Rachel Caine - Bite Club

She squeezed. Eve’s eyes got huge and she gave me a pleading look, then cut it toward Michael, who was coming down the stairs out of the cage, heading for her and Glory.

I felt Glory’s power, her glamour, slam into him like a freight train, and he slowed down…and stopped. He reached out for Eve, moving like he was underwater…and Gloriana laughed a little, one of those sweet, innocent little laughs that had seemed so pretty before, and said, “I hate it when you look at her that way, you know. Such a waste. She doesn’t deserve you, Michael.” And I knew right then that she was going to kill Eve in front of him.

And there was no way Michael would be able to stop her.

He didn’t have to. Eve was fumbling at the pocket on the side of her über-Goth dress, and I saw a flash of silver a second before she plunged it under her arm, across her own body, and into Gloriana’s chest.

“Damn,” I said. Because she must have gotten it right, first try—no easy thing, even when you’re facing a vampire and able to see your target.

Gloriana went down, dragging Eve with her. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, and her eyes were bright and red and running over with fury. She was still trying to close her hand and crush Eve’s windpipe.

Michael lunged forward and slammed the silver stake down harder into Glory’s chest, all the way in, for all I know, all the way into the cement floor beneath her. Then he dragged Eve away and put his arms around her and held on like the world might be coming apart, but the two of them never would.

It was kind of beautiful.

And I watched Gloriana—the prettiest vampire I’d ever seen, and the most dangerous—go still and quiet as the silver began to burn and discolor her body, killing her from the inside out.

She was all done.

I let just a little bit of the rage back out. Just a little, and felt it evaporate into a warm, scary satisfaction.

And God, it felt good.

“Shane?”

Claire hadn’t seen what had happened for the past few seconds—too many running, screaming people, and she’d lost sight of Eve. When the chaos thinned a little she saw Eve sitting on Michael’s lap on the concrete. And Gloriana lying next to them, staked half into the floor. Silver, Claire realized. She was well on her way to totally deceased.

And Claire decided she couldn’t care too much about that. What she did care about was that Michael and Eve were okay, and that Shane was still standing inside the cage, staring out at Glory’s dying body. He looked…blank, except for his eyes. They were full of something hot and wild and strange, and then…peaceful.

Myrnin was still hanging on to her. “Hey!” she said, and shook her arm to try to throw him off. “Let go already! I’m fine!”

He was frowning and trying to look everywhere at once. “I think we should leave,” he said. “I can easily break a hole in the bricks over there. Yes, we should go now. See, your boy is fine. Everything’s fine. Except Glory, obviously—that’s definitely not fine—but honestly, do any of us care? I certainly don’t.”

“Let go !”

“No,” Myrnin said. “You’re my responsibility. And this is dangerous. I don’t know where Bishop is, and until we find him, I don’t want you on your own.”

Claire threw down the black bag she was holding, reached in, and came out with a thin, silver-plated knife. “You know what’s dangerous?” she asked. “Me. If you don’t let go. ”

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and released her. She snatched up the bag and ran for the cage, bouncing off panicking strangers and a few people she actually knew who’d come to bet on her boyfriend dying in a cage —God, she wanted to hit them—and then made it to the steps that led up to the big, square cage. The fight cage.

With Shane.

Shane looked over as she pounded up the risers and flew like a bird into his arms. It felt like the best thing she’d ever done, putting her arms around him, feeling his warm, damp skin pressed against her.

He let out a long, wordless breath and collapsed against her, hugging her like the world was ending, like he never wanted to let her go again. “I’m a fool,” he said. “And an asshole. You ought to run as far away from me as you can. I am so sorry.”

“If I run, you run with me,” she said. “Are you all right?”

He held up his right hand. It looked red and a little swollen. “Broken bone,” he said. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

She took his hand in both of hers, cradling it, and put it gent ly to her cheek. He was staring at her with a hungry expression, one that seemed to her to be more about hope than anything else.

“Just like that,” he said. “Just like that, you’re going to let it go. All the things I did. What I said. God, Claire…”

“Uh, no, idiot,” Claire said. “You’re going to have to work for forgiveness. But this…this you get for free. Because I love you.”

He smiled a little and then he kissed her, and for a few long, sweet, breathless seconds, it was all okay again.

And then Claire heard the sirens.

“The hell?” Shane said, because it wasn’t just a siren. It was a chorus of them, wailing over each other in waves. Every siren in town, it sounded like, all heading toward them.

Claire felt a sick surge of understanding, which became even more clear when Myrnin came up the stairs to join them inside the cage, took her by the upper arm, and said, “And now we are going. No arguments. Amelie and Oliver are coming, and they’re bringing as much overwhelming force as is available to them. If you want to maintain your body, soul, and freedom, stop dwithering and come. No one in this room will be safe once they arrive. They’re very much in a shoot-first, ask-questions-never mood.”

“Dwithering?” Claire repeated blankly. “What is—?”

“Must we argue word choice? Now?”

“Nope,” Shane said. “We’re with you. And we’re going.”

And they would have been, except that as Myrnin turned and headed for the open iron gate, someone else came up the steps and blocked the opening.

Bishop. Impossibly, he looked even younger than he had on the video, like he was aging in reverse. There was fresh blood on his mouth and smeared on the collar of his shirt. His eyes were ancient and vicious and pretty much crazy, Claire thought, as he smiled with his fangs out and said, “Let them come. My daughter thought she could starve me, wall me up, make an example of me. I’ll make such an example of this roomful of people—no, this entire town —that no one will ever say its name again without shuddering. The nightmare is coming now. Wake up and enjoy it.”

Myrnin stared at Bishop in outright horror and backed up fast. He let go of Claire. In fact, he put her and Shane in the way.

“What’s the matter, my old friend?” Bishop asked. He calmly reached back, grabbed the door, and slammed it closed behind him with a rattle and boom of metal. Then he bent the frame so that it wouldn’t open—more effective than a lock. “No clever plans? No silly games? Because you know I haven’t forgotten what you did when you betrayed me. You know I’ll take you apart one piece at a time…fingers and toes first, then working my way in. And your little humans here, they’re only a moment’s work. By the time Amelie and her court reach us, I’ll be drinking their blood out of your skull.”

“You could still run,” Claire said. She couldn’t believe she had enough strength to talk, but she did. She was scared, but not that scared. Somehow, after everything she’d seen, Bishop wasn’t the worst anymore. “You could break out of a wall and disappear in the confusion. You know if Amelie catches you, she’ll kill you.”