi said faintly. “Very badly. But you see, I know my sister. I know she would not forgive me if I did anything untoward. So you and your kind doctor must go, before we forget our promises.”
Still, she didn’t move.
Claire went around her. Naomi turned to watch her.
Stepping through the stone illusion seemed a whole lot easier this time, maybe because she knew staying was definitely not a good idea at all.
Ada’s ghost stood in the hallway, looking furiously out of sorts with the delay. She turned and glided away at top speed. Claire broke into a run to keep up, and Dr. Mills kept pace. Ada suddenly stopped and spun her image to face them like a flat cardboard cutout, and the speaker on Claire’s phone shrieked with static.
Dr. Mills went down.
“Run!” Ada screamed through the speakerphone, but Claire couldn’t. She couldn’t leave him behind.
Claire stopped to reach down to help him up, but he wasn’t moving. There was a cut on his head, and although he was breathing, he was completely unconscious.
The cut was on the back of his head. He hadn’t fallen that way.
Someone had hit him.
Ada tried to tell her to run away, but she stayed where she was. Ada’s ghostly image screamed silently in frustration and burst into a storm of misty static.
Gone.
In the darkness, Claire felt fingers brush her hair.
“Naomi?” she asked in a faint whisper.
A dry chuckle sounded next to her ear, shockingly close. “Never met the lady. You know who I am,” a male voice said. “Don’t you, Claire?”
She closed her eyes.
“Hello,” she said, “Mr. Collins.”
9
Shane’s dad turned on an electric light overhead, and the sudden glare made Claire wince and blink. She looked down quickly at Dr. Mills to confirm that he was still breathing, and not moving. Good. She needed all her concentration right now.
Frank Collins looked the same as he had the last time she’d seen him alive, there in Bishop’s office—thin, lean, with his long graying hair down around his face, only now he was paler. He looked like a man who’d lived hard and died the same way—and there was definitely a shadow in him that hadn’t been there before. A crazy, scary shine in his eyes, like a silver film. He had a few things in common with Oliver, but where Oliver came across as tough, frightening, and ultimately rational, Collins missed that last one entirely.
He was way too close. Claire stayed very still, trying not to let her pulse pound too hard.
“I see what my son likes about you,” Frank Collins said. “You’re tougher than you look.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Now back off.”
He laughed again. It echoed off of the stone, as if he’d brought three or four copies of himself to enjoy the show. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so. Never done it before. Never will.” He paused “I’d like to talk to my son.”
“Never going to happen,” Claire said. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Mr. Collins’s smile showed more than teeth. His fangs slowly unfolded, and the edges caught the dim light. “You think he’d want you sucking plasma, too, sweet-heart? It would kill him if something like that happened. So you might try to be a little more polite.”
She wanted to vomit at the thought of Frank Collins biting her. “He’ll kill you,” she said. “You know he would.”
“Maybe he’d try.” Frank shrugged. “He wouldn’t hurt you, though. I know my boy well enough to know how head over heels he is for you. He’d never touch a hair on your pretty little head. You’re his weakness, Claire.”
That was sickeningly true. Shane would do anything to save Claire. He’d even let his father turn him into a vampire—which might be what Freaky Frank was thinking about.
She couldn’t let that happen. No way.
Claire slowly let the duffel bag she was holding thump down to the floor, and took stock of what she had to work with. Not much. Frank Collins had been turned by Bishop; he wasn’t sick. She had no hope of curing him, or even treating him. This was his natural state of crazy.
Her backpack.
Claire let it slide down her arm, hoping that he’d think she was getting ready to make a run for it. It’d be useless to do that; she’d never make it.
Plus, he’d enjoy the chase.
As her backpack caught in the crook of her elbow, she grabbed the front zipper. Gravity helped her pull it down as the weight sagged forward.
Oh, crap.
The stakes weren’t in the front pocket. She’d put them in the bigger interior, with her books. There was nothing in the front pocket but some paper clips, a highlighter, and half a candy bar. She didn’t think bribing him with chocolate would get it done.
“Relax,” Shane’s dad said. “I’ll let you go.”
That seemed . . . too good to be true, but Claire was willing to take it and run. “Thanks,” she said, and bent to grab Dr. Mills to pull him toward the portal.
“I didn’t say he could go,” Frank said, his smile full-tilt crazy. “I deserve a little bonus for being so accommodating.”
Claire could feel her heart pounding now, even through the layers of calming drugs that Hannah had dosed her with before. Everything seemed to slow down. She didn’t pause to think. She threw all her strength into grabbing the pack in both hands, twirling in place like a shot-putter, and slamming the pack into Frank Collins’s back.
There were a lot of books in there, and physics was something not even vampires could ignore, especially when it hit them full force. Frank went sprawling. Claire grabbed Dr. Mills by one arm and dragged him toward the spot where Ada had been standing.
Ada flickered back into existence as she approached. The speaker in Claire’s phone activated and Ada shouted, “Leave the man; get the bags!”
“Bite me,” Claire snapped. She heaved, got Dr. Mills up to a sitting position, and rolled him through the portal.
Then she dashed back for the duffel bags.
Frank Collins’s pale hand grabbed her wrist. She looked up, right into his scarred face and silvery eyes, and screamed. There was no way she could break free, not without leaving her hand behind. He was just that strong.
Shane’s dad yanked her down to her knees on the floor. He pulled the strap of her backpack off her shoulder and ripped the tough fabric open, spilling the contents all over the f
loor. Advanced Particle Physics slipped off into the dark, along with Fundamentals of Matrix Computations . Out spilled two sharp-pointed wooden stakes. Out of sheer desperation, she made a grab for them, but his foot came crashing down to pin them to the floor before she could get there.
He stood there, staring at the stakes, and she saw something move over his face, like a ripple of real human pain. “Christ,” he murmured. “I used to carry some just like that when I was starting out hunting them. What the hell am I doing?”
She knew what that pain was, and all of a sudden she knew how to hurt him. “You’re hunting,” Claire said. Her heart was beating so hard, it felt as if it would break her ribs. “That’s what vamps do. Hunt people.”
He shook his head silently, then looked up at her. He almost looked sane again, or as sane as Shane’s father ever got. “I’ve been fighting vampires a long time,” he said. “Killed a couple; did you know that?”
She knew. He and Shane had almost been executed for killing Brandon, even though Shane hadn’t had anything to do with it. He stared down again at the hand-carved stakes sticking out from under his big, scuffed boot.
“Never ended up using stakes all that much,” he said, and looked her right in the eyes. “You know why?”
She was afraid to ask.
“Because if you don’t kill a vampire, it just makes them angrier,” he said. “You think you can kill me with something like this?”
She swallowed hard. “Sure. Not that you’re going to let me try.”
“Truth is, the worst thing I ever feared was this. Being this. Shane tell you that?” She slowly nodded. “I’m sorry he had to see what happened to me. I’m sorry for all the things I did to make his life hell over the years. You understand?”
She shook her head, because she really didn’t.
“You tell Shane I love him,” Frank said. “I always did. Didn’t show it right, I know that, but that was never his fault. I’m glad he found you. He deserves something good in his life.”
And then he lifted up his boot and picked up the stakes. Claire opened her mouth, but her voice caught in her throat.
Carpe Corpus Page 17
