by Rachel Caine
“All over it,” Hannah said, without a change at all in her tone. “Nothing to be concerned about. Let me guess, Monica put you onto it. I already told her it’s handled.”
“I don’t think she believes you.”
On the other end of the phone, Hannah was probably grinning. “No shit? Well, she’s bad; she’s not stupid. But her brother’s safe enough. Don’t worry. Richard can take care of himself, always has.”
“Is something going on? Something I should know about?” Hannah said nothing, and Claire felt a hot prickle of shame. “Right. I forgot. I’m wearing the wrong team jersey, right?”
“Not your fault,” Hannah said. “You were drafted; you didn’t join up. But I can’t talk strategy with you, Claire. You know that.”
“I know.” Claire sighed. “I wish . . . you know.”
“I really do. You go home, and stay there. Understand?”
“On my way,” Claire promised, and hung up.
On the other side of the street, college-adjacent businesses were starting to close up shop, even though it was still early. Nobody liked to be caught outside as night approached; it was unsafe during the day, but it was a hell of a lot worse at twilight, and after.
Claire slowed as she passed Common Grounds. The security shutters were still down, the door was closed, but there was something . . . something . . .
She crossed the street, not really sure why she did, and stood there for a few seconds, staring like an idiot at the locked door.
Then she heard the distinct, metallic sound of a dead bolt snapping back, and in slow motion, the door sagged open just a bare inch. Nothing showed but darkness.
I am not going to say, “Hello, is anyone there,” like some stupid, too-dumb-to-live chick in a movie, Claire thought. Also, I am not going in there.
I’m really not.
The door opened another inch. More darkness. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Claire said. “How stupid do you really think I am?”
This time, the gap opened to about a foot. Standing well back from any hint of sunlight was someone she knew: Theo Goldman, vampire and doctor.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t come to you. Will you do me the honor . . . ?”
There were a lot of vampires in Morganville who scared Claire, but Theo wasn’t one of them. In fact, she liked him. She didn’t blame him for trying to save his family, which included both humans and vampires. He’d done what he had to do, and she knew it hadn’t been for any bad motives.
Claire stepped inside. Theo shut the door and locked it securely after her. “This way,” he said. “We keep all the lights off in the front, of course. Here, allow me, my dear. I know you won’t be able to see your way.”
His strong, cool hand closed around her upper arm in a firm, but not harsh grip, and he guided her through blind darkness, zigzagging around (she assumed) tables and chairs. When he let go, she heard a door close behind them, and Theo said, “Shield your eyes. Lights coming on.”
She closed her eyes, and a flare of brightness reddened the inside of her lids. When she looked, Theo was stepping away from the light switch and moving toward the group of people sitting at the far end of the room. His dark-haired wife rose from her chair, smiling; except for her generally pale skin, she didn’t look much like a vampire, really. Theo’s kids and grandkids—some physically older than Claire, some younger—sat in a group playing cards. In the dark, because all the ones playing were vampires. The humans weren’t here at all.
“Claire,” Patience Goldman said, and extended her hand. “Thank you for coming inside.”
“Um . . . no problem,” she said. “Is everything okay?” It hadn’t been for a while. Bishop had been thinking of killing all the Goldmans, or making them leave Morganville. Something about their being Jews. Claire didn’t really understand all the dynamics of it, but she knew it was an old anger, and a very old feud.
“Yes, we are fine,” Theo said. “But I wanted to tell you that we will be leaving Morganville tonight.”
“You . . . what? I thought Bishop said you could stay—”
“Oh, he did,” Theo said, and his kindly face took on a harder look. “Promises were made. None that I believe, of course. It’s no sin for a man like him to break a promise to a man like me; after all, I am hardly better than a human to him.” His wife made a sound of protest, and Theo blinked. “I did not mean that to slight you, Claire. You understand what I mean.”
