Bite Club

Chapter Eight

EIGHT
Claire's world got suddenly very clear--high-definition clear. She could see the light glittering along the blade of Gina's knife. The sweat on Gina's forehead. The way she balanced her weight as she attacked.
Claire shoved Miranda out of the way, and in the same motion, slammed her forearm at a right angle to
Gina's as the hand holding the knife came at her. She remembered Eve's fencing poses. Seemed like the right thing to do.
Gina's knife missed. Claire watched the edge glide past her, an inch from her left elbow, and knew she ought to be afraid, because, myGod , she was in a knife fight withGina , and nobody was coming to help her. Nobody even knew what was going on. Not Shane or Michael or Eve, not Amelie, not even Myrnin.
But, weirdly, right now it didn't matter. Everything was still and quiet inside, and she supposed she should have felt scared, but she didn't. She didn't feel anything.
Shane had given her lessons in how to trip people up--it had been a game, one that had ended up with her on her back more than him on his, and she'd loved the laughter and the feel of his weight pinning her down. But now she walled all that away and stripped it down to its purest parts.
She could do this. She had to do it.
She stepped forward into Gina's body, and got her left foot behind and between Gina's. That put her lower leg at an angle, below Gina's knee.
As Gina stabbed at her with the knife, Claire grabbed her wrist, forced it up and in, and overbalanced her. Gina started to step backward, then yelped as Claire's braced leg took the strength out of her knee.
She went down on her back. Claire twisted the knife out of Gina's hand and dropped down with one knee on her chest, holding her down. She froze, looking down at her, breathing hard. She felt hot and shivery now, and the impulse to take that knife and do something terrible with it boiled up inside. It tasted like rage and fear and all the terrible things she'd ever felt, and for a second, just a second, she thought about what it would be like to make Gina feel that, to make Ginahurt.
Gina's eyes went wide, watching her. She knew. She could see it, too, and for the first time ever, Claire saw that Gina was actually afraid.
"This is what I saw," Miranda said, a quiet little voice at Claire's elbow. "But you're not going to do it. You're a good person."
Claire didn't feel like a good person, not at the moment. She felt sick and a little bit faint, and she didn't resist when Miranda took the knife out of her hand.
"But I'm not that good," Miranda said, and stabbed the knife down at Gina's chest.
Claire screamed and knocked Miranda out of the way, a firm body check that sent Mir stumbling, then rolling. The knife fell to the grass. Gina scrambled for it, but Claire got there first, picked it up, and held it at her side. Gina slowly climbed to her feet, breathing fast, chin down. The fear was gone now, replaced with an insane amount of rage.
"Monica," Claire said. "Call off the pit bull. Now, before this gets worse."
A few torturous seconds of silence passed before Monica said, "Gina. Yo, bitch, chill. We'll finish this some other time."
"Give me back my knife," Gina said.
"Um...no." Claire folded it up and slipped it into her jeans pocket. "The last thing you need is a weapon."
"I'll buy you another one. Come on, Gina. We're going." Jennifer took Gina's arm and tugged on it, glancing at Claire with a mixture of fear and respect. "Like Monica said. We'll get this later."
Gina pointed at Claire. "You. I'll getyou later."
Claire shrugged. "Go for it."
Jennifer pulled her friend away. Monica had already turned her back and was walking away. She paused right before she turned the corner to glance back and nod slightly to Claire.
Odd. It almost looked like respect, too.
Silence. Claire listened to the breeze, the distant laughter of students coming from beyond the trees, and all of a sudden she couldn't stay on her feet. She sat down--sprawled--and rested her forehead in her hands.
Miranda crawled over to sit next to her. "Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"Stopping me. But you don't know. You don't know what it's like."
"Getting bullied? Kind of do."
Miranda was looking at her with sadness and a strange kind of pity. "No, you don't," she said. "It's been happening since I was in kindergarten. Not them all the time, but other kids, you know. Every day. It never stops, and it never goes away, thanks to the Internet--it just keeps happening every minute, every day. And I just want it to stop. I think about how to do it, you know. How to kill them. All kinds of elaborate things, like trapping them in pits and burying them alive, or covering them with concrete."
It was the most sensible thing Claire had ever heard her say--and the most painful, too. She put her arm around Miranda. Close up, she expected Mir to smell bad, but she didn't; she smelled like lemon shampoo and soap. With a little clothing upgrade and better makeup and hair, she'd be pretty.
Oh, God,she thought, amused.Eve's rubbed off on me. Because the old Claire, the one she'd been before the Glass House, would have never even thought about Miranda's appearance.
"Explain to me why you came to find me," she said. "Was it just that you saw the knife fight?"
"Yes," Miranda said. And then, immediately, "No. There's something else."
"What?"
Miranda looked up at her with those odd, unsettling, luminous eyes. "It's about Shane. I think he's in trouble. There's something wrong in his head. I can almost see it."
Claire's phone beeped for attention--a text. She checked it. It was, shockingly, from Myrnin; she didn't
think he even knewhow to text. Evidently, he'd found his cell phone again.
It said,Where are you, stupid girl? Run faster!
Claire sighed. "Dammit! Can you tell me about it while we walk?"
