Chapter 24:

I don't own anything

One week later

Claire's POV:

"Michael!" I squeal his name as he walks through the door, wrapping my arms around his neck in a reactive movement. He grins and hugs me back, the closeness reminding me that he's a vampire because his skin is colder than ice. But this is inconsequential to me; it's Michael – there is no way that he would hurt me. "You're back!"

"Yep, I got that when I walked through the door." He smiles as he speaks, the hint of Michael humour in his voice that I've missed. This house has been desolate for weeks now without him, Shane and Eve; whilst it's only Michael back, it's one hundred thousand times better than it just being me, alone. It's been desolate in this huge, empty house without any company other than when Sam stayed that one time – but he didn't belong here, not really, even though he used to own the house…something which confuses me slightly as to why he moved out, but that's not an issue to me.

"No need for the smart answers, mister," I respond as we walk further into the house, shutting the door behind him on the way. "I thought Sam was bringing you back?" I question as Michael instantly goes to the living room, heading towards his guitar.

As he turns around to face me, I'm struck by how different he is. There's the same physical appearance, naturally, because he's a vampire…but his expression is entirely different. Gone is the easy smile, the carefree manner that shows that he's just relaxed – he's uptight, controlled, as if he's prepared to spring into being a vampire the second that he's faced with an adversary. It's worrying, dangerous beyond belief, and I almost recoil backwards before I remember that this is still Michael, that he almost died and that I can't take it out on him because it wasn't his fault.

"He did; he dropped me off as he said he needed to do some work or something," he smiles slightly and a touch of the old Michael shines through; the non-corruptible angel has a brief flicker of vitality without the restraints of vampirism…and, for this one second, it feels as it did before everything happened.

"Oh good," I speak without really thinking about it, more focused on how different he is. It's more than the obvious emotional difference – there's something darker inside of him, the goodness in him being changed towards the oppressive darkness that is inside most of the vampires around here.

"Claire, are you ok?" his expression softens, as if he's realised how he's looking, and he moves around to hug me again, taking a deep breath as he nears me, almost to show how he doesn't crave my blood. Something which, I guess, is a relief since my blood is pretty much what got us into this mess in the first place…or, at least Shane's mess.

"No," I confess, regretting it instantly because he's only just came home from near death and now I'm already burdening him with my issues.

His eyes widen and loose any of the solid blue that's evidently been forming for the past few weeks – he's back to being just Michael; I can feel it in just the air around us. "Claire, what's wrong?" he asks me gently, the tone causing tears to spill out of my eyes with no means of stopping them – or even slowing them down, which is really irritating me.

"It doesn't matter; you've just come back – I shouldn't be bothering you with what's been going on," I shake my head even as he takes me to the sofa and sits down right next to me, his face expectant for knowledge.

"I've been trapped away in a building with no way of getting out for weeks, Claire; I know nothing of what's gone on other than what Sam's told me," his voice is harsher, more bitter, but I can't really say anything about that. "Just tell me what's wrong, otherwise what's the point in us being together? We've been separated for weeks now, so if I don't know what's been going on, how can I help?" his voice cracks slightly and I can't feel anything other than sorrow for him. He's been through so much and been told nothing.

"Right, so after you'd been…taken away, we spoke to Amelie and she basically told me to get lost, so Sam took me home after I gave you some blood," I start right from the beginning, feeing slightly guilty because I'm scared that he's going to be saddened that he drank my blood. "Right, so then basically I had school…and, I'm not sure, it goes a bit hazy every now and then, but Amelie stopped by to 'check up' on me, which confused me a little."

"Amelie came by?" he confirms, his eyes widening, but he doesn't further on what he's said.

"Yep…and then…I don't know, nothing happened for a little while," I shrug and wipe the tears away from my eyes before continuing. "Then…then, last week, someone gassed the schools. Both of them – the primary and the secondary…they used some gas and I-I had to go in and try and work out what happened…oh, Michael, it was awful-" the sobs return and I can't continue, the wrenching pain from my chest cutting off any means of talking.

"It's ok," he whispers as he pulls me in for a hug to comfort me, trying to stop my crying. "You couldn't do anything more, Claire, you did your best, I'm sure."

"I still don't know who did it," I reply harshly, my voice cold, this being directed towards myself. "I've had an entire week, but all I know is what gas did it and how the death toll is still rising. It's madness out there, Michael; every parent wants to know what's going on, which has the police – who are already strained, since Richard died – stressed, who pressure Oliver since Amelie permitted him to take the lead on this…and I haven't got a clue what the hell he expects me to do. All I know is that I'm not getting anywhere and there are no leads to find whoever has done it."

