The Dead Girl's Dance

Claire let them argue it out, and stepped inside. She didnt feel anythingno tingle of a force field or anythingbut then, she didnt going in and out of the Glass House, either.

Still, she recognized it immediately. There was something about this house. It had the same quality of stillness, of weight, that she always felt at home. Not the same at all inside from a decorating point of viewGramma and Lisa seemed to like furniture, lots of it, all in fussy floral patterns and chintz, with rugs everywhere and a smothering amount of curtains and lace. Claire walked slowly down the hardwood hallway, trailing her fingers lightly over the paneling. The wood felt warm, but all wood did, right?

Freaky, she muttered, and opened the bathroom door.

It wasnt a bathroom.

It was a study, a large one, and it couldnt have been more different from the overblown frilly living roomsevere polished wood floors, a massive dark desk, a few glowering portraits on the walls. Dark red velvet curtains blocking out the sun. The walls were lined with books, old books mostly, and in the cabinet there was something that looked like a wine rack, only it heldscrolls?

Amelie was seated at the desk, signing sheets of paper with a gold pen. One of her assistants, also a vampire, was standing attentively next to her, taking each sheet out of the way as she wrote her name.

Neither of them looked up at Claire.

Close the door, Amelie said in a gentle voice accented with an almost-French sort of pronunciation. I dislike the draft.

Claire thought about running, but she wasnt stupid enough to believe she could run far enough, or fast enough, and even though the idea of shrieking and slamming the door from the other side was pretty tempting, she swallowed her fear and stepped all the way in before she shut it with a quiet click.

Is this your house? Claire asked. It was the only thing she could think of to ask, frankly; every other question had been shaken right out of her head because this couldnt be happening.

Amelie glanced up, and her eyes were just as cool and intimidating as Claire remembered. It felt a little like being frostbitten. My house? she echoed. Yes, of course. They are all my house. Oh, I see what you ask. You ask if the particular house you entered is my home. No, little Claire, it is not where I hide myself from my enemies, although it would certainly be a useful choice. Very Amelie smiled slowly. Unexpected.

Thenhow?

Youll find that when I need you, Claire, you will be called. Amelie signed the last paper, then handed it to her assistanta tall, dark young man in a black suit and tieand he bowed slightly and left the room through another door. Amelie sat back in her massive carved chair, looking more like a queen than ever, including the golden coronet of hair on top of her head. Her long fingers tapped lightly on the lion-head arms of the chair. You are not in the house where you were, my dear. Do you understand that?

Teleportation, Claire said. But thats not possible.

Yet you are here.

Thats science fiction!

Amelie waved her graceful hand. I fail to understand your conventions of literature these days. One impossible thing such as vampires, this is acceptable, but two impossible things becomes science fiction? Ah well, no matter. I cannot explain the workings of it; that is a subject for philosophers and artisans, and I am neither. Not for many years. Her frost-colored eyes warmed just a fraction. Put down your pack. Ive seen tinkers carrying lighter loads.

Whats a tinker? Claire wondered. She started to ask, but didnt want to sound stupid. Thank you, she said, and carefully lowered her backpack to the wooden floor, then slid into one of the two chairs facing the desk. Maam.

So polite, Amelie said. And in a time when manners are forgottenyou do understand what manners are, dont you, Claire? Behaviors that allow humans to live closely together without killing each other. Most of the time.

Yes, maam.

Silence. Somewhere behind Claire, a big clock ticked away minutes; she felt a drop of sweat glide down her neck and splash into the fabric of her black knit shirt. Amelie was staring at her without blinking or moving, and that was weird. Wrong. People just didnt do that.

But then, Amelie wasnt people. In fact, of all the vampires, in many ways she was the most not-people.

Sam asked about you, Claire blurted, just because it popped into her head and she wanted Amelie to stop staring at her. It worked. Amelie blinked, shifted her weight, and leaned forward to rest her pointed chin on her folded hands, elbows still braced on the arms of the chair.

Sam, she said slowly, and her gaze wandered up and to her right, fixed on nothing. Trying to remember, Claire thought; shed noticed how peopleeven vampires, apparentlydid that with their eyes when remembering things. Ah yes. Samuel. Her gaze snapped back to Claire with unnerving speed. And how did you come to chat with dear young Samuel?

Claire shrugged. He wanted to talk to me.

About?

He asked about you. Ithink hes lonely.

Amelie smiled. She wasnt trying to impress Claire with her vampinessno need for that!so her teeth looked white and even, perfectly normal. Of course hes lonely, she said. Samuel is the youngest. No one older trusts him; no one younger exists. He has no ties to the vampire community, save me, and no ties left to the human world. He is more alone than anyone you will ever meet, Claire.