Miranda didn't, of course, have many details. Psychic impressions were the most useless thingsever , as far as Claire could tell...it was always feelings and impressions and vague warnings, and half the time it seemed like Miranda made things worse by trying to prevent something bad. Like today. The whole thing with Gina wouldn't have happened if Miranda hadn't come along trying to stop it. Well, probably.
Miranda's cold-blooded violent streak worried Claire almost as much as Gina's psycho tendencies. She thought about revenge in dangerously graphic terms.
"Let's try this again," she said as they walked down the mostly deserted street that led to the cul-de-sac where Myrnin's lab entrance was located. "So what you see is that Shane's in trouble because he gets in a fight."
Miranda nodded, so vigorously her tangled hair bounced. "A bad one," she said. "And gets hurt. I can't tell how much, but he gets hurt a lot, I think."
"Is it day or night?"
Miranda thought about it, frowning. She kicked an empty plastic bottle and flinched when a dog barked in one of the yards they were passing. The houses on this street were run-down, with bars on the windows. Only the Day house at the end of the street--a mirror for the house where Claire lived, the one owned by Michael Glass--looked nicely kept up, and even it needed a new coat of paint. "I can't tell," she finally said. "It happens inside. In a room. People are watching. There are bars."
"Like, with drinks?"
"No, like a cage."
That was sickly likely, because Shane seemed to end up behindthose kinds of bars way too often. "How many people?"
She shrugged. "It's dark; I can't tell. Maybe a lot? No--more. More than a lot. From a long ways off. There but not there."
That was definitely vague and not at all helpful. The fighting--well, that was something that honestly wasn't all that unusual. Shane was a born fighter. But the getting badly hurt--that was unsettling, all right.
"Is there any way to tell when it's going to happen?"
Miranda shook her head. "It's pretty clear, so maybe a few days? A week? But I don't know. Sometimes it's tricky. And sometimes it goes away, too. Things aren't always obvious."
"Okay, well, thanks. I'll try to look out for him." That wasn't much, because Claire knew she couldn't spend all her time watching out for him. Warning him would help, but knowing Shane, it wouldn't solve
the problem, either. If he felt like he needed to be in the fight, he'd be in it--whether he got hurt or not.
"You should get home," Claire said. "I have to go to work. Mir?"
Miranda stopped, looking at her. She was getting taller, Claire realized; still growing. She was taller than Claire was now, and would probably be Eve's height or better before she was done.
"Tomorrow, meet me at the house," Claire said. "If Myrnin doesn't need me, we'll go shopping. Okay?"
Miranda smiled at her--a sweet, delighted, heartfelt expression that lit up her whole face. No, her whole body. It was like nobody had ever offered before. "Okay!" she said. "I've never been shopping."
Claire blinked. "Never?"
"No. My parents used to buy me things before they died. And now people sometimes bring me things, but I've never gone myself. Is it fun? It looks fun."
"It's fun," Claire said. She had a sudden impulse to hug the girl, so she did. Miranda felt all bones and awkward angles, but she hugged back enthusiastically. "You go straight home and stay there. Monica may back off, but Gina's kind of nuts. I think she's after me, though."
"She is," Miranda said, in that distant, weird kind of voice Claire dreaded. "She'll be coming. Soon." She blinked and smiled. "See you tomorrow!"
She practically skipped away. Claire watched her go, shook her head, and headed into the monster's lair.
The monster himself was standing in the middle of the lab, pacing and shaking his cell phone as if he was trying to get it to work by sheer force. He'd changed clothes again--this time, to a Victorian long-tailed coat in black, a purple vest, no shirt, and black pants. He'd ditched the bunny slippers this time, in favor of real shoes. When she came jogging down the steps, he looked so relieved she almost backed up a step or two.
"There you are!" he cried, and held his phone out to her. "This thing doesn't work."
"It does. I got your text."
"But I've been sending it over and over, and then it just stopped working."
It had stopped working because, evidently, he'd been pushing buttons so hard he'd broken them. Claire shook her head, took the phone, and tossed it in the garbage can in the corner. "I'll get you another one," she said. "Well? I'm here. What's the crisis?"
He stopped and stared at her. "Bishop is on the loose, and you're asking me what the crisis might be? Really?"
"I...thought the vampires would be taking care of that."
"Indeed. Oliver's got half the vampires in Morganville making inquiries of the other half."
"Only half?"
"The half we can trust interrogating the half we can't," Myrnin said. "A sad truth, but there are more than a few who preferred Bishop's open tyranny to Amelie's more reasonable approach. There are always a few, Claire, who like being told what to do instead of being required to think. And those are the ones you should fear. That goes equally for humans, I'm afraid. Critical thinking has become a sadly rare skill these days."
She nodded, because she already knew that. "So what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to speak with Frank. We need him to be on the alert for any sign of Bishop. He has control of the monitoring systems, and he should be able to provide us solid leads."
"Wait, you wantme to do it? Why didn't you?"
Myrnin drew himself up to his full height, hands clasped behind his back. "I have things to do," he said. "And...Frank and Imay have had a little disagreement. He isn't speaking to me anymore."
"He--Wait, can he do that?"
"Damn straight I can." Frank's gravelly voice came from her cell phone speaker, muffled by her pocket, but still clearly audible. "I can do what I want, and I don't want to hear anything from that jackass anymore."
"Frank--" Claire sighed. "Fine. I hate this, you know. I hate that you're all fangs-out at each other when one of you doesn't even have any fangs anymore. But we don't have time for your girl fight, okay? Will you please look for Bishop, so he doesn't get us all killed horribly?"
