Bitter Blood

was that had driven her this far. “No. I was made to rule.”

“Kneel,” Amelie whispered. “I won’t forgive you, but I can spare you. And I will. But you must kneel.”

“Never!”

But she did. It happened slowly as if she were being crushed under a huge, impossible weight, and Claire actually felt sorry for her as she finally collapsed to her knees, bent her head, and wept.

Amelie lifted Naomi’s chin, placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and said, “We share the darkest of fathers, you and I. And I don’t blame you. It’s a bitter thing, this blood of ours. You’ll have time to think on it. So much time, alone in the dark. A hundred years of it before your penance to me is done.”

Naomi said nothing. Claire wasn’t sure she actually could say anything. She covered her face with her hands, and Amelie turned away from her to look at the vampires.

“Naomi was not wrong,” she said. “I have been weak. I’ve allowed you to be weak as well, to indulge your passions as I indulged mine, as if there were no consequences to come. But my sister’s way is the old way, and it will destroy us…. You know the fever that hunting brings on us, and the destruction it will cause. Morganville was built to allow us to live without such risk, and with the human world encroaching on us at every turn, we cannot be weak. We cannot be indulgent.” She drew in a long, slow breath. “Tomorrow, you will learn to be stronger than you ever thought you could be. There will be no hunting. No killing. You will share my sister’s penance, for as long as it pleases me. And I will share it, too.” She turned to Hannah, and to the humans who stood there. “You’re free to go. And you may carry my pledge to the rest of Morganville: we will not kill. And if we do, the penalty for us is death, just as it would be for you to kill us. Only as equals can we keep the peace. It is not in our nature, but it is the only way to survive.”

Hannah nodded. So did Mayor Ramos. Monica finally slipped her high heels back on, flipped her hair back over her bare shoulders, and said, “You ruined a great party at my place, you know.” And she walked off without another word.

Claire almost laughed. Almost…and then Amelie turned toward her and said, “Explain to me about these ghosts.”

It was a very long conversation.

Claire, Myrnin, Shane, and Michael were taken out of Founder’s Square and back to Amelie’s office, where workers were already sweeping up the broken glass and boarding up the windows in preparation for morning. After a glance at the work in progress, Amelie moved them into the outer office, where her assistant cleared her desk for the Founder to sit down. A couple of Amelie’s guards carried Oliver in and stretched him out on the floor. He was silent, eyes shut tightly. His burns were healing, but there were still red patches all over his face, and his clothes were more char than fabric.

“I’ll give the edicts now. Bizzie, be sure they are filed tonight,” Amelie said. She looked tired, and desperately pale, but there was nothing but surety in her voice. “Myrnin, I wish you to return to your work. There’s much to be done to repair Morganville. We can’t do it without you, and your chances of survival outside are…slender, at best.”

Myrnin hesitated, then said, “I’ll consider it.”

“I could order you.”

“Well,” he said, and smiled a little. “You could certainly try, dear lady, but—”

Amelie shook her head and cast a look at her assistant. “Just put down that he agreed,” she said. “Michael, although what you did was not of your free will, you raised arms against your ruling queen and your sire. How do you intend to repay me? Think carefully about your answer. There’s only one that will satisfy the debt.”

He shook his head. “You always get what you want.” Michael sounded exhausted and kind of…well, broken. He hadn’t really looked Claire in the eyes, or Shane. “Eve’s not going to forgive me. Not for any of it.”

“True,” Amelie said. “Yet there is no betrayal so bitter as that of a child. But I am prepared to allow you to go unpunished, under one condition.”

“Which is?”

She gave him a very cold look. “I warned you,” she said. “Again and again. I withheld my permission for your marriage not out of spite, but to protect you, and to protect Eve. She has suffered much, Michael, and some of it at your own hands; this is what I warned you against. Humans are fragile things, and we cannot resist the urge to exploit weakness. Already, you have felt this. So for your own good, I will allow you to go unpunished if you will leave your wife. Let her go, Michael. Do the kind thing.”

He looked stunned—and then there was a slow-burning anger inside him that caught fire in his eyes. “You can’t,” he said. “You can’t order me to do that.”

“I am not ordering you. I am offering you the chance to avoid a heavy and very public punishment.”

“Hasn’t she been hurt enough? Breaking us up was what Naomi wanted!”

“For reasons that have nothing to do with mine,” Amelie said. “I share a view with Hannah Moses, and many others. I believe that humans and vampires are best kept separate, for the safety of both. You have taken it too far. I am not angry at the girl, Michael; I am terrified for her. Do you understand how much danger you put her in, daily?”

He had to be thinking about seeing Eve in the hospital, Claire thought, and for a second she was sure he was going to agree, to just…walk away. And that was appalling.

But instead, Michael met the Founder’s eyes and said, “I love her.” Just that, simple and sure. “So whatever punishment you have to give me, go ahead. I’m not hurting her again.”

Across from him, Shane nodded and tapped his fist against his chest. Respect. Michael gave him a small, weary smile.

“Very well,” Amelie said. She didn’t look pleased. “Bizzie, please note that Michael Glass has accepted punishment as decreed by his sire.”

Bizzie’s pen scratched dryly on the paper. “And what is it?”

“I haven’t decided,” Amelie said. “But it will be very public.”

And then it was her turn, as Amelie’s cool eyes fixed on her. “Claire,” she said. “Always in the middle. What shall I do with you?” Claire stayed silent. She really didn’t know what Amelie was thinking, or feeling; there was a lot of anger inside her, a lot of sadness, and it was always easy to target weakness, as Amelie had pointed out to Michael. When she didn’t move and didn’t blink, Amelie turned to Myrnin. “Well?”

“I need her help,” he said. “Frank’s off-line.” Meaning dead, Claire suspected. “Without her, I’ll be ages getting all of the necessary protections back online. Oh, and I’ll need a brain. Something relatively undamaged. Not Naomi; I shouldn’t like to have her run Morganville’s systems, would you?”

“I thought you were planning to use Claire’s brain,” Amelie said casually, and flicked a glance back at her to see if she would flinch. She didn’t. “Very well. One will be located for you. Claire, you will—”

“No,” Claire said. Just that. A very simple word, but it meant throwing herself off a very high cliff. “You said I could leave Morganville once. Did you mean it?”

“Claire?” Shane blinked and took a step toward her. “What are you doing?”

She ignored him, watching Amelie, who was just as intently watching her. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Amelie said. “If you wish. I can arrange for you to enter the university you wished—MIT, yes?—and have advanced study with someone who is friendly to Morganville, though no longer a resident. Is that what you require of me, as payment for saving my life?”

“No,” Claire said. “That’s what you owe me for saving all your lives, a bunch of times. What I require now is that you let Shane go, too. If he wants.”

“Claire, this is unwise,” Myrnin said. “You should not—”

“I want,” Shane said, interrupting him. “I definitely want.”

Claire nodded. She and Amelie hadn’t yet broken their stare. It was really hard to keep doing it; there was some kind of power in Amelie that affected people even when she wasn’t really trying, and it was giving Claire the shakes, and the faint outline of a headache. “I want you to get me into MIT. And for Shane to be able to go anywhere he wants. And for you to keep your word about Morganville. No killing. Not even to get Myrnin his brain.”

“No need,” Myrnin said earnestly. “There are several in the morgue who will—”

Amelie raised her hand and cut him off instantly. “Agreed,” she said. “Note it down, Bizzie.” Bizzie did, without lifting her head as she wrote in quick, dry scratches on the paper. “Now. As to Oliver,” she said. Her voice