Black Dawn

EPILOGUE CLAIRE

“You’re certain,” Father Joe said. He stood across from Michael and Eve, lit only by the candles burning in the holders on either side of the altar and the sunlight bleeding through the stained glass. “I haven’t seen any paperwork from Amelie allowing you to do this.” Father Joe, Morganville’s resident priest, looked exhausted. They all were exhausted, Claire thought. The lights still weren’t functioning reliably; most of Morganville was in the dark at night, and deserted, though the first buses were scheduled to return today to bring those who’d evacuated back to town. Water was on, and the pipes had been flushed, tested, and declared clean.

Not that Claire was taking any chances yet. Bottled water was a must.

“Amelie’s not the boss of me,” Eve said flatly. She was, Claire thought, very angry about her brother, though she hadn’t talked about it. At all. She looked at Michael. “Or him, either.”

Father Joe gave him a long, considering look. “If Amelie is against this, there’ll be trouble, Michael,” he said. “What you’re asking is binding not only for the church and by law, but in ways that I can’t explain among the vampires. You’ll be … elevating Eve to a new status. It could protect her, or it could make her even more of a target. You understand?”

Michael nodded. “I understand,” he said.

“And you don’t want to wait.”

“No.” Michael didn’t say anything else, but, Claire thought, he didn’t need to. He’d come ready for this. There weren’t any tuxedos, or gowns; Michael had pulled out a dark suit, a gleaming white shirt, and a nice tie. He’d forced Shane to wear one, too, somehow; there must have been some arm-twisting that Claire hadn’t been privy to, but then she’d been busy rooting through Eve’s closet with her, trying to come up with something wedding-appropriate at a moment’s notice.

Eve had her gown. It was red chiffon, and it fell in waves from a beaded bodice. Her arms were bare, and she hadn’t gone with a veil at all. The dress, Claire thought, made her look about six feet tall, and incredibly graceful, but it was shockingly not wedding wear.

Which was what Eve had wanted, of course.

Claire was wearing her best dress—one with buckles, one that Eve had bought for her—and high heels that were higher than anything she’d ever tried before. She felt awkward, until Shane looked at her, and then the feeling changed into something hot and proud.

“You promised,” she said to Father Joe. “You said that you’d do this if they wanted it. Well, they want it. We’re here. Official witnesses.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’m only warning you that what you’re doing may make complications you haven’t considered. For you all.”

“Don’t care,” Eve said. “We’re ready. And we’re not letting them stop us again.”

Michael was holding Eve’s hand, and although he wasn’t saying much, he was utterly still and solid and there. If he was scared, or worried, it didn’t show at all. He glowed like marble and gold, and for the first time in the light of the candles Claire noticed there were threads of copper in his hair, like his grandfather’s much redder hair. He even looked like Sam just now; Sam, the kindest and best of the vampires, who’d died at the hands of humans.

She hoped that wasn’t some kind of omen.

“Then let’s proceed,” Father Joe said. “Are there rings?”

Shane dug in his pocket and held it up—not the traditional diamond, Claire saw. Eve must have insisted on a ruby. And a skull.

“Then I suppose there’s no turning back. Let us pray,” Father Joe said, and bowed his head.

The door at the back of the church opened, admitting a burst of pure white sunlight, and out of it came four figures. Two were holding umbrellas to shade the others in front, and as they shut the doors behind them Claire recognized the ones in the back as Amelie’s security, dressed in their dark suits and glasses again.

Amelie was wearing white, a blinding white silk suit that tailored itself perfectly to her body. Her hair was up in a pale blond crown around her head, and she wore a ruby pendant in the hollow of her throat.

Oliver was next to her, wearing black leather.

“No,” Eve whispered. “No, not now …”

The vampires walked down the aisle and came to a halt a few feet away. Amelie’s eyes were wide and cool gray, no hints of red, at least. She was wearing white gloves to match her suit.

“What’s this?” she asked in a very neutral tone. “Father?”

“They’ve come before the altar to be joined in marriage,” he said, and for the first time Claire heard strength in his voice. Real strength. “They’re in the presence of God now, Amelie. And not under your control.”

She raised her pale eyebrows and fixed Michael with a stare. He met it without wavering. “And yet,” she said softly, “they must leave this church, and live in Morganville, and I assure you, that is utterly under my control. I put out a call for all those in town to help us restore the town. Yet I find you here.”

“We’ll help,” Eve said. “But first we’re doing this. And you’re not stopping us.” She sounded brave. And very certain. “You can’t.”

There was a little sparkle of red in Amelie’s eyes—or it might have been the candlelight. Claire hoped it was, anyway. “Can’t I? That is … debatable. But I grant you this hour. Enjoy your … respite. Tomorrow begins the dawn of a brand-new Morganville. We will rebuild.”

“Together,” Claire said, and drew that cool, icy stare.

“Perhaps,” Amelie said. “And perhaps that is one of many things that will change.”

Oliver spoke up for the first time. “The next time you do something without permission,” he said, “it’ll be the last. New rules, children. Brand-new rules. Remember that.”

And he escorted Amelie out, trailed by the guards. The doors boomed shut behind them.

Eve let out a shaking breath. “So, that’s … not so great,” she said. “Michael, maybe—”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, looking straight into her eyes. “No,” he said. “No more letting the world tell us what we ought to do. We know, Eve. I know.”

For a moment she didn’t move, and then she smiled, and it seemed to light up the whole church.

“Yes,” she agreed, and turned to face Father Joe. “We’re ready.”

Are we? Claire wondered, but she quickly buried the thought as he began the prayer.

They had to be.

Because now there was no going back.