Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(124)

“Claire?” Shane blinked and took a step toward her. “What are you doing?”

She ignored him, watching Amelie, who was just as intently watching her. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Amelie said. “If you wish. I can arrange for you to enter the university you wished—MIT, yes?—and have advanced study with someone who is friendly to Morganville, though no longer a resident. Is that what you require of me, as payment for saving my life?”

“No,” Claire said. “That’s what you owe me for saving all your lives, a bunch of times. What I require now is that you let Shane go, too. If he wants.”

“Claire, this is unwise,” Myrnin said. “You should not—”

“I want,” Shane said, interrupting him. “I definitely want.”

Claire nodded. She and Amelie hadn’t yet broken their stare. It was really hard to keep doing it; there was some kind of power in Amelie that affected people even when she wasn’t really trying, and it was giving Claire the shakes, and the faint outline of a headache. “I want you to get me into MIT. And for Shane to be able to go anywhere he wants. And for you to keep your word about Morganville. No killing. Not even to get Myrnin his brain.”

“No need,” Myrnin said earnestly. “There are several in the morgue who will—”

Amelie raised her hand and cut him off instantly. “Agreed,” she said. “Note it down, Bizzie.” Bizzie did, without lifting her head as she wrote in quick, dry scratches on the paper. “Now. As to Oliver,” she said. Her voice had taken on a softer note, with something almost tentative about it. “As to Oliver, I will be seen as weak if I forgive him as well as Naomi. He was my most visible adversary, and the most visible knife at my back. So he must go. He is exiled from Morganville, until such time as I decide he may return.”

Oliver opened his eyes and turned his head. Amelie’s gaze fell on him, and for a moment, there was something so painful between them, it made Claire want to look away. It was a kind of desperate, angry longing she knew all too well.

And then Oliver said, “Yes, my liege.” And he closed his eyes. “As you wish. I accept your punishment.”

“You’re all dismissed,” Amelie said. “Oliver, you may gather your things. You’ll leave tomorrow.”

She went back into her office.

And…that was it. It felt oddly empty to Claire, where there should have been some sense of…of triumph. Of something. But she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. She just knew that she had to take control of her life, now, or it would never happen.

Michael stopped next to Claire and said, “So this is where I tell you how sorry I am. So, so sorry. Believe me, I—I can’t explain.”

“You don’t need to,” she said. “I was controlled by Bishop; I know how it felt.”

Michael sighed and shook his head. “Dammit. It’s not—I know you’ve got some issues with Shane, and that’s on me, not on you. I’m sorry. Let me fix things, if I can.”

She wasn’t sure that was remotely possible, but she smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said. It was the best she could manage. “But it’s my life, Michael.”

“I know,” he said. “I—I just don’t know what we are going to do without you.”

“You and Eve? You’ll be fine. You love her; everybody can see that now. I think you’d even give her up, if she asked you to, but not if they ask it. That’s real love, I guess.” On impulse, she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. He flinched. So did she, a little. “I’ll be back. But I need—I need to have my own life for a while. Out there. Away. You know?”

He did; she saw it in his smile. “That’s what Eve and I were trying to explain to you guys,” he said. “Sometimes you just…need that. To be sure who you really are.” His smile faded. “You didn’t ask for Shane to go with you.”

“I didn’t,” she agreed, and walked away.

Shane was waiting at the hearse. He still wasn’t looking directly at her, or for that matter at Michael, as the two of them approached. He leaned against the side, arms folded, and said, “Shotgun.”

“Sure,” Michael said. “I’ll drive. Shane—”

Shane held out a palm to stop him. “Not now,” he said. “I’m not ready for any apologies. You fix it with Eve, then talk to me.”

Michael nodded. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, obviously, but it was the best he could have hoped for, really. We won, she thought. Why didn’t it feel any better?

“Sorry,” Shane said. He seemed flushed and awkward, suddenly, as she headed for the back of the hearse. “I—look, you should take the front and—”

“You called shotgun,” she said. “It’s okay.”

He stared after her, clearly trying to think what to say, and failing. For that matter, she wasn’t sure, either.

The drive home was weirdly silent.

Miranda met them at the door, face alight. Jenna was standing behind her, looking almost as proud. “You’re okay,” she said. “I knew you were going to need our help.”

“Actually,” Jenna said, “that was me. I had a vision of you locked in that cage, and I didn’t know what to do.”