“Go go go!” Shane yelled, and Claire finally had a clear lane. She jammed the gas down, and the hearse roared up the ramp, around the curve, and out into full sun.
The vampire on top hung on for a moment, and then the claws disappeared. She heard him tumbling across the length of the roof, and saw him drop off, land on his feet, and dash for the shade as he left a trail of greasy smoke behind. Claire whooped and pumped her fist, and Shane bumped knuckles with her.
“Combat-driving merit badge,” he said. “With bonus vampire clusters. Now all you have to do is get us home.”
“No.” Eve slid back the divider between the front and the rear, and leaned in. “Michael and I decided. Take us to the church.”
“What?” Claire and Shane blurted it out at the same time, in perfect chorus.
“They’ll stop us if they can. We have to do this now if we’re going to do it,” Eve said. “We’re getting married. Right now.”
Claire almost drove off the road. “But—wait, now? Like,
right now
?”
“You’re not serious,” Shane said. “You can’t do it now.”
“Why not?”
“You’re wearing red,” Shane said.
“I have blood on my dress,” Claire put in.
“You, Shaggy, shut up,” Eve said, giving Shane a scornful look. “Claire, cold water in the bathroom. There. Fixed.” She slammed the portal shut.
Claire drove on in silence for a moment, and then said, “So.”
“So,” Shane repeated. “Yeah.”
She took the right turn, toward the church.
Nobody was in the church. Nobody. Not Father Joe, not a parishioner, not a cleaning crew. It was deserted, and Claire knocked on the office door and found it empty, too. Nobody in the vesting chamber. She walked out into the main chapel and held up her hands in helpless surrender, as Eve put on her high heels, balancing on first one foot, then the other.
“You’re kidding,” Eve said. “He’s gone?”
“He was at the party,” Shane put in. He was sitting with Michael on a pew. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea right now, Eve. Oliver said—”
“I know what Oliver said. Damn if I am taking another order from another vampire in this town, ever!” Eve finished strapping on the heels and stood there looking tall and strong. “We’ll wait.”
Shane looked at Michael doubtfully. “I don’t know, man—”
“We wait,” Michael said. “She’s right. Look, if you want to take Claire home—”
“No,” Shane said. “I’m not leaving you two here alone. We stick together.”
“I’m still not kissing you,” Michael said.
“Tease.”
Michael started to retort, but the hollow
boom
of the church door cut him off. He and Shane both came to their feet—Michael faster—and Claire looked around for something antivampire she could improvise, but none of it was necessary, because striding into the chapel was Father Joe, red hair blazing in the multicolored light from the rose window overhead. He slowed when he saw them, then sighed and came forward toward where they were waiting.
Eve opened her mouth to say something, but he held up his hand. “No,” he said. “I have a good idea why you’re here. And the answer is no.”
“What? You can’t just say
no
!” Eve said. “Why would you say that?”
Father Joe stopped and turned as he reached the steps to the altar, and instead of being a harried young man, he seemed to change into a grave, composed person with no doubts about what he was about to do. He held up both hands for calm, and Eve subsided, not very willingly.
“You don’t have the Founder’s permission,” he said. “Without the Founder’s signature on the marriage license, no marriages conducted inside this church are legal in the eyes of the town. You won’t accomplish what you’re trying to do, and from what I saw back in that ballroom, you will never get her permission. You’ll be lucky to escape a jail sentence, Eve.”
“She could change her mind,” Claire said.
“She won’t. You shamed her, you publicly defied her, and Eve slapped her. As Amelie, she might forgive, and she might quietly shift her opinions. You called her out as the Founder of Morganville, and the Founder can’t let it pass, whatever her personal feelings might be. Whatever you do here, it doesn’t matter beyond that door. Not to the Founder.”
There was a heavy silence, as Eve and Michael looked at each other. He came to stand next to her, and their fingers slowly intertwined.
Michael looked at Father Joe and said, “Would you do it anyway?”
Father Joe cocked his head to one side, watching the two of them, and clasped his hands in front of him. A slow smile warmed his serious expression, and he said, “In the eyes of God, do you come before the altar to be married?”
