Bite Club mv-10

by Rachel Caine

  But you couldn’t let pain stop you. I’d let it stop me once, when my house was on fire. I’d touched Alyssa’s door handle and burned my hands and I hadn’t kept on going, I hadn’t saved her. I’d let them drag me out of the house, and she’d been lost in there.

  I couldn’t ever forget what it cost to fail. Dad hadn’t let me forget, either.

  Pain was good. Pain kept you sharp and kept you motivated. Pain made me feel alive.

  Especially when I was facing a vamp who wanted to teach me a lesson.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I ended up on the mat a lot, and it was tough to get up and keep going. People gathered—humans, vamps—all watching as Jester and I toughed it out. He was faster than me and stronger, but I didn’t give up.

  Finally, Vassily made me stop. He clapped Jester on the shoulder and said something in his ear, and Jester smirked and ducked under the ropes and was gone, and all the motivation just…bled out of me. I dropped to my knees, gagging for breath. There was blood in my mouth and a weird buzzing in my ears, and I’d never felt quite that bad in my life, not even when I’d been in the hospital and circling the drain.

  It was like I’d cannibalized parts of myself to stay on my feet, and now the pain and the emptiness flooded into me and swamped me, and I just wanted to lie down and die.

  Vassily passed me another sports bottle. I didn’t want it, but I couldn’t help myself. I drank. I felt better, or at least not as prone to dying. He checked my eyes and nodded. “You’ll be all right,” he said, all business. “Dehydration and exhaustion. Four more of the drinks will put you right, but stay off your feet for two hours before you head home. There are bunks in the next room. Rest now.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. I didn’t feel grateful. I didn’t feel much of anything except filthy and guilty inside. What the hell was I doing? Why was I doing it? I didn’t even know, except that when I was fighting, it seemed like I was fighting every bad thing in my life that had ever happened. I was fighting for my sister and my mother and even my dad. For Claire, trapped in this damned town. For Michael, turned vamp against his will. For Eve.

  For me, for once.

  I sacked out for the next two hours, sipping those drinks, and with every slow mouthful I felt better. More stable. Whatever was in them was great stuff, because the pain faded to twinges, and the guilt faded along with it. I was okay. No, I was better than okay.

  I was strong and getting stronger, and that was what I’d always needed to survive here. I had people to protect. This was going to make all the difference.

  I was emptying the last bottle when Vassily came in with Gloriana. Glory looked fantastic, and I felt sweaty and dirty and bruised, and I had to sit up. No lying down in her presence.

  “Shane,” she said, and gave me that smile. “I just met your little friend Claire. You should be proud; she’s not afraid of much, you know. But so fragile. And I’m quite concerned about her relationship with Myrnin. He’s so unstable, don’t you think?”

  I did think that, and had all along; she was just saying what was obvious to me and everybody else except Claire. “I don’t like it,” I said. “But she does what she wants.”

  “Yes, she does.” Glory studied me for a few seconds, then glanced over at Vassily. “I think he’s ready, don’t you?”

  “Ready for what?” I asked.

  “Ready to hear the rest,” Vassily said. “You showed tremendous courage today, Shane. And great talent. We have an opportunity for you, one that I believe would take advantage of your best qualities. You see, we can offer you the chance for two things you have always wanted.”

  “Money,” Glory said. “Real money, enough to take care of yourself and Claire for the rest of your life.”

  Well, who didn’t want money? I’d been scratching away at it, doing it the hard way like I was supposed to, but that sounded good. Really good. “What’s the second thing?” I asked.

  Vassily’s turn. “A way out of Morganville,” he said. “Before it’s too late. Because this town is going to be destroyed, one way or the other, and if you’re smart, you’ll take the money and the chance to earn your free passage out while you still can.”

  Cash and a free pass? I blinked, because it sounded like they’d read my mind. I wasn’t completely sure that wasn’t the case. Glory was freaky good at guessing what I was thinking…or making me think that way. That should have alarmed me, but not coming from her. It just seemed…nice. Like I didn’t have to fight to be understood anymore. Glory just got me.

