Claire found she was holding her hands to her head, and couldnt remember doing it. She looked up at Michael, who looked just as shaken as she felt. The vampire guard looked just as surprised.
What was that? Claire asked.
Amelie, Michael said. He reached again for the doorknob, and the vamp blocked him. He grabbed the vamps arm above the elbow with his left hand, and tipped her over his head in a sudden, shocking movement. She should have been down on the floor at the end of it, but instead she twisted in midair and came down lightly on her feet, got her balance, and slammed him against the paneled walls with her clawed fingernails at his throat.
Claire grabbed the doorknob and plunged inside the office.
Inside, it was dark. Pitch-dark. She couldnt see a thing, and for a second she just stood there, hoping her eyes might adjust. Nothing. It was like swimming in ink. Claire groped along the wall for a switch, and found one.
When she flipped it on, she found Amelie standing about one foot away from her, staring at her with wide, ice-gray eyes. Claire yelped and flinched back against the door. Amelie leaned forward, one palm against the wood to the side of Claires head. With her right hand, she reached over and turned the bolt to seal them in.
Now, she said softly. Who are you, little soft girl? Some novice vampire slayer who thinks she will free the town and become a hero of the people? Do you really think you have the courage to put a stake in my heart, child?
Amelie didnt know her. At all.
Worse, there was another vampire in the room. Oliver.
And he was lying unconscious on the floor, with blood streaming from two puncture wounds in his throat.
In retrospect, it was fairly obvious what had just happened; Claire had seen the reverse of it earlier, in the council chamber, when Amelie and Oliver had struggled for control of the town, and Amelie had lost.
It had happened again, and this time shed won.
Claire looked at the hot, alien light in Amelies eyes, and thought, Yay? It was a crazy thing to think, especially since the thought sounded like Eves voice inside her head, but somehow it made her feel a little steadier. A little stronger.
Dont mind the intruder, Amelie said, glancing sidewise at Oliver, who was showing no signs of moving. Ive put him in his place. As I assure you I will do for you, little slayer girl.
Claire swallowed hard and tried to regulate the racing beat of her heart. Showing fear wasnt going to help. My name is Claire Danvers, she said. Im Myrnins apprentice.
Amelie smiled. Not a nice smile. My dear, Myrnin would devour you for a morning snack, she said. Hes done it before, to those more capable and better loved by him. The smile died. Now. Who are you?
Claire! My name is Claire! You know me!
I do not. Nor do I see why I should bother. You shouldnt have come here, little girl. I dont tolerate these kinds of rebellions.
Claire had no idea why she thought of it, but suddenly, a page from the history book that shed bought at the used bookstore flared in front of her brain, clear as if it had been pasted on. She could see every detail of the type, even down to the water stains on the paper. But you did, she said. About a hundred years ago. You let Ballard Templin go free after he took a shot at you on the street.
That surprised Amelie enough to make her cock her head and frown, just a little. Ballard Templin, she repeated. How would someone of your age know of Templin?
He was a gunfighter, Claire said. And he was hired to kill you. You took his gun away and told him to go kill the man whod hired him. He did. It was the bank manager.
These are things you should not know, girl. Things that were never made public.
Claire called up another page in her memory. You bought the land for Morganville from a farmer named Roger Hanthorn, for about a hundred dollars. The first barrier around it was made out of wood, a big fence, like a stockade. And you used to play the harp. People said you played like an angel.
Amelie had gone very still, and the bafflement in her face was almost human now. You cannot know these things.
Your father was Bishop, Claire said. And you were in love with Sam Glass
She didnt know what shed said wrong, but Amelie bared her fangs and grabbed Claire by the arm. She threw her across the room in a weightless rush, and Claire lost the backpack along the way as she tumbled over and over, until she came to a hard, sudden stop against the wall.
Things went fuzzy then, and she felt weirdly hot. She blinked a few times, and Amelies face came into focus right above hers. Who are you? Amelie said. What do you know of Sam? Where is he? He cant hide from me, but I cant sense him! Who has taken him?
