Lord of Misrule tmv-5 Page 14

  “People are dying, that’s what’s happening,” he said. “Amelie’s in trouble. I need to go to her. I can’t just sit here!”

  He threw himself at the bars again, kicking hard enough to make the metal ring like a bell.

  “Well, that’s where you’re going to stay,” the policeman said, not exactly unsympathetically. “The way you’re acting, you’d go running out into the sunlight, and that wouldn’t do her or you a bit of good, now, would it?”

  “I could have gone hours ago before sunrise,” Sam snapped. “Hours ago.”

  “And now you have to wait for dark.”

  That earned the policeman a full-out vicious snarl, and Sam’s eyes flared into bright crimson. Everybody stayed back, and when Sam subsided this time, it seemed to be for good. He withdrew to his bunk, lay down, and turned his back to them.

  “Man,” Shane breathed softly. “He’s a little intense, huh?”

  From what the policeman told them—and Richard, when he rejoined them—all the captured vampires had been at about the same level of violence, at first. Now it was just Sam, and as Michael said, it didn’t seem to be Amelie’s summons that was driving him. . . . It was fear for Amelie herself.

  It was love.

  “Step back, please,” the policeman said to Eve. She looked over her shoulder at him, then at Michael. He kissed her, and let go.

  She did take a step back, but it was a tiny one. “So—are you okay? Really?”

  “Sure. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but it’s not bad. They’re not keeping us here to hurt us, I know that.” Michael stretched out a finger and touched her lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Better be,” Eve said. She mock-bit at his finger. “I could totally date somebody else, you know.”

  “And I could rent out your room.”

  “And I could put your game console on eBay.”

  “Hey,” Shane protested. “Now you’re just being mean.”

  “See what I mean? You need to come home, or it’s total chaos. Dogs and cats, living together.” Eve’s voice dropped, but not quite to a whisper. “And I miss you. I miss seeing you. I miss you all the time.”

  “I miss you, too,” Michael murmured, then blinked and looked at Claire and Shane. “I mean, I miss all of you.”

  “Sure you do,” Shane agreed. “But not in that way, I hope.”

  “Shut up, dude. Don’t make me come out there.”

  Shane turned to the policeman. “See? He’s fine.”

  “I was more worried about you guys,” Michael confessed. “Everything okay at the house?”

  “I have to burn a blouse Monica borrowed,” Claire said. “Otherwise, we’re good.”

  They tried to talk a while longer, but somehow, Sam’s silent, rigid back turned toward them made conversation seem more desperate than fun. He was really hurting, and Claire didn’t know—short of letting him go for a jog in the noontime sun—how to make it any better. She didn’t know where Amelie was, and with the portals shut, she doubted she could even know where to start looking.

  Amelie had gathered up an army—whatever Bishop hadn’t grabbed first—but what she was doing with it was anybody’s guess. Claire didn’t have a clue.

  So in the end, she hugged Michael and told Sam it would all be okay, and they left.

  “If they stay calm through the day, I’ll let them out tonight,” Richard said. “But I’m worried about letting them roam around on their own. What happened to Charles and the others could keep on happening. Captain Obvious used to be our biggest threat, but now we don’t know who’s out there, or what they’re planning. And we can’t count on the vampires to be able to protect themselves right now.”

  “My dad would say that it’s about time the tables turned,” Shane said.

  Richard fixed him with a long stare. “Is that what you say, too?”

  Shane looked at Michael, and at Sam. “No,” he said. “Not anymore.”

  The day went on quietly. Claire got out her books and spent part of the day trying to study, but she couldn’t get her brain to stop spinning. Every few minutes, she checked her e-mail and her phone, hoping for something, anything, from Amelie. You can’t just leave us like this. We don’t know what to do.

  Except keep moving forward. Like Shane had said, they couldn’t stay still. The world kept on turning.

  Eve drove Claire to her parents’ house in the afternoon, where she had cake and iced tea and listened to her mother’s frantic flow of good cheer. Her dad looked sallow and unwell, and she worried about his heart, as always. But he seemed okay when he told her he loved her, and that he worried, and that he wanted her to move back home.

