Part 21 (2/2)

He smiled.

Then he took that off her neck and dropped it to the floor.

Amelie surged to her feet-wounded, bloodied, messy, and angrier than Claire had ever seen her. She hissed at Oliver, fangs out, and then darted around him to kneel next to Sam.

His eyes opened and fixed on her face. Neither of them spoke.

She took his hand in hers for a moment, then lifted it to touch the back of it to her face.

”You were right,” she said. ”You were always right, about everything. And I will always love you, Sam. Forever.”

He smiled, and then he closed his eyes . . .

. . . and he was gone. Claire could see his life-or whatever it was that animated a vampire-slip away.

Her eyes blurred with hot tears. No. Oh, Sam . . .

Amelie put his hand gently back on his chest, touched her lips to his forehead, and stood up. Oliver helped her, with one hand under her arm-that was the only way Claire could tell that Amelie wasn't herself, because she seemed to be more alive than ever.

More motivated, anyway.

Bishop was seriously hurt, although Claire couldn't figure out how; Shane's knife couldn't have really injured him. The old man was barely staying on his feet now, as he backed away from Amelie and Oliver.

That put him to moving toward Myrnin, who picked up Pennywell and threw him like a rag doll way out into the distance-all the way to the spotlight, where Pennywell slammed into the gla.s.s and smashed the machine into wreckage.

Then Myrnin turned toward Bishop, blocking him from that side.

The three vampires fighting Hannah and Richard suddenly realized that the tide was turning against them, and moved away. As a parting shot, though, one of them yanked the stake out of Francois's chest, and the vampire yelled and rolled around for a second, then jumped to his feet, snarling.

Oliver, annoyed, reached down and picked up the silver leash he'd removed from Amelie's neck. In a single, smooth motion, he wrapped it around Francois's throat and tied him to the arm of Bishop's heavy throne. ”Stay,” he snapped, and, just to be sure, wrapped another length of heavy silver chain around his ankle. Francois howled in pain.Oliver plucked the wooden stake out of Claire's hand, removed the silver knife from Ysandre's back, and drove the stake all the way through her to nail her to the stage. It went through her heart. She shuddered and stopped moving, frozen in place.

”There, that should keep them for a while,” Oliver said. ”Claire. Take this.” He tossed the knife to her, and she caught it, still numb and not entirely understanding what had just happened.

”You're . . . you're not-”

”On Bishop's side?” He smiled thinly. ”He certainly has thought so, since I sold myself to him the night he came to Morganville. But no. I am not his beast. I've always been my own.”

Amelie took a step toward her father. ”It's over,” she said. ”You've done your worst. You'll do no more.”

He looked desperate, confused, and-for the first time-really afraid. ”How? How did you do this?”

”The key was not in guessing whom you would choose to kill,” she said, and her voice was light and calm and ice cold. ”You taught me endgames, my father. The key to winning is that no matter what move your opponent makes, it will be the wrong one. I knew you'd kill at least one of us personally; you enjoy it far too much. You couldn't resist.”

Like Bishop, she lost her balance. Oliver caught her and held her upright.

Bishop's face went blank. ”You . . . you poisoned me. Through Myrnin. But I didn't drink.”

”I poisoned Myrnin,” she said. ”And myself. And Sam. The only one who didn't take poison was Oliver, because I needed him in reserve. You see, we knew about Claire after all. We counted on your knowing where we would be, and what we'd planned, at least insofar as she witnessed it.” A p.a.w.n. Claire had always been a p.a.w.n.

And Sam-Sam had been a sacrifice.

Amelie looked unsteady now, and Oliver put an arm around her shoulders. It looked like comfort, but it wasn't; he took a syringe from his pocket, uncapped it with a flick of his thumb, and drove it into the side of Amelie's neck. He emptied the contents in, and she shuddered and sagged against him for just a moment, then drew in a deep breath and straightened.

She nodded to Oliver, who took out another syringe, which he pitched to Claire. ”Give it to him.”

For a second she thought he meant to Bishop, but then she realized, as Myrnin's strength failed and he went to his knees, who it was really meant to help. She swallowed hard, looking at Myrnin uncertainly, and he moved his hair aside to bare the side of his pale neck. ”Hurry,” he said. ”Not much time.”

She did it, somehow, and helped him back to his feet.

When he looked up, she could see that he was better. Much better.

Amelie said, ”In case you have any doubt, Father, that was an antidote to the poison that is taking hold inside you. Without the antidote, the poison won't kill you, but it will disable you. You can't win against us. Not now.”

Down among the crowds, the fights were dying down. There were casualties, but many of them were Bishop's people; the humans of Morganville weren't quite as easy to lead to slaughter as he'd expected. All their anger and vampire-slaying att.i.tude had helped, after all.

And now, pounding up the steps on the side of the stage, came Shane and Eve, backed by a party of grim-looking humans, including Detective Hess and several other cops. All held weapons. Eve had a crossbow that she aimed at Bishop's chest.

Michael took an extra stake from Hannah.

All of Morganville on one side, and Bishop alone on the other.

He backed up, toward the back of the stage.

Behind him, the curtain took on a silvery s.h.i.+mmer.

”Portal!” Claire yelled, but it was too late; Bishop had activated an escape hatch, and in the next second he stumbled through it and was gone. Amelie was too far away, and too weak to go after him anyway.

Claire didn't think; she just jumped forward, put her hand on the portal's surface, and yelled Ada's name.

”What?” the computer asked. The sound this time boomed out of the portal.

”I need to track Bishop!” Claire said.

”I don't work for you anymore, human,” Ada said, and shut down the portal with a snap. Claire turned to look at Myrnin, who was watching a few feet away, eyes fading back to his normal black. He walked toward her, bare feet gliding over the carpet, and studied the empty s.p.a.ce where the portal had been.

Then he reached out and drew a wide circle with a sweep of his arm, and the silver s.h.i.+mmer flickered back into view.

”Don't be rude, Ada,” he said. ”Now, I know you can hear me. Where did our dear Mr. Bishop take himself off to?”

”I can't tell you,” Ada said primly. ”I don't work for you, either.”

Myrnin placed his palm flat on the surface of the s.h.i.+mmer and looked at Claire. ”He's reprogrammed her,” he said. ”He must have gone to her and given her his blood while we were making our own plans. I didn't expect him to move so quickly. I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been.” He removed his palm, and Claire realized he'd done it as a kind of mute b.u.t.ton, so Ada wouldn't hear what they had to say. ”Ada, my darling, I put you together from sc.r.a.ps and my own blood. Are you really going to say you don't love me anymore?” Claire had never heard him sound that way before-so in control of himself, so a.s.sured and darkly clever. It made her s.h.i.+ver somewhere deep inside. ”Let me come to you. I really want to see you, my love.”

Ada was silent for a moment, and then her ghostly image appeared on the surface of the portal-a Victorian woman, dressed in the big skirts and high collar of the times. She smoothed her pale hands over the fabric of her dress. ”Very well,” she said. ”You may call on me, Myrnin.”

”Excellent.” He grabbed Claire by the hand and stepped through the portal.

<script>