Chapter 22:

I don't own anything

Oliver's POV:

It's even more chaotic than the news feed showed me on the camera. Either that, or everything has turned ten times more desperate in the fifteen or so minutes that have elapsed since I destroyed the camera receiver and headed over here.

They evidently have managed to dispel enough of the gas to allow the emergency services into the main building of both schools – not that they are particularly doing much saving. Only three children were able to be resuscitated in the primary school, and at least one of them was very near to death, something I saw as I whipped in to remove the camera and gas cylinder, using a portal to place them in my office before returning back to the "scene of the crime".

I head into the secondary school building and see that, slightly unfortunately, more people have gotten out than I previously thought. Evidently the back doors were easy to get out of – to chain them shut would definitely prove that something has happened…

More are being resuscitated in here, also; of course this would be the case – their lungs are more developed than the dozens of dead primary school children, which is only a shame because it will perhaps hinder the size of population of the humans in this town. Everyone seems occupied and I cannot find Amelie, so perhaps I can remove the gas cylinder from here also and have the authorities (for what they're worth) struggling to decipher what on earth is going on.

Slipping up to the vent where I could see the gas leaking out of, I reach into it, pretending to be bending over to observe the woman lying there. The bottle in here is entirely empty, small enough to be concealed in the pocket of the coat I hastily threw on until I can get back to my office to dispose of the evidence.

"Oliver," Amelie's voice disturbs my contemplation of where to bury the evidence, her words whipping through the air. As I turn to her, I can see the events that have occurred have disturbed her; there is a shadow within her eyes that wasn't there before, a melancholy feeling to her stance that has me one hundred percent believing that she has been rocked by the events of the past hours. As she was supposed to be; I didn't plan this out for months just for her not to be bothered – Amelie has always had a soft spot for children, hence why she gave them protection until they are eighteen.

And now that protection has been foiled.

"This is…well, I cannot say that it is good in any circumstances," I ensure my voice is appropriately grim, yet with the edge that, as per my usual stance towards humans, suggests I'm not entirely bothered about the loss of human life.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me before turning her attention to around the entire room. "Oh, this is worse than 'not good'," she sighs, her eyes locking upon a blonde girl being carried out on a stretcher, dead. The sheet covering her has slipped to reveal an arm hanging down in midair, her skin pearly white besides for red blotches beginning to form, her eyes half open and dazed looking.

Dead from phosgene gas poisoning – the effects only coming into effect hours after death in relatively small quantities – she must have been near to the source.

"How many dead?" I inquire and she shrugs her shoulders delicately, waving her hand around the room to show the sheer vastness of the dead. Many are piled on top of one another from where they have fallen, limbs splayed out randomly.

"Enough," she murmurs. "The damage to this town is immense, Oliver, even worse than the consequences to our people from the bomb. We have an enemy within the walls of our town and we must find them before they attempt to exterminate the rest of us," the steeliness to her tone returns as she promises revenge, making me even more desperate to hide the possibility of links to myself or Claire. Not that she would find out, for I have been so meticulous in both my planning and my covering of my actions that for her to find out would be for Claire or me to tell her.

"Let me be in charge of the interrogations," I spy a chance to allow my 'evil' side through to the forefront in a way that both hides my involvement and allows me to remind the pesky humans that I am not the hippie I must pretend to be upon Amelie's orders daily. No, I am not and this shall be a perfect time for me to enjoy the experience of a little human torture.

Her eyebrows raise and she shakes her head, not even a glimmer of a smile upon her lips. No, she continues to appear to be disturbed by the events that are continuing to unfold in the school, yet almost separate to us here; a girl has been found alive underneath a pile of dead bodies, the air continuing to be fresh there – it reminds me of the time of Concentration Camps, when those at the bottom of the pile could appear to be dead and then dig themselves out of the hole, being the only survivors from the extermination camps. But the events in the room have unnerved the woman who professes to not care about humans – evidently, this theory is not inclusive of children…though I doubt another besides me shall have the chance to see this.

"No," she replies suddenly, her tone harsher than I perhaps expected with her appearance; once again, I have been reminded that perceptions are deceiving, especially in the case of Amelie. What can at times appear innocent and virtuous can in fact be manipulating and deceptive, truly her father's daughter.

"No…?" having spent so long waiting for an answer, I have half forgotten what I have requested, yet also phrase the word as an opening for her to explain her reasoning as to why I cannot do this.

Exasperated, she takes a step back and places her hand on her hip, taking a step closer to the carnage in the hall. "I know you, Oliver," she doesn't, as per usual, give anything away with her opening sentence. "You would bring in every single human who has ever done anything against you, and then manage to concoct an entire plan that contains them all in it, fabricating evidence to do so."

"I would not do such a preposterous thing!" I pretend to be affronted though I know, if I had the time to be able to actually do this, I would.

