Bitter Blood (42 page)

“I was wondering when you’d ask that,” she said, and smiled at me from under her long eyelashes. “I can be
very
persuasive. It’s been my strength. Once I realized that Hannah Moses made such an excellent leader for the human resistance, it was clear I should ally myself to it. How else am I to bring down my sister?”

I glanced at Hannah again, eyes widening, because it wasn’t right that she was sitting so quietly, like a doll that had been switched off…or a
puppet.

The distraction was all Naomi needed. If my nerves hadn’t been strung guitar-tight, I’d never have seen her move; even with that much warning, though I didn’t understand what she was
going to do. I thought she was going to stake me, and I raised my hands in defense, but she darted past me, behind me, grabbed me, and pulled me off-balance. I felt her hands snaking cold around my chest, then pushing my chin high—

And then she bit me before I could yell for help.

Her fangs slid into my throat, and it felt like being stabbed with ice; all the warmth began to flood away from me, into her, and in its place I felt a terrible dark influence sliding through my veins. Naomi, like Bishop, her vampire father, had the power to subvert other vampires—and now, she had me. Just as she’d taken control of Hannah, and through Hannah, the entire human resistance.

We were all just puppets now.

It didn’t take long, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to fight it. When she let me go, I collapsed to my hands and knees on the tile, mouth open, fangs extended, and Naomi walked calmly back to take her seat again at the table. She looked at Hannah. “Then that’s finished,” she said, and tapped her fingers on the wood of the table in a complex, musical rhythm. “Michael. Stand.”

I did. I wanted to lunge at her, kill her, rip her apart, but I knew that none of it was showing on my face or in my body language. Just as nothing showed in Hannah’s. The reason it hadn’t fit for Hannah to have put Eve at such deadly risk was that it hadn’t been her choice. It was Naomi’s decision—all of it, tracing back to Naomi. And it was way too late for me to do anything about it. I couldn’t even try to warn people.

“This is what you will do, Michael,” Naomi said. “You will go back to see your lovely wife and tell her you’ve had second thoughts. You’ll do whatever is necessary to destroy all trust between you. And then you will pack your things and come back here, to me. You’ll make an excellent soldier. Best of all, no one will suspect you. Amelie’s bloodchild? You are a perfect little assassin.”

“Yes,” I said.
No, no, no,
I was screaming, but I couldn’t do anything at all to stop myself. “What should I do about Shane? And Claire?”

“Shane’s of no consequence, and neither is the girl, except as a tool to be used. I’ve taken Myrnin out of play; without the protection of her black knight, she is no more than a pawn. But…” She tapped pale fingers to her lips, looking momentarily thoughtful. “You make a good point. What
of
Claire? Even a pawn may take a queen, if played properly….”

She rose to her feet and paced for a moment, arms folded, head down. Hannah and I stared at each other. Her heart was hammering, and I recognized now that it wasn’t fear she felt but rage. She was just as trapped as I was. If Myrnin’s black knight was off the table, Hannah was Naomi’s white castle, hiding secrets. And what was I?

“Ah,” Naomi said, and turned back toward me, eyes shining in unholy delight. “
I
know how to play Claire. So, this is what you will do, and what you will tell her….”

I listened. I hated her with every fiber of my being and every tiny bit of my soul.

But I knew I’d do what she said, even though it was going to destroy every good thing in my life.

Because I didn’t have a choice.

M
ichael looked like the walking dead when he arrived back in the waiting room, where Claire was getting coffee for the eleven-millionth time from the machine; it ate her quarters, again, but she’d learned from one of the nurses—not the one who’d threatened Eve, thank God—how to kick the side of the dispenser in just the right spot to get the container to drop and produce about a half cup of oily, disgusting swill that kind of tasted like coffee.

It was better than nothing. But not much better.

She almost dropped the cup when she saw the boys arrive. Shane had a guarded, solemn expression, but Michael looked as though he’d been to the gates of hell and back and returned without the souvenir T-shirt.

“She’s sleeping,” Claire said, before either of them could speak. “Hey, are you all right? Michael?”

“Fine,” he said. His blue eyes looked oddly stark and empty, and there were dark smudges under them, as if he’d been robbed of a week’s sleep in just the past few hours. “I need to see her.”

“Just be careful not to wake her,” Claire said. “She’s pretty woozy, and in some pain. The doctor said she’ll probably be better in the morning. They’re going to let her go then, so we can take her home. She just can’t do much for a while.”

“Good,” he said. He hardly even glanced her way, but he took the coffee cup out of her hand and tossed back the near-boiling contents in a single gulp, crushed the paper, and dropped it on the floor as he stalked off, heading for Eve’s room. Claire bent and picked up the trash.

“Wow,” she said, looking after him. “What the hell, Shane?”

“Wish I knew,” he said. “That was the weirdest couple of hours I’ve ever had. Roy—that was okay, fine, I get it. But then we went to see Cap—” By which she understood Captain Obvious, without it being spelled out. “They made me wait outside toward the end. Whatever they said in there, it was bad. He’s looked like that ever since. Like somebody cut his guts out and made him swallow them.”

“So you know who it is? Cap, I mean?” She kept it in a bare whisper, glancing around at the empty waiting room. Shane nodded. “Who?”

“Better you don’t know,” he said. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t. I’m starting to wish I didn’t know a lot of things.”

They settled into the chairs in the waiting area, and Shane put his arm around her…and they were just getting comfortable when Shane turned his head and said, “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Claire felt drowsy and content nestled against his shoulder, but now that he’d woken her all the way up again, she did hear something—raised voices.

“That’s Eve,” Shane said, and stood up. “Something’s wrong.” Claire sighed and followed him on aching legs down the hall, past the empty nursing station, and arrived just as he pushed the door open.

