Later, thinking back on it, Claire couldn’t say if she heard the scream or felt it; either way, it seemed to vibrate through the bones and boards of the Glass House, through her head, and she moaned and clapped her hands over her ears. That didn’t stop it. The scream just went on and on, shrill and painful as a steam whistle, and Claire felt something…pull at her, like she was made of cloth, and a gigantic, malicious kid was yanking at her loose threads.
And then it just…stopped.
She slid off the bed, ran to the door, and opened it. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Eve was rushing out of the bathroom, clutching her bathrobe around her dripping body, her black hair plastered wet against her face. “What’s happening?’” she yelled. “Michael? Where’s Michael?’”
The two girls exchanged a desperate look, and then ran for the stairs.
Amelie was sitting in an armchair, the one Michael usually used; she looked drawn and tired, and her head was bent. Sam was crouched next to her, holding her hand, and he rose to his feet when Eve and Claire arrived breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.
“She’s resting,’” he said. “It takes a lot to do what she did. A lot of strength, and a lot of will. Leave her alone. Let her recover.’”
“Where’s Michael?’” Eve demanded. Her voice was shaking. “What did you do to Michael, you bastard?’”
“Easy, child. Sam had nothing to do with it. I set him free,’” Amelie said. She raised her head and let it rest against the back of the chair, eyes closed. “So much pain in him. I thought he could be happy here, but I see I was wrong. One such as Michael can never stay caged for long.’”
“What do you mean, you set him free?’” Eve was stammering now, her face ashen without any Goth cosmetics to help. “You killed him?’”
“Yes,’” Amelie said. “I killed him. Sam!’”
Claire couldn’t see why she snapped the other vampire’s name until Sam turned in a blur, and met another blur coming at them from across the room. That turned into a struggle, two bodies moving too fast for Claire’s eyes to follow until it ended and one was flat on his back on the floor.
That was Michael on his back…but not the Michael she knew. Not the one she’d seen five minutes before, talking to Amelie, making this choice. This Michael was terrifying. Sam was having trouble holding him; Michael was struggling, trying to throw him off, and he was snarling, oh God, and his skin—his skin was the pale color of marble and ashes….
“Help me up,’” Amelie said quietly. Claire looked at her, stunned. Amelie was holding out a queenly hand, clearly expecting to be obeyed. Claire gave her help up to her feet, just because she’d always been taught to be polite, and braced the vampire, as she seemed about to lose her balance. Amelie found her balance and gave her a weary, thin smile. She let go of Claire’s arm, and walked slowly—painfully—to where Sam was fighting to keep Michael down.
Claire looked at Eve. Eve was backed into the corner, her hands in fists covering her mouth. Her eyes were huge.
Claire put her arm around her.
Amelie put one white hand on Michael’s forehead, and he instantly stopped struggling. Stopped moving at all, staring straight up at the ceiling with fierce, strange eyes. “Peace,’” Amelie whispered. “Peace, my poor child. The pain will pass; the hunger will pass. This will help.’” She reached into a pocket of her dress and took out a very small, very thin silver knife—no bigger than a fingernail—and sliced a gash across her palm. She didn’t bleed like a normal person; the blood seeped out, thicker than normal, and darker. Amelie put it to Michael’s lips, pressed it, and closed her eyes.
Eve screamed beneath the cover of her hands, then turned blindly and hid her face against Claire. Claire wrapped her in a tight, shaking hug.
When Amelie withdrew her hand, the gash was closed, and there was no blood on Michael’s lips. He closed his eyes, swallowing, gasping. After a few long seconds, Amelie nodded to Sam, who let go and stepped back, and Michael slowly rolled over on his side and met Claire’s horrified stare.
His eyes. They were the same color, and…not the same at all. Michael licked his pale lips, and she saw the bright white flicker of snake fangs in his mouth.
She shuddered.
“Behold,’” Amelie said softly, “the youngest of our kind. From this day on, Michael Glass, you are one of the eternal of the Great City, and all will be yours. Rise. Take your place among your people.’”
“Yeah,’” Sam said. “Welcome to hell.’”
Michael got to his feet. Neither of them helped him up.
“That’s it?’” Michael asked. His voice sounded strange—deep in his throat, deeper than Claire remembered. It gave her a little shiver at the base of her spine. “It’s done?’”
“Yes,’” Amelie said. “It’s done.’”
Michael walked toward the door. He had to stop and brace himself against the wall on the way, but he looked stronger every second. Stronger than Claire felt comfortable with, in fact.
“Michael,’” Amelie said. “Vampires can be killed, and many know the ways. If you grow careless, you will die, no matter how many laws Morganville holds to protect us from our enemies.’” Amelie glanced at the two girls, standing together in the corner. “Vampires cannot live among humans. It is too difficult, too tempting. You understand? They must leave your house. You must have time to learn what you are.’”
Michael looked at Eve and Claire—more at Claire than Eve, as if he couldn’t stand to really face her yet. He looked more like himself now, more in control. Except for the pale skin, he might nearly have been normal.
“No,’” he said. “This is their home, and it’s my home, and it’s Shane’s home. We’re a family. I’m not giving that up.’”
“Do you know why I stopped you?’” Amelie said. “Why I ordered Sam to stop you? Because your instincts cannot be trusted, Michael, not at this point. You cannot care, because your feelings for them will hurt them. Do you understand? Were you not moving toward these two girls with the intention of feeding on them?’”
His eyes went wide and, suddenly, very dark. “No.’”
“Think.’”
“No.’”
“You were,’” Sam said quietly, from behind him. “I know, Michael. I was there once. And there was no one to stop me.’”
Michael didn’t try to deny it again; he looked at Eve, right at her, with such terrible dawning pain that it hurt to see it.
“It won’t happen again.’” Eve hadn’t said a word since all this had started, so it was a little shocking to hear her say that, so calmly. So…normally. “I know Michael. He wouldn’t have done this if he was going to hurt any of us. He’d die first.’”
“He did die,’” Amelie said. “The human part of him is gone. What is left is mine.’” She said it with a little regret, which didn’t surprise Claire much; she’d seen it in Amelie’s infinitely weary eyes as she’d helped her up. “Come, Michael. You need food. I will show you where to go.’”
“Wait a minute,’” he said. “Please.’” And he stepped away from her, and held out his hand to Eve.
Amelie drew breath to tell him something—probably no—but she didn’t speak. Sam didn’t, either, but he turned and walked away, aimlessly circling the room. Claire reluctantly let go of Eve, and Eve walked directly to Michael, no hesitation at all.
He took both of her hands in his.
“I’m sorry. There wasn’t any other way.’” Michael swallowed, his eyes fixed on Eve’s. “I’ve been feeling it, more and more. Like this—pressure inside. It’s not just that I needed to do this to help Shane. I just…needed it to stay sane. And I’m sorry. You’re going to hate me.’”
“Why?’” Eve asked. It was half bravado, it had to be, but she sounded certain. “Because you’re vamped? Please. I loved you when you were only halfway here at all. As long as you’re with me, I can deal, Michael. For you, I can deal.’”
He kissed her, and Claire blinked and looked away. There was a lot of hunger in that kiss, and desperation, and it was way too personal.