Claire snapped back to instant clarity. She was hurting, but she didnt think anything was broken. There was a hot, throbbing spot on her head where shed hit the wall, though.
All of that faded to the background as she realized what Amelie was asking.
She thought Sam Glass was alive.
She thought Sam was missing.
And she thought Claire knew where he was.
That was bad, but what was worse was that there wasnt any good answer. What was she going to tell her? Sams dead? You buried him? I can show you his grave? How horrible would that be? And besides, Amelie would probably kill her for it, even if she believed it, which she probably wouldnt. Hannah hadnt believed she was back from Afghanistan. This would be a lot harder to accept.
Well? Amelie whispered, and pressed her fingernails gently into Claires neck so she could feel the sting. I wont kill you, girl. Not yet, and not quickly. If youve done anything to Sam Glass, I will see you destroyed slowly, in the old ways. You can save yourself by telling me where to find him, now. Her eyes widened. Was it Oliver who took him? She let go of Claire and whirled to stalk over to Oliver, who was just opening his eyes as she bent to grab him by the shirtfront and drag him up to a sitting position. The wounds on his throat were almost closed. You. Amelies voice dripped with scorn and venom. Is this how you repay my kindness to you? I let you live the last time you challenged me. Did you take Sam Glass to ensure your victory this time?
Oliver blinked, and Claire was sure she saw bafflement in his eyes, and dawning realization. She doesnt remember, Claire said. Its got her, too.
So I see, he murmured, and shut his eyes again. I cant help you, Claire. I cant help either of us.
Claires mind wasnt blank, exactly; it was whirling with ideas and thoughts and schemes, and the problem was that none of them would save her, and she knew it.
Amelie stared down at Oliver with ice-cold fury and said, Tell me where he is now, or I will destroy you.
I cant tell you anything, Oliver said. Im sorry.
She was going to kill him. And Oliver wasnt going to make a move to defend himself . . . or maybe, Claire realized, he couldnt. Shed weakened him too much already. The machines malfunctioning! Claire blurted, as Amelie pulled back her hand with claws extended to rip out his throat. Thats why youre confused! Thats why you cant remember where Sam is! You know where he is, Amelie. You know me, too. You gave me a gold bracelet for a while, and now I have a pin. You gave me a pin! You have to believe me!
That was not what Amelie was expecting her to say, obviously, because she drew back, just a little. She let go of Oliver and came back to Claire, and Amelies fingers touched the small gold pin, with the Founders symbol, that Claire had on her shirt. Where did you get this? she asked. From whom did you steal it?
I didnt steal it, Claire said. You gave it to me. How could I know the name of Myrnins computer if I wasnt who I say I am? How would I know any of what I said to you?
She thought for a second that shed gambled all the wrong way, because Amelie looked so angry, and so . . . confused. All she had to do was hit her, and Claire was going to come to a very messy, unpleasant end.
A good question, Amelie finally said. How do you know these things? Only Myrnin and I know of the machine. No one else. No one alive. Did he tell you?
I work for him, Claire said again. I work for you. And theres something wrong with the machine. Thats whats wrong with you. Dont you feel somethings wrong?
Amelie kept watching her for a moment more, then frowned down at Oliver, who was propped now against the wall, still making no effort to rise. She turned and walked back to a big, polished desk. Claire looked around and realized that she recognized this room; shed been in it before, but by portal rather than the front door. There were a lot of old books in built-in shelves, and beautiful old furniture, and soft lights. Large windows that were, just now, uncovered to show Founders Square at night.
The cage in the middle of the park was lit up like an exhibit. Claire wondered if the boy was still in there, or if somehow hed managed to take advantage of the confusion and get out. She kind of hoped so. What if Kyle didnt remember why he was in that cage? How awful would that be?
Claire limped over to a chair and fell into it. Her head was spinning, and she felt like she wanted to throw up, but there was no way she was going to do that on Amelies fancy carpeting. Oliver had already bled all over it.
