Lord of Misrule Page 0,58

smoking from the silver she'd thrown.

Myrnin let out a roar that ripped the air, full of menace and fury, and the vampire stumbled backward, clearly shocked.

Then the five who'd chased them silently withdrew into the darkness.

Claire turned to face Myrnin. He was staring thoughtfully at the departing vamps.

"Thanks," she said. He shrugged.

"I was raised to believe in the concept of noblesse oblige," he said. "And I do owe you, you know. Do you have any more of my medication?"

She handed him her last dose of the drug that kept him sane--mostly sane, anyway. It was the older version, red crystals rather than clear liquid, and he poured out a dollop into his palm and licked the crystals up, then sighed in deep satisfaction.

"Much better," he said, and pocketed the rest of the bottle. "Now. Why are you here?"

Claire licked her lips. She could hear Shane--or someone--coming toward them through the darkness, and she saw someone in the shadows behind Myrnin. Not vampires, she thought, so it was probably Hannah, flanking Shane. "We're looking for my friend Eve. You remember her, right?"

"Eve," Myrnin repeated, and slowly smiled. "Ah. The girl who followed me. Yes, of course."

Claire felt a flush of excitement, quickly damped by dread. "What happened to her?"

"Nothing. She's asleep," he said. "It was too dangerous out here for her. I put her in a safe place, for now."

Shane pushed through the last of the barriers and stepped into a shaft of light about fifty feet away. He paused at the sight of Myrnin, but he didn't look alarmed. "This is your friend as well," Myrnin said, glancing back at Shane. "The one you care so much for." She'd never discussed Shane with Myrnin--not in detail, anyway. The question must have shown in her face, because his smile broadened. "You carry his scent on your clothes," he said. "And he carries yours."

"Ewww," Monica sighed.

Myrnin's eyes focused in on her like laser sights. "And who is this lovely child?"

Claire almost rolled her eyes. "Monica. The mayor's daughter."

"Monica Morrell." She offered her hand, which Myrnin accepted and bent over in an oldfashioned way. Claire assumed he was also inspecting the bracelet on her wrist.

"Oliver's," he said, straightening. "I see. I am charmed, my dear, simply charmed." He hadn't let go of her hand. "I don't suppose you would be willing to donate a pint for a poor, starving stranger?"

Monica's smile froze in place. "I--well, I--"

He pulled her into his arms with one quick jerk. Monica yelped and tried to pull away, but for all his relatively small size, Myrnin had strength to burn.

Claire pulled in a deep breath. "Myrnin. Please."

He looked annoyed. "Please what?"

"She's not free range or anything. You can't just munch her. Let go." He didn't look convinced. "Seriously. Let go."

"Fine." He opened his arms, and Monica retreated as she clapped both hands around her neck. She sat down on a nearby girder, breathing hard. "You know, in my youth, women lined up to grant me their favors. I believe I'm a bit offended."

"It's a strange day for everybody," Claire said. "Shane, Hannah, this is Myrnin. He's sort of my boss."

Shane moved closer, but his expression stayed cool and distant. "Yeah? This the guy who took you to the ball? The one who dumped you and left you to die?"

"Well . . . uh . . . yes."

"Thought so."

Shane punched him right in the face. Myrnin, surprised, stumbled back against the tower of crates, and snarled; Shane took a stake from his back pocket and held it at the ready.

"No!" Claire jumped between them, waving her hands. "No, honest, it's not like that. Calm down, everybody, please."

"Yes," Myrnin said. "I've been staked quite enough today, thank you. I respect your need to avenge her, boy, but Claire remains quite capable of defending her own honor."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," she said. "Please, Shane. Don't. We need him."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because he may know what's going on with the vampires."

"Oh, that," Myrnin said, in a tone that implied they were all idiots for not knowing already. "They're being called. It's a signal that draws all vampires who have sworn allegiance to you with a blood exchange--it's the way wars were fought, once upon a time. It's how you gather your army."

"Oh," Claire said. "So . . . why not you? Or the rest of the vampires here?"

"It seems as though your serum offers me some portion of immunity against it. Oh, I feel the draw, most certainly, but in an entirely academic