Ghost Town Page 0,118

tried to do."

"Well," Oliver said. "You got your wish."

Amelie shook her head. "This gets us nowhere," she said. "Frank Collins did us a great service, regardless of his history. I will honor that."

Shane looked up. "How?" His voice was hollow and empty. "A plaque?"

"How would you prefer he be honored?" Amelie asked. "If it's within my power, I'll grant it to you."

Shane didn't hesitate, not even for a second. It was, Claire thought, like he'd already figured out what he was going to say. "Let Kyle out of the cage in Founder's Square," he said. "Put him on probation. But don't kill him."

Silence fell, long and heavy, and for a few dreadful seconds Claire thought that Amelie was angry. But she was just . . . pensive. She finally said, "All right."

Oliver made a frustrated, furious noise in the back of his throat, picked up a glass beaker that had somehow survived all the destruction, and smashed it to smithereens against the far wall. "Enough!" he barked. "Will you continue to bend to every breather who--"

Amelie grabbed him by the arm, pulled him to face her, and said, "Stop." Her tone was chilly, and quiet, and deadly serious. "We will stop tearing at each other, Oliver. It does neither of us good. It solves nothing. It breeds mistrust and paranoia and ill feelings, and we are not so numerous in this town that we can afford our ambitions. I told you we will rule as equals, but mark me: unless we change, unless we learn how to risk our safety and compromise, the humans will rise up. They will destroy us. I don't grant this because the boy is innocent. I grant it because mercy is more to our cause than justice."

Oliver stared at her without speaking or moving. There was something odd about his expression, something . . . vulnerable? Claire wasn't sure. She'd never really seen anything like it. "And what if I decide I want to rule alone after all?"

"I won't fight you for it," she said. "But your arrogance would destroy Morganville, and all of us."

"I've ruled men before," he said.

"Not to any lasting effect. You tried to change those you ruled. You couldn't." Amelie let go of him, and put her hand on his chest, lightly. "Your ideals didn't survive you. Mine must, or we will all perish together. I'm sure you don't want that."

"No," Oliver said, oddly quiet. "No, that's not what I want."

"Then what do you want?"

He hesitated, and then he inclined his head. "I'll let you know," he said. "But for now . . . for now, a truce."

Amelie let another second tick away, and then stepped away from him. "I'll dispatch police to monitor the roads out of town. We'll have to hope that we can maintain order with more conventional means until--"

"Until what?" Myrnin asked bitterly. "Until I create another miracle? Another brilliant feat that turns fatal because you won't allow me to build it as it must be built? No. No, I'll create nothing else, Amelie. This cannot be done properly unless you stop telling me how to do my job!"

"Ah," Oliver said. "I think I have thought of what it is I want. To never have to listen to him complain again."

Amelie raised her pale eyebrows, staring at Myrnin, and then turned to Claire.

"It's no longer Myrnin's job," she said. "And I suppose you'd best begin thinking how you'll solve our problems, Claire." "What?"

"It was going to be your responsibility in a few years. This merely moves up our plans, I believe. Myrnin can assist you, but I will expect results within the week."

Claire realized, with a sinking sensation, that she'd just become . . . the new Myrnin? How was that even possible?

Things could not possibly be worse than that--until she failed. She supposed then things would take a turn for the extra bad.

At least she had a week.

Myrnin shook his head. "Amelie. Don't be ridiculous. The girl isn't--"

"Enough," Amelie said, and the iron snap of command in her voice made him fall silent. "You've done enough. People are dead, Myrnin."

Claire couldn't even say she was wrong. Not about that.

Shane cleared his throat. "Uh, about Kyle--"

Amelie turned to Oliver. "Make the call," she said. "Unless you're planning to take my place."

He let a few seconds go by, then pulled out his cell phone and ordered the prisoner in Founder's Square released.

Well, Claire thought. At least somebody would be happy.

She didn't see how it was going to be