You say that like youwant him that way. Alone, I mean.

I do, Amelie said calmly. My reasons are my own. However, it is an interesting experiment, to see how someone so alone will react. Samuel has been intriguing; most vampires would have simply turned brutal and un-caring, but he continues to seek comfort. Friendship. He is unusual, I think.

Youre experimenting on him! Claire said.

Amelies platinum eyebrows slowly rose to form perfect arches over her cold, amused eyes. Clever of you to think such a thing, but attend: a rat who knows it is running a maze is no longer a useful subject. So you will keep your counsel, and you will keep your distance from dear sweet Samuel. Now. Why did you come to me today?

Why did I? Claire cleared her throat. I think maybe theres been a mistake. I was, you know, looking for a bathroom.

Amelie stared at her for a frozen second, and then she threw back her head and laughed. It was a full, living sound, warm and full of unexpected joy, and when it passed, Claire could see the traces of it still on her face and in her eyes. Making her look almosthuman. A bathroom, she repeated, and shook her head. Child, I have been told many things, but that may yet prove the most amusing. If you wish a bathroom, please, go through that door. You will find all that you require. Her smile faded. But I think you came to ask me something more.

I didnt come here at all! I was going to the Morganville Historical Society.

I am the Morganville Historical Society, Amelie said. What do you wish to know?

Claire liked books. Books didnt talk back. They didnt sit there in their fancy throne chairs and look all queeny and imposing and terrifying, and they didnt have fangs and bodyguards. Books were fine. UmI just wanted to look something up?

Amelie was already losing patience. Just tell me, girl. Quickly. I am not without duties.

Claire cleared her throat nervously, coughed, and said, I wanted to find out about Eves brother, Jason. Jason Rosser.

Done, Amelie said, and although she didnt seem to do anything, not even lift a finger, the side door opened and her cute but deathly pale assistant leaned in. The Rosser family file, she told him. He nodded and was gone. You would have wasted your time, Amelie said to Claire. There are no personnel files of any kind in the Historical Society building. It is purely for show, and the information there is inaccurate, at best. If you want to know the true history of things, little one, come to someone who has lived it.

But thats just perspective, Claire said. Not fact.

All fact is perspective. Ah, thank you, Henry. Amelie accepted a folder from her assistant, who silently left again. She flipped it open, studied what was inside, and then handed it over to Claire. An unexceptional family. Curious that it produced young Eve and her brother.

It was their whole lives reduced to dry entries in longhand on paper. Dates of births, details of school recordsthere were handwritten reports from the vampire Brandon, who gave them Protection. Even those were dry.

And then not so dry, because between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Eve changed. Big-time. The school photograph at fifteen was of a pretty, fragile-looking girl dressed in conservative clothessomething even Claire would have worn.

Eves photograph at sixteen was GothCity. Shed dyed her dark hair a flat glossy black, whited her face, raccooned her eyes, and generally adopted a tude. By seventeen shed started getting piercingsone showed in the tongue she stuck out at the camera.

By eighteen, she looked pensive and defiant, and then the photographs stopped, except for some that looked like surveillance photos of Eve in Common Grounds, pulling espresso shots and chatting with customers.

Eve with Oliver.

Youre supposed to be looking up Jason, Claire reminded herself, and flipped the page.

Jason was just the same, only younger; about the time that Eve had turned Goth, so had Jason, although on him it looked less like a fashion choice and more like a serious turn to the dark side. Eve always had a light of humor and mischief in her eyes; Jason had no light in his eyes at all. He looked skinny, strong, and dangerous.

And Claire realized with an icy start that shed seen him before. Hed been on the street, staring at her just before shed gone into Common Grounds and talked to Sam.

Jason Rosser knew who she was.

Jason likes knives, as I recall, Amelie said. He sometimes fancies himself a vampire. I should be quite careful of him, were I you. He is not likely to be aspolite as my own people.

Claire shivered and flipped pages, speed-reading through Jasons not-very-impressive academic life, and then the police reports.

Eve had been the witness whod turned him in. Shed seen him abduct this girl and drive away with hera girl who was later found wandering the streets bleeding from a stab wound. The girl refused to testify, but Eve had gone on record. And Jason had gone away.

The file showed hed been released from prison the day before yesterday at nine in the morning. Plenty of time for him to have grabbed Karla Gast on campus and Out with the bad thoughts, Claire. In with the good.

She flipped pages and looked at Eves mother and dad. They lookednormal. Kind of grim, maybe, but with a son like Jason, that probably wasnt too strange. Still, they didnt look like the kind of parents whod just toss their daughter out on her ear and never write or call or visit.