  “What about Claire?” I asked.

  “Of course, Claire would be able to go with you,” Vassily said. “And anyone else you’d like to see safely gone from Morganville. You can save them, Shane. All you have to do is what you do best.”

  “Fight,” Gloriana said. Her eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were a light, sparkling color, almost white, and it should have been terrifying, but it just looked beautiful. I felt warm and weightless and totally at peace. “All you have to do is fight on camera, for an audience. Do you think you can do that?”

  I smiled and said, “Where do I sign?”

  They had the papers right there, and I scribbled signatures in all the right places. Vassily gave me an envelope of cash, real money, more than I’d seen since my dad had been doing illegal arms deals out on the road.

  Glory’s eyes went back to blue, sweet, human blue, and she kissed me on my sweaty forehead and handed me another sports bottle. “Rest,” she said. Her fingers combed through my matted hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  I sank down on the bunk and closed my eyes, but I didn’t go to sleep. Not quite. Not for a while.

  Or maybe it was a dream. It felt like a dream, what they were saying when they thought I couldn’t hear them.

  “It’s dangerous,” Glory was saying. Her voice had gone flat now, not lyrical and lilting like it was when she talked to me. She didn’t sound like the same person at all. “We have a limited time before Amelie discovers what we’re doing. She’s got spies everywhere, and I’m almost certain that there is surveillance, as well. Are you sure that the uplink is secure?”

  “I’m sure,” Vassily said. “The girl who gave us the encryption was one of the best. For months she had video streaming from Morganville without anyone suspecting it. She modified the code to ensure no one could detect this upgrade, in exchange for some favors. The money’s already pouring in, my dear. The plan’s going very well.”

  “And the old man? Is he pleased?”

  Old man. That sounded ominous, and reminded me of things I’d hoped I’d never have to remember. Surely it wasn’t the same old man. No, they had to be talking about some other vamp. They were all old, older than dirt, and black and rotting inside. I knew that.

  “I wouldn’t say pleased. He’s…content to wait, for now. I’ve had to go to considerable trouble to lay false trails, since his disastrous intervention drew Amelie’s attention. I believe I’ve convinced him to wait until we have adequate resources for the next steps.”

  “He’s unpredictable. You need to watch him. He got away from me and tried to kill Myrnin, you know. If he’d succeeded…”

  “I know. I’ve locked him up again. For his own protection.”

  Glory laughed. “Oh, he won’t like that. Protect yourself, Vassily.”

  “I’ve been feeding him enemies,” Vassily said. “I believe he’s satisfied enough at the moment. How long until the boy’s ready, do you think?”

  “Oh, he’ll fight, no question about it, but I don’t like letting him leave us. Those friends of his, that girl, they could ruin everything.”

  “Or cement everything he’s learned,” Vassily said. “I believe in taking risks.”

  “Well, it’s yours to take,” Glory said. “I’ll do what I can, of course.”

  “For a price.”

  “Nobody works for free, my darling.”

  When I opened my eyes, Glory was right there, bending over me. Her smile was lik
e a drug, and the brush of her fingers on my forehead felt like the touch of an angel.

  “Sleep,” she whispered. “Dream of fire and strength, and remember how much this town has taken from you. Don’t let it take the rest, Shane. Everything else is unimportant, except this: Michael doesn’t mean you well. He’s not your friend. And you can never fully trust him. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said. It was something I knew already, something I should never have forgotten. You can’t trust vampires.

  Except Glory.

  I was still smiling, drowning in the warmth of her touch, when I fell asleep.

  NINE

  Shane came home seeming just as normal as ever. He even brought brisket, and they ate, four friends together, like nothing had ever gone wrong. Even Michael’s opaque “juice” bottle didn’t set him off.

  All Claire could think was that she needed to sit down and tell him about the call. But she didn’t know what she was going to say, and she didn’t want to say it in front of Eve and Michael. Not like that; it needed to be private.

