Carpe Corpus

one who was ever good to me. Why should I?”

“The boy rewarded you by showing my father everything you taught him,” Amelie said softly. She broke the stare with Sam and looked at Jason’s face. “Didn’t you?”

“It was what I had to trade. You set up the rules, lady. I just followed them.”

Amelie grabbed Jason by the hair and shoved him at Sam, who caught him in surprise, and then held him when Jason tried to break free. “He’s yours,” she snapped at Sam. “You created this. Deal with it.” She spun to Oliver. “You were right. Bishop does know how to use the network.”

“Then we can take advantage of that,” Oliver said. “Since he assumes we do not know that he does.”

They’d effectively dismissed Sam and Jason. Sam stared at Amelie with so much pain in his face that it made Claire hurt to look at it, then shook his head. “Let’s go,” he said, and nodded to Michael and Claire. “All of us. Now.”

No one tried to stop them. When Jason tried to make one last clever little comment, Sam slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him out. “Shut up,” he said. “You’re still alive. That’s a better outcome than you deserve.”

Claire portaled them directly into the Glass House. She breathed an involuntary sigh of relief at finding Shane sitting on the couch, staring at a flickering TV screen like it held the secrets of the universe, and Eve pacing the hallway in her clumpy boots.

Eve spotted them first, screamed, and threw herself on Claire like a warm Goth blanket. “Oh God, everybody thought you were dead! Or, you know, Bishoped, which would have been worse, right? What happened? Where did you go?”

Over Eve’s shoulder, Claire saw that Shane had gotten to his feet. “You all right?” he asked. She nodded, and he closed his eyes in sudden relief. Claire patted Eve’s back, in thanks, love, and a little bit of get-the-hell-off-me . Eve got the message. She backed up, sniffling a little, and couldn’t keep a smile from ruining her sad-clown makeup.

“Sorry about that,” Claire said. “I . . . well. It wasn’t exactly my idea, and I can’t really explain. . . .”

“But you’re okay. No fang marks or . . . ” Eve’s gaze darted past Claire, and she stopped talking. Stopped moving, too.

Shane, on the other hand, moved fast, putting himself between Claire and Jason. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Fuck you too, Collins.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, and gave Jason a warning shake that must have rattled his bones. “He’s here because I didn’t want to kill him. Any other questions?”

Eve still wasn’t saying anything. Claire couldn’t blame her; she had the same kind of conflicted emotions passing over her face that Shane had when he thought about his dad. Love/hate/loss. That sucked, when Jason was standing right there. She hadn’t really lost him. Not yet.

Michael went to her, the same way Shane had gone to Claire—to get between her and her brother. “He’s not welcome here,” Michael said, and that put the force of the Founder House behind it. Claire felt a pressure building, getting ready to evict Jason and—presumably—Sam, if Sam didn’t let go of him.

“Wait,” Sam said. “You send him out there, he’s dead from all sides, and you know it. Bishop has no use for him, hasn’t since Jason’s assassination attempt failed. Amelie would kill him without blinking. You really want to do that to your girlfriend’s brother?”

“Michael, don’t,” Eve said. “He won’t hurt us.” And everyone rolled their eyes at that. Even Jason, which was borderline hilarious.

“Look,” Jason said, “all I want is a way out of this stupid town. You arrange that, and I’ll never show my face around here again. You can keep your stupid hero life-style. I just want out.”

“Too late,” Shane said. “Last bus already left, man. And we’re thirty minutes away from Bishop’s big town hall meeting. You can run, but you can’t hide. Anybody who isn’t there is dead. He’s going to send out hunters. It’ll be open season.”

“I could stay here,” Jason said quickly. “Upstairs. In the secret room, right?”

They all looked at one another.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to run up your phone bill and watch pay-per- view. Besides, if I was going to kill you in your sleep, I would have already done it.” He made a kissy-face at Shane. “Even you, asswipe.”

“Jesus, Jason.” Eve sighed. “Do you want to end up in the landfill, or what?” She touched Michael on the arm, and he glanced back at her and took her hand. “Can you tell if he lies to us?”

“Uh, no. Drinking blood doesn’t make me a lie detector.”

Sam spoke up somberly. “I can.” He shrugged when Michael gave him an odd look. “It’s just a skill. You pick it up, over time. People can’t control their bodies the way vampires can. I can usually tell when they’re lying.”

“No offense, but you’ve been wrong plenty of times, Sam. Like, deciding that you could trust this little weasel as far as you can throw him,” Michael said, then caught a devastating pleading look from Eve. “All right. Go ahead. Ask him whatever you want.”

Eve took in a deep breath, looked her brother in the eyes, and said, “Please tell me the truth. Did you kill those girls?”

Because that had been Jason’s rep. Murdered girls, dumped all over town, a string of killings that had begun right after Jason had gotten out of jail, just about the time Claire had moved to Morganville. One body had been put here in their own house, in an attempt to implicate Shane and Michael.

Jason blinked, as if he somehow hadn’t really expected her to ask. “The truth?”

“Of course, the truth, idiot.”

“I’ve done bad things,” he said. “I’ve hurt people. I need help.”

Eve’s face fell. “You really did do it.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Eve.”

“Never is, is it? I really thought—”

“He’s lying,” Michael said. He sounded as surprised as Claire felt. “Right, Sam?” Sam nodded. “My God. You really didn’t do it, did you?”

Jason looked away from them. “Might as well have.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Eve snapped. “Either you did, or you didn’t!”

“No,” her brother said. “Either I did, I didn’t, or I was there when it happened and didn’t stop it. Figure it out.”

“Then who—”

“I’m not saying. People think I’m a killer; they leave me the fuck alone. They think I’m just some sad-ass ride-along clown. They’ll kill me quick.” Jason looked up now, right at Eve, and for the first time, Claire thought he looked sincere. “I never killed anybody. Not on my own, anyway. Well, I came close with you, Collins.”

“But you won’t tell us who did kill them?”

He shook his head.

“Are you afraid?” Eve asked, very gently.

Silence.

“You know what?” Shane said. “Don’t care. Street him before we wake up with our throats cut by him or his imaginary playmate.”

And they might have, except that the doorbell rang. Michael flashed to the window and looked out. “Crap. Our ride’s here. We don’t have time for this.”

“Michael,” Eve said. “Please. Let him stay, at least for now. Please.”

“All right. Get him upstairs and lock him in. Sam, can you stay with him?

“No,” Sam said. “I have to go back to Amelie.”

“We have to leave. Claire, can you shut down the portal that leads here?”

“I can try, sure.”

As Sam hustled Jason up the stairs to the second floor, Claire touched the bare wall at the back of the living room, and felt the slightly pliable surface of the portal lying on top of it. It was invisible, but definitely active.

“Ada,” she whispered, and felt the surface ripple.