Ghost Town Page 0,29

the table, shackled, were one of the big EEK frat boys with blood all over his shirt, and Claire. Shane, Michael, and Eve had been shut out of the room, and Claire hoped they'd taken Eve home; she'd been pretty shaky, once the emergency was over, and had badly needed to clean up and change clothes.

Though Shane had wanted to stay, of course. It had taken all of Claire's powers of persuasion to convince him not to start throwing punches when Amelie gave the order to leave. I'll be okay, she told him, with confidence she didn't completely feel. Amelie won't let anything happen to me.

Looking at Amelie right now, sitting so cold and emotionless at the end of the table, Claire felt she'd probably overstated that. Maybe a lot.

"According to the testimony of both humans and vampires on the scene, the two of you are guilty of the deaths of two of my people," Amelie said into the silence. The frat boy beside Claire shifted, and his chains rattled, but he didn't say anything. He had a leather bracelet on his wrist, a Morganville band that identified him as belonging to some vampire in town. Claire wondered why the vampire wasn't here. He or she was supposed to be, at any legal thing that involved their people.

"We'll start with you, Mr. . . ." Oliver consulted a file in front of him. "Kyle Nemeck? Testimony of vampires and humans says that the trouble started with you and others from your fraternity group who arrived at the warehouse. Vampires tell us that you attacked a vampire, Ioan ap Emwnt, on the street, beat him severely, robbed him, and left him for dead. He is not dead, fortunately for you." Oliver closed that file and opened another. "This vampire, unfortunately, was not as lucky." He slid a color photograph out onto the table, and Claire had to look away. It was the decapitated body she'd seen in the club. Once had been enough. "Here's his missing piece." Another photo, this one probably the head; Claire definitely didn't look. "While your friends held this unfortunate down, you severed his head. Comments?"

The frat boy--Kyle--was sweating. He looked younger now, and very scared. "I . . . sir . . . ma'am--it was self-defense. They came after us."

"They thought you had killed one of our own," Amelie said. "Any vampire can, by law, pursue such an offender and claim him for trial. Your actions, defensive or not, sent this legally pursuing group into a blood rage. Everything that followed, including all the human deaths, can be laid directly at your door. Am I correct, Mayor Morrell?"

Richard was reading his file, frowning. Now he looked up, directly at Kyle. His brown eyes were narrowed, and there wasn't any hint of sympathy. "Correct," he said. "If it were only the human deaths, I could argue for a life sentence. With vampire deaths involved, it's out of my hands. You're a native, Kyle. You know better."

Kyle looked as if he might start to cry. Oliver took the photos back, neatly stacked them, and closed that folder, too. "Any defense?" he asked, not as if he really cared.

Kyle's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. "I . . . Look, we didn't know that first dude was a vampire. I mean, we never would have . . . I swear."

"So your defense is that you'd have done the same thing to a human. Which would almost certainly have killed him."

"I--" Kyle clearly didn't know what to say to that. "I just mean we didn't know he was one of you."

"Weak," Oliver said. "And the vampire you did manage to kill, do you claim to not know what he was? Because I think you recognize him very well, since his name appears on the bracelet you wear around your wrist."

Claire took in a slow breath. Kyle had killed his own Protector. She didn't know if there was a law for that, but if there was, the punishment wasn't going to be anything less than gruesome.

Kyle shut up. He looked so pale he might have been a vamp himself.

"Well?" Oliver snapped. "Yes or no, did you recognize your Protector before you beheaded him?"

"I . . . The lights . . . I don't . . . No, I didn't know who it was; I just knew it was a vamp coming after my friends." He gulped. His voice sounded faint and rusty. "I'm sorry."

"Well," Oliver whispered. "I suppose that excuses everything,