  Just when she thought they’d gotten past that . . .

  Claire exchanged a quick look with Eve. “Maybe we should talk about that when things get back to normal?” As if they ever were normal in Morganville. “Next week?”

  Dad nodded. “Fine, but I’m not going to change my mind, Claire. You’re better off here, at home.” Whatever spell Mr. Bishop had cast over her father, it was still working great; he was single-minded about wanting her out of the Glass House. And maybe it hadn’t been a spell at all; maybe it was just normal parental instinct.

  Claire crammed her mouth with cake and pretended not to hear, and asked her mom about the new curtains. That filled another twenty minutes, and then Eve was able to make excuses about needing to get home, and then they were in the car.

  “Wow,” Eve said, and started the engine. “So. Are you going to do it? Move in with them?”

  Claire shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re going to get through the day! It’s kind of hard to make plans.” She wasn’t going to say anything, truly, she wasn’t, but the words had been boiling and bubbling inside her all day, and as Eve put the car in drive, Claire said, “Shane said he loved me.”

  Eve hit the brakes, hard enough to make their seat belts click in place. “Shane what? Said what?”

  “Shane said he loved me.”

  “Okay, first impressions—fantastic, good, that’s what I was hoping you’d said.” Eve took a deep breath and let up on the brake, steering out into the deserted street. “Second impressions, well, I hope that you two . . . um . . . how can I put this? Watch yourselves?”

  “You mean, don’t have sex? We won’t.” Claire said it with a little bit of an edge. “Even if we wanted to. I mean, he promised, and he’s not going to break that promise, not even if I say it’s okay.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Eve stared at her, wide-eyed, for way too long for road safety. “You’re kidding! Wait, you’re not. He said he loved you, and then he said—”

  “No,” Claire said. “He said no.”

  “Oh.” Funny, how many meanings that word could have. This time it was full of sympathy. “You know, that makes him—”

  “Great? Superbly awesome? Yeah, I know. I just—” Claire threw up her hands. “I just want him, okay?”

  “He’ll still be there in a couple of months, Claire. At seventeen, you’re not a kid, at least in Texas.”

  “You’ve put some thought into this.”

  “Not me,” Eve said, and gave her an apologetic look.

  “Shane? You mean—you mean you talked about this? With Shane?”

  “He needed some girl guidance. I mean, he’s taking this really seriously—a lot more seriously than I expected. He wants to do the right thing. That’s cool, right? I think that’s cool. Most guys, it’s just, whatever.”

  Claire clenched her jaw so hard she felt her teeth grinding. “I can’t believe he talked to you about it!”

  “Well, you’re talking to me about it.”

  “He’s a guy!”

  “Guys occasionally talk, believe it or not. Something more than pass the beer or where’s the porn?” Eve turned the corner, and they cruised past a couple of slow blocks of houses, some people out walking, an elementary school with a TEMPORARILY CLOSED sign out front. “You didn’t exactly ask for advice, but I’m going
to give it: don’t rush this. You may think you’re good to go, but give it some time. It’s not like you have a sell-by date or anything.”

  Despite her annoyance, Claire had to laugh. “Feels like it right now.”

  “Well, duh. Hormones!”

  “So how old were you when—”

  “Too young. I speak from experience, grasshopper.” Eve’s expression went distant for a second. “I wish I’d waited for Michael.”

  That was, for some reason, kind of a shock, and Claire blinked. She remembered some things, and felt deeply uncomfortable. “Uh . . . did Brandon . . . ?” Because Brandon had been her family’s Protector vampire, and he’d been a complete creep. She couldn’t imagine much worse than having Brandon be your first.

  “No. Not that he didn’t want to, but no, it wasn’t Brandon.”

  “Who?”

  “Sorry. Off-limits.”

  Claire blinked. There wasn’t much Eve considered off-limits. “Really?”

  “Really.” Eve pulled the car up to the curb. “Bottom line? If Shane says he loves you, he does, full stop. He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it, all the way. He’s not the kind of guy to tell you what you want to hear. That makes you really, really lucky. You should remember that.”

