Price took Claire and roughly forced her onto a metal folding chair, taking zip ties and effectively cuffing her hands and feet to the arms and legs of the metallic seat. She was tightly bound to the chair, looking at the door that was her only way of escape. Claire's eyes returned to the vampire in the room, who was watching her closely.

"Please," she begged breathlessly. "Just let me make sure they're okay."

Price's eyes swept up and down her body with a clinical interest before he said, "There's no need to fear, Claire Danvers. Whatever is happening to them now is both unimportant and irrelevant to the discussion about to take place between us. But once we finish here, I will allow you to see them. If, of course, you cooperate with me."

This quieted her and Claire glared at Price. "What do you want," she said through her teeth. She was willing to cooperate, but it depended on what this man wanted.

While she was glaring, Claire couldn't help but notice the way his sadistic smile quavered, or the way that the hands at his sides trembled ever so slightly. These were signs of his insanity; Claire knew them well. While Myrnin and Price were not the same and had a different kind of madness, she could tell he wasn't all the way there and the control he had now wasn't going to last. The feeling of pity crept into her mind before he started speaking again.

"I want you to bring about the end of Amelie and her ridiculous reign."

All pity was definitely gone.

"Are you crazy?" she shot back, squirming in her restraints. "How would I even do that?"

From beyond the door, Claire heard Eve shriek and then there was silence. Claire struggled against her bonds. "Please, just let me out."

"I am sure you have been informed of my... past, yes?" he asked as he stroked his chin in thought, ignoring the brief interruption and her plea entirely. Claire didn't even answer before he said, "Good. I hate telling that story. Now you only need to be aware of the strife that I have lived through all because of that terrible woman—your beloved Founder." To emphasize his point, his fangs slid out and his grin became menacing.

"I—" she began, but then remembered that if she played along, she would see Michael, Eve, and Shane. "I can help you get revenge, but I can't do it all on my own."

Price's smile became genuine and his fangs slid back into place. "Of course not, child," he said, his voice turning soft. He went to her and stroked a shaky yet gentle hand down her cheek. Claire cringed. "That is why—"

Suddenly, almost too quickly for Claire to see, a portal was opened and an arm clothed in the sleeve of Myrnin's frock coat snaked out and grabbed Price by the throat, yanking him back through the doorway. Price hissed in surprise and she heard Myrnin bark a laugh before the portal closed.

For a moment it was silent.

"Myrnin!" Claire yelled, still crudely tied to the chair. There was no answer. "Myrnin!" Still nothing.

"No!" one of the boys roared; whether it was Michael or Shane, Claire didn't know. What she did know, though, was that he was furious. Claire could hear glass breaking and then in another second, the door to the warehouse was flying backwards and a man was standing in the doorway, panting heavily.

Oliver.

His hair was disheveled and his mouth was dripping blood. His eyes were red and staring right through her as he began to make his way toward her. Claire tried desperately to break free from her restraints, but that only resulted in pain. Oliver reached her and Claire instantly froze.

"Get away from her."

Michael was standing in—well, being supported by—the doorway. He looked much worse than Oliver and there were bruises blossoming in various realms of his face.

"Claire," he said, without taking his eyes from Oliver. "His desperation for blood gave him an energy burst—it won't last long, but he's too powerful. I tried— I can't—"

Oliver didn't turn around. "Stop your moaning, boy," he said darkly.

"Please," he said, reduced to begging, "get away."

Oliver's eyes were fixed on Claire's artery pulsing frantically in her neck and she suddenly wished that it wasn't making itself so obvious, presenting her lifeblood to him like a flashy Vegas sign. "Why should I?" he whispered. Oliver reached out a finger and ran it across her forehead that had broken out in a sweat. Claire swallowed the heart jumping in her throat. "Why should I take orders from a weakened fledgling that can barely put his words in the correct order when the promise of blood is near?" He turned his head in Michael's direction and a malevolent smile pulled at his lips.

