by Rachel Caine
“But—,” Eve whispered. “But I thought—”
Amelie stopped her cold. “I have heard the pleas of human residents to allow you to proceed. I have listened to others who insisted you be stopped. My own people are likewise divided, and equally persuasive.” Her silver eyes glittered like frozen coins. “I come to tell you what will be done in the best interests of Morganville, and my will rules here. Not Oliver’s, not yours. Mine.” Her eyes were turning white now, and Claire felt power stirring in the room, like currents of wild electricity. “And I say that this is not the time. Not for this.”
“Wait,” Michael said. “Wait! You can’t—”
“I can,” Amelie said softly. “And I will. And I must. No wedding will take place, not between human and vampire. Not until I am willing to let it be so.” Her eyes were pure white now, and Claire felt the crushing pulse of power. It wasn’t directed at her, she realized, or at Eve, or any human.... It was a vampire power, directed at the vamps in the room.
Who were falling to their knees now. Some willingly, some grudgingly. Some stayed on their feet for a while, but eventually, they caved, too.
Leaving only Oliver, swaying and resisting her . . . and Michael, who was holding on to Eve for support.
“No,” Michael said, through tightly gritted teeth. “No, this is my life. Mine.”
“Your life has always been mine, bloodchild.” Amelie extended her hand toward him, and closed her fist. “Submit.”
Michael screamed, and his eyes turned white. So did his face, dead white, dead. Claire took an involuntary step toward him, horrified, but Shane did more than that.
He stepped up to Michael’s side and put his arm under Michael’s, supporting his weight.
“You’ll thank me later, bro,” he said, and turned his gaze on Amelie. “Step off. Now.”
Her fangs were out. Amelie had never looked more alien to Claire, or more beautiful, or horribly dangerous. She was terrifying, and the other humans of Morganville were backing off now, heading for the door. The vampires were pinned in place.
Claire moved in to help brace Michael. Her head felt black with the buzzing power around her, and she knew it must be killing Michael; the color was gone out of him now. He could have been made out of marble, and it was scary, so very scary to touch his ice-cold skin....
Eve let go of Michael, leaving Claire and Shane to support him, and walked in front of Amelie.
She took off the pin that was on her red dress and threw it at her. “Go to hell and take that with you!” She shouted it right in Amelie’s face. Eve was an exotic blaze of color against Amelie’s white fury.
And then she slapped the Founder in the face.
Amelie took a step backward, stunned, and the crush of power in the room faltered.
Oliver lunged out and grabbed Eve by the waist, slinging her out of the way as Amelie went for her. He grabbed the Founder and wrapped her in his arms, then yelled at Claire, “Get them out! Now! Go home, and hurry! Do it now!”
Amelie’s fury jumped into the other vampires, and one by one, they shot to their feet, hissing. One threw a crystal glass of blood at Eve, but got Claire instead, splattering her white dress.
She looked down at the mess with a startled gasp, and thought, Damn, Miranda was right. Again.
“Ahh . . . maybe we should be going,” Shane said. “Ditch the shoes, Eve. We’ll be running now.”
“I love these shoes!”
“More than your circulatory system?”
Eve silently kicked off the stilettos and backed up. Shane and Claire got Michael moving, weakly at least, and headed for the door. Eve acted as rearguard, not that she had anything to fight with other than the shoes she’d grabbed up.
The vampire in the red velvet coat headed for her, fangs out. She got the stiletto heel up, ready to strike, but something grabbed him in midleap and slammed him up, straight into the chandelier. Crystal shattered, and the disco ball spun wildly, throwing drunken sparkles over the room.
At the far end of the room, the fleeing dj hit a button on her system, and thundering techno music started up, shivering the air and thumping beats into Claire’s body like kicks. Way too loud.
Myrnin, who’d intercepted the attacking vamp, turned and looked at them.
At Claire.
His lips shaped words, but Claire couldn’t hear them. He made a shooing motion and smiled at her, one of those fragile and half-crazy things, and her heart just broke all over again.
