Carpe Corpus (6 page)

“I’m not joking, jester.”

He suddenly looked completely sober. “And I’m not laughing, my lady. I’ll protect her. You have my word on it.”

Claire’s head was spinning. She looked from Myrnin to Amelie to Oliver, and finally thought of a decent question to ask. “Why are you
here
?”

“They’re here to rescue your boyfriend,” Myrnin said. “Happy birthday, my dear.”

Amelie sent him a sharp, imperious look. “Don’t lie to the girl, Myrnin. It’s not seemly.”

Myrnin sobered and bowed his head very slightly. Claire could still see a manic smile trembling on his lips.

Amelie transferred her steady gray gaze to Claire. “Myrnin has been helping us gain entry to the building. There are things we are doing to retake Morganville, but it is a process that will take some time. Do you understand?”

It hit Claire a little late. “You’re . . . you’re
not
here to rescue Shane?”

“Of course not,” Oliver said scornfully. “Don’t be stupid. What possible strategic value does your boyfriend hold for us?”

Claire bit her lip on an instinctive argument and forced herself to
think
. It wasn’t easy; all she wanted to do was scream at him. “All right,” she finally said. “I’m going to
make
him strategically valuable to you. How’s that?”

Myrnin slowly raised his head. He had a warning look on his face, which she ignored completely.

“If you don’t rescue Shane
and his father
, I’m not going to help keep Myrnin on track, and I’ll destroy the maintenance drugs and the serum we were working on. I’m guessing you still want to avoid getting on the crazy train, right?” Because that was where all the vampires were headed, even Oliver and Amelie.

When she’d first come to Morganville, she’d thought they were immortal and perfect, but in many ways, that was all just a front. The reason there were no other vampires out there in the world—or very few, anyway—was that over the years, their numbers had gradually declined, and their ability to make other vampires had slipped away. It was a kind of disease, something nasty and progressive, although they’d been in denial about it for a very long time.

Amelie had created Morganville to be their last, best hope of survival. But the disease hadn’t gotten better; it had gotten worse, and seemed to be affecting them faster and faster these days. Claire had learned to pick up the subtle signs by now, and they were already visible—tremors in the pale hands, sometimes up the arms. Soon, it’d be worse. They were all terrified of it. They had good reason to be.

Myrnin had developed a maintenance drug, but they needed a cure. Badly. And with Myrnin slipping fast, Claire was the key to getting that done.

There was a profound silence in the room, and for a second, Claire’s angry resolve faltered. Then she saw the look in Oliver’s eyes.
Oh no you don’t
, she thought.
Don’t you look smug.

“We do this my way,” Claire said, “or I’ll destroy all the work and let you all die.”

“Claire,” Myrnin murmured. He sounded horrified. Good. She was glad. “You can’t mean that.”

“I
do
mean it. All your work, all your research. If you let Bishop kill Shane, none of it matters to me anyway.” She was scared to say this, but in a way, it was a relief. “It’s not all about you and your stupid ancient feuds. There are living people in this town. We have
lives.
We
matter
!” She’d let the lid off her simmering, terrified anger, and now it was boiling all over the place. She whirled on Myrnin. “
You!
You
gave
us to him! You turned on us when we
needed you
! And
you
”—Amelie, this time—“
you didn’t even care.
Where have you
been
? I thought you were different; I thought you wanted to help—but you’re just like the rest of them; you’re just—”

“Claire.” Just the one word, but from Amelie that was all it took to stop Claire in her tracks. “What else could I do? Bishop turned enough of my followers that any action I would take would have been against my own people. It would have been a fight to the death, and that fight would have destroyed everyone you or I love. I had to withdraw and allow him to think he had triumphed. Myrnin did what he could to protect you and all your friends, while we found another way.”

Claire snorted out a bitter little laugh. “Sure he did.”

“You’re all alive, I believe, unlike most who’ve crossed Bishop throughout his life. You might think on how unlikely that is, so long after he should have lost interest and torn you and my town apart.” Amelie’s face was as hard as carved marble. “My father has no interest in
administering.
Only in destroying. Myrnin has been persuading him to at least try to keep Morganville alive, and putting himself at constant risk to do so.”