"Well," Frank said, "you've got a point about that."
Claire turned to Myrnin. "Anybody else you want monitored?"
"Well, there's Gloriana," Myrnin said. "I would definitely look out for Gloriana, since she's the newest in town, and, well, you've met her, haven't you?"
Claire frowned. Gloriana...oh.She'd met her once, briefly, at a party about a month ago. Gloriana--or Glory, for cutesy-short--was beautiful, in an antique kind of way; she had waves of long blond hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that made men melt like ice cream in the sun. Vampire, of course. Charming. But she'd taken a special interest in Michael, and that hadn't sat very well with Eve at all. "Glory's a Bishop girl?"
"I wouldn't put it like that," Myrnin said, "but Gloriana has a history of betting with the winners, and she was Bishop's pet for a short time, about three hundred years ago, I believe. She may still have some fond memories of him, as difficult as that is to understand. Old loyalties die hard among our kind. So do old enemies, and she never was Amelie's friend, though they're polite enough in public."
"Is sheyour friend?" Claire hesitated, then said, "Or, you know,friend ?"
He raised his eyebrows and air quoted. "Friend?"
"You know what I mean. Oliver practically admitted he'd had a fling with her once."
"I don't haveflings ." Again with the air quotes. "And, no, Gloriana is not my friend. Nor my enemy, particularly; I rarely had anything to do with her at all. She's agreed to abide by the laws of Morganville, but if a situation arises where she might sidestep them...well. I would not like to stand between her and her desires. She can be quite cold-blooded."
Claire felt a stab of dread. "Uh, she could be after Shane, then?"
"Shane?" Myrnin rolled his eyes. "Why in the world would you leap to such a conclusion? Definitely not. She doesn't do humans. She finds them commonplace. And, strangely enough, not everyone is as fascinated by your beau as you are."
"Well, then, would she be afteryou ?"
That made him stop for a second, as if the idea had never occurred to him. "No," he finally said. "No, I don't believe she would be at all interested. I'm not...suitable. By which I mean, sane. She can't show me off in public, which is very important to her; she likes to be seen with her conquests. Also, I'm not sure that she could affect me in any significant way. My patterns of thought are quite...different, you know."
"Oh, I know. Frank, are you getting this?"
"Bishop, check. It's not like I'm going to forget that the bastard who ripped out my throat and made me the walking dead is out there. Gloriana, yeah, I know her. Gloriana's on my radar. She just left the gym about ten minutes ago, and she's arriving at Common Grounds right now."
Myrnin nodded. "She does like it there. Claire, perhaps you should make friends. You're quite a friendly person."
"Be your spy, you mean."
"Inelegantly put, but accurate. I have things to do. Frank, please stay in touch with Claire via her communicator."
"Cell phone," she said. "Star Trekhad communicators."
He flapped a hand. "I hardly see the difference."
"I'm still not listening to him," Frank said. "But, yeah. I'll stay in touch, kid. You got some kind of headphones? Bluetooth?"
"Earbuds," she said. "Why?"
"So I don't broadcast all over the place when I talk to you, kid. I thought you were smart."
"It's been a bad day," she said. "I almost got stabbed."
Myrnin stopped pacing, looked at her for a moment as if trying to see any possible wounds, and then said, "Almostdoesn't count, now, does it? Hurry onward. And, Claire?"
"Yes?"
"Do be careful and watch out for Bishop; he was dangerous before, but I don't know what he is now, except much less stable. Also, I don't trust Gloriana. I don't know why on earth she's here in Morganville. Or why she's decided to come herenow . As I said, she and Amelie never got along, despite their exquisitely polite manners toward each other. So I do believe we have to assume that there can't be a coincidence between Gloriana's arrival and Bishop's escape." He hesitated, then added, "Do be careful. I can't replace you as easily as all that."
That was Myrnin's idea of a compliment. Nice.
SHANE
Claire went to school, and I had a day off, and I felt kind of...lost. I shouldn't have gone back to the gym, but I did. Don't know why, except that I was out and it seemed like the right thing to do. The jackass who manned the front desk gave me the same "you are a bug and I will crush you" look as before, but then he looked down at a list and nodded to me. "Go on in," he said. "You're taken care of."
"Taken care of how, exactly?"
"Paid for," he said. "No charge to use the gym."
Well, crap. Tough to justify walking out on that, so I went in the door and breathed in the scent of sweat, effort, old leather, metal, desperation. Gyms smelled like home to me, especially after my mom and Alyssa died; life with Dad had been boiled down to gyms, bars, cheap motel soap, and blood.
It smelled like...home? If that isn't too sick.
I tried the sauna, which was superhot and damp, and changed into an old pair of sweatpants. Bare feet, because I fear no athlete's foot fungus, and besides, I was planning on kicking the crap out of a heavy bag, anyway.
I didn't get the chance. I walked out, towel around my neck, hair damp and sticking to my face, and there, sitting on the railing on the second floor like a very beautiful bird on a wire was the girl I'd dreamed about.
The vampire I'd dreamed about.
I hadn't lied to Claire, not actually. I'd honestly figured that it had been a dream, because it hadn't seemed like me at all--what I'd been doing, saying, thinking. It's like that in dreams, right? You don't have to be yourself.
