Ghost Town (10 page)

“Mikey!” Shane yelled. “You’d better finish it up! Your girlfriend’s trying to kiss—”

He didn’t finish, because all of a sudden the fight was over . . .

. . . and Michael
lost
.

It happened so fast Claire hardly had time to comprehend it, but one second, the two vamps were a blur of movement, and the next, Michael was down on the ground, crumpled like a broken toy.

The other vamp grinned with her sharp, sharp teeth gleaming in the light, and licked blood from her lips. Her eyes looked brilliant and insane, and redder than the blood. She kicked Michael’s limp body out of the way and came for the three of them, doing that creepy jumping-spider thing again.

Suddenly, there was a cold, still presence standing in front of them, and a white hand reaching up, grabbing the vamp in midair and slamming her down to the floor.

Amelie.

The Founder of Morganville had arrived, and she’d done it in force; as Claire looked behind her, she saw at least a dozen vampires, all looking very seriously dangerous, including Oliver and a number of others she knew by sight. They were all dressed in long black leather coats, like a kind of uniform, with the symbol of the Founder stamped into the leather on every one of them.

Amelie was wearing white. Pure ice white, almost shimmering in the dim light. Her hair was up in a woven crown, nearly as pale as her elegant silk suit.

“Do be quiet,” she told the fallen vampire. “You’re a worthless idiot, but I don’t want more blood tonight. Don’t make me kill you for what you’ve done.” Amelie’s voice was so cold that it seemed to drop the temperature in the overheated, stifling room by at least fiftydegrees.“Getup.”

The other vamp did, moving slowly. Claire didn’t see Oliver move, but suddenly he was right there, holding both the woman’s arms in a bone-shattering grip behind her. “No foolish moves, Patrice,” he said. “I don’t believe the Founder is joking.”

“Get her out of my sight,” Amelie said, and looked at the other fallen vampires. The one who’d been burned badly by Claire’s silver nitrate got up and limped over, looking thoroughly terrified. “This one, too. And release those others.” She waved a hand at the vampires Shane had nailed with the crossbow bolts. One of Oliver’s black-coated troopers glided over and pulled the arrows out. The two downed bloodsuckers, released from their paralysis, coughed and sputtered blood.

They’d live.

“Michael,” Claire whispered. Eve broke free and ran to him, throwing herself down on the floor and taking his head into her lap. He looked—oh, God—he looked . . . dead. His eyes were open, and he looked so pale, so still; there was a hole in the side of his throat, but not much blood. Claire skidded to a stop and put her hands to her mouth, trying to hold in a scream. She felt Shane’s hands close hard around her shoulders—that was probably his version of feeling the same rush of horror and denial.

Then Michael finally, slowly, blinked. Eve screamed. “Michael? Michael! Talk to me!”

“He can’t,” Amelie said. She had come up behind them, and was looking at Michael with a slight softening of her usual cool expression. Maybe, Claire thought, because Michael still reminded her of Sam, her lost love. Apart from the color of their hair, they’d looked a lot alike. “He’ll be all right once we get some nourishment into him. I’ll have my people take him directly to the blood bank.”

“I want to go with him!” Eve said.

“I’m not sure that’s wise. Drained and hungry vampires, even ones you know well, can be very unpredictable. I would hate for anything to happen that Michael might regret later.”

“What about what
we
might regret later?” Shane asked under his breath. “Oh, right. Humans don’t count.”

Amelie heard him, and her head swiveled smoothly as she focused her cool gray eyes on his face. “I only meant that you would likely not be around to regret anything, Mr. Collins. Ms. Rosser. Explain what happened here. Now.”

Eve was combing her fingers through Michael’s blond hair, but now she looked up, startled. That lasted only a second, though, and then her attitude snapped back in place. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe a
vampire attack
?” she snapped. “It was a party; then the frat idiots crashed and started boasting about how tough they were; then these freaks showed up to teach us all a lesson. That’s what they said. They wanted to put us in our place.”

“I see,” Amelie said. “And you did nothing to provoke them?”

“My friend—” Eve’s voice failed. Claire could see she was trying once again not to cry, and how much it hurt. “My friend Cory was just trying to have fun. That one, the redhead, she grabbed her and just . . . tore her up. Cory’s
dead
. I saw it happen.”

“Oh, man,” Shane whispered. Claire put her hand on top of his, where it lay on her shoulder. “Eve . . .” It sounded like he wanted to say something, but he had no idea what. She loved him for that.