He nods slowly and closes his eyes. "Claire, there are things happening in Morganville that you can't affect, I can't affect and even Sam can't affect. They're bigger than this and I can bet you anything that Oliver has got something to do with it. Stay away from him if you can, which I know is hard given how he owns you now, but just be as careful as you can." His tone is urgent as he speaks, his eyes flashing open to power home his message.

"I-" I begin to agree when my phone rings with the special ringtone that is reserved for Oliver only; he wants me for something. Whenever he's rang recently, he's wanted progress reports, wanting deeper knowledge as to the perpetrator – or even the cause – of this attack…well, he's slackened off since I found out the gas type, which gives me a sinister feeling inside that he knows who did it. I would never say that…but it seems almost as if he has and he's trying to protect them – for either a personal connection or his own personal gain, of which the latter is more likely.

After all, who does Oliver care for in this town besides himself?

"Don't answer it, Claire," Michael tells me harshly, having seen the name on the front of my phone. "Pretend you left it somewhere or that you had it on silent. Do anything but answer it."

"I have to," I stress, my finger in position to flip the cover over. "This is my life, Michael; don't forget I'm human and I'm signed to the deadliest vampire in Morganville. If I make one wrong move, I'm dead."

And, with this, I answer the phone.

"Oliver," I say his name without any tone to my voice, waiting to hear what he says, as Michael stands up to leave.

I stop listening to the phone call as I watch Michael leave the room, his body language reading the same as it did when he first came home, and I just about hear him say, "if you think Oliver's the deadliest, you've forgotten about Amelie."

I don't agree with him, because Amelie's affected by everything that happens whereas Oliver just…isn't. He's got something inside of him that scares me more than I could possibly admit, something that tells me he doesn't give a toss about anyone or anything other than getting power in this town.

And that's the thing that keeps me alive.

For now.

Oliver's POV:

"I require you in my office," I inform her, my voice low as if to keep the conversation private from others…in the empty room. It has grown to be a habit to try and conceal communication with her – or, rather, excessive communication outside of what is expected of the general Patron relationship – and this has evidently continued through to this moment in time.

"Now?" she asks idiotically, as if I would want her at another time. No, now it is time for the next stage of my plan to work, whilst there is still chaos within Morganville. It must be executed within the coming days, the most heinous act she will have committed thus far, and will damage the 'Founder' more than anything else. It will devastate her, along with the loss of her City Hall and so many of the new generation of Morganville.

"No, I simply desired to inform you now that I would like you to visit within the next month or so," I reply sarcastically, trying desperately to be prepared for when she is here. I cannot lose control like I did last time and almost give up on the plan for her; conversely, I also cannot allow this to go too far and allow myself her…at the cost of the final stage of the plan.

The plan is the overarching piece of this entire operation, the detailed, well thought out list of things that must be followed for this to be a success. There have been minor modifications along the way – even from the start, due to the perpetrator changing to Claire, along with Michael's near fatal injury – yet this has been the set of rules by which I have followed as much as possible. After all, why would I have wasted many hours writing that plan, scouring the country for pieces of equipment so Amelie would not be suspicious, just for it to be wasted?

"Uh…you mean to come now, then?" she has to confirm this and I snort, almost unable to believe that a girl of her apparent intellect has to confirm something that is sarcastic.

"Yes, I mean to come now," I say simply, allowing a harder edge into my tone that I am fearful my heart – if such an inanimate piece of muscle could have thoughts like this – desires never to be used in regards to her again, something which could well be the failing of this plan.

"I'll be right over," she's hasty as she speaks, as if she's keen to do as I command, which doesn't particularly concern me. All it means is that I have a few moments less to compose myself before she arrives and I must complete the hardest task to do with her to date.

The only possible positive is that this will prepare me for the final stage, merely in the next week or two, and will make me aware of just how much power and control I must have over her to ensure it is completed. She must be mine for this stage, for it is the finale that shall result in my control of Morganville entirely.

I don't bother to respond to her, merely cut off the phone call to her. It isn't anything that I wouldn't normally do to anyone, yet there is the strangest sense within me that she shouldn't be spoken to like this. There is something about her that is gripping itself into my brain, as though to—I can't even contemplate this now; I must focus upon ensuring that she is entirely under my control as I move to take a deeper grip over the control of Morganville. She can be a focus later, when I decide whether I can let her live or not – for now, however, she must remain a tool within this plan of mine to have complete control of Morganville, to be the ruler for as long as I desire this experiment to have life within it.

