Bite Club

Not that there was anything she could say other than Yes, of course I’ll pick up your blood before you go eat someone.

“Side trip?” Shane asked.

“I can go on my own. You guys go home.”

“Nope. I’m going with you,” Shane said, and hesitated. “I ought to apologize to him, too. I mean, what I said—”

“You didn’t say it to him.”

“Kind of still need to tell him I’m sorry. He did save our lives.”

She wasn’t happy with that; Myrnin didn’t like Shane dropping in, and then there was the Frank problem. But Frank would have to be crazy to manifest himself with Shane there. Right?

So Shane walked with her to the blood bank, picked up the cooler, and carried it all the way back to the alley and down the steps, into Myrnin’s lab.

Same old crazy place. Myrnin was standing stiffly in one place, hands behind him, just behind one of the lab tables. He was wearing that white coat over his Hawaiian shirt, looking like the world’s least reliable scientist ever.

“Hey,” Claire said. “We brought it.” Myrnin didn’t move and didn’t speak. She frowned. “Are you feeling all right?”

He twitched slightly, blinked, and said, in a flat voice, “Hungry. Just leave it there.”

“Here?” Shane asked, and when Myrnin didn’t reply, shrugged and dropped it. “Okay. There’s your fast-food delivery. We’re going now.”

“I thought you wanted to apologize,” Claire whispered. Shane’s jaw looked tight and set, and he sent her a quick, unreadable look.

“I did,” he said. “But now I don’t. It’s just about maxed me out, not punching him. So let’s go, okay? I don’t want to feel like this. Not anymore.”

“Wait,” said a new voice. Female. Myrnin snapped his head around toward it, and Claire blinked as she saw Kim—Kim?—step out of the shadows and walk toward them. “I knew you’d come with her. Hi, Shane.”

Shane blinked, clearly as confused as Claire felt. “Uh, hi?” He looked at Claire. “Where did she come from?”

Oh. She hadn’t had a chance to explain—Kim, the escape, all that. She’d figured Kim would have run for the borders of town, not come here. Why would she?

“Myrnin, what’s she doing here?” Claire asked. She knew she sounded a little on edge, but it was very weird of him to have guests. Especially guests that Amelie wanted to arrest.

“She’s doing exactly as she pleases,” Myrnin said, and turned slightly so they could see the silver chains wrapped around his arms, from elbows down to wrists. Some of it was covered up by cloth, but not all. Where it touched his flesh, it was burning him. “I’d very much prefer it if you’d take these off.”

“How did she—?”

“She posed as my delivery person,” he said. “I was focused on signing for the blood. Really not my fault, Claire.”

Kim was still coming toward them—no, toward Shane. Her eyes were focused on him with weird fascination. “You don’t look so good,” she said. “I heard Bishop almost killed you.”

“One of us is still standing,” Shane said, and held out a hand to fend her off when she got too close. “Hang on. We are not hugging.”

“Oh, we will,” Kim said. “You and me, Shane. It’s always been the two of us. All we need to do is get rid of the interference.”

Shane’s eyes widened, and he looked from Kim to Claire. “No—”

An arrow hissed across the room, a blur of wood and metal, and Shane shoved Claire out of the way. The arrow plunged into his shoulder, and she felt the warm spatter of Shane’s blood across her face.

He spun away from her and fell.

Who was shooting? Claire tried to get to shelter, but another shot came her way, ricocheting off the wall, and brought her to a quick, skidding halt.

Kim was smiling, and now it had turned bitter and cruel. “I don’t come without friends,” she said. “Boys?”

There had been two men in the jeep that had rescued her in the desert, Claire realized, and now she saw them, dressed in camouflage, blending into the shadows. Both had crossbows.

“Friends,” Claire said. “You don’t have friends, Kim. You stab your friends in the back—”

“Just shoot her,” Kim said. One of the men aimed and fired again, but Claire managed to duck. The arrow tugged at her hair. She hid behind one of the lab tables.

Kim rolled her eyes. “Wow, you guys are terrible. You can’t shoot her?”

They had all pretty much forgotten about Myrnin, but suddenly, there was a sound of metal snapping. Kim looked over at him, startled. “Weak link,” he said. “How appropriate.” He ignored Kim and flashed across the lab in a zigzag pattern, then veered into one corner. The camouflaged man there cried out, then went quiet. The other one tried to shoot at Myrnin, but it didn’t go so well, either.

Myrnin was heading for Kim when she picked up a crossbow lying on a table nearby and shot him point-blank in the chest.

He staggered backward, muttered, “Not again,” and then went down, wood through his heart. Not enough to kill him. Just enough to immobilize him.

Kim dropped the crossbow.

“Stop,” Shane said. His voice sounded ragged and anguished, and as Claire looked, she saw him getting to his feet. “Just stop. What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry you got hurt. They weren’t aiming for you,” Kim said. “I don’t want to kill you, Shane. I spent a lot of time thinking about this. How to get it right.”

Kim sounded earnest and very crazy. Claire didn’t know who she was more afraid for—Shane, wounded, with blood running down his fingers to pool around his feet, or the vampire lying completely still nearby.

“You are crazy,” Shane said, and meant it. “If you’re expecting me to love you —”

“You do love me.” Kim sounded utterly sure of it. “It’s just that she’s in the way.”

“Trust me, that’s not it.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want me?”

“Pretty much.”

Kim pulled a gun out of her pants pocket, and she aimed it right at Shane. He didn’t flinch. Maybe he was just too tired.

“How about now?” she asked. “Do you want me now?”

Shane sighed. “About as much as cancer. So shoot me already.”

She was going to—Claire could see it in her eyes—but then Frank Collins flickered into view just a foot away from Kim’s face.

She shrieked in terror. Even crazy people could do that when a ghost with the vicious face of Shane’s father showed up in their moment of triumph.

“Not my son,” Frank said. “You’re not hurting my son.”

Shane’s eyes snapped open. “Dad?” He sounded dazed and disbelieving, but he could see it, too—the flat, black-and-white image of his father, translucent and standing between Shane and his would-be killer.

Kim fired, but the shot went wild, missing Shane by at least a foot. Claire gasped and ran as fast as she could through the maze of books, discarded clothing, and glass beakers. She vaulted over a chair and landed next to an open cabinet where Myrnin kept all kinds of things that were too dangerous to handle.

Including a set of silver stakes that Eve had made for Claire, and that Myrnin had confiscated and put in the cabinet for safekeeping.

Claire grabbed one and threw it desperately, just as Kim tried to aim again. It didn’t kill her, but it did hit her solidly in the head, snapping her skull sideways, and she staggered and went down to one knee.