  Claire was trying, really, but from time to time that moment came back to her, that blinding, searing moment when he’d looked into her face and said those words, and she’d seen that amazing light in his eyes. She’d wanted to see it again, over and over. Instead, she’d seen him walk away.

  It felt romantic. It also felt frustrating, on some level she didn’t even remember feeling before. And now there was something new: doubt. Maybe that was my fault. Maybe I was supposed to do something I didn’t do. Some signal I didn’t give him.

  Eve read her expression just fine. “You’ll be okay,” she said, and laughed just a little. “Give the guy a break. He’s the second actual gentleman I’ve ever met. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to throw you on the bed and go. Just means he won’t, right now. Which you have to admit: kinda hot.”

  Put in those terms, it kind of was.

  As it got closer to nightfall, Richard called to say he was letting Michael go. For the second time, the three of them piled into the car and went racing to City Hall. The barricades had mostly come down. According to the radio and television, it had been a very quiet day, with no reports of violence. Store owners—the human ones, anyway—were planning on reopening in the morning. Schools would be in session.

  Life was going on, and Mayor Morrell was expected to come out with some kind of a speech. Not that anybody would listen.

  “Are they letting Sam out, too?” Claire asked, as Eve parked in the underground lot.

  “Apparently. Richard doesn’t think he can really keep anybody much longer. Some kind of town ordinance, which means law and order really is back in fashion. Plus, I think he’s really afraid Sam’s going to hurt himself if this goes on. And also, maybe he thinks he can follow Sam to find Amelie.” Eve scanned the dark structure—there were a few dark-tinted cars in the lot, but then, there always were. The rest of the vehicles looked like they were human owned. “You guys see anything?”

  “Like what? A big sign saying This Is a Trap?” Shane opened his door and got out, taking Claire’s hand to help her. He didn’t drop it once she was standing beside him. “Not that I wouldn’t put it past some of our finer citizens. But no, I don’t see anything.”

  Michael was being let out of his cell when they arrived, and there were hugs and handshakes. The other vampires didn’t have anyone to help them, and looked a little confused about what they were supposed to do.

  Not Sam.

  “Sam, wait!” Michael grabbed his arm on the way past, dragging his grandfather to a stop. Looking at them standing together, Claire was struck again by how alike they were. And always would be, she supposed, given that neither one of them was going to age any more. “You can’t go charging off by yourself. You don’t even know where she is. Running around town on your white horse will get you really, truly killed.”

  “Doing nothing will get her killed. I can’t have that, Michael. None of this means anything to me if she dies.” Sam shook Michael’s hand away. “I’m not asking you to come with me. I’m just telling you not to get in my way.”

  “Grandpa—”

  “Exactly. Do as you’re told.” Sam could move vampire-quick when he wanted to, and he was gone almost before the words hit Claire’s ears—a blur, heading for the exit.

  “So much for trying to figure out where she is from where he goes,” Shane said. “Unless you’ve got light speed under the hood of that car, Eve.”

  Michael looked after him with a strange expression on his face—anger, regret, sorrow. Then he hugged Eve closer and kissed the top of her head.

  “Well, I guess my family’s no more screwed up than anybody else’s,” he said.

  Eve nodded. “Let’s recap. My dad was an abusive jerk—”

  “Mine, too.” Shane raised his hand.

  “Thank you. My brother’s a psycho backstabber—”

  Shane said, “You don’t even want to talk about my dad.”

  “Point. So, in short, Michael, your family is awesome by comparison . Bloodsucking, maybe. But kind of awesome.”

  Michael sighed. “Doesn’t really feel like it at the moment.”

  “It will.” Eve was suddenly very serious. “But Shane and I don’t have that to look forward to, you know. You’re our only real family now.”

  “I know,” Michael said. “Let’s go home.”

  11

  Home was theirs again. The refugees were all out now, leaving a house that badly needed picking up and cleaning—not that anybody had gone out of their way to trash the place, but with that many people coming and going, things happened. Claire grabbed a trash bag and began clearing away paper plates, old Styrofoam cups half full of stale coffee, crumpled wrappers, and papers. Shane fired up the video game, apparently back in the mood to kill zombies. Michael took his guitar out of its case and tuned it, but he kept getting up to stare out the windows, restless and worried.

