Morganville Vampires 11: Last Breath (21 page)

And then the creature
melted
, and flowed in a rush of liquid down the drain.

Claire gasped, eyes wide, and felt sick,
really
sick. She didn’t know why; it was wrong, sure, but not nearly as wrong as many things she’d seen in Morganville. Something inside her was screaming, as if she’d seen something entirely different from what she
thought
she’d seen.

Eve’s tinny voice was coming out of the phone. Claire raised it back to her ear, moving slowly. She still wasn’t sure if she needed to sit down or not. Nothing seemed right now. Nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut and could almost, almost see …

See what?

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m—”

Claire felt the world tilt and go dim, and with a distant feeling of surprise, she realized that she was going to fall down.

It didn’t hurt at all.

 

 

She woke up with her head cradled in Eve’s lap, and a circle of half-interested bystanders surrounding her. Eve was fanning her face with a folded piece of paper, and as soon as Claire’s eyes opened, she cried out in relief. “Oh, thank God,” she said. “You scared the
crap
out of me! What happened? Did someone hit you?”

“No.” Claire felt deeply weird, as if her brain was working at one-quarter speed. “I fell.” But
why
? “I tripped.” That made more sense than anything else. She’d seen … something. She just couldn’t imagine what it was, because her brain refused to even try. Gray. Something gray.

Eve was pulling her to her feet. “Enough of the detective shit,” she said. “We are going home.”

“But—”

“No buts. You get in the car. I’m going in to buy the stuff and I’m coming
right back
. I will not take my eyes off you. You do
not move
.” Eve looked really scared. Claire thought she should be scared, too, but something in her had just … switched off. Burned out.

She felt so
wrong
.

Eve put her in the hearse and locked the doors, bent down, and mouthed,
Don’t move!
before she dashed back inside to grab up their two baskets and rush to a register.

Claire leaned against the cold window glass and dialed her phone. Myrnin’s number. He didn’t answer. She felt oddly short of breath, as if she were drowning on dry land.

“Please,” she whispered. She’d been angry at Myrnin, she remembered, but none of that mattered now. “Please answer me. I need you.”

“Claire?” That wasn’t Myrnin’s voice, and technically, the phone was still ringing. “Claire, it’s Frank. What’s wrong?”

“I saw something.”

“You don’t sound good. What was it?”

“I don’t know.” She was so tired now. So tired. “I saw something that shouldn’t be.”

“You mean shouldn’t be here?”

“Yes. No. Shouldn’t be at all.” She struggled to make sense of things. The day looked so gray and misty. Rain. The rain had started again. She could see the bright front windows of the store, see Eve in there buying their purchases, but none of it had any real meaning. That part of her was … gone. Burned. “Frank, tell Myrnin—tell him Oliver—I think Oliver is—”

“Is what? Claire? Where are you—are you in the hearse? In the parking lot? I have a surveillance camera—I can see you.” Frank Collins was concerned. That made her smile, a little, because that was just wrong, too. He didn’t exist. He was a brain in a jar, watching through mechanical eyes, hearing through mechanical ears, and he was
concerned
.

“Cameras,” she said. “Can you run it back?”

“Back to what?”

“To before I fell. Can you see what I saw?”

“Hold on.”

Myrnin’s cell phone stopped ringing, and his voice mail picked up, but it was her cheery voice telling people to leave a message. She was talking to herself. That seemed odd.

Frank was gone.

“Frank?”

“Right here,” his voice said, this time from the hearse’s stereo speakers. Claire dropped her phone in her lap; it felt too heavy to hold. “I see you coming out of the store. You’re following Oliver.”

“Just Oliver?”

“Yeah, just him.”

“You don’t see anybody else?”

“No. Oliver walks around the corner. He drops into a drain. You fall down. What am I missing?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said honestly. “Except that you are.”

“I’m running the recording through filters. I’ll get back to you.” With a click, Frank disconnected from both the phone and the car’s stereo.

Claire listened to the hesitant tap of rain on the roof, but the tap became a pounding, then a roar. Silvery sheets of water veiled the store windows.

She felt very alone. Floating.

The driver’s-side door suddenly popped open, and Eve threw grocery bags at her, jumped in, and slammed it behind her. She was drenched and shivering. “Damn, that was
freezing
!” She turned the key and got the hearse started, then looked over at Claire. “Are you okay?”

Claire smiled a little and made an OK symbol with her fingers. She wasn’t, but Eve couldn’t help.

The rain hissed and roared, and Eve drove slowly through the downpour. Around them, Morganville had turned into an alien world. None of the landmarks looked right. The streets were rushing rivers. What lights showed were thin and watery, smeared all out of recognition.

How Eve figured out the streets and got them home, Claire had no idea.

“Damn,” Eve said as she parked the hearse. “I guess we’ll have to make a run for it. Can you do that?”

Claire nodded. She felt distant and floating, but not weak. There just didn’t seem to be any urgency to anything now. Or any emotion. If Eve told her to run, she’d run, but it was just physical movement.

She took hold of one of the grocery sacks, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain.

It was breathtakingly cold, lashing at her like whips of water, and Claire stood there, face upturned to the downpour. It felt … soothing.

Then her eyes opened, and images flashed across her brain in a vivid, incomprehensible flow, and Claire
screamed
. She couldn’t help it. Whatever wall her brain had built between her and what she’d seen came down hard, and adrenaline flooded back into her body, kick-starting her heart.

Eve was running for the front door; Claire’s scream had been lost in a roar of thunder overhead.

In the flash of lightning, Claire saw a gray shape standing next to the car. It was a man, and it wasn’t.

