Bite Club

This was so dangerous. God, everywhere she turned there was risk. To Shane and to Morganville. Even to the vampires, though she didn’t care quite as much about that, because the vamps could always take care of themselves…and would.

“Who was it?” Michael’s face was carefully blank, but she saw the glitter in his eyes. He was waiting to see how much she was going to lie.

She sighed and told the truth. “Frank Collins,” she said.

“Frank’s dead.”

“Yes,” she said. “And…I have some things you’d better know before we go any further.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Eve said, in a “not really” voice. “Somebody make popcorn.”

Claire told them about it on the drive to Myrnin’s lab. It was darkest night now, and only vampires went out by choice; they took Michael’s shiny, town-provided Vampmobile, with highly tinted windows, because Claire wasn’t absolutely sure that they’d be back home before dawn, and, besides, it provided her and Eve with some extra protection from snack-inclined vampires. Just in case.

“So, wait,” Michael said. “Back up. Myrnin chopped Frank’s brain out and put it in a jar to hook up to his machine, after Amelie told him he was officially not supposed to be working on that machine. Is that about right?”

“Amelie was mad at him,” Claire said. “But Myrnin was going to do it, anyway, and I think she knew it. It was just…timing. And whose brain he was going to get to use. Considering that he was thinking about using mine…”

“Yeah, I get it; it’s a solid win.” Michael shook his head, bemused. “Remind me to have myself cremated if I ever get killed around here. Can’t trust anybody these days. But I have to say, if I had to pick somebody to trap in a jar for eternity, I’d vote Frank Collins every chance I got. He didn’t deserve to live, but he did deserve to suffer. He’s suffering, right?”

“Well…I guess.” Claire hadn’t seen much evidence of suffering, actually, but Michael seemed pretty happy about the whole idea. “The point is that Frank is co

“Somebody knew enough to take precautions,” Michael agreed. “Somebody on Team Vampire.”

“Like Vassily,” Eve said. “Or Gloriana, that bitch.”

“She’s not that bad.”

“Michael, you’re going to want to stop defending her now before I have to cut you somewhere you’ll feel it.”

“Ouch.”

“Fiancée,” Eve said, pointing one black fingernail at her chest. “Do not defend her to me. She tried to drag you off to her lair. I’ll bet she has a lair. And a boudoir in her lair.”

Michael gave up. Claire thought she saw him smiling, but if he did, he made it vanish pretty fast. “Who’s Frank likely to tell? Myrnin?”

“Maybe,” Claire said. “And Myrnin will blab to Amelie, and then—”

“And then the vampires involved get a slap on the wrist, and the humans involved get dead, and we redefine snafu in our time,” Eve said. Michael made a left turn. Claire had no idea where they were; it was featureless blackness out the windows. Michael was the only one who had the super eyesight to make anything out. “We should have taken the portal.”

“And what happens if Frank decides to lock down the portals to keep us from leaving?” Michael said. “I like having my own transportation.”

He had a point. Claire didn’t trust the portal system, which Amelie and Oliver—and sometimes Myrnin—used to skulk around the town. Sure, it was all magically amazing until it stopped working. She’d seen it stop working midtransit. The results hadn’t been pretty.

Michael braked. “We’re here.”

“Maybe you guys should—”

“Go in with you,” Eve said. “Because we’re not dumping you off on the curb like an abandoned puppy, Claire. You know that’s not happening.”

She did know, and she was grateful. Very grateful.

Michael, though, had one more question, as they were walking down the alley toward the lab, lit eerily by the bobbing flare of the little flashlight Eve kept in her bag for emergencies. “Does Shane know? About his dad being kind of alive?”

“No,” Claire admitted. “I didn’t want to tell him. I thought, Maybe later. It was too soon. He’d just come to terms with losing him. I couldn’t stand to see him hurt all over again.”

“I probably would have done the same thing,” Michael said.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Just because I’d have done it doesn’t mean it was right.”

That was not exactly comforting. Claire thought about it all the way inside the leaning, dry-rotted shack that stood at the end of the narrowing alley, and down the unlit steps that led to Myrnin’s lab.

She was prepared for Myrnin to be there, but he wasn’t. She found the light controls and brought up the glow on the wall sconces. The lab looked its usual disorderly self, half cool steampunk junk shop, half dump. She still hadn’t broken him of the habit of leaving stacks of books everywhere, including blocking the paths between the lab tables. He’d just gotten in a new shipment, she saw. More alchemy books. The top one, designed in garish black and yellow and white, was titled Alchemy for Idiots. He’d probably picked that one out just for her.

“Myrnin?” She called out, but not very loudly. No sign of him. When she raised her eyebrows at Michael, he shook his head. Not here, then.

That was confirmed by the flickering black-and-white ghost dressed in motorcycle leathers that appeared at the far end of the lab and came toward them at a brisk walk, passing through everything in his way…stacks of books, lab tables, and Eve, who wasn’t looking the right way at that moment. She squawked and jumped back as Frank Collins’s arm thrust its way through her stomach. “Hey!”

He smiled. With Frank’s craggy, scarred face, it was a gruesome sight, especially in horror-movie black-and-white. “Don’t stand in the way if you don’t want to get hurt,” he said, and dropped his arm back to his side. “I see you brought your friends, Claire.”

“I didn’t have a choice. They needed to know about you.”

“In your opinion.”

“Yes. In my opinion.” Claire stared at him, and he stared back, and finally Frank shrugged.

“Fine by me, but keep my son out of it. By the way, Myrnin’s not home.”

“Where is he?”

“Hunting,” Frank said.

Claire stiffened. “Myrnin doesn’t hunt. He has regular blood deliveries.”

Frank just looked at her, then at Michael. “You. Best friend. What the hell’s going on with my son?”

Michael exchanged a quick glance with the others, then said, “Probably easier if I show you. Got a computer? One with Internet?”

“Yeah, over there.” Frank pointed, and Claire led the way to the laptop that she kept in the corner, the one that she’d set up for Myrnin but he never seemed to use. “I was monitoring your keystrokes, but I couldn’t see the Web site. Somebody’s gone to some trouble to blind me.”

Claire pulled up the Immortal Battles site. “Can you see it now?”

“No.” Frank’s insubstantial, flickering ghost leaned forward, frowning. “Just a blank screen. White noise.”

“Try this,” Eve said. She took out her cell phone and turned on the camera, then focused it on the screen. “Can you see it now?”

He wasn’t looking at her cell phone screen, but he grunted in acknowledgment. “That works,” he said. “I can see your cell in real time, so I can watch it through your camera. Good thinking. All right. Show me.”

He didn’t have any comment until Claire loaded up the video of Shane’s first fight. As he watched the boy get thrown into the fence and then turn it around on the vampire, he did the thing Claire most dreaded.

He smiled in genuine pride.

“Hey!” she said sharply. “Your son is being hurt. I know you’re an abusive asshole, but could you maybe focus on the fact that he could have been killed? Maybe?”