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“Well,” Vassily said awkwardly. “Uh, sir, I don’t think you should be—”
“Shut up, Vassily. I make the decisions here,” Bishop said. “And I have decided that today—I will fight the wi
“Sir, this isn’t…this isn’t what we agreed—”
Bishop’s eyes went red and his fangs came down, and Claire almost dropped the phone. Even whoever was ru
“Sir—”
Bishop hit Vassily hard enough to knock him into the wall, and stood there staring down at him. “I’ve waited long enough,” he said. “I don’t need your filthy money. What I need is to feel her blood in my mouth. Are we understood?”
Vassily got up, cringing, and bowed his head. “Yes, sir. Understood. Uh, but first, we bring you the fighting…?”
“By all means,” Bishop said, and smiled. “I want to see these two do damage to each other. It would please me a great deal.”
The video ended. Claire fumbled with the phone and, hands shaking, pulled up the counter again. Next to it were odds. Shane was favored over Michael two to one. Bishop was heavily favored to beat either one of them.
And the counter……
The counter for the fight had run out.
“No,” Claire whispered. “No…” Bishop didn’t intend for this to go on much longer; he’d gone on camera in open defiance of Amelie. He was serious; this would end in slaughter, whatever happened in the cage match.
They were out of time.
FIFTEEN
SHANE
He’d been crazy to try it.
When I saw Michael show up at the barn, Vassily and Gloriana had been loading us up in the van to take us to the new place. I don’t know how he found me; I could have sworn nobody at the gym knew anything about where we were, but there he was, Michael effing Glass, walking up in his stupid black vampire coat and hat and gloves, trying to talk to me like we knew each other.
Like he hadn’t stabbed me in the back the second he’d agreed to stop being human.
He’d joined them, the vampires. Our masters, who’d made my dad a loser and let Monica Morrell run wild, doing whatever, which turned out to be fatal for my sister. They’d sent killers after my mom. Michael should have known better. He should have known that no matter what, I couldn’t forgive him, not deep down. They’d taken my family away.
Vassily and Glory had had him grabbed, of course, and stuffed in the other van, the one that held the vamps. They didn’t try to transport us together, not anymore. Too many fights. He kept yelling at me, but I just watched until they had him locked down and then I walked away.
He used to be my friend, and, damn, it still hurt to know he’d done this to us, to me. He’d changed everything. About time he knew how that felt.
Maybe it was the shock of seeing him—I don’t know—but I found I wasn’t feeling quite as pumped up about the upcoming bout as before. My head was hurting and I was tired; sleep hadn’t come easy lately because of all the bruises and cracked bones. When Glory was around, it was better. I didn’t think so much. But now, in the van, I noticed how there was a thick wire mesh between us human fighters and the driver’s seat, like we were vicious dogs or something. When I looked around at the others, I thought maybe that was true. There were four of us in here, and, to be honest, I was probably the toughest. I didn’t look it, though. They looked like my dad’s biker buddies, all sweat and muscles and tats, with shaved heads and goatees. They were ready to tear it up. I guess I was, too, or at least I would be once we got where we were going.
Once Glory smiled at me again.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, and instead of seeing Glory’s wicked, cool smile, I saw Claire’s sweet one, the one she gave only me, the one that had made me forget all about being angry or tough or hurt. With her, things were good. I was good. Because of her. It was the exact opposite of what Glory’s presence did; hers made me remember all the bad stuff, boil it up and over, and want to take it out on anybody who was in the way. Claire made me forget all that and realize that I didn’t have to be angry.
No, I was doing this for her. For her. I needed to earn my passage out of town, before it was too late. She’d even said that the other night, before that awful moment at the gym when she’d been so close to Michael, and I’d—I’d thought…
I knew it wasn’t true. I knew Claire wouldn’t hurt me like that.
I opened my eyes and took in a quick breath. I needed Glory. I couldn’t stay tough if I thought about Claire; I missed her, and I hated that it made me feel weak and sick. She’d left me first, hanging out with that bastard Myrnin, sneaking out to be with him. No matter what she said, that was the truth.
But I couldn’t help it. I wanted her. I wanted her with me, and the only way it could be right was away from here. Out of Morganville.
“Hey, Collins, don’t fall asleep on us!” yelled Brett, who had his first match coming up later, after mine. “Gotta get hot, my man!” He punched me in the shoulder, right where I had a big, spreading bruise and swelling. I didn’t wince, but the pain that shot through me made me see waves of red, and it was suddenly tough to breathe. I rode it out and forced myself to grin back at him.
“I get any hotter, I’ll burn you alive,” I said. He howled like a wolf. Some guys didn’t need Glory’s influence to go nuts; Brett was like that. “Hit me again, and I’ll bust you up, man.”
He flexed his fists and gri
“No,” I lied. I was trying not to, because it hurt. It hurt thinking that somewhere out there she might be looking for me. All I could think about was that somewhere she could be alone, afraid, maybe crying. Because of me.
I shut my eyes again and banged my head on the wall of the van, enough to hurt and leave a dent. I wished Glory had ridden with us.
I really, really did.
When I got out of the van, we were at some falling-down old warehouse, another crappy piece of Morganville ancient history that nobody cared about. I saw fading letters on the outside. It must have been some kind of carpet mill. Big brick building, not many windows, and what windows had been there were broken out three stories up by some local kids with good arms. Not a lot of time for sightseeing, but I recognized the area; you don’t grow up in this stupid town without prowling around the places your parents don’t want you to go. Me and Lyss had poked through some of these abandoned warehouses when she was about twelve and I was stupider than usual. We’d gotten away with it, but looking back on it now, I couldn’t believe we’d ever taken that chance.
Now that she was gone, it made me cold to think all the risks I’d let her take. If I could make things right again, make that fire stop, get her out of the house before all the smoke and the flames…then I’d never let her take another risk again. I’d protect her. That’s what a big brother is supposed to do: protect.
But no, I’d been a jackass to her, and I’d fallen asleep on the couch, and by the time I woke up, the house was burning and I couldn’t get her out. I don’t know if she woke up. I hoped not. I hoped she never knew, never felt the kind of screaming fear that I did while trying to get to her.
Shake it off, Collins. Lyss was gone. My mom and dad were gone. I had to focus on getting myself through the next two hours or so without joining them. If I did this right, I’d make a lot of money: enough to buy my way out of town, get lost, make a new life. Forget Claire.