Lord of Misrule (18 page)

“Bernard Temple, Sally Christien, Tien Ma, and Charles Effords.”

Eve lowered her hand to say, “Charles Effords? Like, Miranda’s Charles? Her Protector?”

“Yeah. From the state of the bodies, I’d guess he was the primary target. Nobody loves a pedophile.”

“Nobody except Miranda,” Eve said. “She’s going to be really scared now.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” Richard hesitated, then plunged forward. “Miranda’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Disappeared. We’ve been looking for her. Her parents reported her missing early last night. I’m hoping she wasn’t with Charles when the mob caught up to him. You see her, you call me, okay?”

Eve’s lips shaped the agreement, but no sound came out.

Richard checked his watch. “Got to go,” he said. “Usual drill: lock the doors, check IDs on anybody you’re not expecting who shows up. If you hear from any vampire, or hear anything
about
the vampires, you call immediately. Use the coded radios, not the phone lines. And be careful.”

Eve swallowed hard, and nodded. “Can I see Michael?”

He paused, as if that hadn’t occurred to him, then shrugged. “Come on.”

“We’re all going,” Shane said.

 

It was an uncomfortable ride to City Hall, where the jail was located, mainly because although the police cruiser was large, it wasn’t big enough to have Richard, Monica, Eve, Shane, and Claire all sharing the ride. Monica had taken the front seat, sliding close to her brother, and Claire had squeezed in with her friends in the back.

They didn’t talk, not even when they cruised past burned-out, broken hulks of homes and stores. There weren’t any fires today, or any mobs that Claire spotted. It all seemed quiet.

Richard drove past a police barricade around City Hall and parked in the underground garage. “I’m taking Monica to my parents’,” he said. “You guys go on down to the cells. I’ll be there in a minute.”

It took a lot more than a minute for them to gain access to Michael; the vampires—all five of those the humans still had in custody—were housed in a special section, away from daylight and in reinforced cells. It reminded Claire, with an unpleasant lurch, of the vampires in the cells where Myrnin was usually locked up, for his own protection. Had anyone fed them? Had anyone even tried?

She didn’t know three of the vampires, but she knew the last two. “Sam!” she blurted, and rushed to the bars. Michael’s grandfather was lying on the bunk, one pale hand over his eyes, but he sat up when she called his name. Claire could definitely see the resemblance between Michael and Sam—the same basic bone structure, only Michael’s hair was a bright gold, and Sam’s was red.

“Get me out,” Sam said, and lunged for the door. He rattled the cage with unexpected violence. Claire fell back, openmouthed. “Open the door and get me out, Claire!
Now!
”

“Don’t listen to him,” Michael said. He was standing at the bars of his own cell, leaning against them, and he looked tired. “Hey, guys. Did you bring me a lockpick in a cupcake or something?”

“I had the cupcake, but I ate it. Hard times, man.” Shane extended his hand. Michael reached through the bars and took it, shook solemnly, and then Eve threw herself against the metal to try to hug him. It was awkward, but Claire saw the relief spread over Michael, no matter how odd it was with the bars between the two of them. He kissed Eve, and Claire had to look away from that, because it seemed like such a private kind of moment.

Sam rattled his cage again. “Claire, open the door! I need to get to Amelie!”

The policeman who’d escorted them down to the cells pushed off from the wall and said, “Calm down, Mr. Glass. You’re not going anywhere; you know that.” He shifted his attention to Shane and Claire. “He’s been like that since the beginning. We had to trank him twice; he was hurting himself trying to get out. He’s worse than all the others. They seem to have calmed down. Not him.”

No, Sam definitely hadn’t calmed down. As Claire watched, he tensed his muscles and tried to force the lock, but subsided in panting frustration and stumbled back to his bunk. “I have to go,” he muttered. “Please, I need to go. She needs me. Amelie—”

Claire looked at Michael, who didn’t seem to be nearly as distressed. “Um . . . sorry to ask, but . . . are you feeling like that? Like Sam?”

“No,” Michael said. His eyes were still closed. “For a while there was this . . . call, but it stopped about three hours ago.”

“Then why is Sam—”

“It’s not the call,” Michael said. “It’s Sam. It’s killing him, knowing she’s out there in trouble and he can’t help her.”

