by Rachel Caine
Michael looked like an avenging angel, and nobody argued with angels. Claire scurried backward, still holding her hands over her mouth, as Michael strode past her, right up to the doorway. The edge of his territory.
Oliver looked disappointed but, she saw, not particularly surprised. “Ah, Michael. Good to see you again. I see you’re surviving nicely.”
Michael didn’t say anything, but from Claire’s vantage point to the side, she saw the look he was giving Oliver, and it frightened her. She hadn’t thought Michael could get that angry.
“What do you want here?” he asked tightly. Oliver sighed.
“I know you won’t believe me,” he said, “but in truth, I had the best interests of your young friend at heart.”
Michael laughed bitterly. “Yeah. I’ll bet.”
“Also your friend Shane—” Oliver’s eyes darted past Michael to lock on Shane, then Eve. “And of course my dear sweet Eve. Such a fine employee.”
Michael turned slowly to look at Eve, whose eyes were wide with what Claire hoped was horror. Or at least confusion. “You know each other?” Eve blurted. “But—Michael, you said you didn’t know Oliver, and—”
“I didn’t,” Michael said, and turned back, “until he killed me. We were never formally introducted.”
“Yes,” Oliver said, and shrugged. “Sorry about that. Nothing personal about it; it was an experiment of sorts that didn’t quite work out. But I’m pleased to see you survived, even if not quite in the form that I’d hoped.”
Michael made a sound Claire hoped never to hear again from any person, living or dead. It was Eve’s turn to clap her hands over her mouth, then quickly take them away to yell, “Oh my God! Oliver!”
“We can discuss my moral shortcomings later,” he said. “For now, you need to let me inside this house, and as quickly as possible.”
“You have got to be kidding,” Michael said. “I think one of us dead in here is good enough. I’m not letting you in to kill the rest.”
Oliver studied him silently for a long moment. “I’d hoped to be able to avoid this,” he finally said. “Your little Claire is quite the prodigy, you know. She says she’s found the book. I think she has quite a promising future in Morganville…provided she survives the night.”
Michael looked like he wanted to vomit. His eyes darted to Claire, then away. “Doesn’t matter. Go away. Nobody’s asking you in.”
“No?” Oliver smiled widely, and his fangs came down with lazy slowness. That was absolutely the scariest thing Claire had ever seen, that and the sincerity in his eyes. “I think someone will. Sooner or later.”
“I’d say over my dead body, but I think you already made that point,” Michael snapped. “Thanks for the visit. Now fuck off, man.”
He started to close the door. Oliver held up a hand—not like he was trying to stop him physically, just a warning—and his fangs folded up to leave his face kind and trustworthy again. Like…the face of a really cool teacher, the kind who made school worth living through. That, Claire thought, was a bigger betrayal than anything else.
“Wait. Do they understand why they’re here, Michael? Why you risked exposing your secrets to them?” Michael didn’t stop. The door was swinging closed on Oliver. “Shane, listen to me! Michael needed someone living to activate the house Protection! You think he cares about you, he doesn’t! You’re just arms and legs for him! Beating hearts! He’s no different from me!”
“Except for the not-bloodsucking part, you freak!” Shane yelled, and then the door slammed shut on Oliver’s face. Michael threw the bolt with shaking fingers. “Christ, man. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I—about what?” Michael asked, not turning to face him. He looked pale, Claire saw. Scared.
“Any damn thing! How did this happen, Michael? How did you get to be—?” Shane made a gesture that was vague enough to mean anything. “Was he trying to, you know, vamp you out?”
“I think so. It didn’t work. This is as far as I got.” Michael swallowed hard and turned to face him. “He’s right about the Protections. The house won’t enforce any Protection unless there’s someone living in it. I don’t exactly count. I’m—part of it now. I did need you.”
“Whatever, man. I don’t care about that. I care that you went and got yourself drained by some damn leech while my back was turned—”
“He can’t be a vampire,” Eve said suddenly. “He can’t. He’s my boss! And…and he works days! How is that even possible?”
