Bite Club

Just another reason to hate him. Like I needed more.

“Are you ready?” she asked me. “Are you going to be my knight in shining armor, Shane, protecting me from all the big, bad men?” She said it with a smile, but I had the feeling she didn’t mean it. She seemed to be making fun of me, but I couldn’t get too upset about it. There was something about her…something that deep down I knew I hated but still couldn’t resist. “Because we have a lot riding on you tonight. We need you to make us a lot of money, very quickly, and we’re going to take that money and pay off some debts. Old debts, to someone we’d rather not owe, if you know what I mean. Then there will be new owners for Immortal Battles, and Vassily and I will be safe. And we can all be out of Morganville forever.”

She was telling me things that I knew she didn’t intend for me to understand, and on some level I did understand…and I knew that something was very wrong. But it was too late for any of that, for caution or thinking or resistance.

I hated her kind, but I’d do anything for Gloriana, and she knew it.

“Now,” she said, and patted my hand the same way she would have patted a dog on the head. “You’re not going to have a problem with your warm-up match, are you?”

“Who am I fighting?”

“Your old friend. Michael.”

Michael. I turned that over in my sluggishly working brain, and I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t quite get it to come out of my mouth. Instead, I said, and I meant it, “Sure, no problem.” Michael and I had fought before. Hell, I’d put him down on the ground a couple of times, even though he was vamp-fast. I could take him.

“I only ask because it would be inconvenient if you had…second thoughts. We’re going to do this live, not on tape, you see. More excitement that way. More money. There will be a live audience as well as one online.”

Didn’t matter to me who was watching or why. “I fight vampires,” I said. “That’s what I’m supposed to do. Doesn’t matter who they are or who they used to be. Right?”

“Right,” she said, and laughed. I tried not to notice the flash of fangs in her mouth. “I love a man who knows what he wants, Shane. Oh, and remember…this fight doesn’t stop until one of you gets carried out. No mercy.”

“No mercy,” I said. I felt weirdly hollow inside, empty where I’d been full of all kinds of stuff before. There was only the hate now, glowing and radiating inside of me, and it was starting to feel like something toxic. Something that was eating me up inside, spawning cancers like black clouds.

But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered when she opened the door and I saw the cage in the middle of the bleachers, and the people getting in their seats.

“That’s yours,” Glory whispered to me. “That’s all yours, Shane. Because you’re going to win tonight, and we’re all going to be free.”

I looked at her, suddenly sure she was lying…but there was something oddly open and honest in her blue eyes.

“You mean it?” I asked. “Free?”

“Free,” she repeated. “I promise you. After tonight, you’ll never have to fight again.”

Then she led me down a hall and sat me in a chair, and Vassily showed up doing his stupid Dracula impression, with cameras that leered at me with empty eyes. And then it was all over and the countdown was up.

Time to fight.

“Paying customers,” Myrnin said. He nodded to the people getting out of cars and walking toward the far door, the safe door, of the warehouse. There were all types—what passed for white-collar in Morganville, moms, college kids, tough guys. A cross section of crazy. There were vampires, too, working the door…Claire recognized one of them, and said so. “Yes,” Myrnin agreed. “He was with Bishop before. One of those Amelie said has been missing. Now we know where he’s been. No doubt Vassily hired many of Bishop’s former employees to staff his little venture.”

“But what does he want?” Eve asked. She was watching the parade of people forking over cash with a baffled and faintly sickened expression. “All this for money?”

“Millions of dollars, which to a vampire means safety and stability,” Myrnin said. “And independence. Our friends who broke away from Amelie to form their little colony in Blacke aren’t the only ones who want out of Morganville; Bishop’s friends and sympathizers fear Amelie. Outside of this town, they could be their own little petty kings and queens.” The way he said it, he seemed bitter and distant, as if he’d considered it before. Or done it before. “In any case, never think money is any less a good motive than passion. You’d be surprised what people will do for money that they wouldn’t do for love.”

“We have to get in,” Eve said.

“No doubt,” Myrnin agreed. “But they will know you immediately. Claire is less recognizable, and hardly anyone knows my face. I suggest you stay here and—”

Eve gave him a withering look and said, “Pass me your hat.”

“Pardon?”

“Your hat. And your coat.”

Myrnin gave her a doubtful look and handed them over. She shook them out, sniffed them, made a face, and then put it on. On Eve, the coat looked even bigger and more ill-fitting than it had on Myrnin, and the hat practically swallowed her head. All that Claire could see of her was a white flash of face.

Just like a vamp.

“Huh,” Myrnin said, and cocked his head with great interest. “For someone so singular, you can disappear quite effectively.”

“Shut up and get ready,” Eve said. “You’re going to need to move your butt if you don’t want it lightly fried.”

He looked down at himself and frowned. “Won’t do, won’t do. Far too individual. No…” And before Claire could stop him, he stripped off his coat and dumped it on the floor, along with his brocade vest. He left on the crimson shirt and black pants—very piratical. “Better?”

“Sure,” she said. She couldn’t imagine it was. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eve got out first and hurried toward the door, head down. The vampires got one look at her face and waved her in without a word. Claire followed her, carrying both black bags. They stopped her and asked for admission money, which Myrnin dug out of a pocket and handed over…in gold coins. Probably not all that unusual for the fanged bunch, Claire guessed, because they just shrugged and pocketed the money and gave her and Myrnin plastic strips to wear around their wrists. “You can’t bring blood in,” one of them said as he sealed the wristband. “Concession’s at the back of the room. Ten bucks for a pint.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Myrnin said. “The prices—”

Claire nudged him along. He looked outraged. “Well, it is very high,” he muttered. “Oh. There’s your friend, Even. Ever?”

“Eve,” Claire said. “Here, take your bag. I’ve got mine and Eve’s. I’m going to go find Shane. You and Eve —”

“No need for that,” Myrnin said as the lights dimmed and the door boomed shut at the back of the room. Claire had the distinct impression that it was being locked up, and anyone who arrived after was going to be standing outside enjoying the day, human or vampire. “Here he comes.”

Claire turned around. They were standing on the concrete floor, and the cheap aluminum bleachers extended up for ten rows or so on all four sides of the big, open room. In the center was a platform, and on the platform was an iron cage with an open door. It was about the size of a boxing ring, and there were bright, white-hot lights pointed down into it from all angles to turn it into a blank white canvas.

Vassily walked out into the middle of it, fangs flashing as he smiled and waved at the crowd. The stands were about half full, Claire realized; maybe they hadn’t been able to get the word out quickly enough. Didn’t matter. Their real money came from the Internet betting and memberships.

Vassily was wearing just about the exact same outfit as Myrnin, only on him it looked cheap and stupid. He