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.