Ghost Town Page 0,32

asked, you chose; there is not much room for him to disagree with the outcome."

"This is bad for you, isn't it?"

Amelie looked down at her clasped hands. "It is not the best situation I can imagine. Oliver has been increasingly unhappy with the attitude of the younger humans, and the liberties they're taking. I can't blame him; I am less than happy myself. This incident . . . We cannot allow humans to roam in packs like animals, victimize our people, and commit cold-blooded murder. It would destroy us. Measures must be taken."

"Why not? You allow vampires to do it!"

"It isn't the same."

"But you promised that things would change! You promised at Sam's funeral!"

Amelie looked up sharply and said, "Mind your place, Claire. I know what I said. And I know what Sam would have said, were he here. He would agree with me, though it would pain him. You hardly knew him at all. Don't presume to lecture me on the rights of humans, or my responsibilities."

There was a restless fire in her eyes, something that made Claire shiver, and she couldn't help but look away. "You said I could stop to eat," she said. "Can I go home for that?"

"Myrnin will provide you with meals. I will guarantee it."

"What . . . what do I tell everybody? Shane, Michael, Eve, my parents?"

"Nothing," Amelie said. "Because you will not speak to them at all. You leave this room and go directly to Myrnin's lab, and you begin your work. I will speak with those who need to know of your choice."

"That's cruel."

"It's merciful," Amelie said. "I am sparing you good-byes to those whose tears will cause you pain." She hesitated, then said very quietly, "And if you fail me in this, Claire . . . then you will never see them again. That is my wish."

"But--" Claire couldn't seem to find the words, and then they came in a rush of clarity. "You mean if I don't fix the machine, you'll kill me?"

Amelie didn't answer. She looked into the distance, her face a blank mask, and Claire felt sickeningly sure that she had it right: Amelie expected results, or else.

The female vamp guard came back, and Amelie pointed to Claire. "Take her to Myrnin," she said. "No stops. She speaks to no one. I will tell Myrnin what must be done."

The guard nodded and gestured to Claire, who suddenly didn't want to get out of the chair, uncomfortable though it was; she was scared, and cold, and she wanted to go home. She asked, "Amelie? What if I can't? What if I can't fix it?" Because that was, after all, a very real possibility.

Amelie was silent for a moment, then rose from her chair and looked down at her from what seemed like a million miles away. "You must fix it. The consequences of this town remaining unprotected are too severe. This is the only chance I can offer you, Claire. Prove yourself worthy, and live. Fail, and you will wish you'd taken the second option I offered, harsh and unforgiving as it was."

Amelie swept out of the room, head high, not looking back. Claire slowly got up, tested her trembling legs, and walked over to the waiting guard.

"What's your name?" Claire asked.

"As far as you're concerned, I don't have one," the vamp said. "Move."

She'd never thought of Myrnin's lab as a prison before. The unnamed vampire guard--Claire decided to call her Charlotte, at least in her own mind--escorted Claire to the underground parking lot beneath the council building, loaded her into a standard blacked-out vampire sedan, and drove her without making any further conversation. They got out at the entrance of the alley next to the Day House. It was dark, all the lights off. Overhead, the moon was setting, abandoning everything to the night.

The fence closed in on either side, narrowing and narrowing, until it ended at the run-down wooden shack that was the entrance to the lab.

Myrnin, wearing a gigantic red velvet hat with feathers, and some kind of long cloak, was standing outside the door, waiting. He nodded to Charlotte, took Claire's arm, and, without a word exchanged, hustled her inside. He padlocked the door from within, and then escorted her--more like dragged her--down the steps into the lab proper.

He stripped off the hat and cloak, dumped them on a medieval-looking chair, and turned to look at her with his hands in fists on his hips.

He was wearing a clean white shirt, a shiny blue