But there she was, just as curvy and fresh and gorgeous as she'd been last night, in the dream/not dream/maybe possibly dream.
And she was smiling down on me like we had a secret. I wanted to be angry, to feel that rush of adrenaline I almost always got in the presence of a vamp, but it seemed like whatever my brain thought, my body reacted to her like it did to a pretty girl.
A pretty girl smiling at me.
"Hey, Shane," she said. She had a lovely voice, low and sweet, and it sounded like she was the only thing in the room when she spoke. "Nice to see you here. Did you think about my offer?"
Oh, man. It took me a minute to sort out what kind of offer she was talking about; that smile made a bunch of offers that had nothing to do with the gym. "The advanced sparring group," I said. "Right?"
"Yes." Her smile took on a mischievous, knowing curl. "Whatever else could you possibly be thinking of?"
Stop this. Stop it now.Some part of me was angry, trying to shake me out of it, but it was a very small part, and the rest of me felt...calm. Right. Like all this was inevitable--fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it.
But at the very least, I wasn't going to go chasing after some vamp girl, no matter how pretty she was. I couldn't do that to Claire, and deep down, there was always going to be a part of me that a vampire couldn't touch. I hoped. So I said, staring straight into her clear blue eyes, "I'm just here for the fighting, lady."
"Glory," she said. "Gloriana. But you can call me Glory."
Of course. I'd seen her before, and it came back to me clear as day this time; I'd seen her at her welcome-to-Morganville party, but not close up. She'd been trying to drag Michael off then, and she hadn't been focused on me at all. I'd thought she was pretty, but not, you know,pretty.
Not until she'd turned that smile and those eyes on me. Then I understood how swept away Michael had felt. It was like being hit with a tsunami of hormones, and, man, did it feelgood.
"You came for the fighting," she said, and pushed off the railing. She dropped twenty feet and landed like a cat, barely flexing her knees to absorb the impact. Her gaze never left mine, and her smile never faltered. "All right, then. You should get what you came for. Follow me."
I expected her to take me to the mats in the center of the room; there were people working out there, doing throws, kicks, blocks, that kind of stuff. Your basic martial arts sort of activity.
But she took me another way, through an unmarked door at the back, down a plain hallway, and through another door marked private, into a room with an actual boxing ring on a platform. Two guys stripped down to form fitting shorts were whaling on each other, and they were doing serious damage. I stopped and watched, analyzing speed, force, agility, endurance.
"They're good," I said.
"They'd better be," Glory said. "Do you think you can hold your own?"
"Yeah." I said it without any particular sense of bragging; I just knew I could. These guys hadn't grown up with my dad. "Bring it."
"I need to match you up with a partner," she said. "Vassily? Who do you think Shane should spar with?" While she asked, Gloriana reached into a big, black refrigerator on the wall and pulled out a sports-drink bottle, which she held out to me. I frowned at it, but she raised her eyebrows and gave me a charming little smile. With dimples. "Trust me. It's good for you. Protein drink, special recipe. Free with your membership."
I took it and very cautiously sipped. I know, stupid, right? Who takes something from a frickin'
vampire? But there was something sosafeabout her. It was like I couldn't distrust her, even though I wouldn't have ever taken any damn drink from another vampire, ever.
And it tasted good. Gritty, the way protein shakes do, but with a buzzing edge. Caffeine, maybe. It raced through me with a hot shiver. Made me feel amazing--alert, strong, pumped.
"Shane?" Vassily, the vamp who'd been teaching that first class, the one I'd put down, came over. He'd shed the gi and was wearing standard gym clothes, and he'd left his long, thick hair down to spill over his shoulders. "Ah yes. This one. Let's have him spar with Jester. That should be an interesting matchup."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Jester." Vassily smiled and beckoned someone over from the shadows, where he was leaning against the wall. As the man crossed into the light, I recognized the pale skin, the slightly too-bright eyes. Vampire. Unlike Gloriana, I didn't feel warm and fuzzy about him, not at all. "Jester, meet Shane. You'll be sparring."
Jester glanced at me, dismissed me, then stared at Vassily. "Hell no," he said. "I'm not fighting some punk human. They break."
"Suit yourself," I said. "Saves you a good ass kicking."
"What did you say?" Jester looked honestly surprised and puzzled, as if he couldn't believe I'd had anything to say, much less something that wasn't exactly complimentary. I shrugged.
"I can take you," I said. "Believe it."
"Prove it, Blood Bag," Jester said.
Gloriana laughed and waved. "Boys, boys, there's enough time for that. Today, you just...spar." She turned to Vassily. "I have places to be. But I believe that my work here is done for now."
"Yes," he agreed. "For now. Come back soon, lovely girl. I'm going to need your help with the old man. He's been getting a bit...impatient."
I watched her walk away, still feeling that subtle buzz of her presence, that seductive thrill...and it didn't go away when I looked at Jester and said, "Let's go, Fang Boy."
And that was the beginning.
Pain, yeah, there was a lot of that, but it seemed like the more time I spent in the ring, facing him, facing everything that I'd ever hated on such a primal level, the pain meant less and less. What mattered was letting the monster out from inside me, the one I'd been starving for almost a year.
I'd come to Morganville to take down vampires.
And Vassily and Gloriana were giving me the chance to do just that.
