Bite Club

“This is it,” Eve said. “You’re sure.”

“This is his address.”

“Good. You go first.”

Myrnin gave her a wicked smile. “Whatever happened to we don’t need you?”

“We don’t,” Eve said. “But while he’s busy staking you, we can get the drop on him.”

Myrnin didn’t seem to see the humor in that, but he shrugged and hurried to the door, looking ridiculous in his flapping trench coat and old-lady hat, right up until he kicked in the door with one casual blow, leaned in, and said, “Please don’t run. I’m not in a good mood. Better if you just sit still.”

He cocked his head and listened, then smiled. What was it with vampires and chilling smiles? His made Claire grip her antivampire bag tighter and wish she hadn’t stood quite so close. “Ah,” he said. “And there he goes. You two wait here.”

He dashed off, moving like a flicker of light. Claire looked at Eve, who shook her head and stepped over the threshold into the house. Claire stayed with her. There was some kind of commotion at the back of the house, where she presumed a rear door was located, and as the two girls walked through the deserted, messy living room (what was it with guys and old pizza boxes? Could they not throw them away?) Myrnin reappeared from the back, shoving a pale, ski

“Sit,” Myrnin said, and shoved the guy onto the threadbare couch. He looked around, sighed, and pushed some old pizza boxes and fast-food bags off an end table, then sat down. “You really should look into a maid. Just a thought.”

“Are you Harry?” Claire asked. “Harry Anderson?”

The man was not only pale and unshaven; he was also shifty-eyed. He looked like he was lying even when he wasn’t talking. When he did finally answer, it looked even worse. “No,” he said. “I’m, uh, watching the place for a friend. Harry’s my friend, I mean.”

Eve reached into her bag and pulled out a crossbow. She stuck a lethal-looking metal bolt on it and cranked back the string. The man watched with increasing worry. “Uh, I’m not a vampire,” he said.

“Yeah, I can see that, since you’re wearing Oliver’s Protection bracelet,” Eve agreed. “That’s not the only thing this is good for. You’d be surprised how effective it is on liars, too, Harry.”

He licked his lips, staring at her, and then shifted his gaze to Claire. He must have decided she was nicer, because he said, “You’re not going to let her do this, are you? What are you girls, anyway, twelve? Do your parents know you’re hanging around with vampires old enough to be your—”

Eve snapped the trigger, and the bolt whizzed past Harry’s head and buried itself in the wall next to him. He yelped and almost jumped off the sofa, but Myrnin put a hand on his shoulder and held him down as Eve reloaded.

“Now,” Eve said. “We’ve got some questions, Harry, and I’m going to suggest, strongly, that you just go ahead and answer them. If you think Claire is going to be any kinder to you than I am, you’re very mistaken. My boyfriend’s only missing. Hers is in your little fight club.”

“Oh,” Harry said, and then, in an entirely different and much more worried tone, “Oh. This is about—”

“ImmortalBattles-dot-com,” Claire said. “You helped set it up, so you know these people. You know where they were.”

“Uh, sure, but they’re not there now.”

“Nobody’s there, idiot. They blew it up,” Eve said. “You see the bruises and cuts on my friend there? That’s what your friends did. They tried to blow up the Founder. How do you think that’s going to go over, Harry? Because I’m thinking that you should just take this crossbow bolt straight in the heart and get it over with. She’s not the forgiving type.”

Harry closed his eyes and sweated, a lot. Claire waited, content to just stand there and look—well, not menacing, but maybe impatient. Myrnin, on the other hand, looked menacing. He’d shed the hat and coat, and now was perched with inhuman grace on the arm of the couch, staring down at Harry with those glowing, scary red eyes.

“Harry,” he said quietly. “Do decide what you want to do. I’m hungry, and if you’re going to cooperate, please indicate it immediately, before I assume you’re not. I’d hate for you to be trying to utter a dying declaration and be unable to do so.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open again, full of panic, and he scooted as far away from Myrnin as was possible. That wasn’t very far, because the other half of his couch was a rat’s nest of piled-up papers, mail, boxes, and wadded-up old clothes. The place was a pit. Claire shuddered and decided not to sit down anywhere.

“Wait,” Harry blurted. “Just wait, okay? Uh, right, the fight people. Yeah, they paid me to move everything. You know, the cameras, the equipment, the server, the whole setup. And to run the re-encryption, not that it’s going to do any good; somebody cracked it pretty good the first time….”

“Where?” Claire asked. When Harry didn’t answer immediately, she opened up her bag and rooted through it. She came up with one of Eve’s silver-coated stakes, decorated with shiny crystals in the shape of a Gothic cross. She showed it to Eve. “Pretty,” she said.

Eve smiled. “I like things to be nice,” she said. “But you can never get the blood out from between those—”

“Okay!” Harry interrupted. “Jeez, you’re just kids! All right, fine. I moved it all to a place near the edge of town. I can give you the address, and then I’m done, okay? Done. I pull the phone, grab my stuff, and I move the hell out of here. You won’t have any trouble from me—no, sir.”

“I can think of an easier way to ensure that,” Myrnin said. “Girls? What do you think?”

Eve stared at Claire, who stared back, twirling the silver stake in her fingers. It was all theater. She wasn’t going to kill anybody, and neither was Eve. Myrnin might have, but Claire thought they could hold him back. Maybe.

“I think we should give him a chance,” Claire said. “Mr. Anderson, you understand that if you give us the wrong information, or if you do anything to warn them we’re coming…well, it won’t be nice. Will it?”

“I knew it: you’re the nice one,” he said. “You called me Mr. Anderson.”

Claire stabbed the stake in the coffee table, point down, with all her strength. It sank in, not as deeply as she wished, but enough to hold it upright on its own, with its red Gothic cross shining in the dim light. “Harry,” she said. “I’m really not that nice.”

He swallowed and nodded and reached for a piece of paper and a pencil. He scribbled down an address and sketched out a map. He even noted on there which doors were safe to go into. He looked at her, then Myrnin, then Eve, and finally handed the paper to Myrnin.

Who smiled. “Why thank you, Harry. What a good decision you’ve made.” He jumped down with a loud thump, pulled on his trench coat, and slapped the hat on his head. “I think we can go now.”

“No,” Eve said. She held out her hand. “Cell phone.”

Harry dug in his pockets and came up with one, which she dropped to the floor and stepped on, a lot, until it was just pieces of glittering junk.

“Your computer?”

“Back there.” He pointed.

“Myrnin, would you mind?”

“Of course not. I told you I was useful.”

“Then go rip it up. Claire, find his landlines.”

In the end, they left Harry sitting miserably in his filthy living room, with a pile of broken phones and shattered computer equipment, and instructions to stay out of things, or else. Claire was pretty sure he’d gotten the message. Loudly. But just to make sure, Eve had tied him up with duct tape. He looked like a silver mummy.

“Don’t worry,” Eve said. “I’m going to call the cops and ask them to look in on you in about, oh, three hours. None of those cockroaches look hungry—that’s the good news. They’re all about the pizza, not the human flesh. So you’ll be just fine, Harry.” She patted his head and smiled so brightly that Harry looked momentarily dazzled. Eve was pretty, and she could be totally stu