Bite Club

It felt like a storm had passed without breaking, and Claire instinctively took in a deep breath, and heard Kim do the same. “A day,” Amelie said. “First, you locate the source of this transmission for us. Then you will be supervised closely on your furlough. Mr. Martin will go with you—” Mr. Martin, the vampire standing behind Kim, inclined his head. “And Claire.”

“Wait,” Claire said, at the same time as Kim. They both had identical tones of alarm. Claire kept talking. “You’re making me stay with her?”

“You don’t like her,” Amelie said. “And therefore you won’t give her any…breaks, I think you call them. At the first sign that Kim is misbehaving, tell Mr. Martin, if he doesn’t know already, and she will be immediately returned to custody.”

“But I—”

“No arguments,” Amelie said. “The deal is done. Mr. Martin, arrange for the girl to have her Internet access, but I want it to be closely monitored. You are not to leave her for a moment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Founder.” Mr. Martin inclined his head. “What if she’s unable to complete the task?”

“She has an hour,” Amelie said. “If she can’t solve the problem within that time frame, I no longer need her.”

Kim, tough-chick ’tude or not, flinched at that pronouncement. There was no mistaking what it meant. “An hour’s not enough time!”

“I sincerely hope you’re wrong,” Amelie said. “Let’s call it…motivation.”

Claire felt an unexpected sense of sympathy for Kim’s stricken expression…. She’d been there not long ago. She’d been under threat of death, or having her friends and family suffer, if she wasn’t able to live up to Amelie’s expectations. It wasn’t a comfortable place, especially if you weren’t sure you could get it done.

But she just couldn’t sympathize much in the end. Kim was a cold-blooded sociopath, at least as far as Claire was concerned, and she’d never shown any sign of remorse. No point in empathizing with someone who’d turn around and stick a knife in your back, with a smile.

Claire felt the minutes ticking away as the details were dealt with…the computer located, the Internet access enabled and hooked up, the security protocols negotiated. Then, finally, Mr. Martin moved out of the way and Kim sat down in front of the keyboard.

She drew in a breath, put her fingers on the keys, and said, “Okay, what’s the URL?”

“ImmortalBattles-dot-com.”

Kim typed it in, then flipped to a view of the code, then started up a new coding window.

“What are you doing?” Amelie asked.

“Running a trace route.”

“And that is how you will find them.”

Kim laughed. “No way in hell. A six-year-old could figure out a way around that. But it’ll give me a starting point, and I can work from that.”

Amelie settled back in her chair. Mr. Martin leaned over Kim’s shoulder, watching the screen intently. If he didn’t know what he was looking at, he gave a good imitation of it. Kim cast him doubting looks from time to time, and once he asked her to stop and explain what she was doing. She did it in quiet, calm tones, apparently creeped out by having him hovering so closely.

Claire sipped a cold drink that had been delivered by one of Amelie’s guards and waited. She checked her watch from time to time, feeling useless and increasingly worried; every minute they sat here was another minute that something bad might be happening to Shane or to Michael.

She was also aware, though she didn’t particularly want to be, that the minutes were counting down for Kim, who was looking paler with every tick of the second hand. Her fingers worked fast, blurring motion, then stopped and hovered indecisively as she leaned closer to the screen.

Thirty minutes. Forty. Forty-five. Claire drained her glass and felt the tension growing in the room. Mr. Martin, hanging over Kim’s shoulder, glanced up at Amelie, who gave him some imperceptible signal Claire couldn’t read. It probably wasn’t good, at least for Kim.

Although Amelie never so much as glanced at a watch, it was exactly sixty minutes by Claire’s timepiece when the Founder said, in precise and soft tones, “Your time is up, Kim.”

Kim froze, then looked up with glittering eyes through the tangled hair that had fallen over her face. She shoved it back, and for the moment, at least, she looked defiant and unafraid. “Yeah? Well, good thing I’m done, then.”

“Get up.”

Kim did, and Mr. Martin moved her away from the computer and fastened handcuffs on her again, looping them through a solid ring set in the concrete wall. He studied the screen of the computer and said, “I have an address here. And a map.”

“It had better be accurate,” Amelie said. “I won’t look kindly on misdirection.”

“Do I get my day outside?” Kim said.

“Indeed, though you may not enjoy it,” Amelie said. “You’re coming with us. Mr. Martin, you’re in charge of her. Claire, you also have responsibility. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes,” Claire said. Mr. Martin nodded.

“Then put her in less…attention-getting clothing,” Amelie said. “I have calls to make.”

“Now, this is more like it,” Kim said, once they were all inside the limousine again. It was a tight fit, with Mr. Martin and Kim added to Amelie, Claire, and the two other guards, but Amelie managed to arrange for her own personal space. It was the rest of them who were crowded. Kim was in the middle, but she didn’t seem to care; she was busy running her hands over the plain black hoodie she’d been given to put on and the blue jeans. The Skechers had to be hers, from before; they looked ragged, well-worn, and had tribal patterns of black thorns and roses all over them, hand-painted. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band. No fancy hair things available, Claire guessed, or at least none Kim wanted to wear. All in all, she made it look reasonably her again. “I wish we could see out.”

“Nothing much to see,” Claire said. “It’s Morganville. Rusty buildings, flat desert, dusty, tumbleweeds. You know the drill.”

“You’d be surprised how good that sounds when all you’ve seen for months are gray walls. So, how’s Eve?”

“She’s fine.” Oh, she so didn’t want to talk about her friends with Kim, of all people. “And she doesn’t want to see you.”

“Call her and see.”

“No.” The last thing Claire wanted was for Eve to get sucked back into the black hole of Kim. That hadn’t turned out well for anyone last time.

Kim laughed dryly. “She still dating that vamp hottie Michael?”

“Would you please, please, please shut up now?”

“I guess that’s a yes. He’s going to dump her, you know. Sooner or later.”

Claire felt stung, mostly because she’d wondered about that herself, guiltily, from time to time. “No, he’s not! They’re—they’re getting married.” She blurted it out, and Amelie’s head turned toward her with eerie, machinelike precision.

“Are they.” It didn’t sound like a question. It also didn’t sound like Amelie was pleased with that particular news. “I’ll have to have a chat with Michael. He’s failed to inform me of his plans.”

Kim smirked. Claire fought the urge to hurt her, but mainly because there wasn’t any room to get in a good punch. Maybe, she thought, Shane is rubbing off on me with this prone-to- violence thing. Dammit! She should have thought before she said anything about that; she should have known better. Michael and Eve weren’t exactly the most popular couple among the vampire side of town, much less the human side; it made sense that Amelie wouldn’t be completely happy about the idea—and that Michael wouldn’t have come right out with it to the head vampire, either.

Kim had goaded her into saying it, just as Kim manipulated everyone around her and always had. Claire made herself breathe slowly, through her nose, trying to calm down. She had to think clearly and go slowly. Otherwise, Kim would drive her into saying other things, worse things. There were all kinds of secrets Kim didn’t need to be part of, starting with…well, everything.

Amelie ignored the two of them and held out her hand to the guard seated next to her. Without a word, he