Claire didn’t want to believe it, but when she actually thought about it, she remembered how often Bishop had ordered people killed, and how often Myrnin—or Myrnin and Michael!—had managed to distract him from carrying it out. “Michael,” Claire said slowly. “You turned Michael back, didn’t you? He’s not really Bishop’s anymore.”

Amelie and Oliver exchanged looks, and Oliver shrugged very slightly. “She is a quick study,” he said. “I never said otherwise. Unless the boy’s a bad actor.”

“If he were a bad actor, he’d be long dead by now,” Amelie said. “Claire—you must not treat Michael any differently. For his life’s sake, you must not. Now, I need you to go with Myrnin. The serum you’ve cultured from Bishop’s blood is of vital importance to us now; we need to treat all those we can reach, and we must have enough of a supply to do the job. I rely upon you for that, Claire.”

“Why should I help you at all?” Claire asked, and felt a tremor of pure chill along the back of her neck when Amelie’s gray eyes sharpened their focus on her. “You haven’t promised me anything. I want you to swear you’ll get Shane and his father out of there alive.”

Oliver growled, and from her peripheral vision she saw the ivory flash of his fangs. “You’re going to permit this puppy to bark at you?”

“What I do is my affair, Oliver.” Amelie let a long, long moment pass before she said, “Very well, Claire, you have my word that we will retrieve Shane and his father before they are executed. What else?”

Claire hadn’t really been prepared to win that argument. She blinked, searched for another demand, and came up with nothing in particular.

Then she did. “I . . . want you to promise me that when this is over, you’re going to change things in Morganville.”

Amelie looked, for a moment, perplexed. “Change things? What sort of things?”

“No more hunting humans,” she said. “No more owning people. You’ll make everybody equal around here.”

“You’re speaking of things you don’t understand. These things are required for us to survive in relative security. I won’t put my people at further risk, nor leave them at the whims and mercies of yours. I’ve seen too many centuries of death and destruction.” Amelie shook her head. “No, if that is your price, then it’s too high for me to pay, Claire. Do as you will, but I won’t betray all we’ve built here to accommodate your sentimental idea of modern life.”

Claire had been raised to be kind, to agree, to
help
, and for just a second, locked in a stare with the Founder of Morganville, she wanted to give up.

The only thing that stopped her was imagining what Shane would have said, if he’d been standing in her place.

“No,” she said, and felt her heart flutter madly in panic. Her whole body was shaking, pleading for her to run, avoid the confrontation. “You hear what you’re saying, right? You want to save your people at the cost of human lives. I won’t agree to that; I
can’t
. Deal’s off. I’m not helping you anymore. And the first chance I get, I tell Bishop about Myrnin, too.”

Amelie turned on her hard and fast, and before she knew what was happening Claire felt a cold hand around her throat, and she was smashed up against the wall. Claire screamed and slammed her eyes shut, but not fast enough to block out the rage on Amelie’s face, or the wicked-sharp white fangs and staring eyes.

She felt Amelie’s cool breath on her throat, and heard Myrnin murmur something under his breath, something in a language she couldn’t understand. He sounded horrified.

Amelie’s hard, cold hands let go of her throat. Instead, they fastened around Claire’s shoulders and shook her. Claire’s skull bounced off of brick, and she winced and saw stars. “
Open your eyes!
” Amelie barked. Claire did, blinking away confusion. “I have
never
met such a vexing, foolish human being in my entire life. There are
eight hundred vampires
in the world, Claire. In the
world
. Fewer each day. We are hunted, we are sick, we are
dying.
There are billions of you! I
will not
put you
first
!” That last was a raw, furious hiss, and it sparked something terrible in Amelie’s eyes, something out of control and hungry. “I
will
save my people!”

Behind her, another vampire stepped out of the shadows and said, very quietly, “Amelie. None of this is Claire’s fault. You know that. And she’s right. It’s the same thing I told you fifty years ago. You got mad then, too, as I recall.”

