Bitter Blood

more than power and popular acceptance—and those things came standard with the plaque on the mayor’s door.

“I think I can make it work,” Claire said. “We could put up signs asking people to write you in on the ballot. You’ve got people who owe you favors, right? And the vamps would like it. They think you’re easy to control.”

“Hey!”

“I said they think you are. But you wouldn’t be here working with Shane if you were all that easy, would you?” Claire cocked her head. “Missed a spot.”

“Would you just get to the point?”

“Morganville needs a new Captain Obvious,” she said. “And Morganville needs a new mayor the vamps would approve. You could be both.”

“What, like a secret identity?” Monica laughed, but it was a dry, bitter sound. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Shane is already teaching you how to fight,” Claire pointed out. “You already know how to target people you don’t like. Why not do it for the sake of the town for a change? Captain Obvious has always been kind of a bully, just a bully on the side of the humans.”

Monica had nothing to say to that. She simply frowned as she rinsed the last of the soap from her right leg, did the left, and then cleared the conditioner out of her hair. When she shut off the water, Claire threw her the towel. Monica dried off and wrapped up, and finally shrugged. “It’d never work,” she said.

“Maybe not,” Claire said, “but you owe me. And you’re going to run for office.”

Monica studied herself in the mirror, then smiled as she met Claire’s eyes. “Well,” she said, “I would make an awesome mayor. I’m very photogenic.”

“Yeah,” Claire agreed, straight-faced. “Because that’s what really counts.”

Shane didn’t take it well.

“Monica,” he kept saying, all the way home. “Wait, let’s back up. We’re going to campaign for Monica. For mayor.”

“Yes,” Claire said. “I’m sorry, why is this so hard to understand?”

“Did you trip in the shower and hit your head or something? Monica Morrell. I’m pretty sure we still hate her. Let me check my notes—yep, still hate her.”

“Well,” Claire said, “you’re taking money to teach her to fight, so you sort of don’t hate hate her anymore. And I’m not sure I do, either. She’s just sort of annoyingly pathetic now that she doesn’t have her position and her posse.”

“And you want to turn around and give her back, let’s see, a position, with a title and a salary, and the power to make the life of everybody in this town a living hell? She’s not that sad a case.”

“Shane, I’m serious about this. We need to get someone on the Elders’ Council the vampires can’t control, and someone who’s human, and someone people might vote for. She’s a Morrell. She’d get the sympathy vote because of her brother.”

He scrubbed his face with both hands as she unlocked the front door of the Glass House. “Such a bad idea,” he said. “In so, so many ways. Tell me we’re not actually helping her.”

“Well, I did kind of promise to make signs.”

She expected him to kick about that, too, but instead, he got a slow, evil smile on his face and said, “Oh please. Allow me.”

“Shane—”

“Trust me.”

She didn’t.

And sure enough, two hours later, she heard Eve’s outraged scream coming from downstairs. She rushed into the living room and saw Shane holding…a poster. It was a vivid neon blue thing that read, in block letters, WHY VOTE FOR THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS?VOTE MORRELL!, and it had the saintliest picture of Monica that she’d ever, ever seen beneath it. Honestly, it couldn’t have looked more angelic if Shane had Photoshopped a halo on it.

It also had one of those bright yellow callout stars in the corner that read ENDORSED BY CAPTAIN OBVIOUS!HUMAN APPROVED!, plus a copy of the write-in ballot with Monica’s name written boldly in marker.

It was simultaneously the funniest thing Claire had ever seen, and the most appalling.

Eve couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. She just stared…first at the poster, then at Shane, then back to the poster, as if she couldn’t imagine a world in which this had happened. Finally, she said, “I really, really hope this is a joke. If it isn’t, Monica’s going to kill you. And then she’ll wrap you in that poster and bury you.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Shane asked, and looked down at the paper. “I know, blue wasn’t my first choice, but I figured hot pink would be overkill.”

“Okay, I need a recap. Why exactly are you making a poster to elect Monica for mayor? Did I miss a step, or wake up in Opposite World, or…?”

“It’s Claire’s plan,” he said. “I’m just the graphic designer. She’s the campaign manager.”

Eve collapsed on the couch and put her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’ve gone insane. Too much stress. I knew one of us would break someday….”

“Monica’s perfect,” Claire said. “Eve, really, she is. Think about it. And hey, if you want, you could be Captain Obvious.”

“Me,” Eve repeated, and gave a dry, strangled laugh. “Yeah, sure. Sure.”

“Hey,” Shane said. He propped the poster in the corner, and—unexpectedly, at least to Claire—dropped to one knee in front of Eve. He took her hands and dragged them down so he could see her face. “Look at me. You’re the original rebel around here, Eve. Hell, you were a malcontent before I was. Before Michael. Before Claire. Most of these Captain Obvious wannabes half assed it because in their hearts they were regular guys, pissed off at not having everything they wanted when they wanted it. That isn’t rebellion; it’s just selfishness. But you’re not like that. If you wanted to be Captain Obvious, you’d be real.”

He meant it. No mocking, no digs, no friendly banter; he sincerely meant that, and Eve took in a deep, ragged breath as she stared back. She shook her head, once. “I can’t, Shane.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You could be. But only if you really want to.” He said it without drama, without even any special emphasis, just stating a simple fact. “C’mon. Pizza’s getting cold.”

“Michael’s going to kill you both,” Eve said, and followed him as he stood up and walked to the table, where Claire remembered what she was doing and set down plates. “Kill you so very, very dead.”

But she was wrong, because when Michael showed up—about fifteen minutes later, coming out of the kitchen in that silent vampire-stealthy way he sometimes did, when he forgot his company manners—he took a long look at the poster, cocked his head, and said, “Wrong picture.”

Shane cast Eve a look of evil triumph. “Well, I would’ve used her senior yearbook pic, but she looked like a Spice Girls reject. Anything else?”

“There is no Captain Obvious.”

“That’s your objection?” Eve said, dropping her half-eaten pizza back to the plate. “Out of everything on the poster, including—oh, I don’t know, Monica?—that’s your problem with it?”

“He spelled her name right. I actually like the ‘lesser of two evils’ motto; it really captures the spirit.” Michael had brought his own pizza, and one of his opaque sports bottles. Pizza and blood, a combo only a vampire could love; trying not to think about it much, Claire added some crushed red pepper to her slice. “And to be fair, I did object to the picture first. That one makes her look way too sweet.”

“I think that was intentional,” Claire said. “Everybody knows—”

“There’s a new Captain Obvious,” Shane interrupted.

“Yeah?” Michael took a giant bite of crust and cheese and meat, then mumbled, “Who?”

Shane silently pointed to Eve, who swatted his hand away. So did Claire. And Michael choked, coughed, grabbed his sports bottle and swigged.

Eve said, “I’m so very not. Ever.”

“No,” Michael said, and coughed again, so violently Claire wondered if vampires could actually choke to death. Probably not. They didn’t really need to breathe, after all; they’d just have to stop talking until they could clear their throats. “Hell no. Not you.”