Страница 34 из 51
He didn’t answer for a few seconds. Shane got up off the bed, which groaned as the old springs adjusted. “Michael?”
“Don’t do this,” Michael said, straight to Eve. “It’s not a choice. I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have one, you know that. You had one when you let Amelie turn you, and you’ve got one now. Sam didn’t run with the crowd. You don’t have to, either. You can—do good things.”
“Not everything vampires do is bad.”
Shane slapped his hand on the wall, a sharp gunshot of impact, and they all jumped and looked at him. “Are you going to help us stop this, or are you going to run off and snitch?” he asked. “It’s a simple question, man.”
“It’s not about you three. This is about Kim trying to destroy all of us, make herself some kind of reality TV diva, and get rich.”
“Maybe,” Shane said. “And maybe it doesn’t have to be. The video’s streaming somewhere. She must still be trying to cut it together. We can still find her and put a stop to it. Nobody else has to know.”
“Why do you want to protect her?” Michael asked. Shane glanced quickly at Claire, just a flash, but she saw the guilt in it. “Old-girlfriend blues?”
“Oh man, you’d better shut up.”
“Eve wants to save her because they were friends; I get that. Claire just wants to save everybody—”
“Not everybody,” she muttered.
“But you, you hold grudges. You’d throw Monica under the bus in a hot second, but you don’t want Kim to get hurt.”
“Seriously,” Shane said. “Shut up. Now.”
“See how it feels?” Michael said softly. “I don’t like people questioning my motives, either. I’m a vampire. I can’t help that. I drink blood. Get the fuck over it and don’t make this about me. You want to save Kim? Fine. But if we don’t find her in the next twenty-four hours, I’ve got to tell someone, and then it’s on.”
“It’s all on,” Eve agreed. There were tears in her eyes, shining like silver, but she blinked them away. “And it’s all over. You bet your life on it, Michael.”
She turned on her heel and walked out, shoving crap out of her way as she went. Claire looked after her, then began unhooking the computer. “Shane,” she said. “Get the camera from the closet in the next room. Maybe we can trace the IP and see where she’s sending the video.”
Michael went after Eve, but Shane lingered as she stuffed the computer and power cord into the laptop bag. “Hey,” he said. His fingers touched her hair lightly, then her shoulder. “I’m not—look, it’s not like I’m in love with her. I’m not. It’s just—”
“You slept with her once. Yeah, I heard.” She snapped the catches closed on the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “She makes a hell of an impression.”
Shane got in her way, and despite everything, all her best intentions, she looked up into his eyes, and the light in them took her breath away. His fingertips touched her face, and then he bent down and kissed her. “No,” he murmured into her mouth. “She doesn’t. You do.”
Before she could think of anything to say, he turned and left to grab the camera from the closet. In the other room, Claire saw Michael talking to Eve—well, Eve’s rigid back. He turned when he saw her and Shane coming.
Eve opened the front door and slammed it back, charging down the stairs and leaving them all far, far behind. By the time they caught up, she was already in the passenger seat up front, face turned toward the tinted window. If she was crying, Claire couldn’t tell. She’d put on a gigantic pair of mirrored sunglasses that she absolutely did not need inside a vampire’s car.
“Right,” Michael said, and climbed behind the wheel. “Where to?”
“Take me home,” Claire said. “I’ll work on the technical stuff.”
“Drop me off at Common Grounds,” Eve said. “I need to talk to some people.”
Michael cleared his throat. “Want company?”
“No.” Her voice was flat and cool, and Claire winced and looked at Shane. In the dimness, she could only see the broad strokes of his expression, but it looked like a yikes.
“You’ve got things to do, right?”
She must have been right, because Michael didn’t exactly deny it.
Shane said, “So—I’ll stay home and watch TV. Critical job, too. Not everybody can do that under pressure.”
“You should come with me,” Eve said. “I could use some help.” Even though she’d just flatly turned down Michael’s offer.
Ouch.
Shane must have thought that, too; he flashed a look at Michael, clearly apologizing, and Michael nodded slightly.
“Okay, sure,” Shane said. “Outstanding.” Shane held out a fist, and Eve tapped it. “Claire? You’ll be okay alone?”
“Sure,” she said, and hugged the laptop bag closer. “What could go wrong?”
Michael’s eyes flashed to meet hers in the rearview mirror.
“Besides everything, I mean,” she said.
11
At home—meaning, at the Glass House; the last thing she wanted to do was put her parents in the middle of all this—Claire unloaded Kim’s laptop, set up the webcam, and started trying to access the data stream. That wasn’t especially hard, because she knew the IP address of the camera; Kim had helpfully put the info right on a label. The problem was that the other end was on a randomizer, a special program that shifted the signal and rerouted it across the Internet every few minutes. It was right in Morganville; it had to be, because of the packet times, but Claire had no real idea where to start looking. She wasn’t especially computer savvy, although she knew her way around; Kim obviously had taken some precautions.
But Claire wasn’t giving up that easily, either. She didn’t like Kim, but there was a lot at stake here: the vampires’ lives, including Michael’s; Kim’s life; maybe everything they’d built here, at whatever cost.
Michael was right: they couldn’t just let Kim sacrifice it all for her own ambition. The truth might come out, but it shouldn’t come out like this, as some kind of horrible exercise in voyeurism.
She finally reran the video of Kim they’d watched at her loft.
I can’t believe it; I finally got to put some in the last Founder House. Co
Claire went in search of cameras in the Glass House.
She found the first one in an air vent in Shane’s room, and had to sit down, hard, on his bed with her head in her hands. It was focused right on his bed.
Oh my God. Oh no.
At first she was sick with the thought of Kim combing through hours of video of Shane, invading his privacy, watching him get undressed . . . and then she remembered.
We were in here. Together. And she saw it.
Claire lifted her head and looked right up at the camera. She had no idea what was on her face, but if it was any match for the rage burning inside her, the feeling of total betrayal and exposure, she couldn’t imagine Kim was having any fun seeing it. “I hope there’s sound on these,” she said. “You bitch. I officially hope you rot in hell, and I swear, if you post any of this online, I will find you.”
Then Claire dragged a chair over, stood on the seat, and yanked the vent screen out of the wall. Behind it, the little webcam blinked its light and stared at her with a glass eye every bit as emotionless as Bob the spider’s.
Claire picked it up, carried it into her bedroom, and put it next to the first one they’d found in Kim’s apartment. Then she started searching the other rooms. She found two more—one hidden on top of a bookshelf, barely visible, in the living room, providing a bird’s-eye view of the whole space, and another in Michael’s room, focused on his bed.
“Pervert,” Claire muttered, grabbed it out of the fake plant on top of his dresser, and carried it back to set it with the others. The IP addresses were consistent. Claire tried entering them into the web browser, and the signal was there, but it just displayed as gibberish.