“Speaking as my second-in-command.”
“Speaking as your friend,” he said, and took her hand. “Amelie. We have our differences, you and I. We always will. But I would not see you suffer so. Morganville is too much for you right now—there are too many vampires here with too much ambition. Control must be maintained, and if you won’t do it, you must put it in stronger hands. My hands.”
“How kind of you, to keep the best interests of others so close to your heart,” she said. She didn’t try to remove her fingers from his, but her tone had taken on a remote kind of chill. “So what do you propose?”
“Until you can put aside your mourning, give me the town,” he said. “You know I can keep order here. I’ll act as your regent. When you are ready, I’ll give it back to you.”
“Liar.” She said it without particular emphasis, or blame, and Claire saw Oliver’s hand tighten on hers. Amelie smiled, just a little. “Liar, and bully. Do you really think such tactics could work, against the daughter of Bishop? You would have done well to pretend to a little more sympathy, or less. Half measures never work for you, Oliver.”
“You’re losing the town by inches now,” he said. “Morley’s only the first of the vampires to make a move against you—more will come. The humans, too; there are gangs of them attacking us in the night. I’ve already been approached to stop it.”
“So now it’s a plot. A plot to remove me from control. And you are my faithful servant, coming to warn me.” Her teeth flashed as she laughed softly. “Oh, Oliver. The only reason you didn’t betray me to my father when you had the chance was because the odds were even. Had he courted you for even a moment, you’d have yielded like a lovesick girl. You’d have planted the knife in my back yourself.”
“No,” he said, and pulled her off balance, down to her knees on the floor across from him. “I wouldn’t. You’re not a queen anymore, Amelie. Don’t presume to sit on your throne and judge me!”
She wrenched a hand free and slapped him hard across the face, and Claire backed up as the two vampires locked red stares. “I’ll judge as I see fit,” Amelie said. “And I’ll have none of your insolence. Scheme all you want, but it doesn’t matter. Morganville is mine, and it will never be yours. Never. I’m on my guard now. You may be assured that whatever plots exist against me will be uncovered and destroyed. Even yours.”
She shoved him back, and Oliver fell full length on the floor. In a flash, Amelie reached out for the silver knife that Claire had put on the table, and before Claire could blink, that knife was at Oliver’s throat. “Well?” she demanded. “What say you, my servant?”
He spread his hands wide in mute surrender.
Amelie stared down at him, then looked at Claire. “Summon my car,” she said. “I believe I will go for a drive in Morganville. It’s time my people see me, and know I’m not to be underestimated.”
She slammed the knife into the floor next to Oliver’s head, close enough that the edge left a bloody streak down his cheek, then rose to her feet and swept out of the room and down the stairs. Claire dug her cell phone out and called the number to Amelie’s security, and told them to meet her downstairs.
By the time she was done, Oliver was sitting on the sofa. He dabbed at the cut on his face, looking a lot less upset than Claire expected him to be.
“Wow, you planned that,” she said. “Right?”
He shrugged. “She loved Sam. She needs someone to fill the void inside her—either a lover, or an enemy.”
“And you’re the enemy.”
Oliver dusted himself off. “Through all the long, long years, it’s what we’ve always had between us. Anger, and respect.” He smiled a little. “And sometimes a glimmer of something else, not that we would ever admit it to each other. No, enemies are easier. She likes being my enemy. And I rather enjoy being hers.”
Claire really, really didn’t get it, but she didn’t think that either one of them would care.
“Hey,” she said. “You came through the portal. Did anything weird happen?”
“Weird?” He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I mean—never mind. I’m just kind of worried about the portals. I want to recalibrate the system.”
“I was planning to walk in any case. It’s just as important for the residents of Morganville to see me afoot as for them to see Amelie in her queen’s black coach.” Oliver straightened his shirt and stood up. “It gives us . . . balance.”
“Oliver?”
He stopped at the head of the stairs.
“What would happen if someone got word out about the town?”
“Out?”
“Out in the world. You know.”
“Oh, it’s happened before. But no one believes. No one ever believes.”
“What if—what if they had proof?”
“The only possible proof would be a genuine vampire, and that will never happen. Short of that, any proof can be denied easily enough.”
“What about—video?”
“Claire. You go to the cinema, don’t you? Do you imagine, in this age of digital trickery, that anyone would believe video of vampires?” He shook his head. “They would believe it now less than ever. The very popularity of vampires in your stories protects us.” He sent her a sharp glance. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” she said.
“Stop wondering. It’s not healthy.”
Then he was gone. Claire sat down on the couch and smoothed her palms over her jeans.
Oliver was right; people probably wouldn’t believe it. Most people didn’t believe all the ghost reality shows, either. The problem was that these days, reality didn’t have to be real to be a hit—and Morganville couldn’t stand up to real scrutiny.
They had to stop Kim, before it all fell apart.
Plus, as a bonus, they had to really kick her ass about the cameras, because that was just wrong.
Eve and Shane got home first, while Claire was devouring a peanut butter sandwich. She didn’t tell them about the visit from Amelie and Oliver, and besides, they looked pretty grim. She was sure they wouldn’t really care.
“What?” she asked. Shane snagged half her sandwich from her plate as he passed. “Hey!”
“Worked up an appetite, watching Miss Bad Attitude’s back,” he said around a mouthful of bread. “She goes to the most interesting places. I mean interesting in terms of scary as hell.”
“Do not tell Claire about that club,” Eve said, and took off her metallic sunglasses. Behind them, her mascara was smeared, and her eyes were red—not vampire red, but more like an overdose of tears. “Besides, it’s not like I just randomly decided to go there. It’s where Kim liked to hang out.”
“What kind of club?” Claire whispered to Shane.
“Leather,” he whispered back. “She’s right; you really don’t want to know.”
“Kim hasn’t been there in a couple of days,” Eve said. “But we found a few vampires who did interviews with her recently, for her history project.”
From the expression on Shane’s face, there was more to the story. Claire said, doubtfully, “And they just told you? Just like that?”
“I had to make some deals to get the details.” Eve avoided making eye contact on that. She shed her black leather jacket, the one with all the buckles, and snagged a corner of Claire’s leftover half sandwich. “Hmm, this is good; did you put honey on it?”
“You didwhat?” Making any kind of deal with any kind of vampire in Morganville was crazy. Making deals with the kind of vampires hanging out in a leather bar was . . . suicidal. Claire rounded on Shane. “You let her do that?”
“Seriously, you can’t even think about blaming me when she gets like this. I’m the bodyguard. Unless you wanted me to tie her up and gag her . . .”
“They’d probably have gotten into it there,” Eve said. “Look, I can get out of the deals. Amelie’s our get-out-of-deals-free card. But I needed to find Kim, and to do that, we needed information. Unless you waved your magic techno-wand and . . . ?”