Carpe Corpus Page 0,77

you to appoint a new town council now. Since you so carelessly allowed the last one to slip away."

"Let me guess. All vampires," Richard said.

Bishop smiled. "No, of course not. But if they are not vampires, I will, of course, make them vampires . . . simply to ensure fairness. . . ."

His voice trailed off, because someone was coming up the steps. Someone Bishop hadn't summoned.

Myrnin.

He looked half-dead, worse than Claire had ever seen him; his eyes were milky white, and he felt blindly for each slow step as he climbed. He looked thinner, too. Frail.

She felt sick when she saw the manic smile on his face, so out of touch with the exhaustion of his body.

"So sorry, my lord," he said, and tried to make one of his usual elaborate bows. He staggered, off balance, and settled for a vague wave. "I was detained. I would never miss a good party. Is there catering? Or are we dining buffet?"

Bishop didn't look at him with any favor. "You might have dressed for the occasion," he said. "You're filthy."

"I dress as nature wills me. Oh, Claire, good. So glad to see you, my dear." Myrnin grabbed Claire and dragged her away from Michael, wrapped her in a tight embrace, and waltzed her in an unsteady circle around the stage while she struggled.

There was nothing vague about his voice when he whispered, "Do nothing. Something is about to happen. Keep your wits, girl."

She nodded. He kissed her playfully on the throat - not quite as innocently as she would have liked - and reeled away to lean on the back of Bishop's chair. "Beg pardon," he said. "Dizzy."

"You're drunk," Bishop said.

"That's what happens when you are what you eat," Myrnin agreed. "I stopped off for a bite. Unfortunately, all that was left in town were pathetic alcoholics, and criminals too fast for me to catch."

Bishop ignored him. He turned his attention back to Richard. "Will you name your town council, Mayor? Or must I name them for you?"

"You'll do what you want." Richard shrugged. "I'm not going to enable you."

"Then I'll have to remove those of your appointees who remain." Bishop snapped his fingers, and Ysandre and Fran?ois moved to grab Mr. Janes and Dean Wallace. When Hannah Moses tried to interfere, she ended up facedown on the carpet, held there by Pennywell. "And I'll allow my hunters to relieve us of any of your citizens who remain unclaimed, or are loyal to my enemy. There. That should clear the air a great deal."

The screaming started down in the crowd as the people in the center of the square realized they'd been put there to die.

Shane and Eve . . .

Claire grabbed the silver knife in her pocket and tried to get to Bishop. Michael tackled her, probably for her own good.

Myrnin lunged for Bishop. Bishop caught him easily, laughing at Myrnin's flailing attempts to fight, and snapped his fingers at Ysandre. She reached in her pocket and took something out that Claire recognized.

A syringe. From the color of the liquid, it was Dr. Mills's cure.

Bishop plunged the needle into Myrnin's heart and emptied the contents, then dropped Myrnin to lie on the carpet, writhing, as the cure raced through his body.

When he opened his eyes, the white film was gone from them.

He was healing.

But he was also in horrible pain.

"I know your plans," Bishop said, and smiled down at him. "I know you filled yourself with poison before coming here. I know you planned to have me drain you and cripple myself so your mistress could finish me off. Unfortunately, it's wasted effort, my dear old friend."

He gestured, and the curtain at the back opened.

Amelie was dragged out, bound in silver chains. She was still wearing her perfect pink suit, but it wasn't so perfect now - filthy, ripped, bloody. Her pale crown of hair had come down in straggles all around her face.

She had a silver leash around her neck, and Oliver was holding it.

Oliver.

Claire felt hot, then cold, then very still inside. She'd come to believe he wasn't as bad as she'd thought; she'd actually started to think he really was almost . . . trustworthy.

Obviously, Amelie had thought so, too. And Michael, because he went for Oliver in a big way, and was brought down by Pennywell and two others.

Worse, though, was the next prisoner, also wrapped in silver chains, and suffering a lot worse than Amelie from the touch of the poisonous metal. His skin smoked