Dead Girls' Dance

Hess put a warning hand on her arm. “Enough, Oliver.’”

“Not nearly enough. If you came to bargain, I think you have nothing to offer me that I can’t get elsewhere,’” Oliver said. “So please take yourselves—’”

“I’ll sign whatever you want,’” Claire blurted. “You know, swear myself to you. Instead of Amelie. If you want. Just let Shane go.’”

She hadn’t been pla

Oliver continued to gaze at her with those steady, kind eyes.

“I see,’” he said. “It would be love, then. For love of this boy, you would tie yourself to me for the rest of your life. Give me the right to use you as I see fit. Do you have any idea what you’re offering? Because I would not offer you the conditional contracts that most in Morganville sign, Claire. No, for you, there would be the old ways. The hard ways. I would own you, body and soul. I would tell you when to marry and whom to marry, and own your children and all their issue. I was born in a time when this was custom, you see, and I am not in a charitable mood just now. Is this what you want?’”

“Don’t,’” Hess said sharply. He gripped Claire’s forearm and pulled her up to her feet. “We’re going, Oliver. Right now.’”

“She has the right to make her own choices, Detective.’”

“She’s a child! Oliver, she’s sixteen years old!’”

“She was old enough to conspire against me,’” he said. “Old enough to find the book that I spent half a hundred years pursuing. Old enough to cut off my one and only chance to save my people from Amelie’s intolerable iron grip. Do you think I care about her age?’” Oliver’s friendly courtesy was all gone, and what was left was like a man-sized snake, with a cruel light flickering behind his eyes, and fangs flicking down in warning. Claire let Hess pull her out from behind the table, toward the door. He’d drawn his gun.

“I may not let you leave,’” Oliver said. “You realize that?’”

Hess spun and raised the gun, pointed it straight at Oliver’s chest. “Silver bullets washed in holy water, with a cross cast right in.’” He clicked back the hammer. “You want to test the line, Oliver? Because it’s right here. You’re standing on it. I’ll take a lot of shit from you, but not this. Not that kind of contract, and not with a kid.’”

Oliver hadn’t even bothered to stand up.

“I take it you don’t want your coffee poured to go? A pity. Do watch your back, Detective. You and I will have a talk, one of these days. And Claire…come back anytime. If the hours run thin, and you want to make that deal, I will listen.’”

“Don’t even think about it,’” Hess said. “Claire, open the door.’” He held his gun trained on the vampire, un-blinking, while Claire unlocked the three dead bolts and swung it open. “Get in the car. Move.’” He backed out behind her as she ran to the car and dived inside. Hess banged the door to Common Grounds closed, hard enough to crack glass, and slid over the hood of the car in a move she’d only ever seen in action movies, and was in the car and starting it before she could take a breath.

They raced off into the night. Claire checked the backseat, suddenly terrified she’d turn around to see Oliver gri

Hess was sweating. He wiped at the drops with the back of his hand. “You don’t fool around when you get yourself in trouble, I’ll give you that,’” he said. “I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve never seen anybody get that out of Oliver. Ever.’”

“Um…thanks?’”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Listen, under no circumstances do you ever go back to Common Grounds, get me? Avoid Oliver at all costs. And no matter what happens, don’t make that deal. Shane wouldn’t want it, and you’d live to regret it. You’d live a long time, and you’d hate every horrible second of it.’” Hess shook his head and took a deep breath. “Right. That’s the end of the line for you tonight. You’re going home, I’m seeing you safe inside, and I’m going home to hide in a closet until this blows over. I suggest you do the same.’”

“But Shane—’”

“Shane’s dead,’” Hess said, so quietly and matter-of factly that she thought he meant it, that somehow someone had slipped in and killed him and she hadn’t even known…but then he went on. “You can’t save him. Nobody can save him now. Just let go and watch yourself, Claire. That’s all you can do. You’ve pissed off both Amelie and Oliver in one night. Enough already. A little common sense would be welcome from you right about now.’”

She sat in dull, grim silence the rest of the way home.

Hess was as good as his word. He walked her from the car up the steps, watched her open the front door, and nodded wearily as she stepped inside. “Lock it,’” he said. “And for God’s sake, go get some rest.’”

Michael was right there, warm and comforting, when she closed the door. He was holding his guitar by the neck, so he’d clearly been playing; his eyes were red-rimmed, his face tense. “Well?’” he asked.

“Hello, Claire, how are you?’” Claire asked the air. “No death threats, right? Thanks for going out in the dark to bargain with two of the scariest people on earth.’”

He at least had the good ma

“Duh. No fang marks, anyway.’” She shuddered. “I do not like those people.’”

“Vampires?’”

“Vampires.’”

“Technically, not people, but then, neither am I, now that I think about it. So never mind.’” Michael put an arm around her and steered her toward the living room, where he sat her down, put a blanket around her shoulders. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.’”

“It didn’t go at all,’” she said. She’d been depressed on the ride home, but having to actually report on her failure was a whole new level of suck. “They’re not letting him go.’”

Michael didn’t say anything, but the light died in his eyes. He went down on one knee next to her and fussed with the blanket, tucking it tighter around her. “Claire. Are you okay? You’re shaking.’”

“They’re cold, you know,’” she said. “They make me cold, too.’”

He nodded slowly. “You did what you could. Rest.’”

“What about Eve? Is she still here?’”

He glanced up at the ceiling, as if he could see through it. Maybe he could. Claire really didn’t know what Michael could and couldn’t do; after all, he’d been dead a couple of times already. Wouldn’t do to underestimate somebody like that. “She’s asleep,’” he said. “I—talked to her. She understands. She won’t do anything stupid.’” He didn’t look at Claire when he said that, and she wondered what kind of talking that might have been.

Her mother had always said, when in doubt, ask. “Was it the kind of talk where you gave her something to live for? Like maybe, um, you?’”

“Did I—what the hell are you talking about?’”

“I just thought maybe you and her—’”

“Claire, Jesus!’” Michael said. She’d actually made him flinch. Wow. That was new. “You think banging me is going to make her forget about charging out to commit cold-blooded vampire slaying? I don’t know what kind of standards you have on sex, but those are pretty high. Besides, whatever’s between me and Eve—well, it’s between me and Eve.’” Until she tells me about it later, Claire thought. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant. I—persuaded her. That’s all.’”

Persuaded. Right. The mood Eve had been in when Claire left? Not too likely…

And then Claire remembered the voices whispering to her in the alley, and her blind, stupid assumption of safety leading her into danger. Could Michael do that? Would he?

“You didn’t—’” She touched her temple with one finger.

“What?’”

“Screw with her head? Like they can?’”

He didn’t answer. He fussed with the blanket around her shoulders some more, fetched her a pillow, and said, “Lie down. Rest. It’s only a couple of hours until dawn, and I’m going to need you.’”