Rachel Caine - Kiss of Death

“What did you bring?” Morley rasped.

“Besides charm and beauty?” Eve said. “Why? What did you need? What are you doing here?”

“They’ve been helping us,” whispered someone out of the dark. Eve turned up the power on her lantern to max, and the dim, cold light finally penetrated the shadows enough to show the people lying crumpled on the dirty floor of the garage. Well, people might have been a little bit misleading, because Claire realized they were all vampires; their eyes caught the light and reflected it back.

She didn’t recognize them. And then it finally occurred to her why she wouldn’t.

These were the vampires of Blacke. The sick ones. And there must have been at least ten of them, in addition to another ten or fifteen of Morley’s crew, crammed into the small adobe building.

“We went after them one by one,” Morley said. “We’ve been at it for hours now. Some of them were a damn nuisance to bring here, let alone dose. But your witch potion does seem to work, little Claire. If we can get some of the crystals in them, they become rational enough to accept the cure.”

Claire was stunned. Somehow, having seen how far gone things were, she’d never really expected them to be able to save people—but here they were, lying exhausted on the floor, shaking and confused. Unlike the vampires Claire had dealt with in Morganville, these were newbies, like Michael; people who’d been turned against their will in the first place, and made sick at the same time. For some reason, they’d been more susceptible to getting on the crazy train than Michael; maybe that was because he was originally from Morganville, and had some kind of better resistance. But they’d certainly gotten sick a lot faster, and a lot worse, than any vampires she’d ever seen.

Consequently, they were healing a whole lot more slowly. It hadn’t taken Myrnin and Amelie and Oliver long to recover after taking their doses when Bishop was safely out of the way, but then, they were far older, and had already coped with being vampires.

Claire focused on a boy about her own age. He looked scared, devastated, and alone. He looked guilty, as if he couldn’t forget how he’d been surviving these past few weeks or what he’d done.

“They’re coming around,” Morley continued. “But the more we get of them, the more vulnerable we are; they can’t get up and fight yet, even if we’d trust them to do so. And the others over there, they’ve tracked us here. Oliver did a gallant job, but they’re no doubt on their way here now.”

“Uh, I think we might have pretty much led them straight over,” Eve said. “Sorry. Nobody specified stealthy in the message.”

“I was hoping one would take it as implied,” Oliver snapped. “I should have known better.”

“And where the hell is my brother, you jerk?”

“He has orders,” Oliver said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Children, children, this anger gets us nowhere,” Morley said, in a mocking, motherly tone. “There are about fifteen of them left we haven’t been able to catch and give the cure, and sadly, we have very little left at this point. The ones we can’t cure, we must confine, until we can get the drugs from Morganville.”

Funny, Claire had never really thought of him as being a humanitarian—vampiritarian? Anyway, someone who put the best interests of others first. But getting out of Morganville—and away from Amelie—seemed to have done something good for Morley. He seemed to almost care.

Almost.

“Confine, not kill,” Oliver said, and turned to come back toward them. His eyes had gone safely dark again, although Claire could see how tired and hungry he was in the sharp moves he made, and the tense set of his muscles. “And how precisely do you think we should do that, Morley? It’s been difficult enough to trap these creatures singly and pacify them. Morning isn’t far away, and in case you have failed to notice, you’re down quite a few followers on your side.”

Morley shrugged. “Some stayed near the library. Some simply wanted to go, so I let them. The whole purpose of this exercise was to earn our freedom, Oliver. Even if you don’t understand the concept of freedom in the slightest—”

“Freedom?” Oliver barked out a laugh. “Anarchy is what you want, Morley. It’s what you always wanted. Don’t dare to—”

“Hey!” Claire said, and stepped away from Shane, facing both vampires. “Politics later! Focus! What are we going to do, if they’re coming? Can we hold them off?”

“This is the most defensible position in town, other than the library,” Morley said, suddenly all business. “We can hold it with the men we have, even against the local talent.”

“I’m sensing a but coming up soon,” Shane said.

“But,” Morley said, “we failed to bring much in the way of supplies. In fact, most of ours ended up stuck between the teeth of our friends across the way. And those who are recovering will need to feed, quickly.”

There was a short, deadly silence. Oliver said nothing, but he looked drawn and weary.

“Wait,” Eve said slowly. “What are you saying?”

More silence. Claire felt cold trickle down her spine. “You’re saying we just volunteered to be blood donors.”

“You are not serious,” Shane said. “You are not snacking on us.”

“Not all of you, obviously,” Morley said. “The girl’s exempt; she’s Amelie’s toy, and I wouldn’t harm her for the world. Michael, of course, isn’t the appropriate meat for our table. But you and our lovely living dead girl—”

“No,” Claire said. “Never going to happen. Back off.”

“My dear, do you think I’m actually offering you a choice? It’s an explanation. An apology, of sorts. Oliver didn’t send you the message. I held him down, took his telephonic device, and used it myself. Why do you think he’s so badly mussed?”

It was weird, Claire thought, to feel so clear at this moment. So calm. “You’re telling me you’re going to take Eve and Shane and drain them.”

“I could make them vampires when we’re done, if you just can’t face losing them. I’m terribly progressive that way. Then you would be the only breather in your little pack, Claire. How long do you imagine you’d last, especially if your boyfriend there declared his undying love?” Morley fluttered his eyelashes like a cartoon character and put both hands over his heart. “If I were you, I’d volunteer to join them. Being human is not precisely a clever plan.”

“Yeah? How’s this?” Claire, in one smooth, fast motion, pulled an arrow from the bag on her shoulder, slotted it home on the string, and pulled the compound bow back to full extension. She was aiming the arrow straight at Morley’s crossed hands, over his heart.

He laughed. “You aren’t serious—”

She fired.

The arrow went through both of Morley’s hands, pinning them to his chest with the fletching at the end. He stared down in shock at the wood piercing his chest, stumbled, and went down to his knees.

Then just down, face forward. The arrow stuck up out of his back, like an exclamation point.

“I will,” Claire said softly, and let the bow rock forward as she reached one-handed for another arrow and notched it home. “I’m not a really good shot, but this is a really small room, so let me make this very clear: the first vampire who tries to lay a hand on either of my friends gets a new piercing, just like Morley. Now, if you need food, I will figure it out. But you don’t get to use my friends like vending machines. Are we clear?”

Around the room, vampires nodded, casting disbelieving looks at Morley. Even Oliver was staring at her as if he’d never really seen her before. She didn’t know why; he’d known she could do it—hadn’t he?