She cannot be anything else. She just cannot.

My eyes focus upon the piles and piles of paper on the far side of the room which contain the plan, the plan which she is so deeply connected with, she must be here to complete it. She must be completely controlled by me for this to work, for why would she even consider this otherwise? There is something far more sinister about harming this person so irreversibly that will require all of my effort and more – because the two main acts she has committed thus far have been focused primarily upon those she doesn't know; they have been swipes from afar. However…this one shall affect her perhaps even more than the injury to Eve Rosser, because their relationship has been growing stronger since other blows have been dealt to them. This shall be an effort on my behalf also, for there is no way for her to be mine if I am not one hundred percent focused on this.

She is stronger than before, yet weaker, more susceptible, at the same time. I have so many openings to her brain, her heart– yet I must ensure that they are almost wholly captured, unlike the mere percentage control I had previously. Claire Danvers must not be able to even think for herself, even in mere snippets, for otherwise this could entirely be lost.

Knock, knock, goes the door and I jump ever so slightly, having become so focused upon how I must ensure that she is mine. There cannot be any romance in regards to the next few minutes, though I know a large proportion of me desires there to be, and she must be controlled.

There is no other way. She cannot be allowed to run free, be allowed to remember even the slightest of things from this.

"Enter," I call from my chair, not moving an inch as she walks in, closing the door automatically behind her. There seems something in her face that gives me the impression that something is different – that and her heartbeat's increase in speed tells me that she's…almost scared. And this is something she ought to have been from the very beginning; perhaps, for the first time, her senses are coming through and she's realising how she ought to have reacted for the entire time she has been under my Protection.

"Uh…" she doesn't know what to say as I motion for her to sit in the chair in front of me, my eyes roaming her face as she sits down. It's almost as if she's only just woken up from the dream life she's been living recently, as if the events of present are only catching up to her now.

"Claire, I have called you here for I wish to discuss with you the progress you made with the…ah, unfortunate events of late," I inform her, my voice inflicting no emotion whatsoever. She breathes a sigh of relief that I hear without qualm, as though she expected something worse. I cannot allow this to seem as if I am giving her praise, for this will not wash as an adequate reason for her to remember for this visit. "You have achieved results that the police would not have gained for weeks to come…however, you have not solved this case.

"I agreed with Amelie that I would instigate the operation into discovering the executor of this attack upon this town, therefore I expected slightly more than what you have given me: the name of the gas used, as well as the way it was distributed around the school halls. We can know everything about the crime, yet that doesn't lead us to who committed it, does it?"

She merely shakes her head mutely, as if she can't say a word, so I continue.

"I am informing you of this because I know that Amelie expects results in a shorter time than we possibly have," I continue, hardening my tone as I mention Amelie's name. "This is unfortunate, yet I expect you to be working as hard as possible to gain any leads whatsoever in regards to who caused such a devastating loss of life."

As I finish, I stand slowly and move around the desk, turning to look through the heavily tinted window in the very far corner, the one that affords me the one part of humanity I miss. The ability to walk through the daylight, to admire the sun from a closer distance without it burning so horrendously, is perhaps the one thing I miss…everything else, I feel is wasted missing, for I chose to become a vampire to further my control. There cannot be regret for the best decision I, as a human, ever made.

I turn back to her and hear her shiver, a delicate sound that captures the attention of vampire within me and has the sweet smell of her blood tearing my body into pieces with desire for her, to taste her scent on my lips. Yet I force this side of me down as I move closer to her, feel the tension within the air as words are uttered from my mouth without me consciously realising it – I'm informing her to stand, for her to turn and face me.

And she does so with a fearful expression upon her face, her thoughts plain for me to see; she's afraid I'm going to bite her, to take her blood and, most likely, her life – discard her to the floor for her failure to provide me with the causer of the gas attack…which would be herself, yet she needn't know that.

The innocence in her eyes merely spurs me on, has me desiring her all the more, because I know, underneath, she feels something other than hatred for me – she feels as I do: confused, unable to comprehend what is going on, afraid…dangerous. The side beneath knows no bounds so long as I do not set them when she is controlled by me. When there is a connection between the pair of us, I merely free a part of her soul that has been begging for air, to allow her to be, for want of a better word, evil towards those she apparently loves, all for a selfish gain.

