Ghost Town

FIVE

“But it was self-defense!” theguy seated next to Claire said. He’d been saying it a lot, and at a loud volume, and she thought his anger probably wasn’t helping any.

They were sitting in a quiet, wood-paneled room in the Elders’ Council building, a big faux-Greek temple that always felt to Claire like a funeral home. A really nice one. This particular room featured a long, highly polished table of dark wood, fancy chairs, and—of course—no windows. There were two doors, one at either end, but they were both guarded by Amelie’s personal security men. Claire knew them, slightly, but now they had their sunglasses hiding their eyes, and she knew they wouldn’t give her any breaks. They had their serious faces on.

Amelie sat at one end of the long table. Oliver sat at the other. Police Chief Hannah Moses was seated on one side, along with Mayor Richard Morrell, who’d taken his father’s seat on the council along with the not-too-fun job of governing the human side of Morganville. Richard was a nice-looking man, Claire had always thought, but he usually also looked tired, and like he didn’t smile nearly enough. But then, being Monica Morrell’s brother would probably take most of the sparkle out of life in general.

On the other side of the table, shackled, were one of the big EEK frat boys with blood all over his shirt, and Claire. Shane, Michael, and Eve had been shut out of the room, and Claire hoped they’d taken Eve home; she’d been pretty shaky, once the emergency was over, and had badly needed to clean up and change clothes.

Though Shane had wanted to stay, of course. It had taken all of Claire’s powers of persuasion to convince him not to start throwing punches when Amelie gave the order to leave. I’ll be okay, she told him, with confidence she didn’t completely feel. Amelie won’t let anything happen to me.

Looking at Amelie right now, sitting so cold and emotionless at the end of the table, Claire felt she’d probably overstated that. Maybe a lot.

“According to the testimony of both humans and vampires on the scene, the two of you are guilty of the deaths of two of my people,” Amelie said into the silence. The frat boy beside Claire shifted, and his chains rattled, but he didn’t say anything. He had a leather bracelet on his wrist, a Morganville band that identified him as belonging to some vampire in town. Claire wondered why the vampire wasn’t here. He or she was supposed to be, at any legal thing that involved their people.

“We’ll start with you, Mr. . . .” Oliver consulted a file in front of him. “Kyle Nemeck? Testimony of vampires and humans says that the trouble started with you and others from your fraternity group who arrived at the warehouse. Vampires tell us that you attacked a vampire, Ioan ap Emwnt, on the street, beat him severely, robbed him, and left him for dead. He is not dead, fortunately for you.” Oliver closed that file and opened another. “This vampire, unfortunately, was not as lucky.” He slid a color photograph out onto the table, and Claire had to look away. It was the decapitated body she’d seen in the club. Once had been enough. “Here’s his missing piece.” Another photo, this one probably the head; Claire definitely didn’t look. “While your friends held this unfortunate down, you severed his head. Comments?”

The frat boy—Kyle—was sweating. He looked younger now, and very scared. “I . . . sir . . . ma’am—it was self-defense. They came after us.”

“They thought you had killed one of our own,” Amelie said. “Any vampire can, by law, pursue such an offender and claim him for trial. Your actions, defensive or not, sent this legally pursuing group into a blood rage. Everything that followed, including all the human deaths, can be laid directly at your door. Am I correct, Mayor Morrell?”

Richard was reading his file, frowning. Now he looked up, directly at Kyle. His brown eyes were narrowed, and there wasn’t any hint of sympathy. “Correct,” he said. “If it were only the human deaths, I could argue for a life sentence. With vampire deaths involved, it’s out of my hands. You’re a native, Kyle. You know better.”

Kyle looked as if he might start to cry. Oliver took the photos back, neatly stacked them, and closed that folder, too. “Any defense?” he asked, not as if he really cared.

Kyle’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “I . . . Look, we didn’t know that first dude was a vampire. I mean, we never would have . . . I swear.”

“So your defense is that you’d have done the same thing to a human. Which would almost certainly have killed him.”

“I—” Kyle clearly didn’t know what to say to that. “I just mean we didn’t know he was one of you.”

“Weak,” Oliver said. “And the vampire you did manage to kill, do you claim to not know what he was? Because I think you recognize him very well, since his name appears on the bracelet you wear around your wrist.”

