Ghost Town

Amelie’s eyes slowly blinked. She focused on Oliver’s face. Claire had never seen her look so pale; her lips looked blue, and even her eyes seemed faded. “You should have let her finish,” she whispered. “Better death than dishonor; isn’t that our code?”

“Hundreds of years ago it was,” he agreed. His voice was different now. Gentle. “You’re the last one to cling to the past. How bad is the pain?”

She seemed to think about it. “Compared to what? To what you’ve done to me?”

He was holding her hand, and now he raised it to his lips. “I wouldn’t have acted unless you forced me. But we both know that I don’t lose once I’m challenged.”

“You did,” she whispered. “Once. To me.”

He kept her hand at his lips. “So I did,” he said, so softly Claire almost missed it. “I will never hurt you again. I swear it.” He hesitated, and then drew one sharpened fingernail across his wrist. “Drink. I give it to you freely.”

A drop of his blood hit her lips, and she gasped, opening her eyes wide. She reached for his arm and pulled the cut to her lips, drank, and then let go. She sighed and went limp. Her eyes closed. Claire’s throat closed up tight. She wanted to ask, but couldn’t.

Richard asked for her. “Is she dead?”

“Not yet,” Oliver said. “A silver stake wouldn’t kill her immediately at her age, even in her weakened condition with the loss of blood. But she needs additional treatment.” He looked up at Richard, at Ha

“You mean we don’t say that you saved her?” Richard asked. “Or that you love her?”

Without blinking Oliver said, “Say it again and we will be electing a new mayor, boy. I’m not in the mood to tolerate more human nonsense today. Do you understand me?”

“I understand that you want to turn this town into a cattle pen. That my people are going to be hunted and killed without mercy. So you know what, Oliver? If you want to run Morganville your way, you won’t just be looking for a new mayor. You’ll be looking for a place to hide while we tear this town apart.” Richard got up and just . . . walked out. Ha

Leaving Claire alone with him.

Oliver was looking down at Amelie’s still, quiet face. He said, without raising his head, “You should have gone with them. You have no part in this.”

“I can’t go,” Claire said. “I need to tell you something.”

“Then say it and leave.”

Her throat was dry, and she knew—knew—that he was ready to kill the next person who a

“You said you had to kill a vampire last night,” she said. “Not the one from the diner?”

“No,” Oliver said. He didn’t look up at her. “An old friend. I couldn’t stop her any other way.”

“Did she say anything?”

“What?” Oliver looked up, frowning. “No. She was beyond speaking anything like sense.”

“But she did speak.”

“Only to scream that nothing was right.”

That confirmed it, and Claire felt a cold, heavy sense of guilt. “People are forgetting who they are. Or where. Or else they know something’s wrong, but they can’t tell what it is, and it’s driving them crazy.”

“Then it’s obviously not confined to humans,” Oliver said. “Blood analysis on the affected vampires shows nothing. It’s not the same as the illness we were enduring before.” So he did know. And he’d even done something about it, or tried.

“Then it’s got to be the machine, the one Myrnin and I fixed. It started about the time we turned it on.” He raised his head and met her eyes, and her mouth, if possible, went even dryer. “Myrnin doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I . . . I wish that was true, but I think he’s in denial. I think the machine is doing this to us, and it’s getting worse the longer it’s on.”

Oliver was silent for a moment, then said, “And if we turn it off?”

“Then the barriers go down. But I think the memory problems stop, too.”

“You’re certain of this.”

Was she? Because she knew she was staking her life on it. “Yes.”

Oliver growled, low in his throat, and said, “Then turn the damned thing off and fix it. Find what’s wrong. We can’t do without the barriers for long; our human residents are already defying authority, and once they realize the barriers don’t function, we will lose control entirely, and this will become a true bloodbath. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’ll turn it off. We’ll fix it.”

“Then you’d best get to it. Now get out.”

Claire scrambled out from behind the table and grabbed her backpack. She hesitated over the knife and stake, but scooped them up and stuffed them in before throwing it over her shoulder and ru

Grief.

Dr. Theo Goldman stepped off the elevator carrying his doctor’s bag. He blinked at Claire as they maneuvered around each other, him coming out, her going in, and said, “I was told I had a patient. This is an odd place to find one.”

“It’s Amelie,” Claire said. “That way. Theo?”

He looked back, but kept walking.

“Please help her.”

He nodded, smiled reassuringly, and the doors closed on her before she could say anything else.

TEN

Myrnin wasn’t at the lab when she arrived. That was unusual; she thought that maybe he might be sleeping, but when she checked his room at the back, it was neat and empty. He was just . . . out.

Well, that made things easier.

Claire called home and got Michael and Shane. “I need you to come help me,” she said. “And I need a ladder.”

“Tell me you did not volunteer us to paint somebody’s house,” Shane said. “That would be a lot like work. I’m already doing work way too much.”

Michael, however, got it immediately. “You need to get through the trapdoor at the lab. Myrnin’s not there?”

“No,” Claire said. “Can you help?”

“Sure. Open up the portal and we’ll come straight through.”

Claire hung up and rolled back the bookcase that blocked the portal—no easy job, because Myrnin hadn’t balanced it for humans, although he’d at least removed the lead, which was nice— and unlocked the door from a set of keys she found in the mouth of one of Myrnin’s discarded vampire-bu

Shane and Michael were carrying an extendable metal ladder. Claire reached through and gave Shane her hand, and he stepped over, pulling Michael after him along with the ladder.

“Wow,” Shane said, and shivered. “That’s not weird at all.”

“You’ve done it before,” Claire pointed out. “When I first fixed the portal.”

“Didn’t really think about it that time. Never gets any less strange, though. Okay, where to?”

“Here.” She’d already unlocked the trapdoor at the back of the lab and opened it, and Shane leaned over and peered down into the darkness. Michael pulled him back.

“What?” Shane asked.

“Better not to present a target before you know what’s actually down there, hero. Let’s get this ladder in, and then I go first, okay?”

“You bet, tough guy. Last time I was in a dark tu

They extended the ladder down, and Shane held it in place as Michael descended. Claire leaned over and said, “The light switch is at the end of the room.”

“Yeah, I see it—whoa.”

“What?”

Michael was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m thinking it’s going to be better if I don’t tell you. Just hurry.”

Shane went first, and then Claire; the ladder felt rickety, but it held just fine. She hopped the last couple of steps down to land on the cave floor. Michael had turned on the tu