Carpe Corpus Page 0,8

and a frock coat from a costume shop, plus several layers of cheap, tacky Mardi Gras beads - just seemed bored. He yawned, showing lethally sharp fangs.

Bishop glared at her. "I am very tired of you making this request, Claire."

"Then maybe you should say yes and get it over with."

He snapped his fingers. Michael got to his feet, pulled there like a puppet on a string. His eyes were desperate, but there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. "Michael. Shane is your friend, as I recall."

"Yes."

" 'Yes, my lord Bishop.' "

Claire saw Michael's throat bob as he swallowed what must have been a huge chunk of anger. "Yes," he said. "My lord Bishop."

"Good. Fetch him here. Oh, and bring some kind of covering for the floor. We'll just remove this irritation once and for all."

Claire blurted out, "No!" She took a step forward, and Bishop's stare locked tight onto her, forcing her to stop. "Please! I didn't mean . . . Don't hurt him! You can't hurt him! Michael, don't! Don't do this!"

"I can't help it, Claire," he said. "You know that."

She did. Michael walked away toward the door. She could see it all happening, nightmarishly real - Michael bringing Shane back here, forcing him to his knees, and Bishop . . . Bishop . . .

"I'm sorry," Claire said, and took a deep, trembling breath. "I won't ask again. Ever. I swear."

The old man raised his thick gray eyebrows. "Exactly my point. I remove the boy, and I remove any risk that you won't keep your word to me."

"Oh, don't be so harsh, old man," Myrnin said, and rolled his eyes. "She's a teenager in love. Let the girl have her moment. It'll hurt her more, in the end. Parting is such sweet sorrow, according to the bards. I wouldn't know, myself. I never parted anyone." He mimed ripping someone in half, then got an odd expression on his face. "Well. Just the one time, really. Doesn't count."

Claire forgot to breathe. She hadn't expected Myrnin, of all of them, to speak up, even if his support had been more crazy than useful. But he'd given Bishop pause, and she kept very still, letting him think it over.

Bishop gestured, and Michael paused on his way to the door. "Wait, Michael," Bishop said. "Claire. I have a task for you to do, if you want to keep the boy alive another day."

Claire felt a trembling sickness take hold inside. This wasn't the first time, but she always assumed - had to! - that it would be the last time. "What kind of task?"

"Delivery." Bishop walked to the desk and flipped open a carved wooden box. Inside was a small pile of paper scrolls, all tied up with red ribbon and dribbled with wax seals. He picked one seemingly at random to give her.

"What is it?"

"You know what it is."

She did. It was a death warrant; she'd seen way too many of them. "I can't - "

"I can order you to take it. If I do, I won't feel obliged to offer you any favors. This is the best deal you are going to get, little Claire: Shane's life for the simple delivery of a message," Bishop said. "And if you won't do it, I will send someone else, Shane dies, and you have a most terrible day."

She swallowed. "Why give me the chance at all? It's not like you to bargain."

Bishop showed his teeth, but not his fangs - those were kept out of sight, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. "Because I want you to understand your role in Morganville, Claire. You belong to me. I could order you to do it, with a simple application of will. Instead, I am allowing you to choose to do it."

Claire turned the scroll in her fingers and looked down at it. There was a name on the outside of it, written in old-fashioned black calligraphy. Detective Joe Hess.

She looked up, startled. "You can't - "

"Think very carefully about the next thing you say," Bishop interrupted. "If it involves telling me what I can or can't do in my own town, they will be your last words, I promise you."

Claire shut her mouth. Bishop smiled.

"Better," he said. "If you choose to do so, go deliver my message. When you come back, I'll allow you to see the boy, just this once. See how well we can get along if we try?"

The scroll felt heavy in Claire's hand, even