Carpe Corpus Page 0,79

they'd be okay. They had each other for protection, at least.

She had to help Michael. Claire didn't dare grab the knife from Ysandre's back - it was the only thing keeping her out of the fight - but she couldn't just stand there, either.

Luckily, she didn't have to. Hannah Moses shouted her name, and as Claire turned, she saw Hannah throwing something at her. She instinctively reached up to catch it.

It was a sharp wooden stake. Hannah didn't wait to see what she was going to do with it; she was already heading for Fran?ois, who was trying to get hold of Richard Morrell. Hannah leaped on the nasty little vampire, pinned him with an expert shift of her weight, and plunged her own wooden stake through his heart. It wouldn't kill him, probably, but he was out of the struggle until somebody removed it.

Michael had already won his fight by the time Claire got there; he was bloodied and a little unsteady, but he grabbed her arm and yelled, "Get out of here!"

"We have to save Sam!" she protested.

But it was too late for that.

Bishop dropped Sam limply to the carpeted floor, and Claire could see that if Sam was still alive, he wouldn't be for long. The holes in his throat were barely leaking at all, and he wasn't moving.

Fury whited out her good sense.

Claire ran at Bishop as he turned, and rammed the stake at his chest, right on target for where his heart would be, if he had one at all.

He caught her wrist.

"No," he said gently, like someone with a pet who'd piddled on the good furniture. "I'll not be taken by the likes of you, little girl."

She tried to get away, but she knew it was over; there was just no way she was getting out of this. Michael had gotten into a fight along the way to reach Sam. Amelie was down on her knees, still bound by all the silver chains. Hannah and Richard were back-to-back, defending themselves against three vampire guards.

Myrnin was fighting Pennywell, and destroying half the stage along the way. There was some old hate there. History.

Oliver had drifted closer to Amelie, although Claire couldn't see any change in him at all. He still wasn't fighting, for or against, and he certainly wasn't making any heroic effort to save her.

"Claire!"

Shane. She heard him scream her name, but he was too far away - twenty feet down, at the foot of the stage, looking up.

He had a knife in his hand. As she looked down to meet his eyes, he flipped it, grabbed it by the blade, and threw it.

The knife grazed her cheek, but it hit Mr. Bishop right in the center of his chest.

He laughed. "Your young man has quite the throwing arm," he said, and pulled the knife out as casually as a splinter. Not silver. It wouldn't do a thing to him. "Your friends like to think they still have a chance, but they don't. There's no . . . "

Then the oddest thing happened. . . . Bishop seemed to hesitate. His eyes went blank and distant, and for a second Claire thought he was just savoring his victory.

"There's no chance," he started again, and then stopped. Then he took an unsteady step to the side, like he'd lost his balance.

Then he let her go altogether, to brace himself on the arm of his throne. Bishop looked down at the knife in his hand - Shane's knife - in disbelief. He couldn't hold on to it. It slipped out of his fist, hit the seat of the chair, and bounced off to the floor.

Bishop staggered backward.As he did, his coat flapped open, and Claire saw that the wound was bleeding.

Bleeding a lot.

"Get the book!" Amelie suddenly screamed, and Claire saw it, tucked in the breast pocket of Bishop's jacket. Amelie's book, Myrnin's book. The book of Morganville, with all the secrets and power.

Seemed only right that it ought to be the thing he lost tonight, even if he won everything else.

Claire darted in, grabbed the book, and somehow ducked his clutching hands.

Bishop lunged after her as she danced backward, but he seemed confused now. Slower.

Sicker?

As if sensing some signal, Oliver finally moved. He took a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, calmly put them on, and snapped the silver chains holding Amelie prisoner. He picked up the end of the silver leash and held it for a second, looking into her eyes.

He smiled.

Then he