Dead Girls' Dance

13

She landed hard, on stone, in the dark, and suppressed a burning need to whimper. A hand closed on her arm and helped her up. She heard a thumping clatter behind her, and got out of the way just in time as Shane—she thought it was Shane, anyway—tumbled out of the chute after her.

And the lights came on.

Well, not lights exactly…one light, and it was a flashlight.

And Shane’s dad was holding it.

He took one fast, cold look at his son, then one at Claire, and said, “Where’s Des?’”

Shane looked shocked. “Dad—you were supposed to go! That was the whole point!’”

“Where the hell is Des?’”

“He’s gone!’” Shane shouted. “Dammit, Dad—’”

Frank Collins looked blackly furious, face twisting, and he swung the flashlight away from them. Claire blinked spots away, and saw that he was aiming it at two of his guys standing in the dark. “Right,’” he said. “Let’s do this.’”

“Do what?’” Shane demanded, getting to his feet. He winced as he put his weight on his wounded ankle. “Dad, what the hell is going on? You said you were leaving!’”

“Didn’t kill enough vampires to leave,’” Frank Collins said. “But I’m about to even the score.’”

The two guys he had trained his light on were crouched next to a makeshift circuit board built out of what looked like old computer parts. It was hooked up to a car battery. One of the two guys held two wires by the insulated parts, but the tips were bare copper, freshly stripped.

Things fell together.

Shane’s dad had used him, again. Used him as bait, letting him think he was being the hero, distracting the vampires to give his dad time to escape.

Used him to get a large number of vampires in one place. But they weren’t just vampires; there were people there, too. Cops, and wannabe vampires. And people who were just there because they owed Oliver.

It was cold-blooded murder.

Richard had said it. Demolition this week. The explosives were already in place.

“They’re going to blow the building!’” Claire screamed, and lunged. She couldn’t fight the bikers, but she didn’t need to.

All she had to do was yank at the wires under the circuit board.

They gave with a blue white pop, and she was lucky not to be fried. One of the bikers reached her then, grabbed her, and threw her back, looking at the mess and shaking his head. “Got a problem!’” he yelled. “She trashed the board! Gonna take time to rewire!’”

Frank’s face went scarlet with fury, and he ran toward her, fist in the air. “You stupid little—’”

Shane caught his fist in an open palm and held it there. “Don’t,’” he said. “Enough, Dad. No more.’”

Frank tried to hit him. Shane ducked. He caught the second blow in an open palm again.

The third one, he blocked, and punched back. Just once.

Frank went down, flat on his ass, something like fear in his face.

“Enough,’” Shane said. Claire had never seen him look taller, or more frightening. “You’ve still got time to run, Dad. You’d better do it while you can. They’ll figure out where we are soon, and you know what? I’m not dying for you. Not anymore.’”

Frank’s mouth opened, then closed. He wiped blood from his mouth, staring at Shane, as he got to his feet.

“I thought you understood,’” he said. “I thought you wanted—’”

“You know what I want, Dad?’” Shane asked. “I want my life back. I want my girlfriend. And I want you to leave and never come back.’”

Frank’s eyes went flat, like a shark’s. “Your mother’s turning over in her grave, watching you betray your own kind. Your own father. Siding with the parasites that infest this sick town.’”

Shane didn’t answer him. The two of them stared at each other in tense, angry silence for a few seconds, and then Claire heard metal clattering from up above. She tugged on Shane’s arm urgently. “I think they found the chute,’” she said. “Shane—’”

Shane’s dad said, “I should have left you in the damn cage to fry, you ungrateful little bastard. You’re no son of mine.’”

“Hallelujah,’” Shane said softly. “Free at last.’”

His dad turned off the flashlight, and Claire heard running footsteps in the dark.

Shane grabbed Claire’s sweating hand, and they ran the opposite direction, with Shane breathlessly counting steps, until there was a golden glow of light at the end of the tunnel.

Shane wanted to run, but escape was impossible. Unless they made it out of Morganville, and even then, Claire understood—finally—that the vampires wouldn’t let them leave. Not with what they’d done, or nearly done.

She needed to make it right.

Claire worked it out in her head before she said anything to him; Shane was talking in a breathless monologue, spinning a plan to steal a car, head out of town, maybe out of state.

Claire kept quiet until she saw the cherry red and blue flashers of a Morganville police cruiser coming down the darkened street, and then she let go of Shane’s hand and said, “Trust me.’”

“What?’”

“Just trust me.’”

She stepped out in front of the police car, which came to a fast, controlled stop. A floodlight blinded her, and she stood still for it. She sensed Shane retreating, and said, sharply, “Shane, no! Stay where you are!’”

“What the hell are you doing?’”

“Surrendering,’” she said, and put her hands in the air. “Come on. You, too.’”