  But afterward, upstairs in his room, when Claire snuggled in next to him, talking didn’t seem to be important. She kept thinking she’d bring it up, but after hours of slow, delicious kissing in his arms, she still hadn’t managed to even start the conversation. Finally, she fell asleep. When she woke up, he was carrying her to her bed and tucking her in.

  “Shane?” she murmured. He was leaning over her, close enough that his long, shaggy hair brushed her face.

  “Still me,” he murmured back. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  She smiled. “Just you.”

  “Good girl.” He gave her a slow, damp kiss, one that made her warm down to her toes.

  “Shane, I was thinking…”

  “About?”

  “About…” She didn’t want to do this—she really didn’t. Not when it had been so nice. So perfect. But she tried. “About leaving Morganville.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t pull back or act surprised or anything. He kissed her again, lightly, and said, “We will. I promise.”

  “I just—You know I want to go to MIT, right?”

  “Of course. And you will.”

  Wow. Just like that…although she hadn’t managed to work in the January part of the conversation. But it sounded good. Positive. They were on the same page, after all. One last, sleepy, damp kiss, and she slipped away into the best sleep she’d had in almost a week.

  He was gone when she woke up, but he’d left a note…. He’d signed up for an extra, early-morning shift at the barbecue restaurant. He even signed it with LY, which she knew was Shane shorthand for love you.

  That felt better. Lots better.

  Claire was just coming down the stairs, humming and thinking about how nice it was to have things getting back to normal, and how she’d tell Shane about the January thing tonight, when Myrnin sent a message through the portal—well, more of a rock with a note tied to it, which rolled across the floor and scared Eve into a scream before the portal snapped shut. Eve kicked the rock resentfully with her thick black boots and glared at it, then at the wall. Claire, who was coming down the steps, gave her a “What the hell?” kind of look.

  “Your boss,” Eve said, and reached down to grab the rock, “needs to figure out texting. Seriously. Who does this? Is he actually from the Stone Age? And you need to figure out how to put something here that we can lock. What if this thing opens when I’m naked?”

  “Why would you be naked down here?”

  “Well—” Eve didn’t have an answer for that one. She handed over the rock. “Okay, bad example. But I don’t like it that he can just drop in any damn time he wants. Or throw rocks at us.”

  “I don’t like it much, either,” Claire admitted, as she untied the string and peeled the paper off the stone. She took a second to examine the rock. You never knew with Myrnin, but this looked just like what it appeared to be: plain granite. So the message was the paper, like if a normal person had thought of it…not that a normal person would have thrown a rock into their house in the first place.

  The note said, Stay away from the lab until further notice. I am fumigating. It might kill you. Also, it appears that Our Old Friend may have left town. Oliver is sending operatives after him, but the crisis may be over. For now.

  “Fumigating?” Eve said, reading over her shoulder. “What does that mean? And who’s Our Old Friend?”

  That was Bishop, of course, but Claire couldn’t tell Eve any of that. “No idea. He probably thinks he’s talking to someone else, anyway. Oh, and fumigating means that he’s gassing the place. I guess he thinks there’s some kind of bug problem.”

  “He usually just lets Bob loose on them.”

  “Maybe Bob’s full. I hope he remembers to move him before—Maybe I’d better remind him.” Claire pulled out her phone and texted Myrnin, who promptly texted back, Of course i moved the spider. I am not an idiot.

  No, he was a very smart guy who responded to texts, but threw rocks with messages tied onto them.

  Claire gave up.

  “I got a message from Miranda,” Eve said. “She didn’t have your e-mail. You guys have a thing today?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I’m taking her shopping.”

  “Shopping. Miranda. Really?” Eve looked confused, then a little bit fascinated. “Wow. Talk about the color-blind leading the blind.”

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, honey, but your amazing fashion sense is not the talk of anywhere. And Miranda doesn’t go shopping. She’s more of a Dumpster diver fashion victim.”