Sam put his head in his hands, the picture of misery. Claire exchanged a look with Shane. “Sam,” she said. “What’s happening? Do you know?”

“People are dying, that’s what’s happening,” he said. “Amelie’s in trouble. I need to go to her. I can’t just sit here!”

He threw himself at the bars again, kicking hard enough to make the metal ring like a bell.

“Well, that’s where you’re going to stay,” the policeman said, not exactly unsympathetically. “The way you’re acting, you’d go running out into the sunlight, and that wouldn’t do her or you a bit of good, now, would it?”

“I could have gone hours ago before sunrise,” Sam snapped.
“Hours ago.”

“And now you have to wait for dark.”

That earned the policeman a full-out vicious snarl, and Sam’s eyes flared into bright crimson. Everybody stayed back, and when Sam subsided this time, it seemed to be for good. He withdrew to his bunk, lay down, and turned his back to them.

“Man,” Shane breathed softly. “He’s a little intense, huh?”

From what the policeman told them—and Richard, when he rejoined them—all the captured vampires had been at about the same level of violence, at first. Now it was just Sam, and as Michael said, it didn’t seem to be Amelie’s summons that was driving him. . . . It was fear for Amelie herself.

It was love.

“Step back, please,” the policeman said to Eve. She looked over her shoulder at him, then at Michael. He kissed her, and let go.

She did take a step back, but it was a tiny one. “So—are you okay? Really?”

“Sure. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but it’s not bad. They’re not keeping us here to hurt us, I know that.” Michael stretched out a finger and touched her lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Better be,” Eve said. She mock-bit at his finger. “I could totally date somebody else, you know.”

“And I could rent out your room.”

“And I could put your game console on eBay.”

“Hey,” Shane protested. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“See what I mean? You need to come home, or it’s total chaos. Dogs and cats, living together.” Eve’s voice dropped, but not quite to a whisper. “And I miss you. I miss seeing you. I miss you all the time.”

“I miss you, too,” Michael murmured, then blinked and looked at Claire and Shane. “I mean, I miss all of you.”

“Sure you do,” Shane agreed. “But not in that way, I hope.”

“Shut up, dude. Don’t make me come out there.”

Shane turned to the policeman. “See? He’s fine.”

“I was more worried about you guys,” Michael confessed. “Everything okay at the house?”

“I have to burn a blouse Monica borrowed,” Claire said. “Otherwise, we’re good.”

They tried to talk a while longer, but somehow, Sam’s silent, rigid back turned toward them made conversation seem more desperate than fun. He was really hurting, and Claire didn’t know—short of letting him go for a jog in the noontime sun—how to make it any better. She didn’t know where Amelie was, and with the portals shut, she doubted she could even know where to start looking.

Amelie had gathered up an army—whatever Bishop hadn’t grabbed first—but what she was doing with it was anybody’s guess. Claire didn’t have a clue.

So in the end, she hugged Michael and told Sam it would all be okay, and they left.

“If they stay calm through the day, I’ll let them out tonight,” Richard said. “But I’m worried about letting them roam around on their own. What happened to Charles and the others could keep on happening. Captain Obvious used to be our biggest threat, but now we don’t know who’s out there, or what they’re planning. And we can’t count on the vampires to be able to protect themselves right now.”

“My dad would say that it’s about time the tables turned,” Shane said.

Richard fixed him with a long stare. “Is that what you say, too?”

Shane looked at Michael, and at Sam. “No,” he said. “Not anymore.”

 

The day went on quietly. Claire got out her books and spent part of the day trying to study, but she couldn’t get her brain to stop spinning. Every few minutes, she checked her e-mail and her phone, hoping for something, anything, from Amelie.
You can’t just leave us like this. We don’t know what to do.

Except keep moving forward. Like Shane had said, they couldn’t stay still. The world kept on turning.

Eve drove Claire to her parents’ house in the afternoon, where she had cake and iced tea and listened to her mother’s frantic flow of good cheer. Her dad looked sallow and unwell, and she worried about his heart, as always. But he seemed okay when he told her he loved her, and that he worried, and that he wanted her to move back home.

Just when she thought they’d gotten past that . . .