Claire took in a slow breath. Kyle had killed his own Protector. She didn’t know if there was a law for that, but if there was, the punishment wasn’t going to be anything less than gruesome.

Kyle shut up. He looked so pale he might have been a vamp himself.

“Well?” Oliver snapped. “Yes or no, did you recognize your Protector before you beheaded him?”

“I . . . The lights . . . I don’t . . . No, I didn’t know who it was; I just knew it was a vamp coming after my friends.” He gulped. His voice sounded faint and rusty. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Oliver whispered. “I suppose that excuses everything, doesn’t it? He was seven hundred and sixty years old. But you’re sorry.” Oliver shoved his chair back from the table as he stood up, so hard it tipped over and crashed against the floor with a bang. “This is what being soft with the humans gets us, Amelie. You already know my vote. Guilty. I’m done with this nonsense.”

“And what about Claire?” Amelie asked quietly. “She’s charged with a similar offense.”

Oliver was heading for the door, but he hesitated, just a brief step. He didn’t look back. “Guilty,” he said. “She should have left it to us to police our own. I’d be hypocritical if I said anything different, wouldn’t I?”

The security guard let him out, closed the door behind him, and took up that waiting, alert pose again.

Claire was having trouble breathing. Guilty. She’d been defending herself. Defending her friends. And Oliver knew that, and he’d still voted against her.

“Mayor Morrell,” Amelie said. “Your vote on Mr. Nemeck.”

Richard rose slowly, put his hands flat on the table, and looked at Kyle as he said, “Guilty. I’m sorry, Kyle, but you left me no choice.”

“Chief Moses?”

Hannah got up, too. She looked as focused and cold as Amelie. “Kyle,” she said. “One question first. Do you swear you really didn’t know who you were killing?”

“Yeah, I swear!”

Even Claire could tell that he was lying. He’d known. He’d thought he could get away with it in all the confusion.

Hannah shook her head. “Guilty as hell, I hate to say.”

Amelie hesitated, then rose smoothly to her feet. “By unanimous verdict, Kyle Nemeck, you are found guilty of the highest crime of Morganville: the murder of your own Protector. I had sworn that the more barbaric punishments we once practiced would be outlawed, for the sake of harmony with humans, but I see no alternative than to punish you as harshly as you deserve. You will be placed in a cage in the middle of Founder’s Square for ten days and nights, so that all may come and read an account of your crime. After that, you will die in the traditional way. By fire.”

“No!” Kyle screamed, and threw himself out of his chair, stumbling around in his hobbling chains. “No, you can’t do this to me! You can’t! No!”

Claire stood up. She wasn’t shackled; maybe that was a sign they respected her more, or just weren’t afraid of her at all. She didn’t know. But she looked directly at Amelie and said, “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

“He’s guilty of the worst crime that may be committed, short of attempting to kill me,” Amelie said, and Claire had the feeling she was no longer talking to the sometimes-almost-kind person Amelie could become. She was talking to the Founder, or to the long-ago royal princess Amelie had once been. “There are times one cannot afford mercy without showing weakness. Weakness invites worse outrages.” She nodded to her guards. “Remove him to the cage.”

Claire opened her mouth to protest again, but she saw both Richard and Hannah sending her warning looks. Hannah actually made a “sit down” gesture and mouthed, Don’t be stupid.

Claire slowly sank into her chair as Kyle was dragged out of the room. She felt sick and angry, but mostly, she was scared. While the guards were busy, she could have made a run for it, found Shane, done . . . what? Tried to get out of Morganville? She knew better than to even try it. Security was tight, and getting tighter.

Amelie was still watching her, and anyway, Amelie could catch her before she got within touching distance of the door.

“Now to you,” Amelie said, as Kyle and the security detail disappeared down the hall, and his screaming was muffled by distance. Another security guard, this one female but dressed in the same black suit and sunglasses, stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.

It seemed very, very quiet.

The Founder sighed and sat back in her chair, and it seemed to Claire as if she became a different person. One who was irritated and unhappy and sad. Hannah and Richard sat down, too. After a moment, Amelie continued. “Claire, this is a very unfortunate situation. You know that, don’t you?”

Claire nodded, thinking, It’s really damn unfortunate for me. But she didn’t say it.

