Daylighters (The Morganville Vampires #15)(9)
“Cozy,” Shane said. “Going for the homeless heroin addict market with this place, are you?”
“We worked with what we had,” Hannah said. She sounded just a touch defensive. “We’re getting it cleaned and made more livable, but they don’t seem to care all that much about the decor.”
They being the vampires, Claire realized, because despite the hush, they were most definitely not alone. Silent figures loomed in the shadows like abandoned mannequins. Even when the figures moved, it was more like ghosts walking—silent and eerie. So many vampires. But none of them came out into the open tiled square of the atrium.
Eve took in a sudden sharp breath. “Jesus!” she gasped, and Claire knew she’d spotted them, too. There was something deeply unsettling about the way they were being watched. Like prey.
Like enemies.
“Stay where you are,” Hannah said, as Eve took a step out toward them. “They know the rules; they stay out of the atrium unless we specifically call their names.”
“Or what?” Shane asked tightly. He didn’t like this any more than Claire did. “What kind of punishments have you been dishing out?”
Hannah didn’t answer that—didn’t want to, Claire thought. But she had her hand on what Claire had originally thought was some kind of radio on her belt—a black box with buttons along the top and a flickering green light.
Maybe it wasn’t a radio after all.
“Michael Glass,” Hannah said. She didn’t raise her voice, but then, in a mall full of vampires, she really didn’t need to do that. “We’re here for Michael Glass. Michael, step forward, please.”
He didn’t. Amelie did.
It was as if somehow the shadows parted around her, but Claire knew that wasn’t the case; Amelie had simply moved forward without seeming to move at all, and suddenly she was standing at the edge of the tiles, her pointed-toe pumps lined up very precisely with the boundary. The Founder of Morganville was dressed in impeccable white, impossibly clean and pure in the dirty, yellowed glow. Her pale silvery eyes seemed almost colorless, and from experience Claire knew that meant Amelie was at her most dangerous.
“What do you want with Michael?” she asked. Her hands were folded in front of her, a calm, resting position, and her body language was watchful.
“Eve wants to see him, to be sure he’s all right.”
That made Amelie smile, just a little. It was a shivery kind of expression, and she lowered her chin just enough to make it seem terrifying. “Yes, I’m sure all of you are simply brimming with concern for our well-being.”
“He’s my husband!” Eve said sharply. “Look, I just had to fight to get this far. Don’t be a jerkface, Amelie.”
That broke Amelie’s concentration, and she looked a little puzzled as she worked out the word. “Jerkface?” she said slowly, as if testing the syllables. “Ah. You think I am the one at fault? You have quite a lot to learn, Eve. But if you wish to see Michael, I will send him out—as soon as Chief Moses assures me that he will remain unharmed and will be returned in the same state.”
“Returned to you? What about to me?”
“It’s clear you don’t understand the slightest thing about what is happening in Morganville,” Amelie said. “So I will forgive you for not comprehending how much danger you put Michael in by separating him from my protection.” She nodded slightly, and on the other side of the atrium, Oliver stepped up. He was holding Michael by the arm. Michael broke free, and for just a heartbeat Claire saw him clearly in the dim light: a shock of golden hair wild around his face, clear blue eyes fixed on Eve. Of all of them, he looked the least like a vampire, except for the pallor of his skin. He looked like a Renaissance angel come to life, if angels wore jeans and witty T-shirts.
He was wearing something black around his throat, and for a second Claire thought it was one of Eve’s chokers, the dog-collar type, though that would be a strange thing for him to put on. She could barely see it, and then he was a blur, heading at vamp speed across the tiles.
Hannah pressed a button on the box on her belt, and Michael stopped. No, not just stopped—he broke stride, stumbled, and fell to his knees, shaking. “Slowly,” Hannah said. “Don’t make me take it up to the next level, Michael. Move slowly.”
“Yes,” Amelie said from the shadows. “Pray do as she says, Michael.”
Eve, after a white-hot glare at Hannah, threw herself out into the open space and down next to Michael. “What did you do to him?” she demanded. “He’s hurt! Michael, baby, are you okay? Michael!”
“He’s fine,” Hannah said, and took her finger off the button. “No permanent damage, I promise. But I have to make sure everybody obeys the rules. It’s the only way this works.”
The vampires hadn’t moved, but there was a new feeling in the air, Claire thought. A kind of tension that was reinforced by what sounded almost like a low whisper of sound.
A growl.
“I’m fine,” Michael said. He sounded shaky, but he wrapped his arms around Eve and held on tight. “God, there you are. All in one piece. I was so worried.”
“Me? I’m not the one who got an arrow to the chest, bucko.”
“I didn’t know what happened to you.” He raised his hands to cup her face, and brushed her black hair back. It was growing longer again, and she hadn’t braided it, so it fell in a sleek curtain. “I was so scared they’d—they’d done something to you. Not hurt?”