“Yes, Father,” he said.
Father Joe turned his focus to Eve. “And you?”
“Yes, Father. More than anything.”
“I see you have witnesses,” he said. Claire and Shane moved to stand near them, and Claire realized that she was short of breath now, and trembling. She could see that Eve was shaking, too. Michael squeezed her hand a little and smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Do you have the ring?”
Eve looked at Michael with panic, and he seemed blank, too, until Shane said, “Can you use her engagement ring? I mean, just for the ceremony?”
“I can,” Father Joe agreed. “Generally people prefer double-ring ceremonies these days, but a single one will work just as well. Now, I ask again: are you sure of what you’re about to do? Marriage is not a state to be entered into lightly.”
“We’re sure,” Michael said. “Please. Go ahead.”
The chapel door boomed shut at the other end.
Claire turned, blinking back tears that were threatening to form, and saw that a whole lot of people had appeared in the back of the church. Some were throwing back hoods and taking off hats, but not the one in front, dressed in cool white, with her pale hair worn up, like a crown. She hadn’t bothered with sun protection.
Amelie walked down the church’s aisle toward them, and behind her followed Oliver, Myrnin, and a half dozen other vampires. More than they could fight. More than
anyone
could fight.
Father Joe froze, watching them. Michael and Eve turned to look, too, and then Michael said, “Go ahead, Father. We’re ready.”
“No one will be married here today,” Amelie’s cool voice said, ringing out with authority. “You serve here at my sufferance, Father. I do not wish to disrespect the church, or your autonomy, but I have made my pronouncement, and these two have no permission. Now, please go. I have things to discuss with these four.”
He hesitated, looking at the two standing in front of him, and then bowed his head. “I’m sorry. She won’t hurt you, not here. The church is neutral ground. You’re safe inside.”
“Wait—” Eve reached out for him, but he stepped back, went up the steps, and knelt down to pray at the altar. Eve shut her eyes and swayed, and only Michael’s arm around her kept her on her feet.
They all turned to face the vampires.
Amelie continued toward them, but made a silent gesture that caused almost all those following her to stop and take seats in the pews. Only Oliver and Myrnin stayed with her the rest of the way.
Four to three, but not exactly even odds. Michael could hold his own, maybe, but Claire knew the rest of them had the chance of a rabbit caught in a wolves’ den.
Amelie let a cold moment pass before she said, “You’re simply intent on defying my wishes, apparently.”
“We want to get married. That’s not anyone else’s business,” Michael said. He sounded angry, dangerously so. “Why are you doing this to us?”
“I’m trying to keep the peace,” she said. “And the peace will not be kept this way. You have many years to take this step; a few more will not matter if your love is as strong as you claim. However, a few more years may make all the difference in achieving a lasting peace in Morganville.”
“You’ve had about a hundred years to try to make that happen, and it hasn’t,” Eve said. “What makes you think another couple of years will change anything?”
Amelie studied her with a remote, cold intensity that made Claire shudder. “I have only been physically struck by two others before. Neither of them still live, and both were
vampires
. I suggest you allow me some time to consider how I feel about
you
.”
“Amelie,” Claire said, drawing the vampire’s attention; she immediately wished she hadn’t. There was something tight and furious inside there, completely unlike the Amelie she normally saw. “I know Eve’s sorry about that. But you shamed
her
, right in front of half the town. In front of people she knows and has to face every day. All she wanted was to be with the one she loved. You know how that feels.”
Something flickered in Amelie’s gray eyes. Surprise, and hurt, and almost immediately anger. She didn’t like being reminded of the love she’d lost, or that the four humans standing in front of her had once seen her at her most vulnerable as she mourned.
“Sam wouldn’t want this,” Claire said. It was the last, and only, card she could play. “Sam would want you to let them be together.” Sam Glass had been Michael’s grandfather, a vampire Claire had known only a little, but he’d been the kindest, most caring one of them all.
And now he was gone, and Amelie—Amelie still hurt inside.
The problem was, pain could sometimes make people turn cold and savage.