Amelie waited a moment, and then said in a very low voice, “I am sorry for this experience, and for the loss of your friend. All who broke the law will be punished.”

Eve’s eyes grew brighter, but not with tears. With fury. “
Punished
? What, like little kids going to bed without their blood supper? No TV for a week?
Time-out
?”

“I can assure you that the punishment will be severe.”

“Not enough!”

Now Amelie’s voice turned cool again. “It is enough for me, and that
will
be enough for you, Ms. Rosser. Enough for all of you. Do I make myself clear?” She didn’t wait for an answer; she turned to Oliver, who was standing nearby, hands folded behind him, watching as the vampire prisoners and humans were herded out. “Vampires are dead here. I will expect a full investigation.”

“Of course,” Oliver said without turning. “And I expect the appropriate punishments will be meted out, according to the law.”

“Sir,” called one of Oliver’s men, who was kneeling over the red-haired girl with Claire’s stake in her chest. “You should see this.”

Oliver walked over, frowned, and crouched down to examine the girl more closely. “Silver,” his man said, and Oliver nodded. Oliver tugged on a pair of leather gloves and grabbed the stake, which he pulled out and immediately dropped with a clatter to the floor.

The girl didn’t breathe, move, or react.

Claire gripped Shane’s arm tightly, and waited, but the vampire stayed still on the floor, unmoving. There was a burned patch where the stake had gone in that continued to slowly burn outward.

“She’s dead,” Oliver said. “Silver poisoning. She must have been unusually allergic.”

Claire had killed her.

And the appropriate punishment for a human killing a vampire was death.

FIVE

“
B
ut it was self-defense!” theguy seated next to Claire said. He’d been saying it a lot, and at a loud volume, and she thought his anger probably wasn’t helping any.

They were sitting in a quiet, wood-paneled room in the Elders’ Council building, a big faux-Greek temple that always felt to Claire like a funeral home. A really nice one. This particular room featured a long, highly polished table of dark wood, fancy chairs, and—of course—no windows. There were two doors, one at either end, but they were both guarded by Amelie’s personal security men. Claire knew them, slightly, but now they had their sunglasses hiding their eyes, and she knew they wouldn’t give her any breaks. They had their serious faces on.

Amelie sat at one end of the long table. Oliver sat at the other. Police Chief Hannah Moses was seated on one side, along with Mayor Richard Morrell, who’d taken his father’s seat on the council along with the not-too-fun job of governing the human side of Morganville. Richard was a nice-looking man, Claire had always thought, but he usually also looked tired, and like he didn’t smile nearly enough. But then, being Monica Morrell’s brother would probably take most of the sparkle out of life in general.

On the other side of 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, doesn’t it? He was
seven hundred and sixty years old
. But you’re
sorry
.” Oliver shoved his chair back from the table as he stood up, so hard it tipped over and crashed against the floor with a bang. “This is what being soft with the humans gets us, Amelie. You already know my vote. Guilty. I’m done with this nonsense.”

“And what about Claire?” Amelie asked quietly. “She’s charged with a similar offense.”

Oliver was heading for the door, but he hesitated, just a brief step. He didn’t look back. “Guilty,” he said. “She should have left it to us to police our own. I’d be hypocritical if I said anything different, wouldn’t I?”

The security guard let him out, closed the door behind him, and took up that waiting, alert pose again.

Claire was having trouble breathing.
Guilty.
She’d been defending herself. Defending her friends. And Oliver knew that, and he’d still voted against her.

“Mayor Morrell,” Amelie said. “Your vote on Mr. Nemeck.”

Richard rose slowly, put his hands flat on the table, and looked at Kyle as he said, “Guilty. I’m sorry, Kyle, but you left me no choice.”

“Chief Moses?”

Hannah got up, too. She looked as focused and cold as Amelie. “Kyle,” she said. “One question first. Do you swear you really didn’t know who you were killing?”

“Yeah, I swear!”

Even Claire could tell that he was lying. He’d known. He’d thought he could get away with it in all the confusion.

Hannah shook her head. “Guilty as hell, I hate to say.”

Amelie hesitated, then rose smoothly to her feet. “By unanimous verdict, Kyle Nemeck, you are found guilty of the highest crime of Morganville: the murder of your own Protector. I had sworn that the more barbaric punishments we once practiced would be outlawed, for the sake of harmony with humans, but I see no alternative than to punish you as harshly as you deserve. You will be placed in a cage in the middle of Founder’s Square for ten days and nights, so that all may come and read an account of your crime. After that, you will die in the traditional way. By fire.”