The vampire taking Claire’s side was Sam Glass, Michael’s grandfather; he still looked college-age, even after all these years. He was probably the only one of the nonbreathing who could have stepped in on Claire’s behalf—or would have.

He touched Amelie’s shoulder.

She turned on him, but he wrapped her in his arms, and for a second, one second, Amelie let herself be held before she pushed him away and stalked to the far corner of the room, agitation in every movement. “Oh, just get her out,” she said. “Myrnin, get her
out
. Now! Before I do something I regret. Or possibly, which I don’t.”

Claire could hardly breathe, much less protest. Myrnin took her hand in his and yanked, hard. She brushed by Oliver, whose eyes were flaring in hunting-vampire colors, and felt a low-decibel growl fill the room.

Myrnin shoved her toward what looked like a blank wall, and for an instant of panic Claire thought she was going to hit it face-first . . . and then she felt the telltale tingle of one of Myrnin’s stable wormhole portals, his alchemical travel network that led to some of the most dangerous places in Morganville. The wall dissolved in a swirl of mist, and Claire had the feeling of helplessly falling into the dark, with no idea of where she’d land. It seemed to last forever, but then she was stumbling out . . . into her
home.

4

The Glass House was pretty much as she’d last left it, when she’d packed her pitifully few belongings and moved in with her parents after they’d been brought to Morganville. The house seemed quiet, lonely, somehowto sad and colorless. That was just its mood. Shane’s things were still strewn around—a new game console that he’d only just gotten hooked up, games piled in the corners along with his Wii controllers, his ratty old black sweatshirt crumpled on the corner of the couch. Claire walked to it, sat down, and pulled it into her lap like a pet, then held it up to her face and breathed.

I’m home.
It felt wonderful and sad and horrible, all at the same time.

Holding Shane’s shirt was like having him holding her, just for a moment.

When she looked up, Myrnin was watching her. “What?” she demanded. He shrugged and turned away. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I had to bring you somewhere,” Myrnin said. “I thought perhaps you would enjoy this more than, say, the sewage treatment plant.”

Michael’s guitar lay in its case on the floor near the bookcases. Some of Eve’s magazines still littered the coffee table, edges curling up from neglect more than use.

It still smelled so
familiar
, and Claire felt the loss of Shane, of her friends, hit her hard once again.

“Is Eve here?” she asked him, but Myrnin didn’t answer.

Eve did, from the kitchen doorway. “Where else would I be?” she asked. She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms, staring at them. “What are you doing in my house, freaks?”

“Hey, it’s my house, too!” Claire knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. From the very first time they’d met, Eve had been on her side—always in her corner, always believing her. Believing
in
her, which was even more important
.

It hurt that all that had changed now.

Eve’s face was a rice-powder mask, aggressively marked up with black lipstick and way too much eye-liner. Her black hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, and she was wearing a skintight black knit shirt with a red skull on the front, and oversize cargo pants with loads of pockets and chains. Heavy combat-style boots.

Eve was ready to kick ass, and she wouldn’t bother to take names while she was at it.

“I’m serious,” Eve said. “I’m giving you about five seconds to get out of my house. And take your pet leech with you before I play a game of Pin the Stake in the Vamp.”

Claire held Shane’s sweatshirt in her arms for comfort. “Aren’t you going to at least ask how they are?”

Eve stared at her with eyes like burned black holes. “I’ve got sources,” she said. “My boyfriend’s still evil. Your boyfriend’s still in jail. You’re still sucking up to the Dark Lord of Mordor. By the way, I’m going to start calling you Gollum, you little creep.”

“Eve, wait. It’s not like that—”

“Actually, it is exactly like that,” Myrnin said. “We should go, Claire. Now.”

He tried to take her hand; she shook him off and moved closer to Eve, who straightened from her slouch and slipped one hand into a pocket on her cargo pants. “I’m not screwing around, Claire.
Get out of my house!
”

“I
live here
!”

“No, you
used to
live here!” That came out of Eve’s blackened lips in a raw, vicious snarl. “This is still Michael’s house, and no matter what’s happened to him, I’m going to defend it, do you understand? I’m not letting you—”