shook with the force of how much she wanted to hit him back, and she felt the stinging imprint of his hand on her cheek like a brand.
“You see, Eve?’” Oliver asked. “An eye for an eye. Of course, my interpretation is a bit free of the Scriptures.’”
Shane was screaming around his gag, and now he was fighting, but the vampires were holding him down on his knees without breaking a sweat. Eve’s eyes were huge and dark, and Hess was holding her down in the chair as she struggled to come after Oliver.
Don’t, Claire thought wildly. Because her friends had just told Oliver exactly what he wanted to know: that hurting her would get something out of them.
“Oliver,’” Amelie said. Her voice was soft and very gentle. “Is there a question you are posing to the children? Or are you merely indulging yourself? You say you already know the boy called this man. What more information do you need?’”
“I want to know where his father has gone,’” Oliver said. “One of them knows.’”
“The girls?’” Amelie shook her head. “It seems unlikely that someone like Mr. Collins would trust in either of them.’”
“The boy knows, then.’”
“Possibly.’” She tapped her lips with one pale finger. “Yet somehow, I doubt he will tell you. And there is no need for any cruelty to discover the truth, I believe.’”
“Meaning?’” Oliver turned fully toward her, crossing his arms.
“Meaning that he will come to us, Oliver, as you very well know. In order to save the boy from the consequences of his actions.’”
“So you withdraw your Protection from the boy?’”
Amelie looked at the body lying on the slab. After a moment of silence, she rose gracefully and walked to what was left of Brandon, trailed ghost white fingers over his distorted face, and said, “He was born before King John, did you know that? Born a prince. All those years, ending. I grieve for the loss of all that he saw that we will never know. All the memories that can never enrich us.’”
“Amelie.’” Oliver sounded impatient. “We can’t allow his killers to run free. You know that.’”
“He was yours, Oliver. You might spare a moment for his loss before you run baying after blood.’”
Amelie’s back was to him, so she couldn’t have seen it, but Claire did: there was hate in Oliver’s eyes, hate twisting his face. He got it under control before Amelie turned toward him.
“Brandon had his flaws,’” Oliver said. “Of all of us, he was the one who enjoyed the hunt the most. I don’t think he ever came to terms with the rules of Morganville. But it’s those rules we have to observe now. By sentencing these criminals.’”
Sentencing? What about a trial? Claire started to ask, but a cold hand clapped over her mouth from behind, and she looked up to see Gretchen bending over her, fangs out, holding a hushing finger to her own mouth. Eve was likewise gagged by Hans. Next to them, Detective Hess folded his arms and looked deeply troubled, but he didn’t speak.
Amelie looked at Oliver, then past him, at Shane.
“I warned you,’” she said quietly. “My Protection can only extend to you so far. You betrayed my trust, Shane. For the sake of kindness, I will not break faith with your friends; they remain under my Protection.’” She shifted her pale gaze to Oliver, and gave him a slow, regal incline of her head. “He is yours. I withdraw Protection.’”
Claire screamed out a protest, but it was lost against the gag of Gretchen’s hand. Amelie bent over and placed a kiss on Brandon’s waxy forehead.
“Good-bye, child,’” she said. “Flawed as you were, you were still one of the eternal. We won’t forget.’”
Claire heard someone yell outside the room, and Amelie whipped around so quickly that she was a blur, then moved…and something hit the marble pillar next to where she’d been and exploded with a sharp popping sound.
A bottle. Claire smelled gas, and then heard a thick, whooshing sound.
And then the curtains exploded into flame.
Amelie snarled, bone white and utterly not people, all of a sudden, and then she was dragged out of the way and down, with a moving bunker of bodyguards crowding around her. Gunfire exploded in the room, and somebody—Detective Hess?—shoved Claire forward to the carpet and covered her, too. Eve was down, too, curled into a protective ball, her black-fingernailed hands covering her head.
And then, there was fighting—grunts and smacks and wood being thrown against walls and smashed during struggles. Claire couldn’t get any sense of what was going on, except that it was brutal and it was over fast, and when the choking fog of smoke began to clear, Hess finally backed off and let her sit up.
There were two men dead in the entrance of the room. Big guys, in leather. There was one still moving.
Amelie pushed aside her bodyguards and stalked past Claire as if she didn’t exist. She glided down the aisle and to the one biker still feebly trying to crawl away. He was trailing a dark streak on the maroon carpet. Claire got slowly to her feet, grateful for Detective Hess’s arm around her, and exchanged a look of sheer horror with Eve, on his other side.
Amelie never got to the biker. Oliver was there ahead of her, dragging the wounded man up and, before Claire could blink, snapping his neck with a dry sound.
The body dropped to the carpet with a limp thump. Claire turned and hid her face against Hess’s jacket, trying to control a surge of nausea.
When she looked back, Amelie was staring at Oliver. He was staring right back. “No point in taking chances,’” he said, and gave her a slow, full smile. “He might have killed you, Amelie.’”
“Yes,’” she said softly. “And that wouldn’t have been in anyone’s best interests, would it, Oliver? How fortunate I am that you were here to…save me.’”
She didn’t move or gesture, but her bodyguards swarmed and surrounded her, and the whole mass of them moved out, walking around (or over) the dead men.
Oliver watched her go, then turned back to sweep a glare around the entire room, stopping on Shane.
“Your father thinks he can act without consequences, I see,’” he said. “How sad for you. Put these two where they belong. In cages.’”
The biker and Shane were pulled to their knees and dragged off, behind the curtains. Claire lunged forward, but Gretchen grabbed her and put her hand over Claire’s mouth. Claire winced as her arm was twisted up behind her back, and she realized she was crying, unable to breathe for the pressure of the hand on her mouth and the stuffiness building up in her nose.
Eve wasn’t crying. Eve was staring at Oliver, and even when Detective Hess let go of her, she didn’t move.
“What are you going to do to them?’” she asked. She sounded unnaturally calm.
“You know the laws,’” Oliver said. “Don’t you, Eve?’”
“You can’t. Shane had nothing to do with this.’”
Oliver shook his head. “I won’t debate my judgment with you. Mayor? You’ll sign the papers? If you’re done cowering, that is.’”
The mayor had been down in a defensive crouch behind an urn; he got up now, looking flushed and angry. “Of course I’ll sign,’” he said. “The nerve of these bastards! Striking here? Threatening—’”
“Yes, very traumatic,’” Oliver said. “The papers.’”
“I brought a notary. It’ll be all nice and legal.’”
Gretchen let go of Claire, sensing her will to fight was trickling away. “Legal?’” Claire gasped. “But—there hasn’t even been a trial! What about a jury?’”
“He had a jury,’” Detective Hess told her. His tone was gentle, but what he was saying was harsh. “A jury of the victim’s peers. That’s the way the law works here. Same for humans. If a vampire ever got brought up on murder charges, it would be humans deciding whether he lived or died.’”
“Except no vampire has ever been brought up on charges,’” Eve said. She looked nearly cold and pale enough to be a vampire herself. “Or ever will. Don’t kid yourself, Joe. It’s only the humans who get the sharp end of justice around here.’” She looked at the dead guys lying on the carpet at the entrance to the room. “Scared the shit out of you, though, didn’t they?’”
“Don’t flatter them. They had no hope of succeeding,’” Oliver said. He looked at Hans. “I have no further use
