"If I simply leave in that fashion, even with all of you, he can claim to have driven me away in defeat," she said. "It isn't enough to simply escape."
"Exactly," Morley said, and clapped. The sound was shocking and loud as it echoed off the tombstones. A flock of birds took off from the trees, twittering in alarm. "You must show me the error of my ways. And that, my dear liege lady, will be difficult. You're all hat and no cattle, as they like to say in this part of the world. Unless you count the three with you as cattle, of course. In which case you are short a hat."
"I'm bored with this. Attack, or do nothing as you always do," Amelie said. "We are leaving, regardless." She turned to the rest of them and said, in exactly the same cool, calm voice, "Ignore him. Morley is a posturing coward, a degenerate, a liar. He skulks here because he is afraid that standing with the rest of us will only show him for the sad, lacking beggar that he - "
"Kill them all!" Morley shouted, and blurred into motion, heading for Amelie.
Michael hit him head-on, and the two of them tumbled over headstones. Claire whirled as shadows appeared out of the darkness, moving too fast to see clearly. Her pulse jumped wildly, and she tried to get ready to fight.
And then Amelie said, "Oliver, please demonstrate to Morley why he has been so badly mistaken."
One of the shadows came forward into the moonlight, and it wasn't a stranger at all. Oliver, Amelie's second-in-command in Morganville, was in his kindly shopkeeper disguise - the tie-dyed shirt with the Common Grounds logo on the front, and a pair of blue jeans - and with his graying hair clubbed back in a ponytail, he looked like a typical coffeehouse radical.
Except for his expression, which looked like he was not pleased to be here at Amelie's beck and call, and even less pleased to be dealing with Morley. The shapes coming out of the darkness behind him weren't Morley's people after all, but Oliver's . . . neatly groomed, polished vampires with an edge of chill and distance that made Claire shiver. They were polite, but they were killers.
"Michael," Oliver said. "Let that fool go." Michael seemed just as surprised as Morley - or as Claire felt - but he let go of the other vampire and backed off. Morley lunged to his feet, then paused as he took in the sight of Oliver and all his backup. "Your followers - if one can dignify a starving pack of dogs by such a name - have been persuaded to leave. You're alone, Morley."
"Checkmate," Amelie said softly. "Strategy, not tactics. I trust you see the point."
Morley did. He hesitated a moment, then darted between the cover of tombstones and shadows, and then he was just . . . gone.
Crisis over.
"Well," Eve said. "That was disappointing. Usually in the movies there's kickboxing."
Oliver turned his head slightly, looking at Amelie in a fast, comprehensive glance that fixed on the blood on her hands. His mouth tightened in what looked like disgust. "Are you finished here?" he asked.
"I believe so," Amelie said.
"Then may I offer you an escort home?"
Her smile turned cynical. "Are you worried for me, my friend? How kind."
"Not at all. I am so gratified that I could be of use to defend your honor."
"Michael defended me," Amelie said. "You showed up."
Claire thought, Snap, again. She could see Eve thinking the same thing. Neither of them was quite brave enough to say it, though.
Oliver shrugged. "Strategy, and tactics. I do know the difference. And I have won battles, unlike Morley."
"Which is why I rely on you, Oliver, for your counsel. I trust I can continue to count on you for that."
Their gazes locked, and Claire shivered a little. Morley was bluff; Oliver wasn't. He was the kind of guy who'd do what he said, if he thought he could get away with it. He also wanted Morganville. Maybe not quite enough to kill Amelie to get it, but the line was pretty thin.
In fact, Claire could see the line right now, in the faint and fading scars on Amelie's wrists.
"Michael and his friends were kind enough to offer me an escort to the blood bank," Amelie said. "I will go with them. Perhaps you can summon my car to meet me there."
Oliver's smile was sharp as a paper cut. "As ever, I exist to serve."
"I sincerely doubt that."
Michael fell in next to Amelie, and the five of them moved down the rambling path toward where they'd left the car. When Claire looked back, there was no sign of Oliver and his people, or of Morley. There was just the silent cemetery, and the gleaming mausoleum at the top of the hill.
"Anybody else think that was weird?" Shane asked as they got into the car. Eve sent him an exasperated glance; the three of them were, of course, in the backseat. Amelie had the front, with Michael.
"Ya think? In general, or in particular?"
"Weird that we got through the entire thing, and I didn't have to hit anybody."
There was a moment of silence. Michael said, as he started the car, "You're right, Shane. That is strange."
When Michael parked at the blood bank, Amelie's security detail was already in place, with the limousine parked at the curb. Claire half expected to see those little devices the Secret Service wore curved around their pale ears, but she supposed the vampires didn't really need technology to hear one another. They did wear snappy black suits and sunglasses, though, and the second Michael's car came to a stop, one of them was opening the passenger-side door and offering Amelie a hand. She took it without a bit of awkwardness, graceful as water, and looked back before the door closed to say, "I thank you. All of you."