And oh, God, Ilovedit.
On the way to Common Grounds, Claire texted Shane--just a quick message to say she loved him. No immediate reply, but one buzzed through by the time she'd walked the distance to Common Grounds.
Shane's message said,Be home late luv u .
She was still smiling and feeling almost completely happy when she opened the front door of the coffee shop and heard the bell tinkle to announce her arrival. This time of day, it was full of students gathered together at tables, books and computers out. Study groups, mostly.
She spotted Gloriana right off, because she was at the traditionally vampire tables, in the deepest shadows at the back of the room...and she was surrounded by other vamps. All male. There must have been five or six of them at the table, more than she'd seen gathered together anywhere but in Founder's Square--old-looking, young-looking, all with identical expressions of rapt interest on their faces. All staring at Gloriana, who sat comfortably with one leg folded under her, sipping whatever was in her plain white mug, smiling, and talking. She reallywas pretty, and unlike a lot of pretty vampires, she came across as nice. Sweet, almost. Claire had good reason to think she wasn't, because Eve had taken an instant dislike to her, but still.
It was impossible to resist her charm.
The proof was that one of the guys sitting at the table was Oliver, still wearing his long, tie-dyed Common Grounds apron. He was staring at Glory with a small, bemused smile on his lips, as if he couldn't quite believe that she was here in front of him.
He glanced over and saw Claire standing there, and the smile disappeared. He stood up and came over to her. "What?" he asked. The warmer side he'd been showing to Glory was all gone in a flash.
"Uh, sorry to bother you, but could I get a mocha?" She was buying time, because looking at the situation in front of her, Claire honestly couldn't see how she was expected to get in close enough to talk to Gloriana, let alone gain her trust, or grill her discreetly about Bishop. Wasn't that Oliver's job, anyway?
But maybe Myrnin didn't trust Oliver with Glory. That would make some sense, given what she'd seen. She adjusted her earbuds. Nothing but a low hum of static on them so far, which was bugging her; she'd rather have her music on, but the idea of Frank interrupting it sounded worse than boredom.
Right on cue, there was Frank's voice, whispering to her through the magic of technology. That was creepy, with an extra-strength dose of frightening. She still had nightmares about Frank Collins sometimes. And she thought he'd probably be happy to know that. "Right. You should be able to see her now. According to the records, she looks harmless, but she ain't. Some female vampires have a thing called glamour, and she's got it more than most. She can make anybody like her, including other vampires."
Claire turned away a little, pretending to fiddle with her book bag. "Can you hear me?"
"Yeah, through the microphone on your cell."
"What about Amelie? Could she make Amelie like her?"
"Probably not. Amelie's got a thing vampires call compulsion; she can force people to do what she
wants when she has to. Compulsion trumps glamour every time."
"Does anybody else have this compulsion thing?"
"Oliver," Frank said. "Not as strong, though. But Oliver's a lost cause, anyway. He's an old friend of Glory's, if you know what I mean byfriend . Looks like he's given it up already."
Yeah, she knew about that. She could have guessed it just from seeing the smile on Oliver's face as he looked at Gloriana.
"Just be careful with her," Frank said. "If she tries to glamour you, pain may break you out of it--it sometimes works for girls. Not so much for boys, for some reason--probably because she's not as good at tapping into the girls, or they're wired up differently. But she probably won't glamour you, anyway. She doesn't think much of humans in general, and girls are definitely not her thing."
"Wait a minute. Back up. Your answer to how I'm supposed to resist is tohurt myself? How is that helpful? Do you think I want to be in pain?"
"Fine. Deal with it on your own, then. Enjoy the ride." And the hiss was back in her headphones, constant and featureless.
About that time, Oliver gestured impatiently at the counter and thumped a cup down for her. Her mocha, presumably, although she wasn't putting much faith in a decent brew, not with the scowl he was giving her. Her stalling tactic was pretty much dead in the water, and she couldn't think of a single reason to walk over there to join Gloriana's exclusively testosterone-filled--and pulse-lacking--admirers.
And then Gloriana looked up as Oliver slipped back in his chair, saw Claire watching her, and smiled. Their eyes met.
And Claire found herself walking toward the table. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't thinking at all--she couldn't remember the last time when she'd felt this kind ofpeace. Freedom fromthinking all the time.
Justacting.
"Claire, isn't it?" Gloriana said. She had a low, pleasant sort of voice, and her smile was bright. "Please have a seat. Oh, Jules, please bring another, would you? I don't want to leave little Claire standing! So rude."
Oliver wasn't scowling anymore, but he wasn't smiling, either; when he looked at Claire, it was an entirely neutral expression. Another vampire--Jules, presumably, although Claire didn't know him--brought her a chair and she sat down, sandwiched between two strangers who almost certainly would have been inclined to drink her dry under other circumstances.
And she didn't feel even a twitch of uneasiness.
I've been glamoured.That thought came from somewhere deep inside her, a kind of whispering doubt, but it wasn't strong enough to make any difference. Not when Gloriana was smiling at her, those wide blue eyes so warm and welcoming. "I've heard so much about you," she said. "So many people speak well of you. Even my old grouch Oliver, here." She laughed and put her hand on top of Oliver's in a gesture that was affectionate and, at the same time, a little bit patronizing, like an owner petting a dog. He
gave her a quick look and a belated smile. "So, tell me, Claire, what do you think of Morganville?"