Not at all.

She ran for the house.

Eve was already inside, shaking off water, when Claire lunged through the door, slammed the door, and locked it with trembling hands. Somehow, she’d held on to the groceries, but she had no idea how. Her teeth were chattering from the chill, and she sluiced water in silver streams to the already-drenched rug.

“God, we’re both soaked,” Eve said. “Guys? Hey, guys, we’re back!” She headed down the hall, paused to look at the clock, and sighed. “Oh God. We’re thirty minutes late. What do you want to bet Shane overreacted? Yep, here’s the note—they’re out driving to the store. Good job, guys, now you’ll get soaked, too. Hey, has he been blowing up your cell or what? Oh, damn, Michael’s been hitting mine. I’ll let him know we’re home. Wait here—I’ll get you a towel.” Eve headed for the stairs, phone to her ear. “Michael? Yeah, relax, emergency’s over. We’re home. Claire passed out at the store. I think she has low blood sugar—she seems really tired. I’ll get some candy in her and see if she feels better… .” Her voice faded as she disappeared up toward the bathroom.

Don’t go,
Claire wanted to say. She managed to croak something out, but Eve was already gone.

Claire dropped the groceries and staggered into the living room. It felt like the water was turning to ice on her skin, and the cold was sinking deeper and deeper….

Eve’s indistinct voice was still talking upstairs. The house seemed warm around her, as if it were fighting to make her feel better. Feel safer.

But she wasn’t safe, and Claire knew that. Nobody was safe.

She turned, and the gray man was standing right here.

Her body threatened to collapse again, and Claire braced herself against the wall. He was just standing there, staring at her with eyes that weren’t eyes. She couldn’t think of anything now except drowning, drowning alone.

“Shhh,” he said, and his voice sounded like the rain outside. Like water coming out of the faucets. “Shhh. It’s over now.” He tilted his head to the side, as if his neck had no bones. “Curious that you see me. I’m not ready to be seen. Why?”

“I don’t know.” She wanted to cry, scream, run, but none of those was possible now. “I don’t know why I can see you.” She swallowed and said, “Who are you?” Because even now, she couldn’t let her questions go. “
What
are you?”

That face that wasn’t a face smiled. It was the most horrible thing she’d seen, ever. “Magnus,” he said. “I’m the end.”

Then he reached out and wrapped those cold, damp hands around her neck, and she felt the house’s energy scream and rush around her, but it was as if it couldn’t help, not this time.

“Shhh,” he said again. In the last instant, Claire thought,
Oh no, Shane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry people keep leaving you. I love you… .

Magnus snapped her neck, and everything went star white. It hurt.

But it hurt for only a moment, and then the world shrank down to a bright pinpoint of light, racing away from her. Leaving her behind.

And then it was gone, and she was gone.

“A
s of last report,” Mayor Morrell said, “there are now at least twenty vampires missing. All just disappeared in the course of their normal activities, and most vanished during the day.” He stood in my office, looking exhausted and worried, as well he should; I had made it clear that sleep was a luxury none of us could afford now. With him was his chief of police, Hannah Moses, who seemed almost as tired but a great deal less rumpled.

“Here’s the report on what we know,” Moses said, and passed me a sheaf of papers. “Detailed information on where and when each one disappeared, as far as we can track it. Some vanished right in public, but nobody seems to have seen anything. What the hell is going on, Founder?”

I stared down at the papers, but the ink formed meaningless patterns. It was all meaningless now. All useless. I had waited too long, allowed myself to be swayed by sentiment and argument. I had denied my own instincts.

And now it was too late.

Instead of answering her, I pressed the intercom button to alert my assistant outside of the door. “Bizzie, get Oliver,” I said. “Get him now. I will hold.”

“Ma’am,” Bizzie said, efficient as always. There was a short delay, and then she said, “He’s not answering his phone, Founder.”

“Keep trying.”

Not Oliver.
No, most likely he was simply out of contact for another reason. I had to believe so, at least. To lose Oliver now would be … catastrophic.

Chief Moses was repeating her question, more stridently. I lifted my head and met her eyes, and she went quiet. So did Morrell.

I stood and clasped my hands behind my back as I walked to the windows. The curtains were drawn against the day, but now I opened them. There was no light. Rain was falling, torrential rain that would wash away the world.

It was my fault.

I stared out into the cold silver downpour and said, “What do you know of our origins?”

In the reflection on the glass, I saw them exchange a look, and then Morrell said, “The origins of Morganville?”

That was not what I meant, but it would serve. “Have you never wondered why I founded this town here, in the desert? So far from the comforts of cities, rivers, lakes,
water
? In the baking sun, when sun is so toxic to younger vampires?” I didn’t wait for his answer; of course he had wondered. Everyone had wondered, and only three of us now living knew that answer: Oliver, Myrnin, and me. “I chose this place because the rains came so rarely, and when they came, the land soaked up the water so quickly. No lakes. No rivers. Not even creeks.”

“I—don’t think I understand,” he said.

“No. No, you wouldn’t.” I pulled in a breath and let it slowly out, a memory of the need for air. Vampire blood did not pound in the veins the way human blood did; it glided, cool and serene, never troubled by spurts of emotion. I missed that, betimes. “We have enemies. And those enemies are a kind of vampire, one that needs water to live. In the old tongue we are both called
draug
, vampire; my kind ruled the land, and theirs ruled the sea, and we were never, never at peace. I brought us here to be safe. Now the sea draug have found us. They’re here. They’re picking us off, like a pack of circling wolves. We have only one option if we wish to survive.”