  “What?” Eve asked. She’d heated up leftover spaghetti out of the refrigerator, and tried to hand Michael a plate first. “Do you see something?”

  “Nothing,” he said, and gave her a quick, strained smile as he waved away the food. “Not really hungry, though. Sorry.”

  “More for me,” Shane said, and grabbed the plate. He propped it on his lap and forked spaghetti into his mouth. “Seriously. You all right? Because you never turn down food.”

  Michael didn’t answer. He stared out into the dark.

  “You’re worried,” Eve said. “About Sam?”

  “Sam and everybody else. This is nuts. What’s going on here—” Michael checked the locks on the window, but as a kind of automatic motion, as though his mind wasn’t really on it. “Why hasn’t Bishop taken over? What’s he doing out there? Why aren’t we seeing the fight?”

  “Maybe Amelie’s kicking his ass out there in the shadows somewhere.” Shane shoveled in more spaghetti.

  “No. She’s not. I can feel that. I think—I think she’s in hiding. With the rest of her followers, the vampires, anyway.”

  Shane stopped chewing. “You know where they are?”

  “Not really. I just feel—” Michael shook his head. “It’s gone. Sorry. But I feel like things are changing. Coming to a head.”

  Claire had just taken a plate of warm pasta when they all heard the thump of footsteps overhead. They looked up, and then at each other, in silence. Michael pointed to himself and the stairs, and they all nodded. Eve opened a drawer in the end table and took out three sharpened stakes; she tossed one to Shane, one to Claire, and kept one in a white-knuckled grip.

  Michael ascended the stairs without a sound, and disappeared.

  He didn’t come back down. Instead, there was a swirl of black coat and stained white balloon pants tucked into black boots; th
en Myrnin leaned over the railing to say, “Upstairs, all of you. I need you.”

  “Um . . .” Eve looked at Shane. Shane looked at Claire.

  Claire followed Myrnin. “Trust me,” she said. “It won’t do any good to say no.”

  Michael was waiting in the hallway, next to the open, secret door. He led the way up.

  Whatever Claire had been expecting to see, it wasn’t a crowd, but that was what was waiting upstairs in the hidden room on the third floor. She stared in confusion at the room full of people, then moved out of the way for Shane and Eve to join her and Michael.

  Myrnin came last. “Claire, I believe you know Theo Goldman and his family.”

  The faces came into focus. She had met them—in that museum thing, when they’d been on the way to rescue Myrnin. Theo Goldman had spoken to Amelie. He’d said they wouldn’t fight.

  But it looked to Claire like they’d been in a fight anyway. Vampires didn’t bruise, exactly, but she could see torn clothes and smears of blood, and they all looked exhausted and somehow—hollow. Theo was worst of all. His kind face seemed made of nothing but lines and wrinkles now, as if he’d aged a hundred years in a couple of days.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we had no other place to go. Amelie—I hoped that she was here, that she would give us refuge. We’ve been everywhere else.”

  Claire remembered there being more of them, somehow—yes, there were at least two people missing. One human, one vampire. “What happened? I thought you were safe where you were!”

  “We were,” Theo said. “Then we weren’t. That’s what wars are like. The safe places don’t stay safe. Someone knew where we were, or suspected. Around dawn yesterday, a mob broke in the doors looking for us. Jochen—” He looked at his wife, and she bowed her head. “Our son Jochen, he gave his life to delay them. So did our human friend William. We’ve been hiding, moving from place to place, trying not to be driven out in the sun.”

  “How did you get here?” Michael asked. He seemed wary. Claire didn’t blame him.

  “I brought them,” Myrnin said. “I’ve been trying to find those who are left.” He crouched down next to one of the young vampire girls and stroked her hair. She smiled at him, but it was a fragile, frightened smile. “They can stay here for now. This room isn’t common knowledge. I’ve left open the portal in the attic in case they have to flee, but it’s one way only, leading out. It’s a last resort.”