Normally, she would have been careful about what she said, but here, under the warm glow of Glory's eyes, she just...spilled. "I love the people I've met here," she said. "But I hate how it all works. I hate how humans get treated. I hate that it's okay to hurt us. That has to change."
Gloriana raised one eyebrow. "I thought it already had," she said. "So Amelie tells me. No hunting without permission, and then only in restricted zones. It's all perfectly tiresome, but I do understand the need for conservation, of course. Or are you saying that we shouldnever hunt?"
"Yes," Claire said. "Never." There was a low growl from around the table. And shestill wasn't afraid. "Never," she repeated. "You get your blood from taxes. You don't need to do that to us. There's no reason."
Glory smiled. It was still a warm, charming smile, the kind that invited you to feel part of it. "Of course we have to do it," she said. "Ask anyone who works with predators; suppressing the instinct to hunt is very, very tricky, and some animals never quite manage it. You must provide a controlled outlet, or inevitably someone will run wild. That would be much worse. Don't you agree?"
"No," Claire said. "If somebody breaks the rules, then he's a criminal. And you ought to treat him like any other criminal."
"How amusing you are, little one," Glory said, and laughed just to prove it. "You're Michael's friend, aren't you? One of those who lives in his house?"
"Yes."
"And the other boy is called...?"
"Shane," Claire said. She felt a pulse of dread, deep down inside, but it was just a twinge. "His name is Shane."
"I've seen him at the gym," she said. "He's got good instincts, I must say. A good fighter. He'd be very valuable, in the right situation." There was a glint in those lovely blue eyes, and Claire knew, in that same distant, unimportant way, that Gloriana was playing with her now, batting her around like a mouse. "Yes, I can see how he'd bevery profitable to have in your corner."
Oliver leaned back. "Too bad you don't still own the boxing clubs that you were so fascinated by in Victoria's time. Those were very lucrative for you, weren't they?"
"Oh yes, quite profitable," she said. "Too bad. He'd be quite an asset, wouldn't he? And an orphan, too, I understand. So sad. Not having good influences makes one so...vulnerable." She leaned across the table, and the warm intensity of her gaze on Claire's cranked up so high that it felt like being bathed in pure, warm light, floating in it without a care in the world. "I understand you know my old friend Myrnin. How is he? I do so adore that mad old man. Is he working on anything...interesting?"
"Claire," said a voice in her ears, a metallic voice that took her a second to place.Frank. "Claire, you can't answer that. Snap out of it. Do it now."
But she couldn't. Even though Glory was talking about Shane as if he was a side of beef, even though she was asking questions aboutMyrnin , Claire still felt calm and entirely comfortable. She just couldn't
bring herself to feel anything else. Frank sounded angry and upset, but she couldn't understand why. Glory was the best friend she could imagine having, better than Eve, because Glory would never judge her, never make her feel bad or guilty.
Claire said, "He's working on--"
"Claire, sorry, but you need to stop this before you get in over your head," Frank interrupted. And in the next second, she felt a burning, hissing pain that zipped through her body in a flash so fast, it was over before it registered. A shock coming from her headphones. Claire jerked a little, blinked, and her heart rate sped up with a jolt. She yanked out the earbuds, shuddering, and the calm fell away like a shed blanket.
Fear closed in, icy and sharp. Gloriana was still smiling at her, but it didn't look warm anymore. It looked...predatory. And cruel. Claire swallowed and stood up. Her chair scraped back loudly. All of them were staring at her now, and the only one who didn't seem to be on the verge of flashing fangs at her was Oliver. He was frowning, but now it was aimed at Gloriana.
"Glory," he said. "Were you glamouring the girl?"
"A little," she shrugged. "I just wanted to play."
"Oh, for pity's sake, play with someone else. She's Amelie's property. And she's hardly worth your efforts."
Glory laughed. "I know. But I didn't hurt her, did I?" She turned that smile back on Claire. "Leaving us so soon, little one?"
Claire took a giant step back. The smile didn't work now, probably because she had so much adrenaline racing through her body. "Stay away from us," she said. "Stay away from Shane."
Glory rolled her eyes. "I don't want yourboy ," she said. "Whatever would I do with him? He isn't good for very much except violence. So much of that inside him."
Claire left her mocha sitting on the table and moved for the door as fast as she could. She looked back over her shoulder as she left, but nobody had moved, not even Oliver, although he was watching her go. Glory was laughing and seemed to have forgotten all about her already.
Claire stepped out into the sunlight, ran half a block down, and leaned against the rough bricks between two storefronts. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing and controlling her shaking. Then, finally, she put her earbuds back in place. It took her two tries, thanks to her unsteady fingers.
"I didn't get anything," she said to Frank. "I didn't know she could do that, make me feel like that. I didn't knowanyone could do that. Bishop couldn't."
"It's a pretty rare power, even among vampires," Frank said. "I only knew of three or four who had it. Killed two of them. Too bad I didn't make it a clean sweep."
"I didn't even know what she was doing. I had no way to fight it." Claire took a deep breath. "Thanks for snapping me out of it."
"She wasn't even trying," Frank said. "If she had been, you wouldn't have left that easily. Like she said,
she was just playing."
