He was imagining it, all right, and she could see color rising in his cheeks. He liked it.
He liked it a lot.
Dean glanced over at the milk jug, which was shimmering with her blood. A steady stream flowed out of the tube to patter down inside. “Start talking,” he said. “If I like what you say, I’ll turn it off.”
He was lying to her; she could feel it. “You can stop pretending you’re killing me for a cause. You’re not. You’re killing me because you like it, Dean. You’re not a vampire; you’re worse. They’re like tigers. You’re a cannibal.”
His eyes flickered, and he leaned forward. “Maybe I’ll try that, too,” he said. “Maybe I’ll start on you.”
She blinked, light-headed. The world seemed to shift in front of her. She had a vision, and it was so real.
She was looking past him into the living room at home, just like through a tunnel. The TV was on. Eve was singing along to some obnoxious commercial, shim- mying her hips as she put a plate full of hot dogs on the table. It was Eve’s night to cook. Michael was tuning his guitar, intent on frets and strings and sounds.
Shane walked in from the front hall, dropped his keys on the table, and said, “Where’s Claire?”
“Not here yet,” Eve said. “Probably on her way.”
I’m not. I’m not coming. I’m sorry.
Shane dug his cell phone out and dialed.
Somewhere in another part of the abandoned house, Claire heard her ring tone echoing. The odd thing was, Shane seemed to hear it, too. He looked around, raised his eyebrows at Eve, and Eve shrugged. “Maybe she left it.”
They could hear the phone. But the phone was here.
Claire pulled in a breath to scream, but she didn’t have to.
Shane looked right at her, and for a second, she realized what that tunnel was, that silvery shimmer at the edges.
She realized that Ada hadn’t let her down, after all. It was a portal, and Shane was going to save her.
He saw her.
His eyes widened.
“Claire!” he screamed, and lunged at the portal.
It closed right before he got there.
“Oh, man,” Dean breathed. “Close. You can do that thing, too? The portal thing? Comes in handy; am I right?” He waved his arm, and the portal shimmered back into existence—but in place of the tunnel that had led to the Glass House, there was one leading into darkness. No—not quite darkness. It was the old prison, the one where the sick vampires had been kept. “Ada locked me out for a while, and man, I was starting to sweat. But I promised her some fresh blood if she’d just let me have it for a couple more days.”
He’d been using the network to kill, and Jason had helped him—probably just because Jason was a joiner, and lonely, and Dean knew how to make people feel wanted. Even Claire had felt it, and she should have known better.
Her heart was racing so fast now.
“See?” he said. “I can do it from anywhere. Just like you. Guess that makes us special.”
He was smart, she realized. Clever and cold. Like Myrnin.
Only Myrnin had a conscience.
Something moved on the other side of the portal. A ghost. Ada?
No, although Claire saw the flicker of her black-and-white image for a second standing in the portal, facing away from her. Beckoning to someone else on the other side.
Then misting out of the way.
Ada had brought help, after all, but it wasn’t Myrnin.
It was Frank Collins.
Shane’s dad stood on the other side of the portal, staring through at them, looking more like a ghost than Ada had. Claire must have made some sound, because Dean turned to look, and his face went completely slack with surprise. “Frank?” he asked. “Frank, wait—let me explain . . .”
Frank Collins reached through, grabbed Dean, and dragged him through the portal.
Dean screamed, once, and then there was silence. Just . . . nothing.
Claire felt herself getting cold. This is how it feels, she thought. Becoming a vampire. Except I won’t wake up.
Frank stepped through the portal.
“Keep breathing,” he told her, and crouched next to her as he took the tube out of her arm and tossed it away. He wadded up a piece of bandage and stuck it in the bend of her arm, then bent it back to add pressure. “Sorry about Dean. I always knew he wasn’t good in the head, but I never thought he’d go this crazy.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, then pushed to his feet and headed for the portal.
Along the way, he grabbed the milk jug, and then he was gone.
Ada’s ghost misted back into view, staring at Claire. She was smiling.
“Help,” Claire whispered.
“I did.” Ada’s prim voice came out of the distant, tinny speaker of the cell phone. “He promised me blood, but I don’t want yours. I don’t like it.”
Ada disappeared.
She was alone, and cold. For a little while, that was all there was.
Then hands were lifting her, and she felt a tiny sting in her numb arm, and there were voices.
Light.
Then a different kind of nothing.
The hospital room was dark in the middle of the day, out of courtesy to the visitors. The overhead fluorescent lights bleached everybody, but at least nobody burst into flame.
That was Morganville in a nutshell. Compromise.
“I’m told that you’re doing well,” Amelie said, and pulled up a chair at Claire’s bedside. Her bodyguards had taken up posts at the door. One of them winked at Claire, and she smiled back. “I feel I must apologize for my lack of care for your safety.”
“You couldn’t have known I was in trouble,” Claire said.