“Having just harshly sentenced Kyle, I can now afford to show leniency toward you. There are mitigating factors—you were definitely acting in defense of your own life, and all of the witness statements support it. The vampire you staked was known to be extraordinarily violent, and we have been considering for some time what to do to restrain her appetites; you have removed this problem for me, and although I can’t be seen to celebrate this, I must acknowledge that you did me a service in this matter. Again.”

Amelie’s long white fingers tapped the table in a little dry clicking rhythm, and her eyes went half-closed as she stared at Claire. Finally, she looked to Richard Morrell. “What say you?”

“She acted in self-defense. It’s unusual, but there are plenty of precedents—I did it myself once, and you found that what I did was justified. I don’t support any kind of punishment for her.”

Amelie looked at him for several long beats after he’d finished, and neither of them blinked. She turned her attention to Hannah. “And you?”

“Not guilty,” Hannah said. “You changed the rules in Morganville. You gave humans rights to defend themselves, even if it cost vampire lives. Claire was within the law to do what she did, and she saved her own life and the lives of at least some of the people in that room.”

Amelie closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “I’d have preferred you to use nonlethal methods in your heroic defense, but I cannot deny that there is right on your side. On mine, there is only tradition, but tradition is a very powerful force to vampires. It will be quite difficult to convince them that you shouldn’t join young Kyle in the cage. Oliver already cast his vote. I will be obliged to overrule him.”

Claire knew, without Amelie saying so, that overruling Oliver in his angry mood would be hard, if not impossible. Amelie and Oliver had struggled for control of Morganville in the past, and even though they had developed a kind of respect, that didn’t mean they couldn’t fight. Viciously, if necessary.

Amelie opened her eyes and said, “As the Founder of Morganville, I rule that Claire Danvers is innocent of the crime of deliberate murder. However, she is not innocent of all charges. Claire, I give you two alternatives. First, you will be given into Myrnin’s charge until you complete the repairs for which he requires your assistance. During this time, you cannot leave his lab, nor see your friends or family, nor rest until the repairs are completed to Myrnin’s satisfaction. I will not deny you food and water, however.”

Claire swallowed. “What’s the second alternative?”

“You can choose someone to suffer punishment in Founder’s Square in your place,” Amelie said. “One of your friends, or your family. It will not be the punishment Kyle faces, but it will be severe, and it will be public.”

If a vampire said it was severe, then it was nothing Claire even wanted to think about. And choosing one of her friends? Her mom or her dad? She couldn’t do that. She could never do that.

“Think carefully,” Amelie said softly. “The first alternative may sound reasonable, but there will be no sleep, no rest, no contact until you have finished your work. It may well be a death sentence on its own, if the problem is as complex as Myrnin tells me. You’ll find that such a sentence is brutal in itself.”

“At least it’s my risk to take,” Claire said. “I’ll do it.”

Hannah sighed and looked grim, and Richard shook his head. “For the record, I lodge an objection to this,” he said. “She isn’t guilty. You’re bending the laws to benefit vampires.”

Amelie raised her pale eyebrows. “Of course I am,” she said. “Morganville is still my town, Richard. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Then why have us sitting here? Just to make it look legitimate?” Richard shoved his chair back. “The kid’s not guilty. And you’re manipulating things to get what you want.”

Amelie didn’t bother to reply this time. She looked at the security guard instead. “I believe Mayor Morrell and Chief Moses are finished,” she said. “Please see them out.”

The vampire woman nodded, opened the door, and gestured for the two humans to proceed. Hannah looked like she might protest, but it was Claire’s turn to shake her head. Don’t, she mouthed. I’m okay.

“No, you’re not,” Hannah muttered, but Richard put a hand on her shoulder, and they left the room together.

That left Claire and Amelie. No guards. No witnesses.

“You knew I wouldn’t let anybody else take my place,” Claire said. “Why’d you even ask?”

“Because if I had not, Oliver would demand that I did so,” Amelie said. “I asked, you chose; there is not much room for him to disagree with the outcome.”

“This is bad for you, isn’t it?”

Amelie looked down at her clasped hands. “It is not the best situation I can imagine. Oliver has been increasingly unhappy with the attitude of the younger humans, and the liberties they’re taking. I can’t blame him; I am less than happy myself. This incident . . . We cannot allow humans to roam in packs like animals, victimize our people, and commit cold-blooded murder. It would destroy us. Measures must be taken.”