Outside the room, there was sudden silence, and then the door banged open with a crash that sent the lock flying right out of the wood. Michael came inside, dragging the guard along with him. Shed been tied up with what Claire realized were strips torn from her coat, and hed added a gag. Both of them looked ragged and worn-out.
Amelie stood up, mouth open, and cried, Sam? just a second before she realized she was wrong. Not Sam Glass. His grandson. They looked a lot alike, except for their hair color. Sams had been more red. Michael. But you . . . you cant be . . . Her expression changed, slowly, and she breathed out, No. Not possible. You cant be any get of mine. I would know this. I would remember. But Claire could tell that she could feel it was trueand that made Amelie even more confused.
A confused Amelie was very dangerous.
Michael dumped the guard in the corner and came to Claire. Are you hurt?
No, Im okay.
Theres blood on your shirt.
Oh. Yeah, her neck was bleeding a little. Not enough to worry about. Im fine. Except for the headache, which was bad, but that wasnt something she wanted to go into. Michael looked doubtful, but he turned from her to look at Oliver. What happened to you?
Complacency, Oliver murmured. I thought she was under my control, and then . . . she changed.
She lost her memory, Claire said. She forgot youd taken over. So she attacked you.
Oliver lifted a weak hand in agreement, and they all looked at Amelie, who was white as a marble statue now. How can this be? You were . . . I remember you, Michael. You should be younger . . . thinner
And not a vampire, Michael said. But I am one. And you made me one.
Yes, Amelie whispered. I can feel that. But how . . . how can this be true when I dont
Its the machine in Myrnins lab, Michael said. We need your help to stop it before its too late. Myrnin doesnt remember things, either. He wont let us get close without a fight. Youre the only one hell listen to.
I must think, Amelie said, and sat down as if shed lost all strength. Leave me. She didnt seem to care about them anymore, any of them. There was a deep, miserable confusion in her eyes, and Claire remembered how the vampire in the diner had snapped. Surely that wouldnt happen to Amelie.
Not to Amelie.
Claire turned to Oliver. Help us, she pleaded. We need your help. You still remember.
For how long? Oliver asked. He, too, sounded weak and odd. I saw it overtake her. It will do the same to me, and Ill be of no use to you then.
Convince her to come to Myrnins lab, Michael said. Thats how you can be of use to us. We need you there. Both of you.
Amelie looked up sharply. No one convinces me. Leave now, or Ill destroy both of you. If theres action to be taken, I will take it, but you will not stay here and insult my authority by appealing to him. She pressed a button on her desk, and an alarm began to sound out in the hall. I must have time to decide what to do.
Michael pulled Claire out of the chair, grabbed her backpack, and said, Were going.
Then run, Amelie said. Because if my men catch you, I will have them kill you.
Michael nodded, and practically dragged Claire at a run out of the office.
I cant! Claire panted. Her head was pounding, and she couldnt keep her balance. Michael didnt hesitate. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, and kept running. She could see behind him.
Vampires were coming out of the doors and running after them. Jumping after them, eating up the corridor in big bursts of movement. Faster! she screamed. He got to the intersection of hallways and raced so fast that she felt even dizzier from the rush of wind and blurring paneling. Okay, she was not going to throw up on Michaels shoulder. She just couldnt.
Michael banged through a door, and suddenly she was airborne. That didnt help the disorientation at all, but at least it was fast, and she felt the impact when he landedwhere?
Oh, at the bottom of the stairwell. She craned her neck and looked up three stories, where the vampire pursuers were jumping after them, and one of them was on the railing, readying to leap right on top of them.
Michael didnt wait. He threw open the door to the parking garage and the next thing she knew, she was being tossed into the back of the Death Limo and Eve was peeling out of the garage like her tailpipe had caught fire.
Claire breathed as deeply as she could, and in a few seconds, the world stopped twisting around quite so badly. She opened her eyes and looked up at Shane, who was holding her in his lap.
You were supposed to call, he said. He sounded angry.
Sorry, she said. We were busy being almost killed.
Eve screamed through the window at the front, Michael? Michael, what happened? Are you all right?