“Ask him,” Michael said. “Next time you go to work.”
“Oh, right, as if I didn’t just quit that job!” Eve moved up beside Michael and put her arms around him. He hugged her back, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they’d been doing that all along—which, Claire admitted, maybe they had and she just hadn’t known. Michael stroked Eve’s hair. “God, I am so sorry!”
“Not your fault,” he said. “Not anybody’s fault except his.”
“How’d you—?”
“I played a set at Common Grounds. I didn’t know he owned the place. I was dealing with a guy named Chad—”
“Oh. Right. Chad died,” Eve said.
“Wonder how that happened?” Shane put in acidly.
“This guy—Oliver, but I never knew his name—said he was a musician and he was looking for a room to rent. I thought it was a good idea. He came over to see the house.” Michael closed his eyes tight, like he couldn’t bear to see the pictures in his head again. Not that it would help, Claire knew. “As soon as I asked him in. I felt it. But it was too late, and—he had friends.”
Shane cursed, one harsh word that boomed off the wood floor like a gunshot, and leaned back against the wall, head down. Slumped. “I should have been here,” he said.
“Then we’d both be dead.”
“And you still will be,” said Oliver’s voice through the door. “Eve, my dear. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Let me in.”
“Leave her alone!” Michael roared, and turned to face the door.
Claire saw something happen in Eve’s face—the will go out of it, the light go out of her eyes. Oh no, she thought, frozen, and tried to open her mouth to warn Michael.
Before she could do it, Eve said, “Yes, Oliver. Come inside.”
And the lock snapped on the door with a crisp, bright ringing sound, and the door drifted open on the night, and Oliver stepped over the threshold.
Chapter 15
C laire didn’t even see Michael move; he was that quick. Until that moment she’d thought he was just a normal guy, really…okay, one who disappeared into mist during the day. But nobody moved that fast. Nobody human.
And nobody was that strong, either. Michael grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, lifted him into the air, and launched him headfirst down the hall to crash into the far wall. Claire dived out of the way. So did Shane, and Eve, although Eve was diving toward Oliver, not away. Shane got hold of her ankle and dragged her backward, kicking and screaming.
Michael went after Oliver. As the vampire was rolling to his feet, Michael smashed into him. Oliver was strong, and fast, but in this house Michael was unstoppable, and he was really, really angry.
“You fool!” Oliver screamed at him. “Do you understand what I said? Claire has the book!”
“I don’t care!”
“You have to care! If you don’t give it over, they’ll rip all of you apart to get it! I’m trying to save you!”
Michael slammed his fist into his face two or three times, quicker than Claire could blink. Oliver went down again, scrabbling at the floor, then rolled over and stared furiously through tangled graying hair up at them. Vampires bled, after all, but it didn’t quite look right—not red enough, and too thick. It trickled from the corners of Oliver’s mouth as he snarled, fangs down, and tried to drag Michael close enough to bite. Michael hit him so hard that one of the fangs broke off and skittered away across the floor like an ivory dagger. Oliver shouted in surprise and pain and rolled, tryi
ng to protect himself.
“Eve!” Michael yelled, and dragged him by one foot down the hallway toward the door. “Revoke the invitation! Do it!” Oliver was fighting him wildly now, ripping long raw scratches in the wooden floor with his fingernails, snarling and twisting to get free. “Eve!”
Shane lunged for Eve, pulled her to her feet, and shook her hard. That didn’t work. She just stared right past him, her face still and dead.
Claire moved him out of the way and slapped Eve hard.
Eve yelped, clapped a hand to her wounded cheek, and blinked. “Hey! What the hell…?” And then she looked past Claire to the furious battle going on in the hallway, lips parted in amazement.
“Eve!” Michael yelled again. “The invitation! You have to withdraw it now!”