She shook her head, and Eve slammed the ballroom door, cutting off the rush of vampires heading their way. She jammed a chair under the handle.
They ran for the elevator. Shane punched the button about sixteen times before the doors opened, and he dragged Michael inside as Claire held it for Eve. “They’re breaking out!” Eve gasped. “That chair’s not going to hold!”
“Close close close!” Shane yelled at the buttons, punching the one for the garage. Claire heard wood splintering, and then a crash as the ballroom door shattered off its hinges.
One vampire appeared in front of the elevator—a vampire with shoulder-length dark hair and ridiculously long tails on his black brocade coat.
Myrnin, again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and turned to face a horde of oncoming attackers. “I’ll buy you time. Oh, nice party, by the way!”
The doors closed before Claire could thank him, and the elevator lurched and started inching its way slowly down.
“Michael?” Shane shook him, still holding him upright with an arm under his shoulders. “Hey, man, you with us?”
Michael nodded. He looked better. Not good, but not as statue-pale now. His eyes were fading back to blue again, slowly. “You had my back.” He sounded surprised.
“Always,” Shane said. “Thought you knew that.”
Eve put her arms around his neck and kissed him, on the lips. Shane did a funny little wiggle, trying to squirm away while not dumping Michael on his ass, but she kept it brief. “Sorry, but I had to do that,” she said. “You rock.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to brand me with lipstick,” Shane said, and wiped it off. “My girl’s standing right there.”
“Your girl doesn’t mind,” Claire said. She was still scared, but somehow also elated. Free. Reborn. “I’d kiss you, too, if I was closer.”
“I wouldn’t,” Michael said. “I don’t love you that way.”
“That’s not what you said last time.”
“Ass.” Michael almost smiled, but it faded as the movement of the cabin stopped with a jerk. “We’re here. Stay alert; we’re not clear yet.”
Claire got out, watching the angles, but the garage seemed deserted. She gestured for the others to hustle after her, which they did, quickly. Shane had the keys to the hearse, which he tossed to her, and Claire quickly unlocked the back. They loaded Michael and Eve inside, in the vampire-shaded area, and got in the front. “Lock it,” Shane said. Claire nodded and hit the control, just as a white-faced vampire popped up at her window and tried the door. She shrieked and jumped, but got control and jammed the hearse into gear. Too fast, too fast . . . the thing was like a luxury liner, and she had to make several fast back-and-forth moves to rock it free of obstructions. The vampire jumped on top, and punched fingernails through the roof.
“Go go go!” Shane yelled, and Claire finally had a clear lane. She jammed the gas down, and the hearse roared up the ramp, around the curve, and out into full sun.
The vampire on top hung on for a moment, and then the claws disappeared. She heard him tumbling across the length of the roof, and saw him drop off, land on his feet, and dash for the shade as he left a trail of greasy smoke behind. Claire whooped and pumped her fist, and Shane bumped knuckles with her.
“Combat-driving merit badge,” he said. “With bonus vampire clusters. Now all you have to do is get us home.”
“No.” Eve slid back the divider between the front and the rear, and leaned in. “Michael and I decided. Take us to the chur
ch.”
“What?” Claire and Shane blurted it out at the same time, in perfect chorus.
“They’ll stop us if they can. We have to do this now if we’re going to do it,” Eve said. “We’re getting married. Right now.”
Claire almost drove off the road. “But—wait, now? Like, right now?”
“You’re not serious,” Shane said. “You can’t do it now.”
“Why not?”
“You’re wearing red,” Shane said.
“I have blood on my dress,” Claire put in.
“You, Shaggy, shut up,” Eve said, giving Shane a scornful look. “Claire, cold water in the bathroom. There. Fixed.” She slammed the portal shut.
Claire drove on in silence for a moment, and then said, “So.”
“So,” Shane repeated. “Yeah.”
She took the right turn, toward the church.