She didn’t think he would, for a long terrifying second, and then he stepped out into the street with her, put his hands up, and laced his fingers behind his head. The police cruiser’s doors popped open, and Shane dropped to his knees. Claire blinked at him, then followed suit.

She was on the ground in seconds, pinned by someone’s hot, hard hand, and she heard a male voice say, “Heller here. We’ve got Danvers and the Collins kid. They’re alive.’”

She didn’t hear the reply, but she was too busy wondering if she’d made an awful mistake as cold steel handcuffs clicked shut around her wrists. The policeman hauled her upright by her elbow, and she winced at the pull on her sore muscles. Next to her, Shane was getting the same treatment. He wasn’t resisting. He looked…tense.

“It’s okay,’” she told him. “Trust me.’”

His eyes were wild, but he nodded.

Better be right, she thought, and swallowed hard as they were shoved inside the back of the police car.

The police didn’t talk to her or Shane at all. The ride was short, and silent, and when the cruiser pulled into the parking garage at City Hall, there was a welcoming committee standing there waiting. Claire almost cried at the sight of Michael and Eve—smoke-stained but standing side by side, holding hands. They looked worried. Next to them was Richard Morrell, with a bandage on his head.

And Mayor Morrell. She couldn’t read his expression at all—annoyed, but she thought that was usual for him. Claire caught a glimpse of red hair, and saw Sam leaning against a pillar up on the dock. Apart from Michael, he was the only vampire present. At least, the only one she could see.

The cruiser’s doors were opened, and Claire slid out. The mayor looked her over, then Shane. His eyes narrowed.

“My sources say somebody set up a spark board down under the hospital,’” he said. “Connected up the wires and got ready to blow the building. Looks like somebody trashed it before anything happened.’”

Shane said, “Claire pulled the wires. My dad was going to blow it and kill everybody inside.’”

The Morrells, father and son, exchanged a look. Even Sam raised his head, though he stayed where he was, arms folded, looking relaxed and neutral. “And where’s your dad?’” Richard asked. “Shane, you don’t owe him. You know that.’”

“Yeah,’” Shane said. “I know. He’s gone. I wish I could tell you he wouldn’t be back, but—’” He shrugged. “Let Claire go, man. She saved people. She didn’t hurt anybody.’”

Mayor Morrell nodded at the cop standing behind Claire. She felt her handcuffs jiggle, then loosen, and gratefully folded her arms across her chest.

“What about Shane?’” she asked.

“The vampires caught two of Frank’s men. They admitted that Frank murdered Brandon. Shane’s in the clear,’” Richard said.

Shane blinked at him. “What?’”

“Go home,’” Richard said, and the cop unlocked Shane’s handcuffs, as well. “Sam’s taken care of getting word out to the vampires. They don’t like you much, so watch your step, but you’re not guilty of any crimes. Not major ones.’”

“Great!’” Eve said, and grabbed Claire’s hand, then Shane’s. “We’re outta here.’”

Eve’s Cadillac was parked a few spaces away. The back and side windows had been blacked out, Claire realized, and there was a fresh smell of paint in the air, and two cans of spray enamel lying on the ground. She got in the front seat, and Michael slid into the backseat. Shane hesitated, looking in at him, then climbed in and slammed the door.

Eve started the car. “Shane?’”

“Yeah?’”

“I’m freaking killing you when we get home.’”

“Good,’” Shane said. “Because right now, death seems like a better idea than talking about any of this.’”

The town was strangely quiet—fires out, mobs dispersed, nothing to see here, move along. But Claire didn’t really think it was over. Not at all.

She leaned against the window on the ride home, exhausted and unhappy. There was an ominous silence coming from the backseat, a feeling like thunderclouds rolling in and ready to break. Eve rambled on nervously about Shane’s dad, and where he might have gone; nobody responded. I hope he leaves, Claire thought. I hope he gets away. Not because he shouldn’t pay—he should—but because if he did, all it meant for Shane was more grief. Losing the last member of his already destroyed family. Better if his dad just…disappeared.

“Have you told Shane?’” Eve asked. Claire sat up, blinking and yawning, as Eve pulled the Caddy to a halt in front of their house.

“About what?’”

Eve pointed at Michael. “You know.’”

Claire turned to look at him. Shane was staring straight ahead, his face like stone. “Let me guess,’” he said. “You came up with some magical fairy who granted you your freedom, and now you can come and go whenever you want,’” he said. “Tell me that’s it, Michael. Because I’ve been thinking about why you’re sitting in this car the whole way, and I can’t really come up with any other answer that won’t make me vomit.’”

“Shane—,’” Michael said, and then shook his head. “Yeah. My fairy godmother came and granted me a wish. Let’s just get past this.’”

