Interesting, all of them, and that was a rarity in Amelie’s long, long eternity. She had been kind to them, out of no better reason than that. She could afford to be kind, so long as it risked her nothing in return.
Oliver deliberately made noise as he approached her study, a gesture of politeness she appreciated. Amelie turned from the window and sat down in the velvet-covered chair beside it, arranging her skirts with effortless grace and folding her hands in her lap. Oliver looked less harassed than he had; he’d taken time to bathe, change, compose himself. He’d tied his gray curling hair back in the old style, a subtle sign to her that he was willing to accommodate her preferences, and he was perfectly correct in his manners as he bowed to her and waited for her to gesture him to take a seat.
“I am grateful to you for the opportunity to speak,” Oliver said as he settled himself in the chair. Vallery appeared in the doorway with a tray and two silver cups; she gave him a slight nod, and he delivered them refreshment. Oliver drank without taking his eyes from her. She sipped. “I thought we had an agreement, Amelie. Regarding the book.”
“We did,” she said, and sipped again. Fresh, warm, red blood. Life itself, salty and thick in her mouth. She had long learned how to feast neatly on it. “I agreed not to interfere with your . . . searches. But I never agreed to forgo the opportunity to retrieve it myself, if the chance presented. As it did.”
“I was cheated.”
“Yes,” she agreed softly, and smiled. “But not by me, Oliver. Not by me. And if you should consider taking your petty revenge on the children, please remember that they are in my house, under my sign of Protection. Don’t make this cause for complaint.”
He nodded stiffly, eyes sparking anger. He put his cup back on Vallery’s tray. It rang empty. “What do you know of the boy?”
“Which boy?”
“Not Glass. The other one. Shane Collins.”
She raised one hand in a tiny, weary gesture. “What is there to know? He is barely a child.”
“His mother was resistant to conditioning.”
Amelie searched her memory. Ah, yes. Collins. There had been an incident, unfortunate as such things were, and she had dispatched operatives to see to the end of it when the elder Collins had taken his wife and son and left Morganville. “She should be dead by now,” she said.
“She is. But her husband isn’t.” Oliver smiled slowly, and she did not care for the triumph in his expression. Not at all. “I have a report that he returned to town only an hour ago, and went straight to the house where his son is staying. Your house, Amelie. You are now sheltering a potential killer.” She said nothing, did nothing. After a long moment, Oliver sighed. “You cannot pretend that this is not a problem.”
“I don’t,” she said. “But we shall see what develops. After all, this town is a sanctuary.”
“And the children?” he asked. “Are you extending your Protection to them even if they come after vampires?”
Amelie sipped the last of her blood, and smiled. “I might,” she said.
“Then you want a war.”
“No, Oliver, I want the right to make my own decisions in my own town.” She stood, and Oliver stood, too, as if drawn on the same string. “You may go.”
She went back to the window, dismissing him from her thoughts. If he was inclined to dispute his dismissal, he thought better—possibly because Vallery was not the only servant she had within a whisper’s call—and he withdrew from the field without surrender.
Amelie folded her hands on the warm wood of the window ledge and stared at the faint glow of moonrise on the horizon.
“Oh, children.” She sighed. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
She was not in the habit of risking her life or position. Especially not for mere humans, whose lives blinked on and off as quickly as the streetlights below.
If Oliver was right, she would have little choice.
WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME
Another free-on-the-Web story under the Captain Obvious hidden content, I wrote this story to give a little shading and understanding to Richard Morrell, Monica’s (exasperated) older brother. We first met him in Glass Houses, and I took a liking to him immediately—it’s not easy being the son of the most corrupt human in Morganville while also being the brother of the most outrageous, selfish bully. Add to that a real desire to do some good in the world and help protect his fellow Morganville residents, and you’ve got a man who has a hard day ahead of him.
But one thing’s for certain: Richard does love his sister. He knows her flaws, but that doesn’t mean he won’t go to the wall for her—and even compromise his ethics from time to time.
This is about to be a very bad day to be a criminal in Morganville.