"I know you're angry and you're scared," Claire continued, "but don't take it out on your friends. And if you hit me again, I'll hit you back with a pair of silver-coated brass knuckles Shane made me. And it'll hurt. Promise."
"Friends," Oliver repeated, and the sound he made was almost a laugh. "Really."
"Well, in principle. Not if you ever hit me again."
She held the gaze until he finally leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. His head tilted a little to the left, and she saw the gray-threaded brown hair of his ponytail tied back behind his shoulder. The lines on his face seemed to smooth out, just a bit.
"How long have you been here, Claire?" he asked, in a very different tone. "Almost two years, yes?"
"Almost." Her eighteenth birthday was approaching fast. Once, she'd have been so focused on that milestone that nothing else would have mattered, but it almost seemed meaningless now. In every way that could possibly count, she was already adult. In Morganville, you really did grow up fast.
"I've only been here a bit longer than you," he said. "Did you realize that?"
She hadn't really. Oh, she supposed she knew intellectually that Oliver had drifted into town about six months before she'd made it to Texas Prairie University, but he'd seemed such a longtime fixture by then that imagining Morganville without him had been impossible. "What's your point?"
"I am as ill-equipped to lead here as you," he said. "Most vampires came with Amelie, or soon after; a few entered gradually over the long years. But I came to conquer. I came to take my rightful place as the leader of the last of our kind. I came to kill Amelie and destroy this place. And they all know it. It makes my situation somewhat ... difficult."
She knew it, too-at least she'd always suspected it; by the time she'd arrived there had been a cautious truce between Amelie and Oliver, but they were pretty much equally matched in power and ruthlessness, and Claire had always figured that Oliver had made an attempt to take over at least once before she'd come to town.
And Amelie, weirdly, had let him live to try again.
"She's so very intelligent, and so very cold," Oliver said. He was no longer exactly talking to Claire, more just ... talking. "She knew that forcing me to act as her second-in-command would seem a worse punishment than outright death, and Amelie, above all others, dislikes to do her own violence; queens never dirty their own hands. I was ... suited, and after a short time it ceased to be such a shackle dragging on me. She had-has-no reason to trust me. None. But she did, and I was forced to ... respect that. And her." He paused then, and said, "I find myself in the curious position of saving humans. Saving this town. Saving her. These are not instincts that come to me naturally."
That was, she supposed, some kind of roundabout apology. She didn't think she accepted it, mostly, but she did see his point, a little: Oliver wasn't built, like Amelie, to be a calm, ice-cold ruler. He was a warlord, impatient and brutal, and he had no long-term interest in the little people.
"So you are right," he finished, even more quietly. "In order to accomplish these things, I will need the help of humans, and of you and your friends. It galls me, but there is no possibility of success without mortal assistance. Vampires have battled the draug, fled from the draug, and died. But the draug are not used to fighting mortals. You are ... unpredictable. And as a general, I will use whatever weapons come to hand to win my battles. Do you understand me?"
She gave him a small, thin smile. It felt like a cut in her lips. "You're saying that we're expendable."
"All soldiers are expendable, young or old, vampire or human, and ever have been." He turned his head a little, as if he'd heard something, and a moment later the door to Amelie's room opened and Theo Goldman stepped out. They exchanged a look, and Theo shook his head.
"It won't go well," he said. "Her transformation is ... under way. She can hold to herself for a while longer, but within another day, two at most, she won't be the Amelie we know. I can't stop the poison inside her without destroying her as well. Nothing can. We have to take action before she becomes ... what he intends her to be."
"But not yet," Oliver said.
"Soon. Would you like me to do it? An injection of silver nitrate would be ..."
"A cruel death," Oliver finished. "And not one due a queen. I'll care for her when the time comes, you may mark me on it, with a straight, sharp blow."
Theo shook his head. He seemed very sad now, Claire thought, but in a grave, distant way ... the way doctors were sad about terminal patients. "Be sure you don't wait too long, Oliver. Now-I must see to Naomi. She took a great risk to find me, and she's paid a price for ingesting the blood. I shall need a donor of Bishop's line to help her."
"Naomi." Oliver's voice was a little too flat. "Save her, then. I care not. Make Amelie comfortable first. That is all I ask of you."
Theo nodded, frowning a little. "You're going to fight the draug, I gather."
"It is what she wanted. And in truth, what I want as well." Oliver's eyes gleamed a little with red sparks. "Not many good fights left in this sad, pallid world, with its frail, sensitive people. The draug at least do not mewl and whine about a few bruises."
"You've always been insane," Theo said. "Insane for your beliefs, insane for power, insane for blood. I suppose that may be what we require now. More insanity."
"That may be the kindest thing you've ever said about me, Doctor."
"I didn't mean it kindly. Come, Claire. I don't like leaving you in the company of such a-" Theo stopped, looking at her, and his eyes widened, just a little. She didn't know why, and then realized that there must have been a mark on her cheek. Maybe not quite a bruise.
Theo turned back to Oliver. "You struck her."
"She was impertinent."
"Hit one of them again, and you will answer to me."
Oliver smiled. "You terrify me."
"I should," Theo said softly. His eyes glowed with hellfire, just for a moment. "There is nothing more frightening than a medical man willing to inflict pain, Oliver. And I will, should you abuse the power you've been given. Or taken." He took Claire by the arm. "Come. There's nothing here for you, and we should see to Naomi as quickly as possible."
When she and Theo left Amelie's rooms, Myrnin was standing in the round area with the coffee station, staring at the remaining bits of breakfast on the trays and frowning as if he couldn't quite work out what to do with the cup and saucer in his hand.
I'm in vampire central, Claire thought. She wasn't used to being constantly surrounded by the nonbreathing sort of people; most of the time it was just her, Shane, Eve ... and she never really thought of Michael as a vampire, much. Myrnin was familiar, but she never forgot how sharp his fangs were, either. She was with Theo, had just come from Oliver, and now there was Myrnin, and she was starting to feel a little like a hamburger at a dieters' convention. Nobody was likely to snack on her, but absolutely everybody noticed she was edible.
Myrnin was, not surprisingly, dressed weirdly. Well, not weirdly for him, but Theo's old-fashioned suit jacket and pants were positively wallpaper by comparison. Myrnin had dragged out the Hawaiian shirts again; today's was neon yellow, with palm trees and surfboards. He was also wearing baggy knee-length shorts, which left his legs looking ... pale. Very, very pale.
He'd actually matched the whole thing with sandals this time, instead of bunny slippers, which indicated a certain razor-sharp focus in his thinking, the coffee confusion notwithstanding. He set the cup and saucer down empty with a rattle as his gaze focused on Claire.
"How is Amelie?" he asked, moving from her to Theo. "Oh, and hello, glad you're not dead, Doctor."
"Likewise," Theo said pleasantly. "But she is not well, my friend. As you no doubt already know."
"You were up all night," Claire said. "I saw the weapons room. How long did all that take you?"
Myrnin flipped a hand impatiently, pushing the whole question, and her concern, aside. "Weapons are simple," he said. "I've set up a workshop for them, and I've put Amelie's bully boys to work, as well as a few human ... volunteers, from the prisons. We have more important concerns than that, if we are to save ourselves. Defense alone won't work. We need to launch an offensive operation."