Like now, Claire realized, as the icy silence deepened. When Amelie spoke again, it was in a fatally quiet voice. “Do not invoke Samuel to me,” she said. “We
waited
.”
“You waited until your chance was gone to be happy,” Claire said, even though every instinct screamed at her to shut up. “Do you want the same thing for Eve and Michael? Really?”
Amelie said nothing this time, just stared at her. It was possible—remotely—that she was thinking it over.
Oliver cleared his throat and said, “We don’t have time for your drama, children. We have things to attend to. Urgently.” That last was directly at Amelie, Claire realized, not toward them at all, and Amelie stirred and glanced at him, then nodded. “Myrnin’s going to escort the four of you home. He’ll take the portal from there.”
“No!” Claire blurted, but Amelie was already turning and walking away, and so was Oliver. Her opinion didn’t matter, clearly. She looked mutely at Shane, who shook his head and shrugged.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Myrnin said. He looked cautious and hurt, which made her angrier; what right did
he
have to feel wounded in all this? He’d totally betrayed her trust. She was
not
going to feel guilty about taking that to heart. “Shall we?”
Amelie’s entourage filed in behind her, and the doors boomed shut again behind them. At the altar, Father Joe crossed himself and walked down again to join them.
“Way to stand up, Father,” Michael said.
“I can’t be in the business of martyrdom,” the priest said. “Not now, and not here. I have a duty to my parishioners, and I’m not denying you the sacrament of marriage; I’m merely postponing it. Come back in a week, bring your witnesses and rings, and I will do exactly as you wish. But not today. You need to go home with your escort.” He inclined his head to Myrnin, who bowed back. All of a sudden, Father Joe’s stiff posture relaxed, and he held out his hand to Michael, who reluctantly took it. “I’m sorry about this. I know how hard the two of you have worked to overcome the barriers between you. I won’t be another; I promise that. Give me one week, and I will give you what you want.”
“I’m holding you to it,” Michael said. “We’ll be back.”
“I will see you then. Go in peace. I’ll be praying for you all.”
He walked up the steps and through a door near the altar.
They all looked at one another, and then Myrnin said cheerfully, “Shall I drive?”
“No,” they said as one, and walked out toward the hearse.
After letting Myrnin in the house, it turned out to be almost impossible to get rid of him.
Partly it was because of what happened when they
did
let him in, or tried to. Michael and Eve went in first, then Shane, and Claire last, with Myrnin right behind her—and without any conscious direction from her at all, the front door tried to slam right on his face.
Claire hadn’t even touched it.
“My,” Myrnin said, slamming his hand against it and, despite vampire strength, being driven back a few inches before he got his balance and pushed it open. “This
is
interesting.” He stepped over the threshold, and the door banged shut behind him with unnecessary force. Glass rattled in the overhead fixture, and the windows of the parlor. The temperature of the house dropped fast into refrigerator territory, and Claire saw her breath fog the cold air of the hallway. Eve yelped from where she was in the living room, and said, “Damn, the AC is broken! It’s like a morgue in here!”
“It wasn’t a second ago,” Shane said. He was standing at the end of the hallway, looking back at Claire, and Myrnin. His eyebrows were raised. “Claire?”
“I’m fine,” she said. Myrnin had forgotten all about her. He was pressing his hands against the wood paneling, looking fascinated.
“I can actually
feel
it resisting me!” he said. “How marvelous. I know it can do such things, but to really have it directed at me—it must draw power from the very air. That’s the cause for the temperature change, I would imagine. Claire, are you doing this?”
“No,” she snapped, and walked away. She probably was, on some level; the house had grown really attuned to her moods, and she could not have wanted Myrnin gone more—well, maybe she could have, because if it had really been an emergency, the house could have thrown him completely out. It was just trying to strongly discourage him.
“I honestly think this house has accumulated more power than the other Founder Houses over the years,” Myrnin said. “It’s a side effect of the portals, you know, and the alchemical processes we used to lay the foundations, but this is the only house that has been continuously occupied since it was built. Even the Day House remained empty for several years at the turn of the last century, after that unfortunate business with the Langers … Well. In any case, this house has attained something like an independent consciousness. A soul, if you will. It’s fascinating!”