Nobody was in the church. Nobody. Not Father Joe, not a parishioner, not a cleaning crew. It was deserted, and Claire knocked on the office door and found it empty, too. Nobody in the vesting chamber. She walked out into the main chapel and held up her hands in helpless surrender, as Eve put on her high heels, balancing on first one foot, then the other.
“You’re kidding,” Eve said. “He’s gone?”
“He was at the party,” Shane put in. He was sitting with Michael on a pew. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea right now, Eve. Oliver said—”
“I know what Oliver said. Damn if I am taking another order from another vampire in this town, ever!” Eve finished strapping on the heels and stood there looking tall and strong. “We’ll wait.”
Shane looked at Michael doubtfully. “I don’t know, man—”
“We wait,” Michael said. “She’s right. Look, if you want to take Claire home—”
“No,” Shane said. “I’m not leaving you two here alone. We stick together.”
“I’m still not kissing you,” Michael said.
“Tease.”
Michael started to retort, but the hollow boom of the church door cut him off. He and Shane both came to their feet—Michael faster—and Claire looked around for something antivampire she could improvise, but none of it was necessary, because striding into the chapel was Father Joe, red hair blazing in the multicolored light from the rose window overhead. He slowed when he saw them, then sighed and came forward toward where they were waiting.
Eve opened her mouth to say something, but he held up his hand. “No,” he said. “I have a good idea why you’re here. And the answer is no.”
“What? You can’t just say no!” Eve said. “Why would you say that?”
Father Joe stopped and turned as he reached the steps to the altar, and instead of being a harried young man, he seemed to change into a grave, composed person with no doubts about what he was about to do. He held up both hands for calm, and Eve subsided, not very willingly.
“You don’t have the Founder’s permission,” he said. “Without the Founder’s signature on the marriage license, no marriages conducted inside this church are legal in the eyes of the town. You won’t accomplish what you’re trying to do, and from what I saw back in that ballroom, you will never get her permission. You’ll be lucky to escape a jail sentence, Eve.”
“She could change her mind,” Claire said.
“She won’t. You shamed her, you publicly defied her, and Eve slapped her. As Amelie, she might forgive, and she might quietly shift her opinions. You called her out as the Founder of Morganville, and the Founder can’t let it pass, whatever her personal feelings might be. Whatever you do here, it doesn’t matter beyond that door. Not to the Founder.”
There was a heavy silence, as Eve and Michael looked at each other. He came to stand next to her, and their fingers slowly intertwined.
Michael looked at Father Joe and said, “Would you do it anyway?”
Father Joe cocked his head to one side, watching the two of them, and clasped his hands in front of him. A slow smile warmed his serious expression, and he said, “In the eyes of God, do you come before the altar to be married?”
“Yes, Father,” he said.
Father Joe turned his focus to Eve. “And you?”
“Yes, Father. More than anything.”
“I see you have witnesses,” he said. Claire and Shane moved to stand near them, and Claire realized that she was short of breath now, and trembling. She could see that Eve was shaking, too. Michael squeezed her hand a little and smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Do you have the ring?”
Eve looked at Michael with panic, and he seemed blank, too, until Shane said, “Can you use her engagement ring? I mean, just for the ceremony?”
“I can,” Father Joe agreed. “Generally people prefer double-ring ceremonies these days, but a single one will work just as well. Now, I ask again: are you sure of what you’re about to do? Marriage is not a state to be entered into lightly.”
“We’re sure,” Michael said. “Please. Go ahead.”
The chapel door boomed shut at the other end.
Claire turned, blinking back tears that were threatening to form, and saw that a whole lot of people had appeared in the back of the church. Some were throwing back hoods and taking off hats, but not the one in front, dressed in cool white, with her pale hair worn up, like a crown. She hadn’t bothered with sun protection.
Amelie walked down the church’s aisle toward them, and behind her followed Oliver, Myrnin, and a half dozen other vampires. More than they could fight. More than anyone could fight.