Claire exchanged a quick look with Eve. “Maybe we should talk about that when things get back to normal?” As if they ever were normal in Morganville. “Next week?”

Dad nodded. “Fine, but I’m not going to change my mind, Claire. You’re better off here, at home.” Whatever spell Mr. Bishop had cast over her father, it was still working great; he was single-minded about wanting her out of the Glass House. And maybe it hadn’t been a spell at all; maybe it was just normal parental instinct.

Claire crammed her mouth with cake and pretended not to hear, and asked her mom about the new curtains. That filled another twenty minutes, and then Eve was able to make excuses about needing to get home, and then they were in the car.

“Wow,” Eve said, and started the engine. “So. Are you going to do it? Move in with them?”

Claire shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re going to get through the day! It’s kind of hard to make plans.” She wasn’t going to say anything, truly, she wasn’t, but the words had been boiling and bubbling inside her all day, and as Eve put the car in drive, Claire said, “Shane said he loved me.”

Eve hit the brakes, hard enough to make their seat belts click in place. “Shane
what
? Said
what
?”

“Shane said he loved me.”

“Okay, first impressions—fantastic, good, that’s what I was hoping you’d said.” Eve took a deep breath and let up on the brake, steering out into the deserted street. “Second impressions, well, I hope that you two . . . um . . . how can I put this? Watch yourselves?”

“You mean, don’t have sex? We won’t.” Claire said it with a little bit of an edge. “Even if we wanted to. I mean, he promised, and he’s not going to break that promise, not even if I say it’s okay.”

“Oh.
Oh.
” Eve stared at her, wide-eyed, for way too long for road safety. “You’re kidding! Wait, you’re not. He said he loved you, and then he said—”

“No,” Claire said. “He said no.”

“Oh.” Funny, how many meanings that word could have. This time it was full of sympathy. “You know, that makes him—”

“Great? Superbly awesome? Yeah, I know. I just—” Claire threw up her hands. “I just
want
him, okay?”

“He’ll still be there in a couple of months, Claire. At seventeen, you’re not a kid, at least in Texas.”

“You’ve put some thought into this.”

“Not me,” Eve said, and gave her an apologetic look.

“
Shane?
You mean—you mean you talked about this? With Shane?”

“He needed some girl guidance. I mean, he’s taking this really seriously—a lot more seriously than I expected. He wants to do the right thing. That’s cool, right? I think that’s cool. Most guys, it’s just, whatever.”

Claire clenched her jaw so hard she felt her teeth grinding. “I can’t believe he talked to you about it!”

“Well, you’re talking to me about it.”

“He’s a guy!”

“Guys occasionally talk, believe it or not. Something more than
pass the beer
or
where’s the porn?
” Eve turned the corner, and they cruised past a couple of slow blocks of houses, some people out walking, an elementary school with a TEMPORARILY CLOSED sign out front. “You didn’t exactly ask for advice, but I’m going to give it: don’t rush this. You may think you’re good to go, but give it some time. It’s not like you have a sell-by date or anything.”

Despite her annoyance, Claire had to laugh. “Feels like it right now.”

“Well, duh. Hormones!”

“So how old were you when—”

“Too young. I speak from experience, grasshopper.” Eve’s expression went distant for a second. “I wish I’d waited for Michael.”

That was, for some reason, kind of a shock, and Claire blinked. She remembered some things, and felt deeply uncomfortable. “Uh . . . did Brandon . . . ?” Because Brandon had been her family’s Protector vampire, and he’d been a complete creep. She couldn’t imagine much worse than having Brandon be your first.

“No. Not that he didn’t want to, but no, it wasn’t Brandon.”

“Who?”

“Sorry. Off-limits.”

Claire blinked. There wasn’t much Eve considered off-limits. “Really?”

“Really.” Eve pulled the car up to the curb. “Bottom line? If Shane says he loves you, he does, full stop. He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it, all the way. He’s not the kind of guy to tell you what you want to hear. That makes you really, really lucky. You should remember that.”

Claire was trying, really, but from time to time that moment came back to her, that blinding, searing moment when he’d looked into her face and said those words, and she’d seen that amazing light in his eyes. She’d wanted to see it again, over and over. Instead, she’d seen him walk away.