Im okay, he said. He must have been, because Claire couldnt imagine how hed outrun all those vamps if he hadnt been. He was lying down, though, on the other bench seat in the back. They wont chase us outside of the square.
Im not taking any chances! We are going straight home!
Nobody had any argument for that. Claire was thinking, But we have to do something. Anything.
The problem was, everything she could think of ended with them getting killed.
She had to think of something.
Only she didnt. It was late, and they were all tired, and her head hurt. She fell asleep on the couch, and Shane finally woke her and told her to go to bed. She wanted to stay with him, but she knew she shouldnt, not when she was trying to think, and her head hurt so badly.
She didnt remember getting upstairs to her room, but she must have, because when she woke up, sunlight was streaming through the curtains and laying a warm blanket across her bed. She felt better, until she poked at the bump on her head; that still hurt. But it was healing, she could tell.
She still hadnt thought of what she was going to do, except that she needed to get to Myrnin, convince him to help, or else she needed to take down the computers power. Maybe the power station, she thought, but shed been there once, and unless she was planning to get a full Navy SEAL team and maybe Hannahs old marine buddies, there was no way she could take out the power there.
It had to be done in the lab. Which left the problem of the crazy vampire who didnt remember her and wanted to have her for lunch.
There was nothing coming to her, nothing at all. Amelie might help, or she might not. There was no telling what she, or Oliver, would do.
It was still early enough that Michael was probably home, but Claire thought today was Eves early day at Common Grounds; she put in only about sixteen hours a week there, but she tried to do it early mornings, because she really didnt like spending evenings there anymore. So shed probably already been up and gone, if she was intending to work at all. Shane would be in bed. He never got up before ten unless he had to.
Sure enough, when Claire went into the bathroom, there was fog on the mirror, and still-warm drops in the shower, and Eve had left her makeup scattered all over the counter. Claire put it back in the bag and got out her own, which wasnt much beyond an eye pencil and some mascara. She showered and dressed fast, and had her mind on what she was going to say to Oliver when she opened the bathroom door, and ran straight into Michael.
He looked at her in shockso much shock, in fact, that she checked to make sure shed remembered to put her pants on. She had. What? she demanded. Do I have something on my face?
What are you doing in my bathroom? Michael asked, and took a giant step back. How did you get here?
Oh, crap. Shed been afraid Michael was susceptible to whatever was going on, and now here it was again. Just like Amelie. Just like Myrnin. Just like Monica, for that matter.
He didnt wait for her answer. He ran to the end of the hall, to her room, and threw open the door. Dad . . . He fell silent, staring at the room. Dad? He backed up slowly. What the hell is going on?
Claire sighed. It seemed like her whole life was being spent telling people the bad news. I know youre not going to believe this, but I live here, Michael. Ive been here for a while now.
He turned back on her, fists clenched. Shed never seen that look on his facescared and desperately angry. What did you do with my parents?
I promise, I didnt do anything! Look, you can ask Eve if you dont believe me, or Shane
Did Monica put you up to this? Michael asked, and pushed her. That was a shock, and the grim, furious expression he had made her feel cold inside. Just get out. Get out of our house!
Wait! It was no use; he wasnt going to believe her any more than Hannah had, or Amelie, or Myrnin. Wait, dont
Michael pushed her again. With vampire strength.
Claire flew backward, fell, rolled, and almost slid down the stairs before she grabbed hold of a banister railing to pull herself to a stop. Michael stood there, looking utterly astonished; he stared at her, down at his hands, and back again.
Youre a vampire, Michael, Claire said, and scrambled up. Her head was hurting again. No surprise there. If you dont remember anything else, remember that. You can hurt people, even if you dont mean to do it.
Get out! he yelled. He looked really upset, and very, very angry. Bad combo for a vampire. His eyes had taken on a wicked crimson shimmer.
Claire went down the steps, grabbed her backpack from where it was leaning against the wall, and dashed out the door. Once she was outside in the sun, she stopped and pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Shanes number. It rang and rang and rang, and finally he picked up and mumbled something that didnt really sound like a word.