“Why not? You allow vampires to do it!”

“It isn’t the same.”

“But you promised that things would change! You promised at Sam’s funeral!”

Amelie looked up sharply and said, “Mind your place, Claire. I know what I said. And I know what Sam would have said, were he here. He would agree with me, though it would pain him. You hardly knew him at all. Don’t presume to lecture me on the rights of humans, or my responsibilities.”

There was a restless fire in her eyes, something that made Claire shiver, and she couldn’t help but look away. “You said I could stop to eat,” she said. “Can I go home for that?”

“Myrnin will provide you with meals. I will guarantee it.”

“What . . . what do I tell everybody? Shane, Michael, Eve, my parents?”

“Nothing,” Amelie said. “Because you will not speak to them at all. You leave this room and go directly to Myrnin’s lab, and you begin your work. I will speak with those who need to know of your choice.”

“That’s cruel.”

“It’s merciful,” Amelie said. “I am sparing you good-byes to those whose tears will cause you pain.” She hesitated, then said very quietly, “And if you fail me in this, Claire . . . then you will never see them again. That is my wish.”

“But—” Claire couldn’t seem to find the words, and then they came in a rush of clarity. “You mean if I don’t fix the machine, you’ll kill me?”

Amelie didn’t answer. She looked into the distance, her face a blank mask, and Claire felt sickeningly sure that she had it right: Amelie expected results, or else.

The female vamp guard came back, and Amelie pointed to Claire. “Take her to Myrnin,” she said. “No stops. She speaks to no one. I will tell Myrnin what must be done.”

The guard nodded and gestured to Claire, who suddenly didn’t want to get out of the chair, uncomfortable though it was; she was scared, and cold, and she wanted to go home. She asked, “Amelie? What if I can’t? What if I can’t fix it?” Because that was, after all, a very real possibility.

Amelie was silent for a moment, then rose from her chair and looked down at her from what seemed like a million miles away. “You must fix it. The consequences of this town remaining unprotected are too severe. This is the only chance I can offer you, Claire. Prove yourself worthy, and live. Fail, and you will wish you’d taken the second option I offered, harsh and unforgiving as it was.”

Amelie swept out of the room, head high, not looking back. Claire slowly got up, tested her trembling legs, and walked over to the waiting guard.

“What’s your name?” Claire asked.

“As far as you’re concerned, I don’t have one,” the vamp said. “Move.”

She’d never thought of Myrnin’s lab as a prison before. The unnamed vampire guard—Claire decided to call her Charlotte, at least in her own mind—escorted Claire to the underground parking lot beneath the council building, loaded her into a standard blacked-out vampire sedan, and drove her without making any further conversation. They got out at the entrance of the alley next to the Day House. It was dark, all the lights off. Overhead, the moon was setting, abandoning everything to the night.

The fence closed in on either side, narrowing and narrowing, until it ended at the run-down wooden shack that was the entrance to the lab.

Myrnin, wearing a gigantic red velvet hat with feathers, and some kind of long cloak, was standing outside the door, waiting. He nodded to Charlotte, took Claire’s arm, and, without a word exchanged, hustled her inside. He padlocked the door from within, and then escorted her—more like dragged her—down the steps into the lab proper.

He stripped off the hat and cloak, dumped them on a medieval-looking chair, and turned to look at her with his hands in fists on his hips.

He was wearing a clean white shirt, a shiny blue vest, and black pants. Even his shoes looked normal, if a little pointy at the toes. His hair was clean and curling around his shoulders, and his expression was very, very sober.

“Well, you really made a mess of things,” he said. “And as a consequence, Amelie has been very clear about my responsibilities. No more Mr. Nice Vampire, Claire. You must work, and work constantly, until we get the last security measure of Morganville running properly again. I can provide you with food and drink, but no rest periods. Personally, I think that’s excessively cruel, but no one asked me for my opinion, only for my strict cooperation, which I will provide. How many hours have you been awake so far?”

“Um . . .” Claire’s brain didn’t seem to be working so well. “About eighteen, I guess.”