“Yeah.” Bishop had carried over some prejudices from his human days, and a big one had to do with a dislike of Jewish people, so maybe he didn’t look at Jewish vampires as being any different—any better—than mere humans, who weren’t real to Bishop, anyway. “But . . . why tell me? You can’t trust me, you know.” She rubbed her arm under the long-sleeved T-shirt, feeling ashamed all over again. “I can’t help it. If he asks me, I have to tell him about you.”
Theo and his wife exchanged a look. “Actually,” Patience said, “you don’t. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That the influence of the charm he used on you is fading.” Patience stepped forward. “May I?”
Claire had no idea what she was asking for, but since Patience was holding out her cool white hands, Claire hesitantly extended hers. Mrs. Goldman pushed the shirt sleeve up to expose the tattoo, turning it this way and that, studying it.
“Well?” Theo asked. “Can you tell?”
“It’s definitely significantly weakened,” his wife said. “How much, it’s hard to tell, but I don’t think he can compel her without a large effort. Not anymore.”
That was news to Claire. Good news, actually. “Does he know what I’m thinking?”
“He never did, my dear,” Patience said, and patted her hand before releasing it. “Mr. Bishop’s skills are hardly all-powerful. He simply uses our fear to make them seem so.” She nodded to her husband. “I think I can safely mask her from him, if he should look for her.”
“Wait, what?” Claire asked.
Their eldest son, Virgil, threw down a handful of cards in annoyance and crossed his arms. “Oh, just tell her,” he said. “They want to take you with us.”
“What?”
“It’s for the best,” Theo said quickly. “We can escort you safely out of town. If you stay, he’ll kill you, or turn you vampire so he can control you better. You simply have no options here, my dear. We only want to help you, but it has to be now. Tonight. We can’t risk waiting any longer.”
“That’s . . . kind of sweet,” Claire said carefully, and measured the distance between where she stood and the door. Not that she could outrun one vampire, much less six. “But I’m okay here. Besides, I really can’t leave now. Shane—”
“Ah.” Theo snapped his fingers, and his smile took on a wicked sort of tilt around the edges. “Yes, of course. The boy. As it happens, I did not forget young Mr. Collins; Clarence and Minnie have gone to fetch him. Once they arrive here, we will make sure you both are safely away.”
Claire’s eyes widened, and suddenly she couldn’t get a breath. Her heart started to pound, first from anticipation, then from outright fear. “You . . . you decided to break Shane out of jail?”
“Call it our last good act of charity,” Theo said. “Or our revenge on Mr. Bishop, if you like. Either way, it’s of benefit to you, I think.”
“Does Amelie know what you’re doing?”
Theo’s expression smoothed out into a frighteningly blank mask. “Amelie finds it better to skulk in the shadows, while people die for her lack of courage. No, she does not know. If she did, she’d no doubt have a dozen reasons why this was a mistake.”
It was a mistake. Claire couldn’t say why, but she knew it, deep down. “She promised me she’d take care of him,” Claire said. “She’s got a plan, Theo. You shouldn’t have interfered.”
“Amelie’s plans are subject to her own needs, and she never bothered to include me,” Theo said. “I am offering you and your boy a way out of Morga
nville. Now. Tonight. And you need never return here again.”
It wasn’t that simple. “My parents.”
“We can take them with us as well.”
“But . . . Bishop can find us,” Claire said. “Vampires found Shane’s family when they left town before. They killed his mother.”
“Shane and his father blame vampires for what was only a very natural human despair. Shane’s mother took her own life. You see that, don’t you? Claire?” Theo seemed to want her to agree, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe he doubted it himself. When she didn’t, he looked disappointed. “Well, it’s too late now, in any case. We can discuss this once we’re safely away. We will help you find a place well beyond Bishop’s—and Amelie’s—reach before we move on ourselves.”
One of the grandsons—the middle one, Claire couldn’t remember his name—made a rude sound and threw down his cards. “Grandpapa, we don’t want to leave.” The other children tried to shush him, but he stood up. “We don’t! None of us do! We have lives here. We stopped running. It was safe for us. Now you want us to go out there again, start over again—”
“Jacob!” Theo’s wife seemed shocked. “Don’t talk to your grandfather so!”