“Get past it?’” Shane said. “How exactly do I do that? Fuck off.’”

He got out of the car and stalked up the walkway. Eve grabbed a huge black umbrella and hurried around to Michael’s side of the car; she opened it like a valet, and he stepped out, grabbed the umbrella, and ran after Shane. Even with the thin shade, his skin began to smoke lightly as it cooked.

Michael made it to the shade of the porch, he dropped the umbrella, and Shane turned and punched him.

Hard.

Michael rode the punch, caught the second one in his open palm, stepped in, and hugged him.

“Get off me!’” Shane yelled, and shoved him back. “Damn! Get off!’”

“I wasn’t going to bite you, idiot,’” Michael said wearily. “Jesus. I’m just glad you’re alive.’”

“Wish I could say the same, but since you’re not—’” Shane slammed open the door and vanished inside, leaving Michael leaning against the wall.

Claire and Eve came slowly up the walk.

“I’ll—’” Claire swallowed hard. “I’ll talk to him. I’m sorry. He’s just a little—it’s been a long day, you know? He’ll be okay.’”

Michael nodded. Eve put an arm around him and helped him into the house.

Shane was nowhere to be seen when Claire entered the living room, but she heard his door slam upstairs. Damn, he was fast when he wanted to be. And bitter. Who said girls were moody? She eyed the couch—it was the first comfortable spot to lie down—with weary longing. Maybe she should just let Shane get through it alone. Not like he wasn’t used to dealing with trauma.

Then again…just because he could do it alone didn’t mean he ought to have to.

There was something odd about the room, and for a long second, Claire couldn’t put her finger on it. Then it dawned on her.

The room smelled like flowers. Roses, to be exact.

Claire frowned, turned, and saw a huge bunch of red roses lying on the side table. There was an envelope next to it with her name on it in old-fashioned copper-plate handwriting.

She tore it open and unfolded the papers inside.

Dear Claire,

My informal Protection is no longer sufficient for you and your friends, and I think you know that now. More drastic steps must be taken, and soon, or your friends will pay the price. Oliver will not allow today’s events to go unanswered. You have been brave, but extremely foolish in your enemies.

Consider my proposal carefully.

I shall not offer it again.

There wasn’t a signature, but Claire didn’t have any doubt who had written it. Amelie. The letter was water-marked with her seal.

The other papers in the stack looked legal. She read them, frowning, trying to understand what they meant, and some of the language leaped out at her.

I, Claire Elizabeth Danvers, swear my life, my blood, and my service to the Founder, now and for my lifetime, that the Founder may command me in all things.

It was the same thing Oliver had said, back at the hospital, when he’d been trying to make her…

…make her his slave.

Claire dropped the paper like it had caught on fire. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t.

Or your friends will pay the price.

Claire swallowed, stuffed the contract back into the envelope, and shoved it in her pocket just as Eve came around the corner and said, “Roses! Jeez, who died?’”

“Nobody,’” Claire said hoarsely. “They’re for you. From Michael.’”

Michael looked surprised, but his back was to Eve, and if he had any sense at all, he’d play along.

Claire went upstairs to take a shower.

Being clean made it better. Not a whole lot better, but some. She sat for a while, staring at the white envelope with her name on it, wishing she could talk to Shane about it, or Eve, or Michael, but not daring to do any of that because this was her choice. Not theirs. And she knew what they’d say, anyway.

Not enough no in the world, that’s what they’d say.

It was after dark when Shane finally knocked on her door. She opened it and stood there looking at him. Just looking, because somehow she didn’t think she’d ever see enough of him. He looked tired, and rumpled, and sleep creased.

And he was so beautiful she felt her heart break into a million little sharp-edged pieces.

He shifted uncertainly. “Can I come in? Or do you just want me to—?’” He pointed back down the hall. She stepped back and let him inside, then shut the door behind him. “I freaked about Michael.’”

“Yeah, you think?’”

“Why didn’t you tell me?’”

“Well, it didn’t exactly seem like the right time,’” she said tiredly, and sat down on the bed, back to the head-board. “Come on, Shane. We were running for our lives.’”

He granted that argument with a shrug. “How did this happen?’”

“You mean, who? Amelie. She was here, and Michael asked.’” Claire looked at him for a long second before she added the coup de graĉe. “He asked because he wanted to be able to leave the house.’”

Shane looked stricken. He lowered himself down on the corner of the bed, staring at her with those wounded, vulnerable eyes. The ones that made her heart break all over again. “No,’” he said. “Not because of me. Tell me it wasn’t—’”

“He said it wasn’t. Not, you know, completely, anyway. He had to do this, Shane. He couldn’t live like this, not forever.’”

Shane looked away. “Christ. I mean, he knows how I feel about vampires. Now I’m living with one. Now I’m best friends with one. That’s not good.’”

