door behind her.
Then she turned, crossed her arms, and frowned at Claire. It was a formidable frown, but the pink pj’s and bunny slippers undermined it.
“What the hell are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?’” Lisa demanded. Claire took a deep breath, opened her mouth…and didn’t have to say anything.
Because Gramma was standing in the hallway entrance, and with her was Amelie.
The contrast couldn’t have been more striking. Amelie looked every inch the glorious, perfect ice queen, from her carefully braided and coiled hair to her unlined face to the sleek white dress she wore—she’d changed from the black suit she’d worn to the Elders’ Council building. She looked like one of those Greek statues made out of marble. Next to her, Gramma seemed ancient, exhausted, and breakable.
“The visitor is here for me,’” Amelie said calmly. “I’ve been expecting her. I do thank you, Katherine, for your kindness.’”
Who’s Katherine? Claire looked around, and realized after a few seconds that it had to be Gramma. Funny, she couldn’t imagine Gramma ever having had a first name, or being young; Lisa looked kind of thrown by it, too.
“And I appreciate your vigilance, Lisa, but your caution is unnecessary,’” Amelie continued. “Please return to your—’” For a second, Amelie hesitated, and Claire couldn’t imagine why until she saw that the vampire’s gaze was fixed on the sight of Lisa’s bunny shoes. It was only a second, a little crack in the marble, but Amelie’s eyes widened just a bit, and her mouth curved. She has a sense of humor. That, more than anything else, made Claire feel lost. How could vampires have a sense of humor? How exactly was that fair?
Amelie recovered her poise. “You may return to your sleep,’” she said, and bowed her head gracefully to Lisa and her gramma. “Claire. If you would attend me.’”
She didn’t wait to see if Claire would, or explain what “attend me’” meant; she just turned and glided down the hallway. Claire exchanged a look with Lisa—this time, Lisa looked worried, not angry—and hurried after Amelie’s retreating figure.
Amelie opened the bathroom door and stepped through into the same study Claire had visited before, only now it was night, and a fire was roaring in the enormous hearth to warm the chilly room. The walls were thick stone, and looked very old. The tapestries looked old, too—faded, tattered, but still keeping a sense of magnificence, somehow. The place looked way spookier by firelight. If there were electric lights, they weren’t on. Not even the books crowding the shelves made the place warm.
Amelie crossed to a chair near the hearth and gracefully motioned Claire to one across from her. “You may sit,’” she said. “But be warned, Claire, what I expect you want from me is not in my power to grant.’”
Claire settled carefully, not daring to relax. “You know why I’m here.’”
“I’d be a fool if I thought it was any reason other than young Shane,’” Amelie said, and smiled very sadly. “I can recognize loyalty when I see it. It shines strongly from you both, which is one reason I have trusted you so much on insignificant acquaintance.’” She lost her smile, and her pale eyes turned to frost again. “And that is why I cannot forgive what Shane has done. He broke faith with me, Claire, and that is intolerable. Morganville is founded on trust. Without it, we have nothing but despair and death.’”
“But he didn’t do anything!’” Claire knew she sounded like a whiny little girl, but she didn’t know what else to do. It was that or cry, and she didn’t want to cry. She had the feeling she’d be doing plenty of that, no matter what. “He didn’t kill Brandon. He tried to save him. You can’t punish him for being in the wrong place!’”
“We have no one’s word of that save Shane’s. And make no mistake, child, I know why Shane returned to Morganville in the first place. It is regrettable that his sister was so brutally and unnecessarily killed; we tried to make amends with his family, as is custom. We even allowed them to leave Morganville, which you understand is not common, in hopes that Shane and his parents might heal their grief in less…difficult surroundings. But it was not possible. And his mother broke through the block surrounding her memories.’”
Claire shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It was too big, and too high up; her toes barely touched the ground. She gripped the arms firmly, tried to remind herself that she was strong and courageous, that she had to be, for Shane. “Did you kill her? Shane’s mother?’” she asked, as bluntly as she could. It still sounded timid, but at least she’d gotten the question out.