Without realising it, she is in my grasp, her warmth seeping into my hands as I clutch her shoulders to bring her closer to me, regardless of her struggling. She tries to turn away as I press my lips to hers, the momentous release of…energy stronger than it has been before, reflecting the growing bond between us. There is no romance here: there is a bond between the master and the one controlled, one that shall naturally grow stronger as it is repeated and manipulated to complete the best result.

She fights to get free, screaming words pointlessly against my lips as her conscious side remains in control…however, mere seconds later, it slips. She slips from the golden angel everyone presumes this girl must be, due to her age and apparent innocence, and out comes the dark side of the ordinary girl before me. There is nothing special or unique about her; she is merely Claire Danvers, the girl who was closest to the place I needed to gain a Protectee from.

At least, this is what I tell myself.

Her arms twist around my neck in the strangest of ways that has me almost fighting myself to ensure that I do not forget where I am, that I don't become fixated upon the feeling of her warm skin upon my own because if I do, this is in jeopardy. Everything I have worked for will be jeopardised – and for what? The ability to say that I destroyed her life, killed her, merely because I lost control…because of apparent 'love'.

I close my eyes as I try to make this as clinical as possible, kissing her more and more to try and prove to myself that I am under control, that I can do as I desire because I have no need for Claire in that sense. She is mine as a possession, something I am utilising…but I cannot lie and say that it isn't enjoyable. The feeling of her skin upon mine, of her warmth spreading through me, of her scent washing over my face – it intrigues me to the point where I can understand why Amelie took a human lover. There is nothing more enchanting than feeling the heartbeat of another below your hand, yet also the pleasure of the synchronised movement of your lips, in ways barely comprehendible to me.

I tear my mouth from hers as I realise, once again, she requires to breathe, my hand reaching down for her arm to lift it to my mouth. To control her entirely, I must have her blood; she must run through my veins before I can wholly say I have a complete control over her…as before, I must bite her.

She doesn't seem to care as she stands there, waiting for me, the enchantment spurred into action by my kissing of her causing her eyes to appear dreamy, her arm willing to move to my mouth without qualm. And neither is there fuss as I bite into her luscious, creamy skin at her elbow crease, the flowing of the scarlet liquid into my mouth comparable to heaven; I truly cannot think of another's blood that I have tasted that could be deemed better than this, this…liqueur. It intoxicates me, leaves me unable to think clearly because of a lust stronger than plans and the thirst for power.

Pausing merely to seal the wound over with a touch of my saliva, I rip my fangs from her arm, blood covering my mouth even as I retract those extra 'teeth' of mine, my lips pressing back against hers within a millisecond. The taste of her blood, of how I imagine sunshine and lavender would taste, passes back to her and an idle thought is how she would, if she could think without this haze, feel about her own blood being within her mouth once again.

Her hands twist into my hair as this is purely for pleasure on my behalf, not a need to control her – she is entirely mine, no shadow of a doubt, and yet I cannot bring myself to stop. I desire her more than anything; this small, human girl has reduced me to almost nothing, a mere mimic of what I was previously.

This cannot be. This cannot be allowed, not when we are so perilously close to something which could turn the odds in my favour faster than anything else we could possibly do.

So, as per usual, I find the strength within me to pull away, to force her almost across the room from me in my attempts to ensure that I do not become allured by her once again. There is a charm about this girl no other has ever possessed – perhaps it is due to my control of her, my ability to feel how she feels as she is close to me – and I cannot allow it presently.

Holding my breath as so not to allow her scent to enter my nostrils, I stride back towards her, allowing the breath out as I speak, telling her the mission she must complete. This must be done; there is nothing of more importance that has been completed during the past few weeks. This shall destroy ties within Morganville forever, a new relationship that has been forged merely within a short period of time, ripped from this earth and remaining only in memories.

"Your mission is to remove someone from this Earth. They must not be able to communicate with anyone once this is over with and most certainly cannot be revived in hospital, as your friend has the potential to be," I stress this as much as possible, almost despairing as she appears distant – until I remember that this is as she always is when I control her and that she cannot do anything about it.

Slowly, she nods, yet I am not finished.

"There can be no suspicion that it is you who has carried this out. Find another in this town to blame it upon – due to his nature and recent choices, there cannot be a way for them not to have enemies."

She nods again, yet she has no idea who her target is, does she?

"Your target is…Mr. Glass."

Whoa.

So, yeah, meant to be a short chapter – over 4000 words.

Don't favourite, alert or read without reviewing, please.

Vicky xx