Oliver nodded and walked across the large, empty roomempty except for the silently playing television and thick plush maroon carpetand opened a set of double doors. He wasnt the doorman; he walked on through and into the next room. Gretchen pushed Claire and Eve forward. The carpet was squishy soft under Claires feet, and she caught the scent of fading flowers. Roses. Lots of roses.
It hit her full force when they entered the next room, which was a big circular place with burgundy velvet curtains all around, with pillars in between. A low-key chandelier cast a medium-bright glow. Same carpet, but this room had furniture chairs laid out in neat rows, in three sections with aisles between.
It took Claire a second to realize that she was walking into a funeral parlor. When she did, she stopped, and stumbled as Gretchen continued to drag her relentlessly onward, past the rows of empty folding chairs, all the way to the front, where Oliver was standing near another velvet curtain.
Sir, Joe Hess said, coming out from behind Claire and Eve. Im Detective Hess.
Oliver nodded. I know you.
Shouldnt there be others present here for this? The tension in Hesss voice, and his body, warned Claire that Olivers interrogating them on his own was a very bad thing.
There are others present, Detective Hess, said a light, cool voice from the far corner of the room, which Claire could have sworn was empty one second before. She gasped and looked, and there was Amelie, standing there as if shed been carved in stone before the building came up around her. And her bodyguardsor servantswere standing in a group near her. Shed brought four of them. Claire wondered if that was a signal of how much trouble she and Eve were in.
There is a third coming, Amelie said, and settled herself in a chair as if it were a golden throne. She was wearing black, like Oliver, but her attire was a long elegant suede skirt suit, with a severe white shirt under the tailored jacket. She crossed her legs, which were pale and perfect, and folded her hands in her lap.
Oliver wasnt looking happy. Who are we waiting for? he asked.
You know the laws, Oliver, even if you choose to find ways to cheat them, Amelie said. We are waiting for Mr. Morrell.
They didnt have to wait long; in a matter of less than a minute, Claire heard voices coming from the anteroom outside, and a jingle of keys. Shed never seen the man who walked in, flanked by two uniformed cops, but she knew one of the cops: Richard Morrell, Monicas brother. So the portly, balding man with the smug expression was probably her dad.
The mayor of Morganville.
He was dressed in a suit, tooblue, pin-striped, with wide lapels. Kind of pimpish, really, and the pants were a little too long. He had too many rings on his fingers, all in gold, and he was smiling.
Oliver, he said cheerfully. The smile vanished fast when he spotted Amelie sitting so quietly off to the side, with her entourage. His face composed itself into something a whole lot morerespectful. Founder.
Mayor. She nodded to him. Good. We can begin.
Gretchen let go of Claires arm. She winced at the returning flow of blood to her tingling hand, and rubbed at the place where Gretchen had been gripping her. Yeah, that was going to be a bruise. Definitely. She risked a look at Eve, who was doing the same thing. Eve looked dead scared.
Oliver reached over and pulled a hidden cord, and the burgundy velvet curtain behind him opened.
There was a body lying on the marble slab, surrounded by rich red roses, bunches of them in floor vases. The corpse looked blue white, rubbery, and utterly, horribly dead. Claire felt a cloud creep over her, heard a buzzing in her ears, and nearly collapsed, but somehow she managed not to faint.
Oh my God, Eve whispered, and brought both hands to her mouth.
Its Brandon, Claire said, and looked at Oliver. Its Brandon, right? Because that cold, white face didnt look human anymore, and she couldnt match it up to the living personvampireshed feared. The one whod threatened her, chased her home, nearly killed her and Eve
Oliver nodded. He pulled back the velvet covering Brandon from the neck down, revealing black open wounds. Some of them still smoked. Claire caught the smell of cooking meat, and this time, her knees buckled. Detective Hess caught her arm and steadied her.
He was tortured, Oliver said. He sounded neutraldisinterested, even. It took a long time. Someone very much enjoyed this. Almost as if there was apersonal agenda at work.
Mayor Morrell motioned his son forward. Richard wasnt nearly the psycho his sister was. In fact, Claire kind of liked him, as much as she could like anybody from his family who worked for vampires. He seemed almost fair.
Richard examined the wounds in Brandons body. He actually touched them, which made Claire throw up in her head, if not actually through her mouth. Looks like some kind of weapon straight to the heart. Probably a stake, Richard said, and looked up at his father. Whoever did this was serious. This wasnt just random; this was done slowly. I dont know what they wanted out of him, but whatever it was, they probably got it. I can see shadows of wounds that closed over before he died. Thats hours, at least.
Silence. Deep, dark silence. Richard straightened up and glanced at Claire and Eve. If he recognized them, he gave no sign. These two girls have something to do with it?
Perhaps, Oliver said. Claire didnt see him move, but all of a sudden he was right in front of her, looking down. Perhaps they know something. You didnt like Brandon very much, did you, Claire?
I She didnt know what to say. Dont lie, Hess had said. Did the vamps have some kind of lie detector power? Maybe even mind-reading? No, I didnt like him. But I wouldnt want to see this happen to anybody. Not even you. She said that to herself, though.
He had such kind eyes. That was the horrible thing about him, this warm feeling that she could trust him, should trust him, that somehow she was letting him down by not