Lord of Misrule Page 0,4

gushing.

They might have had time to say more, but one of the vampires standing around, looking pissed off and impatient, tapped Michael on the shoulder. His pale lips moved near Michael's ear.

"Time to go," Michael said. He hugged Eve hard, and had to peel her off at the end. "Don't trust Oliver."

"Yeah, like you had to tell me that," Eve said. Her voice was shaking again. "Michael--"

"I love you," he said, and kissed her, fast and hard. "I'll see you soon."

He left in a blur, taking most of the vampires with him. The mayor's son, Richard Morrell--still in his police uniform, although he was looking wrinkled and smoke stained now--led the humans at a more normal pace to follow.

Eve stood there with her kisssmudged lips parted, looking stunned and astonished. When she regained the power of speech, she said, "Did he just say--?"

"Yes," Claire said, smiling. "Yes, he did."

"Whoa. Guess I'd better stay alive, then."

The crowd of people--fewer now than there had been just a few minutes before--parted around them, and Oliver strode through the gap. The secondmost badass vampire in town had shed his costume and was dressed in plain black, with a long, black leather coat. His long graying hair was tied back in a tight knot at the back of his head, and he looked like he was ready to snap the head off anyone, vampire or human, who got in the way.

"You," he snapped at Eve. "Come."

He turned on his heel and walked away. This was not the Oliver they'd known before--certainly not the friendly proprietor of the local coffee shop. Even once he'd been revealed as a vampire, he hadn't been this intense.

Clearly, he was done pretending to like people.

Eve watched him go, and the look in her eyes was boiling with resentment. She finally shrugged and took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said. "This'll be so much fun. See ya, Claire Bear."

"See you," Claire said. They hugged one last time, just for comfort, and then Eve was leaving, back straight, head high.

She was probably crying, Claire thought. Eve cried at times like these. Claire didn't seem to be able to cry when it counted, like now. It felt like pieces of her were being pulled off, and she felt cold and empty inside. No tears.

And now it was her heart being ripped out, because Shane was being summoned impatiently by yet another hard looking bunch of vampires and humans near the door. He nodded to them, took her hands, and looked into her eyes.

Say it, she thought.

But he didn't. He just kissed her hands, turned, and walked away, dragging her red, bleeding heart with him-- metaphorically, anyway.

"I love you," she whispered. She'd said it before, but he'd hung up the phone before she'd gotten it out. Then she'd said it in the hospital, but he'd been doped up on painkillers. And he didn't hear her now, as he walked away from her.

But at least she had the guts to try.

He waved to her from the door, and then he was gone, and she suddenly felt very alone in the world--and very . . . young. Those who were left in the Glass House had jobs of their own, and she was in the way. She found a chair-- Michael's armchair, as it turned out--and pulled her feet up under her as humans and vampires moved around, fortifying windows and doors, distributing weapons, talking in low tones.

She might have become a ghost, for all the attention they paid her.

She didn't have to wait long. In just a few minutes, Amelie came sweeping down the stairs. She had a whole scary bunch of vampires behind her, and a few humans, including two in police uniforms.

They were all armed--knives, clubs, swords. Some had stakes, including the policemen; they had them, instead of riot batons, hanging from their utility belts. Standardissue equipment for Morganville, Claire thought, and had to suppress a manic giggle. Maybe instead of pepper spray, they have garlic spray.

Amelie handed Claire two things: a thin, silver knife, and a wooden stake. "A wooden stake in the heart will put one of us down," she said. "You must use the silver knife to kill us. No steel, unless you plan to take our heads off with it. The stake alone will not do it, unless you're very lucky or sunlight catches us helpless, and even then, we are slower to die the older we are. Do you understand?"

Claire nodded numbly. I'm sixteen, she wanted to say.