For a second she thought Amelie wasn’t going to answer her, but then the vampire looked away, toward the fire. Her eyes looked orange in its glow, with dots of reflective yellow in the center. She shrugged, a gesture so small, Claire barely even saw it. “I have not lifted a hand against a human in hundreds of years, little Claire. But that is not what you ask, is it? Am I responsible for his mother’s death? In a larger sense, I am responsible for anything that is done in Morganville, or even beyond its borders if it relates to vampires. But I think you ask if I gave an explicit order.’”
Claire nodded. Her neck felt stiff, and her hands would have been shaking if they hadn’t been grabbing the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles cracked.
“Yes,’” Amelie said, and turned her head back to meet Claire’s eyes. She looked cool, merciless, and absolutely without conscience. “Of course I did. Shane’s mother was one of the rare cases who, by focusing on a single event in their past, are able to overcome the psychic block that is placed on them when they depart this place. She remembered her daughter’s death, and from that, she remembered other things. Dangerous things. As soon as we became aware this was happening, it was brought to my attention, and I gave the order to kill her. It was to be done quickly and without pain, and it was a mercy, Claire. Shane’s mother had been in so much pain for so long, do you understand? She was damaged, and some damages cannot be healed.’”
“Nothing heals if you’re dead,’” Claire whispered. She remembered Shane on the couch, blurting out all the horror of his life, and she wanted to throw up on Amelie’s perfect lap. “You can’t do things like that. You aren’t God!’”
“For the safety of all who live here? Yes, Claire, I can. I must. I am sorry my decisions do not meet with your approval, but nevertheless, they are mine, and the consequences are also mine. Shane is a consequence. My agents warned me at the time that they believed the boy might have been tainted by his mother, that his block was slipping, but I chose not to expand the tragedy by killing a boy who might not have been a threat.’” Amelie shrugged again. “Not all of my decisions are cruel, you see. But the ones which are not are usually wrong. Had I killed Shane then, and his father, as well, we would not now be facing this…bloody and painful farce.’”
“Because he’d be dead!’” Claire felt tears sting hard in her eyes and at the back of her throat. “Please. Please don’t let this happen. You can find out the truth, can’t you? You have powers. You can tell that Shane didn’t kill Brandon….’”
Amelie said nothing. She turned back toward the fire.
Claire watched her miserably for a few seconds, and felt tears break free to run down her cheeks. They felt ice-cold in the overly warm room. “You can tell,’” she repeated. “Why won’t you even try? Is it just because you’re angry at him?’”
“Don’t be infantile,’” Amelie said distantly. “I do nothing out of anger. I am too old to fall into the trap of emotion. What I do, I do for expedience, and for the sake of the future.’”
“Shane is the future! He’s my future! And he’s innocent!’”
“I know all that,’” Amelie said. “And it does not matter.’”
Claire stopped, stunned. Her mouth was open, and she tasted woodsmoke on her tongue until she closed it and swallowed. “What?’”
“I know Shane is innocent of the crime of which he is accused,’” Amelie said. “And yes, I could countermand Oliver. But I will not.’”
“Why?’” It burst out of Claire like a scream, but it was really just a whimper, all the fight kicked out of it.
“I have no reason to explain myself. Suffice to say that I have chosen to place Shane in that cage for a purpose. He may live, or he may die. That is no longer in my hands, and you may save both your breath and your hopes; I shall not stand up dramatically at the last moment as they light the pyres, and save your lover. Should it come to that, Claire, you must be prepared for the harsh reality that the world is not a fair or just place, and all your wishing cannot make it so.’” Amelie sighed, very lightly. “A lesson I learned long, long ago, when the oceans were young, and sand was still rock. I am old, child. Older than you can possibly understand. Old enough that I play with lives like counters in a game. I wish this was not so, but damn me if I can change what I am. What the world is.’”
Claire said nothing. There didn’t seem to be anything left to say, so she just cried, silently and hopelessly,