Father Joe froze, watching them. Michael and Eve turned to look, too, and then Michael said, “Go ahead, Father. We’re ready.”
“No one will be married here today,” Amelie’s cool voice said, ringing out with authority. “You serve here at my sufferance, Father. I do not wish to disrespect the church, or your autonomy, but I have made my pronouncement, and these two have no permission. Now, please go. I have things to discuss with these four.”
He hesitated, looking at the two standing in front of him, and then bowed his head. “I’m sorry. She won’t hurt you, not here. The church is neutral ground. You’re safe inside.”
“Wait—” Eve reached out for him, but he stepped back, went up the steps, and knelt down to pray at the altar. Eve shut her eyes and swayed, and only Michael’s arm around her kept her on her feet.
They all turned to face the vampires.
Amelie continued toward them, but made a silent gesture that caused almost all those following her to stop and take seats in the pews. Only Oliver and Myrnin stayed with her the rest of the way.
Four to three, but not exactly even odds. Michael could hold his own, maybe, but Claire knew the rest of them had the chance of a rabbit caught in a wolves’ den.
Amelie let a cold moment pass before she said, “You’re simply intent on defying my wishes, apparently.”
“We want to get married. That’s not anyone else’s business,” Michael said. He sounded angry, dangerously so. “Why are you doing this to us?”
“I’m trying to keep the peace,” she said. “And the peace will not be kept this way. You have many years to take this step; a few more will not matter if your love is as strong as you claim. However, a few more years may make all the difference in achieving a lasting peace in Morganville.”
“You’ve had about a hundred years to try to make that happen, and it hasn’t,” Eve said. “What makes you think another couple of years will change anything?”
Amelie studied her with a remote, cold intensity that made Claire shudder. “I have only been physically struck by two others before. Neither of them still live, and both were vampires. I suggest you allow me some time to consider how I feel about you.”
“Amelie,” Claire said, drawing the vampire’s attention; she immediately wished she hadn’t. There was something tight and furious inside there, completely unlike the Amelie she normally saw. “I know Eve’s sorry about that. But you shamed her, right in front of half the town. In front of people she
knows and has to face every day. All she wanted was to be with the one she loved. You know how that feels.”
Something flickered in Amelie’s gray eyes. Surprise, and hurt, and almost immediately anger. She didn’t like being reminded of the love she’d lost, or that the four humans standing in front of her had once seen her at her most vulnerable as she mourned.
“Sam wouldn’t want this,” Claire said. It was the last, and only, card she could play. “Sam would want you to let them be together.” Sam Glass had been Michael’s grandfather, a vampire Claire had known only a little, but he’d been the kindest, most caring one of them all.
And now he was gone, and Amelie—Amelie still hurt inside.
The problem was, pain could sometimes make people turn cold and savage.
Like now, Claire realized, as the icy silence deepened. When Amelie spoke again, it was in a fatally quiet voice. “Do not invoke Samuel to me,” she said. “We waited.”
“You waited until your chance was gone to be happy,” Claire said, even though every instinct screamed at her to shut up. “Do you want the same thing for Eve and Michael? Really?”
Amelie said nothing this time, just stared at her. It was possible—remotely—that she was thinking it over.
Oliver cleared his throat and said, “We don’t have time for your drama, children. We have things to attend to. Urgently.” That last was directly at Amelie, Claire realized, not toward them at all, and Amelie stirred and glanced at him, then nodded. “Myrnin’s going to escort the four of you home. He’ll take the portal from there.”
“No!” Claire blurted, but Amelie was already turning and walking away, and so was Oliver. Her opinion didn’t matter, clearly. She looked mutely at Shane, who shook his head and shrugged.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Myrnin said. He looked cautious and hurt, which made her angrier; what right did he have to feel wounded in all this? He’d totally betrayed her trust. She was not going to feel guilty about taking that to heart. “Shall we?”
Amelie’s entourage filed in behind her, and the doors boomed shut again behind them. At the altar, Father Joe crossed himself and walked down again to join them.