“You never ask us. You want us all to pretend that we’re still children. We’re not, Grandmother. I know you and Grandpapa can’t accept that; I know you don’t want to let us go, but we can make our own decisions.”
Mrs. Goldman seemed not to know what to say. Theo looked very thoughtful, and then nodded. “All right. I’m listening. What decision have you made?”
“To stay here,” Jacob said. “We’re staying here.” He looked down at his brothers and sisters, who all nodded—some reluctantly, though. “You can go if you want, but we’re not letting Bishop drive us out. And no matter what you say, that’s what you’re doing. You’re just saving him the trouble of exiling us.”
“If exile was what I was worried about, I would agree with you. It isn’t.”
“You think he’ll try to kill us?” Jacob shook his head. “No. It’s not the old days, Grandpapa. Nobody’s hunting us here.”
“If I have learned anything in my long life, it is that someone is always hunting us,” Theo’s wife said. “Now sit down, Jacob. The rest of you, sit down. We’ll have no more of this. You’re being rude in front of our friend.”
Claire wanted to apologize, somehow; Jacob shot her a borderline-angry look, but he dropped back in his place on the floor, shoulders slumped. She’d never thought about it, but she supposed for a lot of vampires Morganville was about as good as it could get—no looking over your shoulder, waiting to be discovered. No worrying about putting down roots, making friends, having some kind of a life.
“Theo,” Mrs. Goldman said, and nodded toward the door where they’d come in. “I hear someone coming.”
“She has better ears than I do,” Theo confessed to Claire. “Stay here. I will let them in.”
“But—”
“Stay here. There’s nothing to fear. You’ll be with your young man soon.”
He left, shutting the door behind him. Mrs. Goldman drifted quietly over to speak to her children and grand-children in a low, urgent voice—the way moms always talked to kids who were throwing tantrums in front of company—and Claire was left not quite knowing what she ought to do. If they had managed to bust Shane out of jail, well, that was good, wasn’t it? Maybe not according to Amelie’s plan, but that didn’t make it a bad thing. Not automatically.
Claire took her cell phone out and speed-dialed the Glass House. No answer, at least not on the first three rings.
On the fourth ring, she thought she heard someone pick up, but it was drowned out by a warning cry from Mrs. Goldman from behind her.
The door smashed open, and Theo came flying through, crashing into Claire and sending her to the floor. The phone skittered out of her hands and underneath the shadowy bottom of an old, upholstered chair. She couldn’t breathe; Theo’s shoulder had hit her in the stomach, and as she struggled to get her muscles working again, she saw black spots swimming at the edge of her vision. Her whole body felt liquid and hot, and she wasn’t sure what had just happened, except that it was bad. . . .
Mrs. Goldman vaulted over Claire’s body and grabbed Theo, who was feebly trying to right himself. She pulled him back into the corner, with the children, and fearlessly stood in front of all of them, fangs flashing white as she faced their enemies.
“Now, don’t be doing that,” said a honey-dark voice from the doorway’s shadows. “There’s no need for violence, is there?” The light caught on the vampire’s face, and Claire felt sick. Ysandre, Bishop’s icky little pet slut. She was dressed for business just now, in black leather pants and a long-sleeved heavy jacket with a hood. She could have been drawn in black and white, except for the slash of red that was her mouth. “Got something for you, missus.”
She reached back, grabbed two people by the hair, and propelled them both inside. It was the Goldmans’ other son and daughter, Clarence and Minnie. Vampires didn’t often look beaten up, but these two did, and Claire felt a little sick at the sight of the fear on Mrs. Goldman’s face.
“Let them go,” she said. “Children! Come here!”
“Not so fast,” Ysandre said, and yanked on the hair she was holding. “Let’s talk about this first. Mr. Bishop is not too pleased with your family breaking its word to him. He allowed you to stay here, alive and free, and in return you were supposed to stay out of his business. Did you stay out of his business, sugar? Because it really doesn’t look like you did, since you sent these two fine children of yours to try to break his enemies out of jail.”