Wake up! Watch your back, she said. Michael doesnt remember who I
She didnt have any time to say more, because Michael had followed her out onto the porch, and as she started to turn, she saw that he was coming after her.
In the sunlight.
No! Claire yelled, and dropped her phone and the backpack to the ground. Michaels skin started to sizzle and smoke instantly on contact with the sun, and he just stood there, staring down at himself, as if this was some horrible dream, and he was waiting to wake up. Michael, get back! Get in the shade!
Im not . . . Im not a . . . He staggered and fell to his knees. Im not a vampire.
Michael!
She didnt have a choice. Shed have to risk him turning on her, like Myrnin; she couldnt leave him out here to fry. He didnt seem to understand that he had to moveor maybe he wasnt able to. She couldnt tell.
Shane! Shane, get your ass down here! she screamed, loud enough that she hoped he could hear it over the still-on cell and through the windows. She couldnt wait for him, though.
She dumped her backpack and raced back to grab Michael under the arms. His shirt was on fire, and she batted it out before trying to drag him, but as soon as she did, the shirt burst into flames again, singeing her own clothes. The shadows were still three feet away. If she got him there, hed be all right; she knew hed be all right . . . but he was struggling now, and she kept losing her grip.
Do it, just do it! Claire took a better hold and gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might. He was heavy, really heavy, and it hurt trying to hold on while he thrashed. She moved him another foot. It seemed to take forever.
Move! Shane yelled from behind her, and jumped down the steps with a heavy quilt in his hands. He threw it over Michael and started slapping out the flames. What the hell happened?
He . . . he forgot he . . . Claire couldnt get her breath. I couldnt get him to go inside.
Jesus, Michael . . . Claire, go call an ambulance. Hurry.
She stumbled up into the house and made the call as Shane dragged their friend back up the steps and onto the porch. She hoped she made sense to the emergency services person on the other end. She honestly didnt know. All she could think about was getting back out there and helping Shane.
It was only as she hung up the phone that she realized her own hands were burned, too. She tried not to look too closely. They didnt hurt yet, exactly. That was probably shock. She went back out to the porch, and saw that Shane had peeled away the quilt.
Michael was alive, but he didnt look good. His shirt was covered with burned holes, and the skin underneath looked horrible. So did his face, his hands, his armsevery part of him that hadnt been fully protected. He was still awake, and his eyes had turned a brilliant ruby red. Im not, he was saying. Im not one of them. Shane, tell me Im not! He sounded so afraid. His voice was shaking.
Shanes expression made Claires heart ache, and his voice came out rough, but oddly gentle. Youre not one of them, bro, he said. Youre one of us. Youll always be one of us.
Michael was crying now. Get my dad. I need my dad.
Shane pushed his hair back with one hand, clearly not sure what to say, and then shook his head. I cant. Hes not here, Mike. Just stay still, okay? Youre going to be okay. Theyll fix you up.
Get Sam, Michael pleaded. Hell tell you Im not . . . Im not . . .
It was awful. Claire wanted to cry, too, but she knew if she started, she wouldnt be able to stop. Why Michael? God, it was her fault. Hers and Myrnins. This was happening to so many people, and she couldnt take it; she really couldnt. Michael didnt deserve this. Nobody deserved this.
Claire, your hands . . . Shane was looking at her now, and he seemed pale. You burned your hands.
Ill be fine, she said. It seemed the thing to say. It didnt look so bad now, in the sun. Mostly they were red and angry-looking, like a terrible sunburn. Well, shed had those before. Is he in pain?
Im right here, Michael said. He was getting hold of himself a little. It hurts. Not so much now, though.
Hes healing, Shane said quietly. Hell be all right.
But Michael was staring at Claire now, and suddenly he said, You . . . you did something to me. Poured gas on me. Something. Im not a vampire. I didnt just catch fire.