Eve was crying. Not just crying a little, but crying in shocked, awful, painful sobs, even though she was holding her abdomen with both hands as if it were agony to even try to breathe. Michael was standing at the end of her bed, staring at her without any expression at all on his face. He’d always looked like an angel, Claire thought, but now he looked like one of those cold, remote, vengeful ones, the kind that carried swords.

It was terrifying.

“How can you say that?” Eve said, in between painful gulps for air. Crying was hurting her; Claire could hear it in the little hitching whimpers between the words. “God, Michael, don’t—please—”

“What the hell is going on?” Shane demanded, and got in Michael’s face. “What did you say to her?”

“The truth. Marrying her was a mistake from the beginning,” he said. “And I want it over, Eve. I’ll get the papers done, and you sign them, and we’re finished. It’s better for us both. The two of us together—Captain Obvious is right. Amelie is right. It’s sick, and it shouldn’t be allowed to continue. It’s going to get innocent people killed.”

“Dude, don’t do this,” Shane said, and reached out. Michael batted his hand away before it reached his shoulder. “Maybe you think this is going to keep her safe somehow, but it’s not the right way, okay? And it’s not the right time. I know you don’t want to
hurt her. I heard you back there, with Cap. I know you’re just trying to protect her—”

“Do you?” Michael turned that empty look on Shane, and stopped him dead. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, man.”

Shane actually laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I know everything about you. You’re my best friend.”

“Think so?” Michael said, and then before Claire was ready, before she was even aware he was moving, he had turned and grabbed hold of her.

Michael Glass, holding her in his arms.

And bending.

And kissing her.

With tongue.

Expertly.

It took her by so much surprise that Claire could only make a muffled sound of shock and surprise at first, and she didn’t even try to resist; her body reported in sensations in a rush—the cold strength of him, the softness of his lips, the taste, the absolute
authority
of it…and then her rational brain kicked in and screamed in horror.

Michael Glass was kissing her
in front of Shane. And Eve.

And he was doing a damn good job of groping her along with it, with his hands slipping beneath her shirt.

Shane yelled something, and Claire felt him trying to pull her free, but Michael held on with relentless strength. She was suddenly terrified to be between the two of them, like a rag between two possessive pit bulls, and then Michael let go just as fast as he’d grabbed on. That sent her crashing back into Shane, and Shane into the wall, with his arms wrapped around her. Claire’s mouth felt bruised and wet, and her shirt was bunched up just below her
bra line; she frantically tugged it down and tried to wipe her lips at the same time, not doing a very good job of either. Michael was watching her, and the look in his eyes was awful. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t anything she could understand at all.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years,” he said. “Just so you know. Did you see
that
coming, best friend? Maybe it’s been going on for a while. Maybe ever since she moved in. How do you know?”

“You son of a—” Shane pushed Claire out of the way and came at Michael, but Michael just shoved him back again against the wall and held him there, ignoring his blows. He was looking now at Eve, who was gasping and crying, curled in on herself on the bed as if he’d punched her in an open wound.

“We’re done?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Get
out
.” It would have been a scream, Claire thought, except that Eve couldn’t get the breath to make that happen.

Michael let go of Shane and walked away, stiff-armed the hospital door open, and disappeared in less than five seconds.

But what he left behind felt like an explosion that was still happening, the shock waves rippling on and on and on….

Shane turned on Claire. “What the
hell
was that?”

“Why are you asking me?” she shot back, shocked, and scrubbed her mouth again. “I didn’t ask for it!”

“He wouldn’t just—” Shane was the one looking terrible now, and almost as betrayed as Eve. “Is that the first time? Is it?”

“
What?
What are you saying?” She felt sick to her stomach. One minute ago, everything had been fragile, but okay; now the whole world seemed to be splintering around her, breaking into unrecognizable fragments. “I didn’t do
anything wrong
!” She remembered, with a horrible wrench, that Shane had once secretly worried about that, about her and Michael having a thing behind
his back. It had never happened, but now—now it was back, all that paranoia, and the anger. Michael had chosen exactly the right spot to hit to break their trust apart. “How can you even think I would—”

“God, get out,” Eve said in a small, broken voice. “Just get out. Both of you.” She was crying still, but quietly now, and all her monitors were beeping and flashing red lights. “Jesus, please, go!”

The nurses came in then, crowding around Eve’s bed to adjust machines and poke needles full of meds into the hanging saline bags. As Shane pushed her out into the hall, Claire heard the frantic fast beating of Eve’s pulse monitor slow down. They were putting her back to sleep. Maybe, if they were lucky, Eve would think it was all a drug dream in the morning.
No. She won’t be that lucky.

Shane let go of her, and she rounded on him, still trying to pull her shirt down to a decent level. “I didn’t do anything,” she insisted, again. “And I never kissed him! He kissed
me
; you saw that.”

“He did it like he knew exactly what you liked,” Shane said. “Like he was used to doing it. And you weren’t exactly struggling.”

“I didn’t know what to do! God, Shane—it was
fast
, and I didn’t know—I didn’t want that! How can you think that he and I were—”

“I don’t know,” Shane said, and stuck his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched tight. “Maybe because my best friend thought it was perfectly okay to stick his tongue down your throat to make his point? Because I’m pretty sure he didn’t have to do that just to break up with Eve. He didn’t have to be that cruel.”

“Shane—
Shane!
Wait!”

He was walking away from her, heading down the hallway with his head down. Leaving her, too.

Claire stood there, shocked and alone, feeling like the only
sane person left in the world, and when the enormity of it hit, really hit, she burst into tears and curled up in a ball on the worn old couch in the corner of the waiting room.