Eve's POV

'What?' My voice sounds weak to my own ears. He literally disintegrated into the carpet…ewww. Right in front of my eyes, right in front of Amelie and Oliver. And don't even begin with what happened with Miranda, her bones lie cold in a jenga style pile; right where she stood, minutes ago.

'Get guards at all exits, cover every room, window and door!' Oliver barks at the guards who entered behind him and Amelie. His cold persona is back; the black leather coat he wears makes his pallor even more shocking, his skin glows almost luminous in the harsh light thrown from the overhead fixtures. His grey streaked ponytail, makes his features as sharp as a serrated edge, next to Amelie he looks stronger than any warrior and a million times more powerful. 'Use any vampire or human able, that bastard cannot get back in and seal every entrance, no-one comes in or out without me knowing.'

'Yes Oliver.' The tallest guard says, signalling silently for the other to follow him out, they both bow their heads to Amelie before walking out the room, with the speed only the undead can achieve.

'My father again…' Amelie murmurs, she is the polar opposite of Oliver's darkness. Her pant suit is of the palest pink, tightly cut as to give the impression of curves on her petite frame that must be non-existent, her hair is in her signature crown through tendrils of hair have fought their way free, and hang losing framing her face; making her look margining younger and marginally smaller and defenceless. Her face is a mask of prettiness, her ageless face shows no sign of the inner turmoil, the only indication of her distress is her eyes. The endless grey is tinged with the sting of red, which she is repeatedly blinking back, her long lashes making those abyss' of eyes look even more dangerous, as if they harbour a creature so dark and mysterious, she needs to keep it hidden inside.

'I calculated wrong.' She stops for a moment and looks around the room, her eyes touching on Miranda's bones. 'She told me, she said I was wrong and I didn't believe her.' She eulogises, closing her eyes she takes a deep breath; before opening her eyes and releasing the cold anger sealed within; the red glows like a heavenly jewel but is as alarming as a knife being held to my throat.

'What do we do?' I whisper into Michael's side, pulling myself as close as physically possible; as if I can hide myself away from the truth of the last few minutes. I don't expect a reply but Amelie surprises me with her honesty.

'We listen to the girl. We listen to everything…even my father.' The words stumble out of her, as if they are the verbal worst nightmare she can only imagine.

'You sure my queen?' Oliver asks, placing a nurturing hand on her shoulder to which she doesn't recoil, instead she turns to face him. Even I can feel the intimacy from across the room; the subtle touch of her hand on his, and the delicate way he runs his hand down the length of her cheek; the look they share as if they can see into the other soul.

'Yes.' Her word is strong, so much unlike how she looks in this moment.

I feel myself shiver, against Michael and burrow closer; something in me understands this is wrong or possibly right but I have no way of finding the difference yet. Do you know what it feels like to be shaking on the inside, because that's what I feel now- like a shaken can of soda, full of energy that has no way of escaping.

I look over to Claire and Shane, and they are frozen. Shane is a statue watching Amelie and Oliver with a guarded and almost ridiculing expression, whilst Claire hasn't even blinked from looking at Miranda's bones, slight tears are streaming down her pale cheeks. I feel that way too but for some reason I can't make the tears come, they are bound up of pressure behind my eyes but for nothing can I make them spring free.

'So what now?' Michael asks, hugging me impossibly close- his chin resting on my head. 'What do we have that we can even begin to do to control not just the draug but Bishop? Amelie you know he is lethal; he is destruction in a bottle- you let him loose he is never going to come back.' Michael's tone is harsh, like that really bitter grape at the end of every pack. I look over at Amelie to see her standing with Oliver, her face slightly turned away; as if she is in discussion with Oliver through eye-contact alone.

'It chess.' Claire's voice takes on a tone as ethereal as Miranda's was; as if she is a million miles away.

'Chess?' I question my own voice, tightened in shear curiosity.

'You have to take a risk, right Amelie? Give the opponent a chance to strike then you have an end game.' Claire's voice is anything but strong; her eyes have never moved from Miranda's body, but her whole body is projecting a vibe of solitude.

'Yes child.' Amelie says, walking away from Oliver to Claire, placing one of her pale, well-manicured hands on her shoulder. 'We have to listen to the girl. We have to remember this is a war.'

Claire's sobbing starts almost momentarily, a heavy wracking sob that seems to vibrate through the entire room.

'Hush child.' Amelie says, moving her hand gently on Claire's back. 'We are forever at war.' Amelie takes a long breath. 'Release my father and have him meet us here.'

I think we all take a rather large breath.