No! Claire was appalled he even thought it. No, Michael, I didnt
Get her away from me, Michael said to Shane. Shes crazy. She was in the house. Shes one of Monicas friends. You know how they are with fire.
Mike . . . Shane hesitated, then plunged on. She lives here, man. Shes got the room at the end. Your parents room. Shes okay. Really.
Michael didnt say anything to that, just shook his head and closed his eyes. Shane looked at Claire, and lifted his hands in a silent apology. She nodded.
It was a relief hearing the ambulance come screaming toward them.
Shane went with Michael to the hospital, and the paramedics looked Claires hands over, gave her some kind of cream, and told her shed be fine. She didnt feel fine, but she ignored it. Somebody had to tell Eve, and she didnt want to do it over the phone. There were some things that just didnt sound right, and this was a big one.
Backpack and phone back in place, Claire ran the blocks to Common Grounds. Along the way she saw plenty of evidence that things were going even farther off the trackslots of police out, people wandering the streets looking lost and upset, people fighting. One woman kept trying to get into a house, and she was scaring the people inside.
Claire didnt stop for anything.
Common Grounds, on the other hand, was weirdly normal. The overwhelming aroma of coffee hit her like a wake-up call as she came in the front door, and there were plenty of people here, huddled over their mochas and frapps and lattes as they studied or chatted or phoned.
Everybody seemed to be from TPU today. She couldnt spot a single Morganville residentbut then, it was the middle of the morning, and most people had already left for work, unless they were out wandering the streets, confused.
There was no sign of Oliver in the place, and no sign of Eve, either. There was some other girl working the register. Claire hurried up, breathless, and said, Wheres Eve?
Who? the girl asked. She looked new. And clueless.
Eve, she said. Tall girl, real Goth? She works mornings. I need her.
The girl gave her a harassed look as she added milk and stirred, added whipped cream, and handed a cup over to one of the two boys Claire had displaced. Are you deaf? Shes not here. I dont know any Goths around here.
She works here! That got nothing but a shrug. Not a very interested one. What about Oliver?
You mean George?
George? Claire stared at her, a sick feeling growing in her guts.
Yeah, George, the owner. Not sure where hes gotten off to today. The girl went to ring up someone else. Claire hissed in frustration and tried to think what to do next; it was clear that whatever memory reset the counter queen had undergone had erased Oliver, too.
Claire headed for the door. She was surprised to hear the girl call after her. Hey! she said. Claire looked back. Some girl came in today and tried to put on an apron. I guess she was kind of Goth; she had black hair, anyway. I told her to go home.
Claire caught her breath. Home, she said. But if Eve had it, too, she might not remember the Glass House as home. Like the woman shed seen down the street, trying to unlock a door that wasnt any longer her own.
Shed have gone home home. To her parents house. That could be . . . well, either good or bad, depending. Claire wasnt really sure. Shed been under the impression that Eves dad, whod passed away last year, had been the real trouble in Eves home life, but what about Jason, Eves brother? Three years ago, hed probably been a dangerous little creep. It might not be safe for Eve at all.
The Rossers, she said. Where do they live?
No freaking idea, the counter girl said, and turned to the next customer. Yeah, what do you want?
Claire was ready to interrogate everyone in the shop for answers, but she didnt have to after all, because a door opened at the back of the shop, and she saw Oliver in the shadows. He looked oddtired, wary, and very paranoid. He looked around the coffee shop, frowning, and his eyes fixed on her.
He nodded very slightly.
He knew who she was. That sent a wave of relief flooding through her, all out of proportion to things. She wanted to lunge over and kiss him. Well, ew, not really, but maybe a hug. Or a handshake.
What she did do was walk slowly and calmly over to him. Are you okay? she asked.
Why?
I dont know, because the last time I saw you, you had bite marks in your throat?
He grabbed her wrist and held it very, very tightly. Youd do well to forget you ever saw any of that.
Theres too much forgetting going on already.
Certainly true, he said, and let go. Were you concerned for me?
Not exactly.
Wise answer.
Michael has it. The memory thing. He doesnt . . . he doesnt remember who I am.