Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(78)
And like the police, they fanned out, but not to cordon off the crowd.
They were making for the stage, and Captain Obvious.
He saw them coming about the time that most others did. Vampires didn’t need protection, even in a crowd like this; Morganville natives had it bred into them to back up, get away, and that was exactly what they did. Cries of alarm went up, and little islands of space formed around the vamps as they pushed forward.
Captain Obvious’s helmet turned toward Flora, and she nodded. He backed up to the edge of the trailer, dropped off and out of sight, and one second later Claire heard the roar of a motorcycle. He came roaring out from concealment on the other side of the truck, spraying smoke as he fishtailed around. The crowd cleared for him, too, or at least for the snarling bike, and he leaned into the handlebars and hit the thrust hard.
A lunging vampire tried to take him off the machine, but he ducked low and weaved expertly, and she went rolling. When another tried it ten feet later, someone in the crowd—more daring than the rest—ran forward and knocked the vampire’s hat off. The vampire turned with a roar of fury and slapped the broad-brimmed coverage back over his smoking head, but his second was lost, and Captain Obvious accelerated away, leaning into a sharp turn with his knee almost on the ground. It was someone with training, Claire thought, someone with a lot of skill.
The vampires largely gave up on him, though a few tried chasing him; the rest bolted forward, swarmed onto the stage, and two grabbed Flora Ramos. A third cleanly severed the microphone cord with a single pull, robbing her of her soapbox.
But when they tried to take her down from the platform, people surged forward, shouting. They’d lost their fear, all of a sudden. It made sense. Flora was a popular lady, a widow, who’d lost kids to the vampires. She was everybody’s mom, all of a sudden, being dragged off into the dark—not in the middle of the night, but in public, in broad daylight, in a blatant show of vampire force.
Amelie and Oliver must have approved this. They must be watching, Claire thought with a sudden twinge. She turned and looked behind her, and saw a long blacked-out sedan idling at the corner. She walked that way. Walked right up to the car and rapped on the backseat window.
It glided down to reveal the pale, sharp face of Oliver. He didn’t speak. He just gazed at her with cool disinterest. Next to him, Amelie was looking straight ahead, a slight frown grooved between her brows. She looked flawless, as always, but Claire knew her well enough to think she was bothered by what she saw before her.
“Let Mrs. Ramos go,” Claire told Oliver.
“She’s preaching sedition and breaching the public peace,” he said. “She’s ours by law.”
“Maybe. But if you take her off that stage, you lose. Not just now, but for a long time. People won’t forget.”
“I care not what they remember,” he said. “The only way to stop a rebellion is to crush it with blood and fire, and to wound them so they’ll never dare to raise a hand again.”
He sounded as if he almost liked it. Claire shuddered, and looked past him, to Amelie. “Please,” she said. “This isn’t right. Stop it. Let Flora go.”
It took forever for the Founder to speak, but when she did, her voice was soft, even, and decisive. “Let the old woman go,” she said. “It gains us nothing to make her a martyr. Our goal is to find this new Captain Obvious. He can’t hide for long. Once we have him, we make an example of him and make it clear that this kind of disruption won’t be tolerated. Yes?”
Oliver scowled and sent Claire a murderous glance. “My queen, I think you are listening too much to your pets. The girl’s softhearted. She’ll lead us all to ruin.” He lifted Amelie’s pearl white hand to his lips and kissed it, lips lingering on her skin, and she finally looked at him. “Let me guide you in this. You know I have the best interests of Morganville at heart. And you are Morganville.”
The frown between Amelie’s perfectly arched brows relaxed, smoothed, and she kept her gaze fully focused on him. “I fear your way will bring us more trouble, Oliver.”
“And this chit’s way will bring us death,” he said. “Mark me, compromise is no answer. We would compromise ourselves into a pyre of ashes. Humans have no pity for us, and never have; they’d kill every one of us. Have you forgotten that one of them just yesterday tried to put a silver arrow in my heart?”
“And I pulled it out,” Claire said. “Or you’d be dead now, you jerk. What exactly is a chit?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Amelie’s gaze tugged away from Oliver’s for a moment, and Claire got the full force of the Founder’s attention. “A disrespectful young woman,” she said. “Something I was called more than once. Something every woman of quality is called, sooner or later, by a man who feels they do not know their place. As we do not, because our place is as lofty as we may aspire to climb. It is the language of men who fear women.” There was something weird about Amelie’s eyes; they seemed darker than normal, and Claire couldn’t figure it out until she realized that the pupils were inordinately large, as if she’d had some kind of dilating drops in them. Was she being drugged? “Which brings up a good point, Oliver. I believe you’ve called me a chit, upon occasion. Yet suddenly you call me your queen.”
“You’ve ever been queen in my heart,” he said, which made Claire want to gag. His voice was smoky, soothing, and way too seductive. “Can we not agree on this one thing, my liege? That the survival of what few vampires remain must take precedence over the legions of humans who roam this earth in their billions? If we trust to their good graces, we will die.”