Bite clube by non (books not by me ) (simple e reader txt) 📕

thought that something had gone wrong, very wrong, because the air was thick with smoke and glitter and Bishop was still there.

He fell, clawed fingers tearing long furrows in the canvas only an inch or so from Shane's face. He was burning, burning fast, all over. It looked like he'd been hit with napalm, and he screamed and rolled and kept on burning while Myrnin calmly reached down, pulled the sword out of his chest, and reloaded the shotgun.

"That hurt," he said. "But not, I imagine, as much as this will." He aimed and then stopped himself. He looked at Claire. "Perhaps it would be best if you took your boyfriend outside for this."

Claire swallowed. "It's locked."

Myrnin walked over and slammed his booted foot into the cage door. The hinges bent and cracked. His second kick sent it flying off the hinges to crash down five feet away, with a sound like tin cans dropping off a roof.

"Out," he said, and stepped aside as Claire grabbed Shane and the two of them jumped over Bishop's convulsing body.

Outside, Claire turned to look. Myrnin went back to Bishop and aimed at the center of the downed vampire's chest.

Bishop bared his bloody teeth. He was disintegrating, pieces of him melting off in a horrible mess. The pain must have been extreme.

"You don't have the courage," he spat, and then coughed up rivers of too-pale blood. "You never have, shadow hugger. Get the little girl to do your work for you. She's braver than you ever were."

Myrnin raised his eyebrows and stared down at him, then flipped the shotgun up and rested it against his shoulder. "Oh, I think that's probably true," he said. "And I think I'd like to tell Amelie you went slowly and in pain. Die on your own, you evil old animal."

It took a long, agonizing minute. Bishop never screamed. He left behind a skeleton that slowly collapsed into ash in the middle of the cage.

Myrnin sagged and leaned against the bars, head down. Claire came back up the steps and reached through to touch his shoulder. "Why didn't you?" she asked.

For answer, Myrnin aimed the gun at Bishop's disintegrating bones and fired both barrels.

Nothing happened. Just a dry, empty click.

"I realized that I never loaded the pellets into the cartridges," he said. "Those should have been round, silver buckshot."

"But you knew thatfirst thing would work."

"Actually," Myrnin said in a low, confidential voice, "I thought I'd forgotten to load those shells, too. See how it all worked out?"

There was a massive banging on the outer doors, sending the people running around into a freak-out panic. Myrnin sighed, pushed away from the bars, and followed Claire down the stairs. She grabbed hold of Shane's unbroken hand and held tight, and the three of them found Eve and Michael, still sitting next to Glory's badly burned body. Only her golden hair was left, and even that was flecked with ash and slowly crisping.

"Follow me," Myrnin said. "And do stay together. And by the way, this is thelast time I go anywhere with you people. You are all insane."

He picked up an iron bar and slammed it into the wall about half a dozen times in the space of seconds, and the bricks flew out in a haze of dust and splinters.

Claire and Shane stepped through the hole together, and froze as guns turned toward them. A whole lot of cops were yelling for them to freeze, and they did, putting up their hands and leaning up against the wall to be searched and handcuffed.

Claire looked back. Amelie and Oliver were in the next row, behind the cops, along with ranks and ranks of vampires. Amelie was staring straight ahead with a blank, empty expression; Oliver, on the other hand, wassmiling. He was giving orders, sending one set of vamps that way, one up top, one around the side...the general deploying his troops, while the queen waited in icy isolation for victory.

Myrnin stepped out of the hole in the wall, glared balefully at the police, and waved to Amelie with demented excitement. "Hello! Your dear father is unfortunately very dead," he called. "And you said my dispersal system would never work!"

Amelie blinked and focused on him. "What did you say?" she called.

"Dead," he said, clearly and distinctly. "Your esteemed forebear is no more. He is dust and angel tears, though I shouldn't think any of us will be mourning him for long. You may see for yourself, but I will swear to you that it is, indeed, your unlamented Mr. Bishop. Now could you please ask these idiots to stop pointing their bullets at me? It's terribly wasteful."

Claire tried to keep from laughing, but it turned into a choking cough, and then Shane started laughing, too, and suddenly it was all right.

Amelie swept past them, making for the hole they'd come out of; Oliver hurried to dart in front of her, holding what looked like an actual old-fashionedbroadsword . Claire supposed that in the world of vampire wars, a sword could be pretty useful, especially with a silver edge. Beheading always worked.

Michael and Eve came out after a few more seconds, and Eve looked around and saw Shane and Claire in their almost-arrested poses. She snorted. "Leave it to you two," she said. "What is it with you and cages, Shane?" It must have occurred to Eve a second later that maybe that might not have been cool to say at the moment. But Shane just shrugged.

