“Just get dressed,’” he said. “And come downstairs.’”
She raced to her room, dropped the towel, and grabbed her little travel clock.
It was four a.m. Dawn was just a couple of hours away. “No,’” she whispered. “No…’” She’d been asleep for hours.
No time to waste, then. Claire put on underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt, grabbed her shoes and socks, and hurried to the stairs.
She stopped on the first step down when she heard Amelie’s voice. Amelie? In the house? Why? Sam, she kind of expected—not that Michael liked any vampires, but hey, he was family, right? And besides, Sam seemed okay. And sure enough, she caught sight of Sam’s copper-colored hair when she eased down another step; he was standing in the far corner, near the kitchen, with his arms folded.
Amelie and Michael were in the center of the room.
“Hey!’” Eve’s voice, coming from behind her, made her jump. Claire turned and saw Eve standing there in a thick black bathrobe, clothes in her arms. “I’m taking my shower. Tell them I’ll be there soon, okay?’”
Eve looked tired, her makeup sweated or smeared away. Claire felt guilty about using all the hot water. “Okay,’” she said, and edged another step down toward the living room. Eve’s footsteps creaked behind her, and the bathroom door closed. The water went on.
Claire heard Amelie say, “…can’t take it back. Do you understand? Once you make this choice, it is done. There can be no returning.’”
That didn’t sound good. No, that didn’t sound good at all. Claire still felt shaky and sick, as if she’d drunk half a gallon of that red punch at the party, and she didn’t feel in any shape to face Amelie again. Only so much scary she could deal with in one day. Maybe she’d just wait for Eve….
“I understand,’” Michael said. “But there isn’t a lot of choice anymore. I can’t live like this, trapped in this house. I need to leave. I can’t help Shane if I’m stuck here.’”
“You may not be able to help Shane at all,’” Amelie said coolly. “I would not base such a choice on the love of one friend. It may turn out badly for you both.’”
“Life is risk, right? So I have to risk it.’”
She shook her head. “Samuel, please speak to him. Explain.’”
Sam stirred from where he stood in the corner, but he didn’t come closer. “She’s right, kid. You don’t know what you’re getting into. You think you do, but…you don’t. You’ve got a good thing here—you’re alive; you’re safe; you have friends who care about you. Family. Stay where you are.’”
Michael let out a hollow laugh that sounded a little crazy. “Stay where I am? Jesus Christ, what choice do I have? This house is twenty-five hundred square feet of tomb. I’m not alive. I’m buried alive.’”
Sam shook his head and bent his head, avoiding Michael’s stare.
Amelie stepped closer to him. “Michael. Please think what you are asking. It is not only difficult for you; it is difficult for me. If I give you your freedom from this house, it comes at a terrible price. There will be great pain, and the loss of things that neither you nor I can fully name. What you are will change, and change forever. You would live and die at my command, do you understand? And you would never be even the half human you are now, never again.’” She shook her head slowly. “I believe you will regret this, and regret is like cancer to us. It rots our will to live.’”
“Yeah? What do you think it’s like, being trapped here when people need me?’” Michael asked. His fists were clenched, his face tense and flushed. “I’ve watched my girlfriend nearly get killed five feet away from me, and I couldn’t do anything because she was outside the house. Now it’s Shane, and he’s all alone out there. It couldn’t be worse than this, Amelie. Trust me. If you’re not going to save Shane, then you have to do this for me. Please.’”
He was asking Amelie for…what? Something she could do that would set him free? Claire eased down another step, and saw Sam’s eyes shift and lock on her. She expected him to say something, but he just gave her a very small shake of his head. Warning her.
She retreated back to the top of the stairs, hesitating. Maybe she should get Eve…. No, the shower was still running. She should wait. Michael wouldn’t do anything stupid…would he?
While she was hesitating, she heard Amelie say something that she couldn’t quite understand, except for one word.
“Vampire.’”
And she heard Michael say, “Yes.’”
“No!’” Claire jumped up and pelted down the steps, fast as she could, but before she could get to the bottom Sam was standing there, looking up at her. Blocking her path. She looked over the railing at Michael and Amelie, and saw Michael watching her.
He looked scared, but he gave her a smile—broken, like the one Shane had put on for her in the cage. Trying to show it didn’t matter.
“It’s okay, Claire,’” he said. “I know what I’m doing. This is the way it has to be.’”
“No, it doesn’t!’” She edged down another step, clinging to the rail with both hands. She felt hot and disoriented again, but she figured if she was going to fall, at least Sam was there to cushion her. “Michael, please. Don’t do this!’”
“Oliver tried to make me a vampire. He made me into—’” Michael made a disgusted gesture at himself. “I’m half-alive, Claire, and there’s no going back. I can only go forward.’”
She couldn’t say anything to that, because he was right. Right at every point. He couldn’t go back to being just a regular guy; he couldn’t live with being stuck here, helpless. Maybe he could have, if Shane hadn’t been taken, but now…
“Michael, please.’” Her eyes were filling up with tears. “I don’t want you to change.’”
“Everybody changes.’”
“Not as you will,’” Amelie said. She was standing there like the Snow Queen, all perfect and white and smooth, nothing really human about her at all. “You will not be the man she knows, Michael. Or the one Eve loves. Will you risk that, too?’”
Michael took in a deep breath and turned back toward her. “Yes,’” he said. “I will.’”
Amelie stood in silence for a moment, then nodded. “Sam,’” she said. “Take the child away. This wants no witnesses.’”
“I’m not leaving!’” Claire said.
Yeah, good plan. Sam walked up three steps, scooped her into his arms, and carried her upstairs. Claire tried to grab for the railing, but her fingers slipped away. “Michael! Michael, no! Don’t do this!’”
Sam carried her to her room and dumped her on the bed, and before she could struggle up to a sitting position he was already outside, closing the door.
Later, thinking back on it, Claire couldn’t say if she heard the scream or felt it; either way, it seemed to vibrate through the bones and boards of the Glass House, through her head, and she moaned and clapped her hands over her ears. That didn’t stop it. The scream just went on and on, shrill and painful as a steam whistle, and Claire felt something…pull at her, like she was made of cloth, and a gigantic, malicious kid was yanking at her loose threads.
And then it just…stopped.
She slid off the bed, ran to the door, and opened it. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Eve was rushing out of the bathroom, clutching her bathrobe around her dripping body, her black hair plastered wet against her face. “What’s happening?’” she yelled. “Michael? Where’s Michael?’”
The two girls exchanged a desperate look, and then ran for the stairs.
Amelie was sitting in an armchair, the one Michael usually used; she looked drawn and tired, and her head was bent. Sam was crouched next to her, holding her hand, and he rose to his feet when Eve and Claire arrived breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.
“She’s resting,’” he said. “It takes a lot to do what she did. A lot of strength, and a lot of will. Leave her alone. Let her recover.’”
“Where’s Michael?’” Eve demanded. Her voice was shaking. “What did you do to Michael, you bastard?’”
“Easy, child. Sam had nothing to do with it. I set him free,’” Amelie said. She raised her head and let it rest against the back of the chair, eyes closed. “So much pain in him. I thought he could be happy here, but I see I was wrong. One such as Michael can never stay caged for long.’”