"I beat you once, boy, and I will do it again if you get in between me and my meal."

"Oliver," Claire said desperately, beginning to struggle again. "Oliver, there's a bag of blood in my pocket!" But he was too far gone.

He chuckled darkly. "And why should I want a bag when there is a human sitting before me, bound to a chair, practically begging to be devoured?" His thumb stroked her jumping pulse and he grinned as his fangs came down.

Oliver lowered his mouth onto her neck and Claire felt a sting before darkness closed around her, draping her mind in a protective cloak of numbness.


Claire awoke to the smell of tea and found she was lying down on cold stone. She sat up too quickly and became dizzy, but caught herself before she fell back onto the ground. Her vision cleared and the scene before her was almost too much.

Michael, Shane, and Eve were all bandaged up and sleeping peacefully on the ground next to her and Myrnin had a chair he must have brought from his lab. Oliver was pacing from either side of the cave restlessly. Price was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a silver collar around his neck that was linked to the ground by a silver chain. He was looking at her unblinkingly with a strangely tranquil expression on his face. Myrnin was sipping something from a little teacup while an identical one was right next to Claire; she could see the steam rising from the delicate china in swirls.

"Earl Grey."

Claire looked up at Myrnin.

"The flavor. It's Earl Grey tea. Not my favorite, but it was between this and chamomile." He raised his own cup with a slight upturn of his lips as he took a drink.

Claire eyed him distrustfully, but picked up the ceramic and sipped from it. She didn't like tea much, but the warmth of it was comforting. Claire got up slowly and moved over to Myrnin's armchair.

"Are they okay?" she asked, looking over at her friends.

Myrnin nodded. "All of them have been tended to by Oliver and myself. They've been through quite an ordeal, if what Oliver has told me is correct." Was that—was that a smirk on his face? Oliver hissed angrily at Myrnin and he lost the look, though reluctantly.

"It wasn't my fault, fool," he snarled. "You know what the bloodlust is like—it consumes all of us."

"Now, Mr. Price," Myrnin said, ignoring Oliver entirely and setting his tea on the floor at the foot of his chair. "Let's chat. Now that I've been informed of your… story… I would like to ask, why Italian?"

Claire was confused. "What do you mean?"

Myrnin became impatient. "The sidewalk, Claire, the writing on the sidewalk. 'Dammi Claire o bruciare.' Why? You're American, and you have no direct ties to Italy." He got up and walked around Price, being careful to stay just far enough that Price wouldn't be able to touch him should he decide to lash out.

"Italians," Myrnin said, "walk with their shoulders tucked in and their hands in their pockets so as to take up less room when they pass others—they are considerate. Your chest is out, your shoulders are back, and you are not exceptionally thoughtful of others, which I would assume means you haven't been to Italy for a particularly long amount of time, am I correct?"

The vampire's eyes widened, pretending to show him being impressed by Myrnin's deductions.

"You're right," he said. "But I enjoy the Italian culture and there is a story I heard that I was infatuated with. Shall I begin?" he asked, a dangerous amount of propriety in his tone.

Myrnin sat back down in his armchair and crossed his legs, his body language silently mocking Price.

"There was a woman," he began, "who ruled the ocean from an island off the coast of Italy. She controlled the tide, the fish, and the skies above the water.

"While her true subjects were the elements as were the creatures below the waves, she indirectly dominated the Italians on the land, and she was very aware of this fact. The people knew this too, and they despised her for it. For whoever controlled the water also controlled the people.

"Sometimes they caught a glimpse of her—their tyrannical queen—and they found the only way to describe her was a beautiful maiden, so young she looked to be adolescent. This couldn't be true, however, because this woman had been controlling the sea for generations. The small island was far, a long distance to travel by boat, and the townspeople knew that if they tried to get there, they would be rewarded with a storm and no fish for a week.

"One man, a fisherman, felt wronged by this woman who evilly played with the town whenever she so desired. So, this man decided to speak to her himself.