"If Amelie wants to throw me back in jail, it's okay. I did sign on for the fighting. I did beat a couple of vamps pretty bad. And I could have hurt Michael."

Michael leaned against the wall next to him, arms folded. He was wearing the stupid hat--now at least fifty percent stupider, thanks to being crushed by running feet--and the ratty trench coat, but under the shade, his smile was full-on smug. "Sorry. What did you say? You could havehurt me?"

"Dude, I was kicking your ass." It occurred to Shane, Claire guessed, that maybe he shouldn't have been quite so proud of it. "Which is why I'm sorry."

"I wasn't even trying, Shane."

"Yeah, I know. But..." Shane fell silent.

Now Michael stopped smiling and looked at him for a long few seconds. He nodded and stepped away. "We'll talk about it later," he said. "And, yeah, youwill be sorry. You know that."

"Oh, I know," Shane said. "You have no idea how sorry I already am."

But Claire did. She saw the look in his eyes and the shine of tears.

And the shame.

She hugged him and whispered, "We'll get through this. We will."

He took in a deep, shaking breath, and relaxed against her.
chapter 16

In the end, the score was seventeen vampires captured; Vassily was one of them, which surprised Claire, until she heard that Frank had locked down his funds transfers, and Vassily had spent way too much time trying to get his money. He'd always been about the profits. By the time he'd finally given up, it had been too late for him to avoid the roadblocks set up at the exits out of Morganville. He ended up on his knees in front of Amelie, while Oliver stood there with the sword in his hands. Vassily begged and generally excused himself, but Amelie wasn't amused. At all.

Claire got to leave before any actual beheadings started. Later, she heard that of the seventeen, four were judged most guilty, including Vassily. Nobody said what had been done to them, but really, nobody had to. She just assumed.

Shane got a special hearing in front of Amelie and Oliver in closed session, with Mayor Richard Morrell as an official council member. Claire wasn't allowed in. Neither was Myrnin, not that Myrnin would have bothered to show up, anyway. Claire sat in the waiting room with Eve and Michael and Amelie's assistant, Bizzie O'Meara, waiting for some word.

The doors finally opened, and Amelie and Oliver came out and walked straight past them, ignoring the waiting trio. Richard followed, looking like he had a headache and the town had just run out of aspirin, but he didn't look angry or upset. That was good.

Shane followed him. He wasn't in handcuffs, at least, and when he spotted Claire, he said, "Don't look so worried. I'm on probation."

"What kind of probation?" She held out her hand, and he took it with his left; his right was still bandaged tightly, and it must have hurt, because he didn't move it much.

"The kind where you don't do anything stupid or bad things happen," Shane said. "Everybody agrees that Glory screwed with my head. Not everybody agrees that it's all better now. So I have to prove that I'm not going to go pick fights with vampires anymore."

"Jeez, Shane. You've done that since you were twelve," Eve said. "That's going to be a tough habit to break."

"You know what I mean." Shane's dark eyes met Claire's for a second. "They're right about it. I still feel...you know, angry. Uncomfortable. I guess it'll take some time."

Michael stood up. "You're okay with me?"

"As okay as I ever am. I wish you weren't...what you are. But you're always my bro." He took a deep, unsteady breath. "Gloriana couldn't have made me do what I did, you know. Not without it being part of me, all twisted up with who I am, how I was raised, what my dad was like. I've always hated vampires. Blamed them. It's hard for me to look at you and not think about all that. I'm trying. That's all I can do."

Michael held out his hand, his left, and Shane took it, then hugged him.

"That's all you can do," Michael agreed. "You're my brother."

"Some brother."

"Brothers fight." Michael shrugged and let go. "Just remember, I could have taken you if I'd wanted to."

"Dream on, fang boy. Dream on."

While they were talking--if taunting was a conversation--Claire spotted Amelie loitering in the hallway, speaking with Oliver in low tones. She headed that way. "Ma'am?" she said. "Could I ask you something?"

"I trust it's not a favor. I am not feeling very generous just now." Amelie looked tired and peeved and--like Richard--in need of a very big aspirin. "Well? Declare it."

"I...got a call from a recruiter. At MIT."

"MIT," Amelie repeated. "What is this MIT?"

"Massachusetts Institute of Technology. It's...the fantastic school I wanted to attend. They've accepted me. It's very important, and they...said they'd take me."

Amelie's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "When?"

"At the beginning of next year."

Silence. Claire held her tongue, waiting; Amelie was