She almost smiles and nods, most likely forgetting the reason for this debate, even in the current location. "Oh, but Oliver, you would. I cannot allow another atrocity to hit the human population of this town; we have seen the effects today that shall scar generations to come – to inflict needless pain on innocents is both wrong and unnecessary."

I bow my head, not knowing what to say in response; to argue too much because that would appear suspicious, even for my bloodthirsty desires for the humans of this town, yet to be entirely submissive would perhaps arouse even more suspicion.

"I suppose you could be correct," I sigh, looking around pointedly at the wailing people being held back from entering the hall as the dead are rolled into bodybags. "They have suffered enough for the moment; I only hope that you find the person who has done this."

She smiles now, enough bitterness in her eyes and the smile to suggest that she finds this slightly vengeful. "I require you to have Claire look around the building; she is the only one I know of, able to be out of their home, who is capable of having at least a chance of finding the perpetrator of this. After all, it is too similar to the bombing to not be being executed by the same person. She should have a chance of discovering what perhaps we do not see." I can see why she desires me to call Claire; if I had not gotten ahold of her when I did, she would belong to Amelie now, I am sure of it.

"I shall call her here now," I move my hand towards my pocket and freeze, remembering about the location of the cylinder. Amelie's eyes narrow at this but she says nothing, simply roaming over the front of my jacket as if nothing is wrong.

"Perhaps you ought to buy a slightly larger size, Oliver; evidently your self-consciousness is getting the better of you," her comment is said in jest, yet it sets my motionless heart on edge for the fear that she could have easily asked for me to open my jacket.

"I suppose I shall," I smile ever so slightly and begin to walk towards the smaller, hidden exit in the corner of the room. "Goodbye, Amelie, I shall see you later."

She does not respond, simply turns away from me instantly and focuses her attention on a small child who I can just about see is breathing. How strange…yet I pay no attention to her and make for the exit, ensuring my scent reaches the outside before turning back and summoning a portal to take me instantly back to my office.

Here, I gather the incriminating evidence and run to the corner of the office, lifting the rug to reveal the trapdoor underneath. I twist the knob in the particular way (though an elderly vampire could simply twist it open) and throw the items inside before replacing everything once again.

Then I move to the desk and reach for the telephone, dialling Claire's mobile number and waiting for her to answer, which she does in a sleepy voice.

"Hello?" she whispers, having evidently not looked at the caller id to see that it is me calling her.

"Claire, there has been some sort of disaster at the Morganville Primary and Secondary schools," I inform her in a grave voice, remembering that she has no memory of either anything to do with my manipulation or her part in that. "Amelie has requested, and I have granted this request, that you are to head there and to try and piece together the events that have occurred. You have reprieve from your lessons for the next few days until you have scoured both buildings for anything that could possibly assist. Do you understand?"

"Uh…sure?" she sounds more awake, most likely from the use of the word 'disaster', yet she doesn't sound entirely sure what she is doing.

"The only class I believe you ought to keep up with, for you have admitted your skills are not as…developed in this area, is English Literature with Sam Glass," I carry on, a random brainwave hitting me as I decide this is the best option to take. "Therefore, you shall work upon the school until eight pm, then sleep until he picks you up for your class, then sleeping until you wake up. I then desire you to return to the school for as long as it is necessary for you to find something, if there is anything to be found."

"I got it, Oliver," she sounds, to my dismay, more like her usual self – almost as if she has taken on a certain Eve-esque stance to life whilst her friend is in hospital. "But since Michael is still gone and Shane…Shane's gone forever, can I go see Eve first?" her voice wavers for a minute and I recognise that my vocabulary choice probably didn't reaffirm her happiness, simply reminded her that she has already lost one friend forever, one in a coma so deep she will never probably recover as well as being mere metres from a blast that killed dozens. If there are now hundreds of children dead, I can accept that she will be more than slightly shaken.

"One hour, starting now, then I want you heading over to the school," I am deliberately harsh, for the simple reason that I need to be myself for weeks now. The next stage of my plan shall be put into action soon, yet I need to be strong and show her that I am in charge, not her. No feelings I have for her – if I can label my position in terms of her as feelings - are to be shown for one long time, until perhaps shortly before I need her under my control again. To bring her under that time, it took a great deal of strength and I cannot see even me being able to replicate it for at least a short period of time.

"Fine, see ya later," I hear the unhappiness in her voice, as well as the eagerness to get off the phone. But then, just as I presume she is about to hang up, she asks a question: "When is Michael home?"

"I know nothing of his welfare, girl, so do not pester me with things I have no knowledge of, when I have been generous to allow you an hour of your own time," I find myself snapping at her, then instantly regretting it for reasons that continue to remain unknown in me. "Go, Claire, and I expect a report on your preliminary feelings tonight," I slam the phone down, breathing heavily, before sitting down in my chair.

This could be a long day.

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Vicky xx