Claire closed the file and slid it back across the desk to Amelie, who put it in a wooden out-box at the corner of her desk. Did you find what you wished to know? Amelie asked.

I dont know.

What a wise thing to say, Amelie said, and nodded once, like a queen to a subject. You may go now. Use the door that brought you.

Umthanks. Bye. Which sounded like a dumbass thing to say to someone a billion years old, who controlled the town and everything in it, but Amelie seemed to accept it fine. Claire grabbed her backpack and hurried through the polished wood door into a bathroom. With lots of floral wallpaper and really yak-worthy frilly doll-skirt toilet paper covers.

Reality whiplash.

Claire dropped her backpack and yanked open the door again.

It was the hallway. She looked right, then left. The room even smelled differenttalcum powder and old-lady perfume. No trace of Amelie, her silent servants, or the room where theyd been.

Science fiction, Claire said, deeply unhappy, andfeeling strangely guiltyflushed the toilet before trudging back the way shed come. The house was warm, but the heat outside was like a slap from a microwaved towel.

Oh, she was so going to figure that trick out. She couldnt stand the idea of it being, well, magic. Sure, vampires she could acceptgrudginglyand the whole mind-control thing. But not instantaneous transportation. Nope.

Lisa was sitting next to Gramma on the porch swing now, sipping lemonade. There was an extra one gathering beads of sweat on the small table next to her, and she nodded Claire to it without speaking.

Thanks, Claire said, and took a deep, thirsty gulp. It was goodmaybe too sweet, but refreshing. She drained it fast and held on to the cool glass, wondering if it was bad manners to crunch the ice cubes. How long have you lived here?

Grammas been in this house all her life, Lisa said, and gently rubbed her grandmothers back. Right, Gramma?

Born here, the old woman said proudly. Gonna die here, too, when Im good and ready.

Thats the spirit. Lisa poured Claire another glass of lemonade from a half-empty pitcher. I find anything missing in Grammas house, college girl, and you cant hide from me in Morganville. You feel me?

Lisa! Gramma scolded. Im so sorry, honey. My granddaughter never learned proper manners. She smacked Lisa on the hand and gave her the parental glare. This nice girl here, she never would steal from an old lady. Now, would you, honey?

No, maam, Claire said, and drank half of the second serving of lemonade. It tasted as tart and sweet and wonderful as the first. I was just wondering, about the symbol next to your door

Lisa and Gramma both looked at her sharply. Neither one of them replied. They were both wearing bracelets, she noticed, plain silver with the Founders symbol on a metal plaque, like those Medic Alert bracelets. Finally, Lisa said, softly, You need to leave now.

But

Go! Lisa yelled it, grabbed the glass out of Claires hand, and thumped it down on the table. Dont you make me throw you down the stairs in front of my gramma!

Hush, Lisa, Gramma said, and leaned forward with a creaking sound, from either the wooden porch swing or her old bones. Girls got no better sense than God gave a sheep, but thats all right. Its the Founders symbol, child, and this is the Founders house, and were the Founders people. Just like you.

Lisa looked at her, openmouthed. What? she finally said when she got control of her voice.

Cant you see it? Gramma waved her hand in front of Claire. She shines, baby. They see it, I guarantee you they do. They wont touch her, mark or no mark. Worth their lives if they do.

But Lisa looked as frustrated and helpless as Claire felt. Gramma, youre seeing things again.

I do not see things, missy, and you better remember just who in this family stayed alive when everybody else fell. Grammas faded eyes fixed on Claire, who shivered despite the oppressive, still heat. Dont know why she marked you, child, but she did. Now you just got to live with it. Go on, now. Go home. You got what you came for.

She did? Lisa scowled fiercely. Swear to God, if you lifted anything from our house

Hush. She didnt steal. But she got what she needed, didnt you, girl?

Claire nodded and nervously ran a hand through her hair. She was sweating buckets; her hair felt sticky and wet. Home suddenly sounded like a real good idea.

Thank you, maam, she said, and extended her hand. Gramma looked at it for a few seconds, then took it in a birdlike grip and shook. Can I come back and see you sometime?

Long as you bring me some chocolate, Gramma said, and smiled. Im partial to chocolate.

Gramma, youre diabetic.

Im old, girl. Gonna die of something. Might as well be chocolate.

They were still arguing as Claire retreated down the steps, through the neatly kept front garden, and out through the gate in the white picket fence. She looked at that alley, the one shed almost taken, and this time she felt a shiver of warning. Trapdoor spiders. No, she no longer had any desire to take shortcuts. And shed learned about as much as she could stomach about Jason Rosser. At least she knew now who to watch out for, if he started following her around again.

Claire hitched her backpack to a more comfortable position, and began walking.