  “Well, she does with me,” Claire said. She was stinging a little bit, because getting fashion dissed by a girl wearing red-and-black Halloween hose and a fake shrunken-head necklace was just too much. “Did she say where to meet her?”

  “She said she’d be outside at ten.”

  Claire checked her watch. It was already ten after ten. “Guess I’m going, then. You heading out?”

  “Some of us have work.”

  “Some of us have mad-scientist bosses who give them the day off for fumigation.”

  “Okay, you win.” Eve winked and grabbed her stuff as Claire picked up hers. “Too bad I can’t come with you two and give you decent makeovers. And why don’t you ever wear that pink wig? That was the kick.”

  She wasn’t wrong. The pink wig that Eve had practically made her buy in Dallas was, indeed, the kick, but away from Eve she always felt miserably self-conscious about wearing it. People looked at her. Claire was much more used to being invisible.

  And right now, with all that was going on, seeming invisible sounded good.

  Miranda was standing outside the fence, rocking a very unfashionable look—a plaid schoolgirl skirt that went past her knees and a wrinkled shirt in a color that might have been moss green in better light, but didn’t match that skirt or her coloring at all. Her worried face actually lit up when she saw Eve and Claire. Eve waved and got into the big, black hearse, and Miranda waved back, as enthusiastic as a kid at her first parade. She sighed, watching the tail fins turn the corner. “She is so cool.”

  “She is,” Claire agreed. “But so are you. Come on. Let’s go shop.”

  Those looking for clothes in Morganville had two options: the resale stores, of which there were three, or the one off-brand department store that mostly had clearance items from the better places. After considering Miranda’s budget, Claire steered her to the resale shops. College students often discarded their outfits here at the store next to the campus. Nobody was more fashion conscious than a TPU girl. It wasn’t like most of them were on campus for the education.

  To be fair, that applied to the guys just as well.

  Miranda followed along happily enough to the first resale shop. She didn’t say much, but there was a glow about her, something that made her seem much healthier and happier than Claire could remember. Just a little bit of attention, and the girl bloomed. That made Claire feel guilty and sad; she hadn’t
gone out of her way to make friends with Miranda, and she knew nobody else did, either. No doubt the girl could be weird and upsetting, but she was just like anybody else.

  She needed to be seen.

  “Here,” Claire said, and held open the door of the shop for her. A tinny, cheerful bell rang overhead, and Miranda looked around as excitedly as if she’d never heard one before. That was impossible, wasn’t it? That she wouldn’t know what a shop bell sounded like?

  Maybe not.

  The woman at the back, dozing behind the counter, looked up and smiled sleepily. “You girls look around,” she said. “Let me know when you’re ready to try on.”

  “Okay,” Miranda said, and stopped at the first rack of clothes. “Oh. Wow. There are a lot.”

  “Yeah, honey. Those aren’t your size. Here. Look through these.” Claire felt like she was unexpectedly channeling Eve as she pulled things out and held them up against Miranda’s skinny frame, discarding some, keeping others. Strong colors didn’t work on her, but earth tones did. Before too long, Miranda was pulling things on her own and holding them up, staring into the mirror as if she was seeing a future that, finally, didn’t scare her at all.

  “Can I try them on?” she asked. Claire waved at the shop owner, who unlocked the dressing rooms. Claire passed things over the top to Miranda, and leaned against the door.

  “Nothing for you?” the woman asked, raising her eyebrows. Claire felt the look that swept over her outfit as if it had been an actual red-hot laser. She’d just been scanned, and found wanting.

  “Well, maybe a top,” she said. “Maybe.”

  “I have just what you need.”

  And she did, too. Claire ended up modeling it in front of the triple mirror, frowning at her reflection. With the khaki pants she’d picked today, the pink-and-white lace top looked weirdly appropriate—and kind of sexy. She’d come a long way in the last few months, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for sexy in public. That just wasn’t her.