"A cutter." Eve pointed to Amelie's bloody wrists. "You know, bad poetry, emo music, I have to hurt myself to feel, because the world's so awful?"
"That isn't why - " Amelie fell silent a moment, then slowly nodded. "Perhaps. Perhaps that is how I feel, yes."
"Well, too damn bad," Eve said, and there was some freaky chill in her voice that made Claire blink. "You want to waste away by your lover's grave, go for it. I'm Goth; I get it. But don't you dare drag Claire along with you, or I'll chase you down in hell and stake you there."
Even Shane was staring at Eve now as if he'd never seen her before. Claire opened her mouth to say something, and couldn't for the life of her figure out what it would be. The silence went on, and on, and finally Amelie turned her head toward Claire and said, "The bracelet. It warned you of my - situation."
"Warned her? It almost killed her," Shane said. "You were taking her with you. But you knew that, right?"
Amelie shook her head. "I did not." She sighed, and she looked very young, and very human. And, Claire thought, very tired. "I had forgotten that such a thing could happen, though now I think on it, it is very possible. I must apologize to you, Claire. You are feeling better now?"
Claire was still cold, but figured that it had more to do with the icy wind and the cold ground than any magic. She nodded and tried not to show any shivers. "I'm fine. But you lost a lot of blood."
Amelie shrugged, just a tiny roll of her shoulders, as if it didn't matter. "I will recover." She didn't sound overly thrilled about it. "Leave me now. I have amends to make to Samuel."
"You can bleed all over his grave some other time," Eve said. "Come on, lady. Up. Let's get you home."
She reached out, and once again, Amelie let herself be touched. Odd, Claire thought; Michael was the vampire, but Amelie trusted Eve more right now. Michael was feeling that, too; there was a complicated look on his face, mostly worry.
"No biting," Eve said, as she helped Amelie to her feet. The vampire gave her a withering look. "Hey, all my teachers said that repetition was the only way to learn. You got a car or something?"
"No."
"Um . . . what about your people? Lurking in the shadows, preferably with a limo?"
Amelie raised a single white eyebrow. "If I had brought an entourage, surely they might have objected to my purpose here."
"The dramatic death scene? Yeah, guess so. Okay, then, we'll give you a ride. Blood bank first, right?"
"Unless you are offering a donation."
"Ugh. No. And don't even look at Claire, either."
"Me neither," Shane put in. "Homie don't play that."
"I wonder, sometimes, if your generation speaks English at all," Amelie said. "But yes, if you would drive me to the blood bank, you may leave me there safely enough. My people" - she gave it just enough of an ironic edge to let them know she found it as funny to say as they did - "will find me there."
They were walking away from Sam's grave, moving slowly and in a tight group, when a shadow stepped out from behind the big marble mausoleum at the top of the hill. It was a vampire, but not the kind Claire was used to seeing around Morganville; this one looked like he lived rough, and without access to showers or personal-grooming equipment.
He also didn't look quite sane.
"Amelie," the man said - at least Claire thought it a man, but it was tough to be sure with the tangle of hair that hadn't been combed since the last century, and the shapeless mass of dirty clothes, topped by a filthy raincoat. "Come to visit your peasants and distribute charity, like olden times?" He had a thick accent, English maybe - but rough, too, not like Oliver's refined voice. "Oh, please, mistress, alms for the poor?" And he laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound, and it grew . . . until it came from all around them, from out of the darkness.
There were more of them out there.
Michael turned, staring into the night; maybe he could see something, but to Claire it was all just shadows and tombstones, and that laughter. Shane put his arm around her.
Amelie shook off the support of Eve's arm and stepped out from their little group. "Morley," she said. "I see you crawled out of your sewer."
"And you've come down from your ivory tower, my lady," he said. "And here we are, meeting in the midden where humans discard their trash. And you brought lunch. How kind."
Ghostly chuckles came from the dark. Michael turned, tracking something Claire couldn't see; his eyes were turning red, and she could see him shifting away from the Michael she knew into something else, something scarier - the Michael she didn't know. Eve sensed it, too, and stepped back, closer to Shane. She looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists at her sides.
"Do something," she said to Amelie. "Get us out of here."
"And how do you imagine I will do that?"
"Think of something!"