“Doesn’t have to be bad, either,’” she said. “Shane—don’t be angry, okay? He did what he thought he had to do.’”

“Don’t we all?’” He flopped back on the bed, hands under his head. Staring up at the ceiling. “Long day.’”

“Yeah.’”

“So,’” he said. “You got plans for tonight? Because suddenly I’m free.’”

He made her laugh, even though she thought she didn’t have any of that left. Shane rolled up on one elbow, and the gentleness in the way he smiled at her made her breath catch in her throat.

He reached out and tugged at her hair, smiling. “You’re all wild today,’” he said. “Hero.’”

“Me? No way.’”

“Yeah, you. You saved lives, Claire. Granted, some people I’d just as soon see gone, but…still. I think you even saved my dad. If he’d blown up that building, killed all those people…he couldn’t have walked away from it. I couldn’t have let him.’” They just looked at each other, and Claire felt tension coiling up between them, pulling them closer. She saw him leaning toward her, drawn by the same thing. He reached out and traced one hand slowly along her bare foot. “So. What’s the plan, hero? Want to watch a movie?’”

She felt odd. Crazy and strange and full of uncertainty. “No.’”

“Kill some video zombies?’”

“No.’”

“If we get down to canasta, I’m jumping…off…the…what are you doing?’”

She stretched out across the bed on her side, facing him. “Nothing. What do you want to do?’”

“Oh, let’s not go there.’”

“Why not?’”

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?’”

She kissed him. It wasn’t an innocent kiss—anything but. She felt like those roses downstairs, dark and red and full of passion, and it was new to her, so new, but she couldn’t stop the feeling that she had to do this, now, because she’d almost lost him, and—

Shane leaned his forehead against hers and broke the kiss with a gasp, like a drowning man. “Hang on,’” he said. “Slow down. I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right? You don’t have to put out to keep me here. Well, as long as you eventually—’”

“Shut up.’”

He did, mainly by pressing his lips back to hers. A slower kiss this time, warm and then hot. She thought she’d never get enough of the taste of him; it just jolted through her like raw current and lit her up inside. Lit her up in ways she knew weren’t good, or at least weren’t completely legal.

“Want to play baseball?’” she asked. Shane’s eyes opened, and he stopped stroking her hair.

“What?’”

“First base,’” she said. “You’re already there.’”

“I’m not running the bases.’”

“Well, you could at least steal second.’”

“Jeez, Claire. I used to distract myself with sports stats at times like these, but now you’ve gone and ruined it.’” Another damp, hot kiss, and his hands trailed down her neck, featherlight. Over her shoulders, brushing skin her thin jersey nightshirt left bare. Down…

“Dammit.’” He rolled over on his back, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling again.

“What?’” she asked. “Shane?’”

“You could have died,’” he said. “You’re sixteen, Claire.’”

“Nearly seventeen.’” She moved up against his side, cuddling close.

“Yeah, that makes it all better. Look—’”

“You want to wait?’”

“Yeah,’” he said. “Well, obviously, not my first choice, but I’m all about second thoughts right now. But the thing is…I don’t want to leave you.’” His arm was around her, and there was nothing in the world to her but the warmth of his body against her, and his whisper, and the utterly vulnerable need in his eyes. “But it’s not going to be easy for me to say no. So help me out here.’”

Her heart was pounding. “You want to stay?’”

“Yes. I—’” He opened his mouth, then closed it, then tried again. “I need to stay. I need you.’”

She kissed him, very gently. “Then stay.’”

“Okay, but so far as baseball goes, second base is as far as I go.’”

“You’re sure about that?’”

“I swear.’”

And somehow, he kept his word, no matter how hard she tried to convince him.

Shane was still asleep, curled in a heap among the pillows, snoring lightly. She’d gotten his shirt off at some point, and Claire lay in the soft glow of the rising sun, watching the light gleaming on the strong muscles of his back. She wanted to touch him…but she didn’t want him to wake up. He needed to sleep, and she had something she had to do.

Something he wasn’t going to like.

Claire eased out of bed, moving very carefully, and found her blue jeans crumpled on the floor. The envelope was still in the back pocket. She opened it and slipped out the stiff, formal paper, unfolded it, and read the note again.

She put the contract on the desk, looked at Shane, and thought about the risk of losing him. Of Eve and Michael, too.

I, Claire Elizabeth Danvers, swear my life, my blood, and my service…

Shane had said she was a hero, but she didn’t feel like one. She felt like a scared teenager with a whole lot to lose. I can’t watch him get hurt, she thought. Not if there’s anything I can do to stop it. Michael—Eve—I can’t take the risk.

How bad could it be?

Claire opened the drawer and found a pen.