“You wear my mark on your bracelet, and that makes you my dependent.” That seemed to settle everything for Amelie. “That does not reflect well upon my stewardship. Luckily, Dr. Mills believes you will make a complete recovery. You may thank your friends for being so quick to act on your behalf.”
Claire felt pleasantly warm, safe, and a little drugged. “Yeah, about the rescue,” she said. “What happened?”
“Several things. First, Eve called me and demanded my help.” Amelie nodded to Eve, who managed to look simultaneously smug and embarrassed as she leaned against the wall. “Although Eve presumed a great deal about my willingness to help, I decided to speak with Ada.” Claire bet that had been an interesting, scary conversation. “She admitted that she knew where you were. From there, it was a simple enough matter to open a portal to you and bring you help.”
“Who was it?” she asked. Her eyelids felt heavy. “Shane?”
“In fact, no,” Oliver said, from the darkest corner of the room. “I carried you. Don’t get sentimental; the doctors saved you, not me. I simply moved you from one place to another.” He sounded as if he deeply wished to be out of the round of thanks at all costs. Claire was happy to oblige him.
“The blood bank came in handy,” Dr. Mills said cheerfully, leaning over her to check her tubes and wires. “About time it did humans some good, too.” He didn’t seem shy about saying it in front of Amelie and Oliver, either. “You owe us about four pints, kiddo. But later, I promise. No rush at all.”
“Thanks,” she said, and gave him a drowsy thumbs-up.
“Just doing my job,” he said. “Of course, some days it’s a pleasure. Rest. You’re going to be here for a few days. Oh, and I hope you enjoy off-brand flavors of Jell-O.”
She thought he was kidding about that last part, but she absolutely couldn’t be sure. Before she could ask, he scribbled something on her chart and hurried off to the next patient. Jell-O victim.
Amelie’s cool fingers adjusted the covers minutely—for Amelie, that was positively fussy. “I am pleased you’ll be working with us a while longer, Claire,” she said. “Sleep now.”
Claire badly wanted to, but she had another question. “Did you get him?” Claire asked, and opened her eyes again. “Did you find Dean?
”
“Yes,” Amelie said. Her expression was absolutely unreadable. “We found Dean.” She rose, nodded to her bodyguards, and left without an explanation or a backward glance. Oliver pushed off and followed, but he made it look like it was his own idea.
Oh, that was going to be trouble, if Oliver kept up with the attitude. But it was trouble that Claire didn’t have to worry about. The only thing she had to worry about, in fact, was choking down horrible, weird flavors of gelatin.
About a minute after the departure of the vampires, the door opened again, and Shane came in juggling a handful of drinks. Coffee, it smelled like. The sight of him made Claire feel like a sun had exploded inside her—so much happiness she was surprised it wasn’t leaking out of her skin, like light.
His smile was amazing.
“Hope you brought some for me,” Claire said, as he handed Eve and Michael their cups. There was one left over.
“You’re kidding, right?” Shane asked. “You don’t need caffeine. You need sleep.” He held out the last cup, and Claire realized she’d been wrong; there was someone else in the shadows. Deeper in the shadows even than Oliver had been.
Myrnin.
He looked completely different to her now, and not just because he wasn’t crazy anymore. He’d remembered how to dress himself, for one thing; gone were the costume coats and Mardi Gras beads and flip-flops. He had on a gray knit shirt, black pants, and a jacket that looked a bit out of period, but not as much as before.
All clean. He even had shoes on.
“Yes, you must sleep,” he agreed, as he accepted the cup and tried the coffee. “I’ve gone to far too much trouble to train up another apprentice at this late date. We have work to do, Claire. Good, hard work. Some of it may even earn you accolades, once you leave Morganville.”
She smiled slowly. “You’ll never let me leave.”
Myrnin’s dark eyes fixed on hers. “Maybe I will,” he said. “But you must give me at least a few more years, my friend. I have a great deal to learn from you, and I am a very slow learner.”
Claire laughed at that, because it was just silly. At least, she thought she did. She felt pleasantly floaty, and so very tired.
Her parents dropped in and evicted everyone, for a while. Even Myrnin. She supposed that was all right, in her dreamy haze. It was nice, being loved like that.
When she opened her eyes again, it was night. Her parents were gone, and Eve was asleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, curled up with her head on her arms and a hospital blanket covering up her pink Goth bowling shirt. Michael had his guitar, and he was playing very quietly—something slow and sweet and peaceful. When he saw Claire’s eyes flutter open, he stopped, looking guilty.
“No, go on,” she murmured. “It’s really beautiful.”
“I’m supposed to play at Common Grounds later,” he said. “I can blow it off if you need me to stay, though.”
“No, you go. Don’t rob Morganville of the amazing Michael Glass comeback tour.”
“Yeah, like anybody will care,” Michael said, but he smiled in that way that meant he was kind of embarrassed about it. And delighted. “I wouldn’t leave, but it looks like you’ve got a permanent bodyguard already.”
Shane was asleep, too, head down on the edge of her bed. She longed to run her fingers through his hair, but she didn’t want to wake him up.
