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Shane wasn't making that any easier.
"Look." Shane put his hands around her face and stared earnestly into her eyes. "What if you take Eve and get out of here? They're not watching you. I'll cover for you."
"No. I'm not leaving my parents. I'm not leaving you."
And they didn't have time to talk about it, because there was a tremendous crash from the living room. The kitchen door flew open, and Michael stumbled backward through it, held by the throat by the handsome young vamp who'd come in with Bishop. He slammed Michael up against the wall. Michael was fighting, but it didn't seem to be doing him a lot of good.
The other vampire opened his mouth in a snarl, and his big, sharp vampire teeth flashed down like switchblades.
So did Michael's, and Claire involuntarily backed up against Shane.
Shane yelled, "Hey! Let him go!"
Michael choked out, "Don't!" but of course Shane wasn't listening, and Claire's grip on his arm wasn't going to stop him, either.
What did stop him was Eve, holding a big, nasty-looking knife. She gave Shane a wild warning look, then spun around and leveled the knife at the vampire holding Michael. "You! Let him go!"
"Not until this one apologizes," the vampire said, and emphasized it by banging Michael against the wall again, hard enough that every piece of glass in the room rattled. No - it wasn't the impact; it was a low-level vibration coming from the room itself. The walls, the floor . . . the house. Like a warning growl.
"You'd better let him go," Claire said. "Can't you feel that?"
The vampire frowned at her, and his pretty green eyes narrowed even as the pupils expanded. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Eve said, and gestured with the knife.
"You're doing it. The house doesn't like it when you play dirty with Michael. Now step away from him before something bad happens."
He thought they were bluffing - Claire could see it in his eyes - but he also didn't see much of a reason to push his luck. He let Michael go, his full lips curling in contempt. "Put that away, silly girl," he told Eve, and before any of them could even blink, he slapped it out of her hand - slapped it so hard it flew across the room and stuck in the wall. Eve grabbed her hand and cradled it close, backing away from him.
"Apologize," he told her. "Beg my forgiveness for threatening me."
"Bite me!" she snapped.
The vampire's eyes flared like hot crystal, and he lunged for Eve. Michael moved faster than Claire had ever seen him, just a confusing blur, and then the stranger was hurtling into the stove. He caught himself with both hands out, and she heard the sizzle as his palms hit the burners, followed by an enraged cry of pain.
This was going to get really bad, and there was nothing, nothing, they could do.
Shane grabbed Eve by the shoulder, Claire by the arm, and he hustled them into the corner by the breakfast table, where they had at least partial cover. But that left Michael on his own, fighting out of his weight class against something more like a wildcat than a man.
It didn't take long, maybe a few seconds, before Michael's strength failed. The stranger threw Michael to the kitchen floor and straddled him, fangs down and gleaming. The temperature in the kitchen plummeted to icy chill, cold enough that Claire could see her own breath as she panted in fear. That low-frequency rumble began again, jittering plates and glasses and pans.
Eve screamed and fought to get free of Shane's hold, not that she could do anything, anything at all -
The back door shuddered and crashed open under a single, overpowering blow. Wood splinters flew across the room, and Claire heard the locks snap like ice breaking.
Oliver, the second-scariest vampire in town (the first, some days), stood at the back door, staring inside. He was a tall man, built like a runner, all wiry muscles and angles. Tonight, he'd dispensed with his usual nice-guy disguise; he was in black, and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His face looked like carved bone in the moonlight.
He slapped an open palm against the empty air of the doorway, and it smacked into a solid barrier. "Fools!" he shouted. "Let me in!"
The stranger laughed, and yanked Michael up to a sitting position, fangs poised just over his neck. "Do it and I'll drain him," he said. "You know what that will do. He's too young."
Claire didn't know, but she knew it couldn't be anything good. Maybe not even survivable.
"Invite me in," Oliver repeated, in a deadly soft voice. "Claire. Do it now."
She opened her mouth, but she was interrupted.
"No need for that," said a cool female voice. The cavalry had finally arrived.
Amelie moved Oliver aside and walked through the invisible barrier like it wasn't there - which, to her, it wasn't, as Amelie was technically the creator and owner of the house. She was without her usual attendants and bodyguards, but there was no mistaking that she, not Oliver, was in charge by the way she swept across the threshold.
As always, Claire thought of her as a queen. Amelie was wearing a perfectly tailored yellow silk suit, and her pale hair was piled in a glossy crown on top of her head and secured with gold and diamond pins. She wasn't especially tall, but the aura she gave off was as powerful as an unexploded bomb. Her eyes were cold and very wide, and focused completely on the intruding vampire threatening Michael.
"Leave the boy alone," she said. Claire had never heard her use that tone, not ever, and she shuddered even though it wasn't directed toward her. "I rarely kill our own, but if you test me, Fran?ois, I'll destroy you. I only give one warning."
The other vampire hesitated only for a second, then let go of Michael, who collapsed back full length on the floor. Fran?ois rose to his feet in a single smooth, graceful motion, facing Amelie.
And then he bowed. Claire didn't have a lot of experience with seeing men bow, but she didn't think that one looked exactly respectful.
"Mistress Amelie," he said, and the vampire teeth folded back into his mouth, discreetly hidden. "We've been waiting for you."
"And amusing yourself at my expense while you do," she said. Claire didn't think she'd blinked at all. "Come. I wish to talk with Master Bishop."
Fran?ois smirked. "I'm sure he wishes to speak with you, as well," he said. "This way."
She swept in front of him. "I know my own home, Fran?ois - I don't require a guide." A quick glance over her shoulder, to where Oliver still stood silently at the door. "Come inside, Oliver. I will replace the Protections against you later, on behalf of our young friends."