"He took his boat and fought against the storm she sent for him. He was a skilled mariner and used his abilities to make it to the island. The woman came out of the brush, seemingly to greet him, and looked him dead in the eye. The fisherman stood to get out of his boat, but as he did, the island vanished before him and fog rolled in, surrounding him in a white darkness.

"The water grew still and became smooth like glass. He looked into the water and saw something he would never forget: himself staring back at him with dead eyes and a noose around his neck.

"An echoing voice said, 'The only way to defeat me is to destroy the moon and you could never possibly do such a thing.' She laughed and the sound resonated against the walls of fog.

"The fisherman knew what he had to do. He was going to permanently blacken the night sky, no matter what it took."

Leo Price was rubbing the scar on his forehead above his left eyebrow absently. He added as an aside quietly, "And I intend to destroy Amelie's moon."

Myrnin laughed loudly, his guffaws bordering on obnoxious. "I've heard that story," he said, "and that is not how it ends."

Hate shone in Price's narrowed eyes. It seemed that he knew what Myrnin was talking about.

"Would you like to hear it, Claire?" he said loudly, raising his voice but not taking his eyes from the man chained to the floor in front of them. Claire nodded slowly at his question, letting him continue. "Very well."

"The foolish fisherman tried many things to strip the sky of its moon. He blew the clouds in front of its light; he climbed the tallest mountain and threw the ink of a squid into the air, but to no avail. He tried night after night to destroy the planet that hung in the sky, but was only let down each time he tried.

"Upon returning home for the night after another failed endeavor, the man caught the reflection of the midnight sun in the still water. In a final attempt, he waded out to the reflection and covered the rippling image of the queen's power source with a large piece of driftwood and a scream split through the quiet night. The water started to bubble around him and he began to retreat from the ocean, but a powerful wave pulled him back.

"The fisherman was gripped by the hands of the ocean and he was dragged below. He looked in the direction of what he believed to be up and saw the piece of wood floating away. The moon's rays were dancing all around him, taunting him and his loss.

"A glowing began in front of him as he began to drown and the woman's face came into view. Her hair was floating around her face and as she grew closer, it reached out and wrapped around his throat.

"'How dare you,' she said, her voice penetrating his mind. 'You believe you can just so easily ruin me when my sons and daughters surround you, lapping against your body, threatening to take you every moment you're within the reach of my power? The waves protect me. If you seek to destroy me, my children will resist you!'"

Myrnin leaned back in his chair and sipped from his cup. "And that is Morganville as well, sir. We will fight for Amelie."

Price's fangs went down. "Your town is weak, and your Founder is a poor leader. Look at the foolish men she appoints as her second," he snarled, jerking his head in Oliver's direction. "They practically allow themselves to be captured."

Oliver growled at him. "Watch your tongue, boy, or I will rip it from your throat."

Myrnin found humor in Price's quip and he expressed his enjoyment with a laugh. He seemed to be reveling in the fact that he was the only one who had not been directly involved up until that point. He thought he was the only one who hadn't, so far, dirtied their hands.

But he had taken Claire's phone and given it to this madmanto Price! Claire nudged him with more force than was necessary. "Get back to it," she demanded.

Myrnin calmed down and cleared his throat, settling himself in his chair. "Yes, well—"

"Dogs," Price spat with venom in his voice. "You're all dogs. She has you on a tight leash and when she lets go of that, you'll have no idea where to go."

Myrnin surprised Claire by becoming serious and saying, "Perhaps you are right." Oliver's pacing stopped abruptly and the low, warning rumble of a growl sounded in the back of his throat. "Perhaps we won't know what to do. But it would be better to die by her side than to ever betray her."

Out of the corner of Claire's eye, she saw Oliver resume his endless walk from one side the cave to another and heard him make a noise of agreement.

"She's trained you well," Price said with hate.

"Not well enough, it would seem."

Myrnin's head swiveled around and Oliver's snapped up. Claire felt herself go dizzy again. That voice.

Amelie.