Claire stopped moving at all. She was curled on her side, still struggling to breathe, shaking, and now it felt like the whole world was crashing in on her. Try. Try to break his enemies out jail.
They hadn’t done it. Shane was still a prisoner.
Ysandre hadn’t come alone. She shoved the Goldman boy and girl over into the arms of their mother, and behind her a solid army of vampires filled the darkness. “Didn’t know about this place,” Ysandre remarked. “Didn’t know it had a tunnel going right up under it, anyway. That’s real convenient. Didn’t even have to take a sunburn to get to you.” She brushed her shiny hair back, and as she did, her gaze fell on Claire. She gave her a slow, deadly smile. “Why, lookit. It’s little Miss Perfect. Oh, I think Mr. Bishop is going to be very disappointed in you.”
Claire tried to get up and almost fell. She wasn’t hurting yet, but she knew she would be. Bruises, mostly, maybe a couple of strained muscles.
Theo Goldman caught her. He’d gotten to his feet when she wasn’t looking, and now he helped her stand up. At close range, she saw the misery in his eyes before he put on a fake smile for Ysandre’s benefit.
“I suppose we will be going with you,” he said. “For another interview with our benevolent master.”
“Some of you will,” she agreed. “And some of you won’t.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Claire. Two big, muscular vampire guys lunged from behind her and grabbed Claire by the arms to haul her off. When Theo protested, they shoved him back with his family. “I want to introduce you to an old friend of Mr. Bishop’s. This is Pennywell. I believe you may already be acquainted, though.”
As she was dragged out of the room, into the dark open area of Common Grounds, Claire passed the stranger she’d seen in Bishop’s office on her birthday. He—she? it was hard to tell—walked past Claire as if she didn’t exist, heading into the room where the Goldmans were being held.
“Wait!” Claire yelled. “What are you going to do?”
Pennywell didn’t even pause. Ysandre looked back and winked at her.
“Don’t you worry about any of this, now,” she cooed with false sympathy. “You’ve got plenty of your own problems to worry about. Good-bye, Claire.”
7
There was a hidden ladder down to a surprisingly large, well-lit tunnel underneath Common Grounds. It h
ad a false brick wall that led into one of the maze of tunnels that was big enough for cars—and there was one waiting, a big idling limousine. One of Claire’s vampire captors opened the back and pushed her inside before getting in with her. The other one took the front seat, and before more than a few seconds passed, they were driving on into the hidden world underneath Morganville. “Hey,” Claire said. The vampire sitting next to her in the back glanced at her, then away. He was about twice her size, and she had a feeling that he could have broken her in half with a harsh word and his little finger. “What’s going to happen to them?”
He shrugged, not like he didn’t know—more like he just flat didn’t care enough to tell her. The Goldmans didn’t mean much to him. Claire meant even less.
“What’s your name?” she asked, and surprised herself. But for some reason, she wanted to know. Dean’s brother—he hadn’t been just some nameless Bad Guy Number Four. This vampire wasn’t, either. He had a name, a history, maybe even people who cared what happened to him.
“My name is none of your business,” he said, and continued to stare out the window, even though there was nothing but blurry brick out there.
“Can I call you None for short?” It was an Eve joke, but Claire didn’t think she delivered it very well, because the vampire didn’t even blink. He just shut her out.
She concentrated on not thinking about what might have happened to Shane.
The car burst out of the tunnel at a high rate of speed, rose up a ramp, and exited from what looked like an industrial building—another of Morganville’s secret roads. They turned onto a residential street near Claire’s parents’ house—she recognized two of the burned-out homes and the carefully clipped hedge animals in front of the yellow clapboard house on the corner. She’d always thought the squirrel looked kind of crazy.
They didn’t slow down as the limousine sped through the streets. People got out of the way—bikes, cars, even one or two pedestrians hurrying home into the sunset. The vampire driver had a blacked-out windshield, but he was still wearing sunglasses, gloves, and had most of his face covered as well. Young, Claire thought. Older vampires wouldn’t care about the sun that much. It hurt them, but it wouldn’t kill them. So maybe Bishop had recruited some new guys.