The Dead Girls Dance Page 0,45

to be gained from it.

Eve spun around and slapped Oliver. An open-hand, hard smack that echoed like a gunshot off of all the marble in the room. There was a collective intake of breath. You son of a bitch! she spit. Let Shane go! He has nothing to do with this!

Really. A flat word, not even really a question. Unlike a humans, Olivers face didnt show any sign of a handprint from the slap, and it had definitely been hard enough. He barely looked as if hed felt it at all. Sit down, Eve, while I tell you the facts of your rather pathetic life.

She didnt. Oliver put his hand flat on her chest, right at the notch of her collarbone, and shoved. Eve sprawled in a chair, glaring at him.

Detective Hess, Oliver said. I suggest you explain to my dear ex-employee exactly what she risks the next time she touches me in anger. Or, come to think of it, touches me at all.

Hess was already moving, sitting in the chair beside Eve and leaning toward her. He whispered to her, urgent words that Claire couldnt catch. Eve shook her head violently. A trickle of sweat ran from her messy hair down the side of her face, making a flesh-colored track through the white makeup.

Now, Oliver continued once Hess stopped, and Eve was sitting still. Were not technological idiots, Eve. And we do own the telephone providers in this area, particularly the cell phone providers. Shane placed a call from your home to a number that, much to our surprise, we found to be assigned to a device we located on his friend Mr. Wallace. Oliver pointed to the biker. GPS is a marvelous invention, by the way. Were quite grateful for all the hard work humanity has put into keeping track of itself. It makes finding people so much easier than it used to be in the old days.

Shane didnt do anything, Claire said. Please. You have to let him go.

Shane was found at the crime scene, Oliver said. With Brandons body. And I hardly think we can say he wasnt involved, if he was friendly enough with Mr. Wallace to be exchanging telephone calls.

No, he didnt!

Oliver slapped her. She never saw it coming, just felt the impact and saw red for a second. Her whole body shook with the force of how much she wanted to hit him back, and she felt the stinging imprint of his hand on her cheek like a brand.

You see, Eve? Oliver asked. An eye for an eye. Of course, my interpretation is a bit free of the Scriptures.

Shane was screaming around his gag, and now he was fighting, but the vampires were holding him down on his knees without breaking a sweat. Eves eyes were huge and dark, and Hess was holding her down in the chair as she struggled to come after Oliver.

Dont, Claire thought wildly. Because her friends had just told Oliver exactly what he wanted to know: that hurting her would get something out of them.

Oliver, Amelie said. Her voice was soft and very gentle. Is there a question you are posing to the children? Or are you merely indulging yourself? You say you already know the boy called this man. What more information do you need?

I want to know where his father has gone, Oliver said. One of them knows.

The girls? Amelie shook her head. It seems unlikely that someone like Mr. Collins would trust in either of them.

The boy knows, then.

Possibly. She tapped her lips with one pale finger. Yet somehow, I doubt he will tell you. And there is no need for any cruelty to discover the truth, I believe.

Meaning? Oliver turned fully toward her, crossing his arms.

Meaning that he will come to us, Oliver, as you very well know. In order to save the boy from the consequences of his actions.

So you withdraw your Protection from the boy?

Amelie looked at the body lying on the slab. After a moment of silence, she rose gracefully and walked to what was left of Brandon, trailed ghost white fingers over his distorted face, and said, He was born before King John, did you know that? Born a prince. All those years, ending. I grieve for the loss of all that he saw that we will never know. All the memories that can never enrich us.

Amelie. Oliver sounded impatient. We cant allow his killers to run free. You know that.

He was yours, Oliver. You might spare