That was awful.Awful. Claire felt ill and filthy, as if she'd drunk a gallon of sewer water. She wanted to throw up, thinking about how easily she'd been walked around like a puppet. About how she'd felt everything that Glory wanted her to feel. "It didn't do any good," she said. "We didn't find out anything."
"Maybe we did," Frank said. "She mentioned that she saw Shane at the gym, didn't she?"
"So? Even I've been to the gym. So has Eve. Lots of people go there. Including vampires."
"But why would Glory? She doesn't fight. She makes other people do her fighting for her." Frank's voice sounded oddly preoccupied. "I've been going over the rolls of vampires in Morganville. Looks like some haven't been surfacing in their usual routines recently."
"You mean...you mean they're missing?"
"I don't want to jump to that conclusion, but I found five--no, six--that aren't following their usual patterns."
"Well, some left, you know. With Morley. They're in Blacke, that little town outside of--"
"I know about Morley. I'm not talking about his people. These are other vampires that haven't surfaced in the past three weeks. No checkouts at the blood banks. They haven't shown up on surveillance. They're not communicating at all on the phones or computers."
"How can vampires gomissing ? Who are they?"
"Nobodies, in terms of the Morganville hierarchy. Just your regular vampire working class. And they haven't been missed all that much. Vampires may socialize, but not like humans do; they're used to not seeing each other for long stretches. Doesn't raise any questions."
"So where are they?" Claire asked. "Do they have any connection to Bishop?"
"Not that I can find. In fact, looks like they were on Amelie's side in the conflict with her father." Frank was silent for a moment, then said, "It bothers me that I don't have eyes inside the gym. I can't see or sense anything within those walls."
"What?"
"It's recent construction. No cameras. No portals. No way of observing what's going on there. It seems like a lot of this connects through there, some way. I wish I had some devices there."
"Inside the gym." She thought about it for a second. "You want me to...what? Put cameras in there?"
"What, you're scared to act as my spy?" Frank sounded amused now. "Knowing you, that doesn't stop you. Never seen a kid so fearless, deep down. Not even my son."
Shane. Claire remembered Glory talking about him, and felt a little sick--not because Gloriana was drooling over him, as Ysandre had, but because shewasn't. Because to her, Shane was just another piece of meat, something she might get some use out of. Or not.
Whatever was going on, Gloriana was in it up to her pretty little neck. Claire was sure of it.
"All right," she said. "If you want eyes in the gym, I'll make sure you get them. Somehow."
SHANE
I felt like I was cheating on Claire, and I couldn't figure out why. All I did was fight...and I did damn good, too. Jester didn't totally wipe the mat with me, and I was able to keep on going. When I got tired, Vassily passed me more protein shakes. I didn't like the way he smiled or the way he watched me, like a proud owner of a pit bull in the ring...but that didn't mean I didn't like being in the ring, either.
So why, on breaks, did I go sit down with my phone and text Claire? It was like I'd been out kissing some other girl and felt like I had to tell her I did love her, no matter what I'd been doing that she wouldn't like.
Well, she wouldn't like this. I knew that without any doubt at all.
"Hey, meat! You done pushing buttons yet?" That was Jester, dancing around in the ring, looking lean and dead-fish pale, punching the air in a blur. "I'm ready to push yours!"
I shot him the finger and finished sending my message, took another drink of my protein shake, and felt the aches and pains magically recede. Not that they were healing, exactly...maybe they weren't as bad as they should have been, but I was going to have bruises tomorrow. Lots of them.
But you couldn't let pain stop you. I'd let it stop me once, when my house was on fire. I'd touched Alyssa's door handle and burned my hands and I hadn't kept on going, I hadn't saved her. I'd let them drag me out of the house, and she'd been lost in there.
I couldn't ever forget what it cost to fail. Dad hadn't let me forget, either.
Pain was good. Pain kept you sharp and kept you motivated. Pain made me feel alive.
Especially when I was facing a vamp who wanted to teach me a lesson.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I ended up on the mat a lot, and it was tough to get up and keep going. People gathered--humans, vamps--all watching as Jester and I toughed it out. He was faster than me and stronger, but I didn't give up.
Finally, Vassily made me stop. He clapped Jester on the shoulder and said something in his ear, and Jester smirked and ducked under the ropes and was gone, and all the motivation just...bled out of me. I dropped to my knees, gagging for breath. There was blood in my mouth and a weird buzzing in my ears, and I'd never felt quite that bad in my life, not even when I'd been in the hospital and circling the drain.
It was like I'd cannibalized parts of myself to stay on my feet, and now the pain and the emptiness flooded into me and swamped me, and I just wanted to lie down and die.
Vassily passed me another sports bottle. I didn't want it, but I couldn't help myself. I drank. I felt better, or at least not as prone to dying. He checked my eyes and nodded. "You'll be all right," he said, all business. "Dehydration and exhaustion. Four more of the drinks will put you right, but stay off your feet for two hours before you head home. There are bunks in the next room. Rest now."
"Thanks," I mumbled. I didn't feel grateful. I didn't feel much of anything except filthy and guilty inside. What the hell was I doing?Whywas I doing it? I didn't even know, except that when I was fighting, it seemed like I was fighting every bad thing in my life that had ever happened. I was fighting for my sister and my mother and even my dad. For Claire, trapped in this damned town. For Michael, turned vamp against his will. For Eve.
For me, for once.
