her free into his arms. Her shirt was burning. He slapped the flames out.
Amelie reached past them, grabbed Oliver’s burning form, and yanked him out with all her strength. The bar he’d been holding snapped in half, but he slid free.
Still on fire.
Amelie stared down at him for a bare second with true horror written on her face, then threw herself down on him, smothering the fire with her body and her hands. He was scorched and smoldering, but alive.
Oliver’s burned hands moved, caressing her shoulders, and he whispered, “Forgive me.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Hush.”
“Stop me before I hurt you again.”
“I will.” She sat up as he closed his hands around her neck, and she drove the wooden arrow that she’d pulled from her own chest into his heart. Oliver went limp.
But Michael and Hannah had just rounded the corner, armed and ready to kill, and there was nothing but Naomi’s will in their expressions now.
They were puppets—deadly puppets.
Amelie didn’t seem to know, or care. Myrnin grabbed Hannah, avoiding the silver-edged knife as she expertly sliced it at him, and tried to throw her off-balance. “Don’t hurt her!” Claire cried. “It’s not her fault!”
Michael was still coming. Shane let go of her and faced off with him. “Not gonna happen, bro,” he said. Michael bared fangs at him, and Shane held up the stake in his hand. “Not in this lifetime. I already had a vamp kiss me today. Not going all the way—”
But the banter wasn’t slowing Michael down, and before Claire could take a breath, Michael had rushed forward, grabbed Shane’s arm, and was relentlessly bending it back until the stake rattled on the granite slab. It rolled toward the cage and caught on fire from the inferno raging inside.
At that moment, Claire saw Miranda and Jenna step into view behind them, and Jenna let go of Miranda…and the air turned darkly electric with the rush of whispers.
Even Michael paused. There was something terrifying in that sound, something
Claire blinked, because she could see shadows now in the glare of the fire—shadows that moved on their own. Human-formed, they rushed forward past Miranda. Some piled onto Hannah, and although Claire could hardly see them, they must have had an effect, because Hannah staggered and stopped trying to stab the hell out of Myrnin. He let go and backed away, and she swatted at the whirl of shadows around her, movements growing more and more frantic and erratic.
And weak.
And then she went to her knees, and fell.
The same was happening to Michael, a storm of ghost-fury around him, and as Shane backed away, Claire saw one of the shadows break loose from the angry swarm and come toward her boyfriend.
The small figure took on shape and a glassy kind of reality as it approached him.
“Lyss,” Shane whispered, “thank you.”
She held out her hand; just for a moment, Shane took it. Claire saw the power that ran between them, a burst that exploded like a star in Alyssa’s shadow-body and gave her, just for a few seconds, reality.
“I love you,” Alyssa said, still holding on. “I just had to tell you it wasn’t your fault.”
Then she let go and faded into starlight.
Gone.
Shane staggered backward, and Claire caught him. His heart was beating fast, and he felt cold despite the inferno-like temperature of the gas jets nearby.
Michael was down now, and the ghost-swarm buzzed on for a few seconds before Miranda—called them back? That was what it looked like, Claire thought. The ghosts gathered like a cloak around her, crowding and whispering, and Miranda shuddered and turned very, very pale, almost translucent.
Jenna grabbed her hand, and she stabilized again.
“Bring them,” Amelie said, pointing to Hannah and Michael. She stared at Jenna and Miranda for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do with them, then inclined her head just a tiny bit. It was a bow of recognition, if not approval.
“What are we going to do?” Shane asked as he bent to grab Michael under the arms. Michael moaned, but he didn’t move much on his own.
“Now,” Amelie said with all of hell in her eyes, “we’ll find out who plays this game better.”
She was a mess, Claire thought—dress torn, smudged now with soot and blood from Oliver’s scorched body, hair in a tangle around her face. But she’d never looked more savage, or more like a queen, than when she walked out from behind the cage and faced Naomi.
The whole crowd froze, a mass of a hundred or more vampires, all deciding what to do; the humans panicking in their sacrificial corral; Jason and Monica, locked in a fashionista battle stance.
Not even Naomi, who looked utterly cool and perfect. But her smile looked stark and—just for a moment— false.
“It’s fitting,” she said then, “that you die at the hands of your successor. Try to do it with dignity, Amelie.”
“I always loved you,” Amelie said. “It’s a pity you were never worthy of it.” Her eyes flared bright silver white, and she nodded toward Claire, who was standing nearest. “Bring them.”
Claire guessed she meant Michael and Hannah, and she gestured. Myrnin carried Hannah over, and Shane dragged Michael.
Naomi laughed. “This is your army, dear sister? Pathetic.”
“Is it?” Amelie extended her hand toward Michael Glass. “I’ll have my fledgling back now.”
Whatever hold Naomi was keeping over him, it broke with an almost audible twist; Michael grabbed his head, and for a few seconds he looked as if he might collapse—but he pulled himself upright, wiped blood from his nose, and walked past Naomi to stand next to Amelie. Next to Shane, too. His eyes flashed over Claire, as well, and she read the horror and sorrow in them.
“And you, too, Hannah.” Amelie moved her pointing finger to Hannah Moses. “I free you. Join your people.”
Myrnin let her down, and Hannah blinked, staggered, and whipped her head around to glare at Naomi. The blind fury in her eyes was terrifying…but then she backed off from the vampires, and she went to where Monica was holding Jason at bay with her silver-capped shoe.
Hannah said, “Put those back on. This works better.” And she handed Monica the silver knife.
“What about you?” Monica asked as Jason took a big step away.
Hannah shrugged. “If he wants to come at me, he’ll find I don’t need anything else. Not for the likes of him.”
Jason backed all the way to the first rank of vampires behind him.
They shoved him
“Now,” Amelie said to Naomi, in the hiss of the burning torches and the roar of fire in the empty cage, “tell me again how you plan to rule in
Naomi didn’t lack for guts, Claire thought. She turned to the assembled vampires of Morganville, raised her hands, and said, “You know what Amelie offers. I will give you freedom. I will give you glory. I will give you back the world that you deserve. All you need to do is take one step forward, just one, and you will be free!”
Amelie said nothing. Not one thing.
No one moved. Not even Jason, who, Claire guessed, was starting to realize just how badly he’d screwed up his newfound immortality.
Naomi’s face went from impassioned to blank as the reality hit her that she had lost. Decisively.
“You missed the strong hint you were given before,” Amelie said. “Many of these were present when you fell among the draug. No one bent to save you then. And none will follow you now.” Her eyes blazed silver, an awful and beautiful color, and she didn’t even have to raise her voice at all. “Kneel to me, Sister.”
“No,” Naomi said. She was shaking now, as if about to collapse, but she was grimly clinging to whatever it