“But I didn’t—” Eve didn’t waste time arguing. “Hey! Oliver! Get the hell out of our house!”
Oliver went still. Completely still, like a dead man. Michael picked him up by an arm and a leg, and threw him out into the dark. Claire heard the vampire hit the pavement outside and curse as he rolled back to his feet and came back at the door.
He bounced off a solid cushion of air in the doorway.
“You’re not welcome,” Michael grated. He had a cut on his face, bleeding a thick thread down the side of his neck, and he was breathing hard. “And by the way? Eve quits.”
He slammed the door in Oliver’s snarling face, and collapsed against it, shaking. He didn’t look all-powerful anymore. He looked terrified. “Michael?” Eve asked, breathless. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” he said, and got it together. “Eve, stay away from the door. He got to you once; maybe he can do it again. Claire! You, too. Stay away from the door.” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the hall—which was a mess, wow, the floor all ripped up, the walls scraped and scratched—and shoved her down to a sitting position on the couch. “Claire.”
“Um…yes?” Things were moving too fast. She didn’t know what he was waiting to hear.
“The book?”
“Oh. Yeah. Well—see, there was this floor in the library where they were going through books, and Professor Wilson was stealing things, and—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Do you have the book?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell me you didn’t bring it here.”
She blinked. “Well—yes.”
Michael fell into the armchair, leaned forward, and buried his face in his hands. “Sweet baby Jesus, do you not pay any attention to what goes on in this town? You really have the book?”
“I…guess so.” She got up and started to retrieve it, but he raised his head and grabbed her wrist as she moved by him.
“No,” he said. “Leave it, wherever it is. The less we know, the better. We need to figure out what we’re going to do, because Oliver wasn’t kidding around. He wouldn’t have come here if he hadn’t intended to kill us all for that book. As it was, he took a big chance. He knows how powerful the Protection is on this house.”
“That how come you could beat him?” Shane asked. “Because you know, I’m your best friend, but you’re just not that badass, man.”
“Thanks, asshole. Yeah. I’m part of the house, and that means I can use what the house has. It’s strong. Really strong.”
“Good to know. So what’s the plan?”
Michael took in a deep breath, then let it out. “Wait for daylight,” he said. “Eve. You ever see Oliver outside in the sun?”
“Um…” She thought hard. “No. Mostly he stays in his office, or in the bar area, away from the windows. But I didn’t think vampires could be awake during the day!”
Claire thought about the church Monica had chased her into, and the elegant, ancient woman sitting in the pews. “I think they can,” she said. “If they’re old. He must be really old.”
“I don’t care how old he is—he’s not tanning,” Shane said. “We wait for dawn, and then we get Claire and the book out of here.”
“She can’t go home. They’ll go there first,” Eve said. Claire went cold.
“But—my parents! What about my parents?”
Nobody answered her for a second or two, and then Shane came and sat down next to her. “You think they’ll listen? If we tell them the truth?”
“What, about Morganville? About vampires?” She laughed, and it sounded hysterical. “Are you kidding? They’d never believe it!”
“Besides,” Eve said, and sat down on her other side to take her hand, “even if you convinced them, they’d forget all about it once they were out of town. It’s hard to be paranoid when you don’t remember they’re out to get you.”
“Ouch,” Shane agreed. “Okay, then. Running’s out—for one thing, we can’t throw Claire’s parents to the vampire wolves…right?”
Michael and Eve nodded.
“And besides, same problem for Claire. Even if we got her out of town, she’d forget why she was running. They’d catch her.”
More nods.
“So what do we do?”
“Trade the book,” Claire said. They all looked at her. “What? I was going to, anyway. In exchange for some things.”
“Like what?” Michael asked, amazed.
“Like—Brandon not holding Shane to his deal. And Monica and her freaks backing off of me. And…Protection for all the dorms on campus, so that the students are safe.” She blushed, because they were all staring at her like they’d never seen her before. “That’s how Oliver knew I had the book. I messed up. I was trying to make a deal, but I thought he was just, you know, a good guy who could help. I didn’t know he was one of the vampires.”