She didn’t have to. Shane’s breathing changed, and he sat up, blinking, as if he’d gotten some invisible signal. He focused on her instantly. “Hey,” he said, and she saw him relax as relief rolled through him. “Sleepyhead.” He reached out and took her hand in his, then leaned forward and kissed her. It felt warm and drowsy and sweet, like a promise. “Welcome back.”
She felt like she’d never take her life for granted again. “Did you talk to my parents?”
“I did. Man, my ears are still burning. It’s all my fault, apparently.” Shane smiled, but she could see he really did feel that way, about his guilt. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there for you, Claire. I can’t believe I couldn’t get to you—”
She put a finger on his lips. “You’ve always been there when I needed you,” she said. “You’re here now, right?”
“You know what I mean.”
She thought about telling him about Frank, about how he’d saved her. But she wasn’t sure, really sure, that she hadn’t just imagined it.
And if Frank Collins was around, he could show up and tell his son himself.
“I know,” she said. Something Monica said back at Common Grounds haunted her, especially in this weakened state: You know it’s not going to last, right? Things changed. People changed. Even Morganville changed. “Don’t go.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Needy much, Claire?
Shane took her hand and raised it to his lips in an old-fashioned kiss worthy of Myrnin at his best. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not even to take a shower. And you’re really going to regret that, by the way.”
“Dude,” Michael said. “I already regret it.”
“Shut up, man.”
Michael threw a box of tissues at him. Shane fielded it and fired it back, which wasn’t much of a challenge to Michael’s vampire reflexes.
Eve woke up, wiped drool from her chin, and yawned. “You jerks want to take the Super Bowl outside? Some of us need our beauty rest—don’t say it, Collins.”
Shane caught the tissue box. “Say what?” he asked, and tossed the box underhanded in Eve’s direction. “Fetch!”
She came out of the chair, picked up the tissue box, and whacked him over the head with it. Several times.
Claire couldn’t stop laughing. Tears burned in her eyes, and she loved them so much.
She loved them all so much.
Michael rescued Eve from a tissue paper war and towed her toward the door with his guitar case in the other hand. “I’m calling a truce,” he said, and looked back at Claire from the door. “We’ll come back after the show.”
None of them were letting her stay the night alone; she got that. She supposed later, that might annoy her, but tonight, it just felt . . . great. She loved being looked after.
Then the door shut, and it was just her and Shane.
“So,” she said. “What’s on TV tonight?”
“Hockey.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s something other than hockey.”
“Nope. Just hockey. It’s on every channel. Better complain to the cable company.” He kicked back in the chair and settled in with the remote.
“Jerk.” She sighed. “I’m the one with low blood pressure, here. Shouldn’t I get the remote?”
“I’m thoughtful. Look, I brought you a present.” He pulled a wooden stake out of his pocket and put it next to her hand, on top of the blankets.
“What’s this for?”
“Emergencies,” he said. “Morganville emergencies.”
She examined the stake. It looked like it might have been one of Eve’s, at least originally. “I hate to break it to you, but Dean wasn’t a vampire.”
“Bet it would have worked good on him, too.”
She spotted some writing on the side. “You put my name on it!” Hand-carved. That must have taken a while.
“I had time, sitting around here waiting for you to wake up. Anyway, Amelie just issued a new law. All humans are allowed to carry stakes for self-defense. See? Progress.”
“Or mutually assured destruction.”
“Well, whatever works.”
Claire held up the stake. “Some girls get jewelry. But they’re such losers.”
He reached in his pocket, came out with a small velvet box, and set it next to her pillow. She took a deep, sudden breath, and felt her whole body go a little bit woozy around the edges.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
“It’s . . . kind of for later,” he said. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m not well-rounded or anything.”
He kissed her, and she felt everything me
lt away. All the pain, the fear, the worry. It was all just going to be . . . okay.
Somewhere, Michael Glass was playing to a packed house at Common Grounds.
Amelie was sitting alone in her study.
Myrnin was writing down secrets in a leather-bound book.
Monica Morrell was sneering at a blushing freshman girl.
And Claire Danvers was . . . happy.
At least for tonight.
TRACK LIST
In celebration of reaching book six, I’d like to share with you a list of some songs that have kept me going through the writing process! As always, if you’ve got suggestions, I’d love to hear them ([email protected]).
Look for me on MySpace, Facebook, LiveJournal, and Twitter!
www.rachelcaine.com
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. Her eighth Weather Warden novel, Cape Storm, will be released in August 2009. 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.
Don’t miss Rachel Caine’s next thrilling book about
the Morganville vampires,
FADE OUT
In Morganville, Texas, someone is always watching. . . .
Without evil vampire Bishop ruling the town of
Morganville, life has changed—dramatically. The
resident vampires have made major concessions
to the human population. With their newfound
freedoms, Claire Danvers and her friends are
almost starting to feel comfortable again—almost.
Now Claire can actually concentrate on her
studies again, and her friend Eve joins the local
Carpe Corpus Page 24
