Ghost Town Page 0,69

world was moving at nightmare speeds--Ysandre was too fast, Claire was too slow, and she couldn't do anything to stop it as Ysandre yanked on Amelie's white-blond hair and exposed her throat to the knife.

"No!" Oliver shouted, and sprang to his feet.

"I'm going to be your second whether you like it or not!" Ysandre yelled back, and put the knife to Amelie's throat. "And the first thing is, get rid of the competition!"

Oliver lunged across the table. He hit her so hard he threw her into the far doors, which broke off the hinges, and Ysandre and the doors slid down the marble hallway for twenty feet before coming to a stop. She was still moving, weakly, but Oliver snapped his fingers and pointed the guards in her direction.

"No," he said. "You're finished. Amelie was right after all: you're too stupid to be allowed to live."

He went to Amelie, kicked the fallen knife out of the way, and dropped to his knees beside her. She was frozen by the stake, and where the silver touched her, it was burning her. Ysandre's paper handle had fallen off, but Oliver didn't wait. He grabbed the silver and pulled it out of her back in one fast motion, and threw the stake into the corner. Claire caught a glimpse of his hand turning black from the contact, but he didn't pause, didn't seem to feel the pain. He cradled Amelie's head in his hands. "It's out," he said. "Can you hear me? Amelie!"

She still wasn't moving. Oliver pulled her into his arms. The female guard came back, pulling Ysandre's struggling body by the hair, and he snapped, "Get Theo Goldman. Now. And put that one in a cage until I decide how we should be rid of her. Something painful, preferably."

Amelie's eyes slowly blinked. She focused on Oliver's face. Claire had never seen her look so pale; her lips looked blue, and even her eyes seemed faded. "You should have let her finish," she whispered. "Better death than dishonor; isn't that our code?"

"Hundreds of years ago it was," he agreed. His voice was different now. Gentle. "You're the last one to cling to the past. How bad is the pain?"

She seemed to think about it. "Compared to what? To what you've done to me?"

He was holding her hand, and now he raised it to his lips. "I wouldn't have acted unless you forced me. But we both know that I don't lose once I'm challenged."

"You did," she whispered. "Once. To me."

He kept her hand at his lips. "So I did," he said, so softly Claire almost missed it. "I will never hurt you again. I swear it." He hesitated, and then drew one sharpened fingernail across his wrist. "Drink. I give it to you freely."

A drop of his blood hit her lips, and she gasped, opening her eyes wide. She reached for his arm and pulled the cut to her lips, drank, and then let go. She sighed and went limp. Her eyes closed. Claire's throat closed up tight. She wanted to ask, but couldn't.

Richard asked for her. "Is she dead?"

"Not yet," Oliver said. "A silver stake wouldn't kill her immediately at her age, even in her weakened condition with the loss of blood. But she needs additional treatment." He looked up at Richard, at Hannah, and finally at Claire. "No one speaks of this. No one."

"You mean we don't say that you saved her?" Richard asked. "Or that you love her?"

Without blinking Oliver said, "Say it again and we will be electing a new mayor, boy. I'm not in the mood to tolerate more human nonsense today. Do you understand me?"

"I understand that you want to turn this town into a cattle pen. That my people are going to be hunted and killed without mercy. So you know what, Oliver? If you want to run Morganville your way, you won't just be looking for a new mayor. You'll be looking for a place to hide while we tear this town apart." Richard got up and just . . . walked out. Hannah sat for a moment, then got up and followed him.

Leaving Claire alone with him.

Oliver was looking down at Amelie's still, quiet face. He said, without raising his head, "You should have gone with them. You have no part in this."

"I can't go," Claire said. "I need to tell you something."

"Then say it and leave."

Her throat was dry, and she knew--knew--that he was ready to kill the next person who annoyed