“Oh, he’s not one of them,” Michael said. “He is them.”
Shane frowned. “How do you know that, man?”
“Because in a way I’m one of them,” Michael replied. “And something in me wants to do what he says.”
“But—not a big part, right?” Eve ventured.
“No. But he’s definitely in charge.”
Shane got up and walked to the windows, twitched back the curtain, and looked out. “No kidding,” he said.
“What’ve you got?”
“Vamp city, man. Check it out.”
Michael joined him at the window, then Eve. When Claire squeezed in, she gasped, because there were dozens of people in view, all standing or sitting facing the house. Unnaturally still. Eve dashed to another set of windows. “Same here!” she called. “Hang on!”
“Shane,” Michael said, and jerked his head after her. Shane loped off in pursuit. “Well, so much for sneaking out. I think we’re here for the night, at least. Most of them have to go underground during the day. Those that don’t won’t be able to stay out in direct sunlight—I hope—so maybe we’ll have more options then.”
“Michael—” Claire felt like crying. “I didn’t know. I thought I was doing something good. I really did.”
He put his arm around her. “I know. It’s not your fault. It might have been a dumb idea, but at least it was a sweet one.” He kissed her cheek. “Better get some rest. And if you hear voices, try not to listen. They’re going to be testing us.”
She nodded. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But we’ll think of something.”
Claire curled up on the corner of the couch, piled under an afghan; Eve took the other end. Nobody felt much like going upstairs to bed. Shane paced a lot, talking in low whispers with Michael, who hadn’t once gotten out his guitar. The two of them looked wired. Ready for anything.
Claire didn’t mean to fall asleep—she thought she was too scared—but she did, eventually, as night spun on toward morning. Voices whispered to her—Michael’s, she thought, and then Shane’s. Get up, the voices said. Get up and open the door. Open the window. Let us in. We can help you if you’ll just let us in.
She whimpered in her sleep, sweaty and sick, and felt Shane’s hand on her forehead. “Claire.” She opened her eyes and sa
w him sitting there next to her. He looked tired. “You’re having a nightmare.”
“Don’t I wish,” she muttered, tried to swallow, and discovered she was burning-up thirsty. She felt feverish and weak, too. Well, this was a perfect time to be catching the flu….
“Michael!” Oliver’s voice came faint through the front door. “Something you should see, my boy! Look out your windows!”
“Trap,” Shane said instantly, and reached out to grab Michael’s arm as he walked by. “Don’t, man.”
“What’s he going to do? Make faces at me?”
“If you start doing what he wants, it’s hard to stop. Just don’t.”
Michael considered that for a few seconds, then pulled away and went on to the windows.
Where he stared out, frowning. There were red and blue flashing lights shining on the glass and reflecting on his skin.
“What is it?” Claire asked, and got up.
“Hey! Seriously, guys. Quit playing their game—”
“Cops,” Michael said. He sounded blank and shocked. “They’ve got the whole street blocked off. They’re moving people out.”
“What people? The vampires?” Eve wanted to know. She piled on at the window, too.
“Sheesh,” Shane said grumpily. “Fine. Don’t listen to me. If a vampire tells you to jump off a cliff…”
“They’re evacuating the neighborhood,” Michael said. “Getting rid of witnesses.”
“Oh, shit,” Shane said, and jumped up and craned to look over Claire’s shoulder. “So just how screwed are we?”
“Well, the cops aren’t vampires. And the Protections won’t keep them out.”
As Claire watched, the six police cars, all with their lights running in bloodred and vein blue flashes, were joined by two long, skeletal fire trucks. One at each end of the block.
Michael said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.
“Oh, shit!” Shane whispered. “They wouldn’t.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “I think they would. If this book is that important, I think they’d do just about anything to get it.”
