Feast of Fools Page 0,85

inside and closed it behind her.

There was another vampire bodyguard at the foot of the stairs, and he wasn't as friendly, but after a whispered conversation at the top of the stairs, he let her go up.

Upstairs it was only Amelie, lying in a frozen waterfall of white silk on the couch, and Sam, and Oliver.

The stake was still in her chest, and her eyes were open and blank.

Oliver snapped at Claire the second she cleared the stairs. "Go away!"

She nearly did, but Sam jumped in quickly. "No," he said. "She's earned the right. She was the first one to stand next to Amelie, not you. Not even me."

Oliver seemed harassed, but he refocused on Amelie's still, pale face. His long fingers were on her temples, unexpectedly gentle. He'd stripped off his scarecrow costume, or most of it, but there were still bits of straw in his hair, and smudges of greasepaint on his skin.

He leaned close, staring into her open eyes, and held there. Seconds ticked by, and Sam waited.

"Now," Oliver whispered.

Sam grabbed the stake and pulled, one swift yank. Amelie's body followed it upward in a spasm, and her mouth opened wide. Her vampire teeth glittered, sharp and deadly in the light.

She didn't make a sound.

Sam looked tormented. Oliver was whispering something, too faint for Claire to catch, and he bent his head so close to Amelie's they were almost touching. When Sam reached out toward her, Oliver looked up and shook his head sharply. Sam froze.

"Take her," Oliver said, and removed his hands from her head. Sam quickly took over, sliding into his place. Oliver skinned back his gray shirtsleeve, took in a deep breath, and put his forearm to Amelie's mouth.

Claire flinched as Amelie bit deep. Oliver didn't. Sam's gaze alternated between Amelie and Oliver, looking for something Claire didn't quite understand, and then he let go of Amelie and grabbed Oliver's arm to pull it away from her.

Oliver staggered and collapsed, and covered his eyes with both hands. The open wounds on his arm trailed blood drops, pattering on the floor, then slowing. Stopping as he healed.

Amelie blinked and turned her head toward Claire. She looked dead, except for the fact that she was moving; her eyes were still fixed, pupils gone wide, and her skin was an eerie blue white.

"The girl," she whispered. "Must go. Hungry."

Sam nodded and looked over his shoulder at Claire. "Go get her some blood," he said. "There should be some in the refrigerator."

And Claire realized with a shock that there wasn't. They were all out of blood.

"Crap," Shane breathed as they stood together looking into the fridge. The shelves held leftover chili, some pasta stuff, hamburger patties. Enough for them, for a couple of days. Not enough for anywhere near the number of people in the house, even for the humans. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking we have about fifteen vampires and no blood," Claire said. "Is that it?"

"No, I was thinking we're out of chips. Of course that's what I was thinking." Shane moved some condiment bottles again, in a three-time-loser search for some elusive hidden blood bottle. "Did I say crap?"

"More than once, yeah. Shouldn't you get back outside?"

"I traded shifts with a vampire. Better to have them walking around in the dark than us, you know? Besides, the fewer of them there are in here right now - "

"The better," she finished. "I don't disagree. But Sam said Amelie needs to feed, and that means blood. She's not the only one, either. What about the Donation Center?"

"They don't deliver," Shane said, and then snapped his fingers. "Wait. Wait a minute. Yes, they do."

"What?"

He spun away and picked up the phone from the cradle on the wall, then put it back down. "Dead."

Claire took out her cell phone. "I've got a signal." She pitched it to him, and watched as he punched a number. "Who are you calling?"

"Pizza Hut."

"Loser."

He held up a finger. "Hey, Richard?" Not, Claire noticed, Dick. This situation had upgraded him to full-name status. "Listen, man, we've got a situation here at the Glass House."

Claire could fill in the other half of the conversation from Richard Morrell almost verbatim. What do you think I have, with the town going crazy?

"We're out of blood," Shane said. "Amelie's wounded. You do the math, man. A little home delivery service from Morganville's Finest wouldn't hurt right now."

Whatever Richard said, it wasn't encouraging. "You're kidding," Shane said, in an entirely different tone. A worried one. "You're