I sacked out for the next two hours, sipping those drinks, and with every slow mouthful I felt better. More stable. Whatever was in them was great stuff, because the pain faded to twinges, and the guilt faded along with it. I was okay. No, I was better than okay.
I was strong and getting stronger, and that was what I'd always needed to survive here. I had people to protect. This was going to make all the difference.
I was emptying the last bottle when Vassily came in with Gloriana. Glory looked fantastic, and I felt sweaty and dirty and bruised, and I had to sit up. No lying down in her presence.
"Shane," she said, and gave me that smile. "I just met your little friend Claire. You should be proud; she's not afraid of much, you know. But so fragile. And I'm quite concerned about her relationship with Myrnin. He's so unstable, don't you think?"
I did think that, and had all along; she was just saying what was obvious to me and everybody else except Claire. "I don't like it," I said. "But she does what she wants."
"Yes, she does." Glory studied me for a few seconds, then glanced over at Vassily. "I think he's ready, don't you?"
"Ready for what?" I asked.
"Ready to hear the rest," Vassily said. "You showed tremendous courage today, Shane. And great talent. We have an opportunity for you, one that I believe would take advantage of your best qualities. You see, we can offer you the chance for two things you have always wanted."
"Money," Glory said. "Real money, enough to take care of yourself and Claire for the rest of your life."
Well, who didn't want money? I'd been scratching away at it, doing it the hard way like I was supposed to, but that sounded good. Really good. "What's the second thing?" I asked.
Vassily's turn. "A way out of Morganville," he said. "Before it's too late. Because this town is going to be destroyed, one way or the other, and if you're smart, you'll take the money and the chance to earn your free passage out while you still can."
Cash and a free pass? I blinked, because it sounded like they'd read my mind. I wasn't completely sure that wasn't the case. Glory was freaky good at guessing what I was thinking...or making me think that way. That should have alarmed me, but not coming from her. It just seemed...nice. Like I didn't have to fight to be understood anymore. Glory just got me.
"What about Claire?" I asked.
"Of course, Claire would be able to go with you," Vassily said. "And anyone else you'd like to see
safely gone from Morganville. You can save them, Shane. All you have to do is what you do best."
"Fight," Gloriana said. Her eyes weren't blue anymore. They were a light, sparkling color, almost white, and it should have been terrifying, but it just looked beautiful. I felt warm and weightless and totally at peace. "All you have to do is fight on camera, for an audience. Do you think you can do that?"
I smiled and said, "Where do I sign?"
They had the papers right there, and I scribbled signatures in all the right places. Vassily gave me an envelope of cash, real money, more than I'd seen since my dad had been doing illegal arms deals out on the road.
Glory's eyes went back to blue, sweet, human blue, and she kissed me on my sweaty forehead and handed me another sports bottle. "Rest," she said. Her fingers combed through my matted hair. "Don't you worry about a thing."
I sank down on the bunk and closed my eyes, but I didn't go to sleep. Not quite. Not for a while.
Or maybe it was a dream. It felt like a dream, what they were saying when they thought I couldn't hear them.
"It's dangerous," Glory was saying. Her voice had gone flat now, not lyrical and lilting like it was when she talked to me. She didn't sound like the same person at all. "We have a limited time before Amelie discovers what we're doing. She's got spies everywhere, and I'm almost certain that there is surveillance, as well. Are you sure that the uplink is secure?"
"I'm sure," Vassily said. "The girl who gave us the encryption was one of the best. For months she had video streaming from Morganville without anyone suspecting it. She modified the code to ensure no one could detect this upgrade, in exchange for some favors. The money's already pouring in, my dear. The plan's going very well."
"And the old man? Is he pleased?"
Old man.That sounded ominous, and reminded me of things I'd hoped I'd never have to remember. Surely it wasn't the same old man. No, they had to be talking about some other vamp. They were all old, older than dirt, and black and rotting inside. I knew that.
"I wouldn't saypleased.He's...content to wait, for now. I've had to go to considerable trouble to lay false trails, since his disastrous intervention drew Amelie's attention. I believe I've convinced him to wait until we have adequate resources for the next steps."
"He's unpredictable. You need to watch him. He got away from me and tried to kill Myrnin, you know. If he'd succeeded..."
"I know. I've locked him up again. For his own protection."
Glory laughed. "Oh, he won't like that. Protect yourself, Vassily."
"I've been feeding him enemies," Vassily said. "I believe he's satisfied enough at the moment. How long until the boy's ready, do you think?"
"Oh, he'll fight, no question about it, but I don't like letting him leave us. Those friends of his, that girl, they could ruin everything."
"Or cement everything he's learned," Vassily said. "I believe in taking risks."
"Well, it's yours to take," Glory said. "I'll do what I can, of course."
"For a price."
"Nobody works for free, my darling."
When I opened my eyes, Glory was right there, bending over me. Her smile was like a drug, and the brush of her fingers on my forehead felt like the touch of an angel.
"Sleep," she whispered. "Dream of fire and strength, and remember how much this town has taken from you. Don't let it take the rest, Shane. Everything else is unimportant, except this: Michael doesn't mean you well. He's not your friend. And you can never fully trust him. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said. It was something I knew already, something I should never have forgotten. You can't trust vampires.
Except Glory.
I was still smiling, drowning in the warmth of her touch, when I fell asleep.