“Unacceptable. You’ll make no significant progress before you collapse or go insane. No one said I couldn’t let you rest before you start work. I’ll get your dinner, and then off to bed with you. I’ll wake you at a reasonable hour.” Myrnin’s expression softened, and he looked genuinely sad. “I’m sorry for this, Claire. But she’s trying to walk a razor’s edge, do you see? Cruel enough to satisfy Oliver and his growing number of supporters, but providing you with an opportunity to redeem yourself and do good for our community. And should you fail, I think she is providing me an opportunity to—” He must have been about to say something that he shouldn’t have, because he stopped, looked away, and shrugged. “With an opportunity as well. In any case. Dinner. Do you prefer hamburgers or hot dogs?”

Hot dogs made her think of Shane, and that made her want to cry. She knew how he was taking the news; he’d be going crazy, and probably trying to do something stupid that Michael and Eve were trying to stop. “Hamburger,” she said. “I guess.”

“And french fries? And cola? Young people still like those things, I assume?”

She nodded, miserable already. Myrnin reached out and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Chin up, little one,” he said. “I have faith in you. Well, in us, actually. I’ll be back in five minutes.” His hand tightened on her, and she looked up into his face. “I don’t have to tell you what the consequences are if you try to flee while I’m gone, do I? I don’t have to put you in a cage to be sure?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll stay.”

“Good. Because if you do manage to escape, Amelie has issued orders that your friends and your parents are to be immediately arrested, to join that unfortunate stupid boy in his doom. Do you understand?”

Claire’s eyes flooded with hot, angry tears. “I understand,” she said. “I won’t run.”

“I didn’t expect you would. But I had to tell you.”

She hated him a little bit just then, but he patted her on the shoulder, grabbed his flamboyant hat and cloak, and was up the steps and gone in a vampire flash.

Claire sank down on the dark medieval chair and put her head in her hands. She hadn’t realized how tired she was, but her muscles ached, and she could feel a fuzziness in her thoughts that told her she was getting close to the end of her energy. Myrnin had been kind, as much as he could be. Rest would help her get through at least another day, maybe two.

Forty-eight hours, max, before she’d start losing focus, making mistakes, failing.

She couldn’t fail. She couldn’t.

The tears came then, even though she didn’t really want them. She didn’t know how long she cried, lost in a bleak fog of misery, until the smell of french fries made its way into her nose. She sat up, wiping her eyes, and saw Myrnin standing in front of her in that ridiculous pimp hat. He’d left the cloak somewhere.

He held out a paper bag stained with grease, and a gigantic paper cup with a lid and a straw. She took it and sipped the soda first. Pure, sweet, cold Coke. Somehow, it made her feel a little better.

“Follow me,” Myrnin said. “Eat, then rest.”

She got up and followed him through the lab, through one of the doors at the back that was normally kept closed with a gigantic, ancient padlock dangling above the knob. He searched through his pockets and came up with a clumsy-looking iron key, which he used on the lock, and then swung the door open with a flourish. He swept off his hat and bowed, which was so ridiculous Claire almost laughed.

Inside was a little room with a little table, and a very plain cot with clean white sheets. There were lamps, and in the dim light Claire made out tapestries on the walls. He’d put some colorful rugs on the floor, too. It looked oddly . . . nice.

“Is this your bedroom?” she asked, and turned to look at him. Myrnin straightened and jammed the big red floppy hat back on his head. The feathers waved back and forth.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said. “I’m far too young and innocent for that kind of thinking.”

He backed out, closed the door, and she heard the lock snap shut. Panic kicked in immediately; no matter how nice it was, this was a prison. Myrnin held the key, and she didn’t trust Myrnin to remember tomorrow that she was still here. Claire dumped the food and drink on the table and rushed to the door, banging on the wood. “Hey!” she yelled. “I said I wouldn’t run! I promised!”

She didn’t think he’d answer, but he did. “It’s for your own good, Claire,” he said. “Eat, rest, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

No matter how much she shouted after that, he didn’t answer.

Claire finally ran out of fury, although the fear seemed there to stay. She went back to the table, sat down, and took out the burger and fries. She didn’t really feel hungry until the first bite, and then she was ravenous and ate everything, even the pickles. She was getting sleepy even before finishing the Coke, and had time to wonder what exactly Myrnin had done to her drink, then stumble to the bed, before she collapsed and fell into a deep, dark sleep.