Even Michael paused. There was something terrifying in that sound, something wrong.
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. Nobody moved.
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. Oh, Michael.
“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 forward, into no-man’s-land.
“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 my town, Sister. Tell me how you will command the obedience of all these gathered here. Show me.”
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 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.”