Darkest Hours - A Morganville Vampire Series story

[niceiceedward]

Author: NiceIceEdward
Title: Darkest Hours
Cover Art: by Elisabeth_l
Pairing: Claire / Michael G
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers:  All, up to and including Kiss of Death.
Summary: Two of the Glass House roommates are missing, an envelope with familiar writing could hold the answer. Join the remaining roommates as they open their letter, and discover the secrets and dangers which keep their friends away.

Disclaimer: All characters remain the sole property of Rachel Caine, the author, and her publisher.

**Author's Note: My very deep gratitude to CedwardIsHot for her awesome beta services**

**PLEASE NOTE THAT IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE MORGANVILLE VAMPIRE SERIES**
**BY RACHEL CAINE, YOU SHOULD NOT READ THIS FIC.**
Chapter 1

The Letter

Every day in the Glass house the occupants woke up not knowing what the day might bring, or what disaster awaited them. However, there were moments of peace when things were happy and good. Claire particularly loved the happy mornings.   These included mornings when Shane had stayed in her room. She even loved that he refused her half the time; although, if she were honest with herself, the times when he didn't refuse were the best.

Most days there were any number of possibilities that could happen; Monica Morrell had never entirely given up the bone she had with Claire, the one she'd have liked to beat her with. Then there were the "requirements" given to all of them that Amelie occasionally thought up. Claire half suspected Amelie only came up with these to test the agreements they'd all made when receiving their pins last year. That had followed the nearly disastrous trip to Dallas where Michael was finally able to bring out his inner rock star.

The trip to Dallas had been like a bad twist on Deliverance. They were saved by their own perseverance, but they were helped immensely by Annie Oakley in the form of the town librarian and her band of survivors in what she and Shane had taken to referring to as ‘The City of Lost Holes’. The nickname was a double punctured pun about vampire bites, not entirely lost on their roommate, Michael. Michael was the only one of the four housemates who was a vampire. He'd done it voluntarily to end his house arrest as a ghost.

Then there was Oliver, who was the personification of a wild card if Claire had ever met one. He was half-ally, half-enemy and one-hundred percent predator in the worst way. There were other things, many things which could be expected.

All in all, Claire Danvers could wake to pretty much anything she could imagine. What she couldn't have imagined waking up to, was Michael bellowing her name in anguished pain. She was in the long shirt she had slept in as she ran down the stairs on pure adrenaline; she hadn't even made it to full alertness yet. She bounded down the stairs, the urgency in Michael's sobs pulling her down.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and was turning into the entrance hall and before she'd got her feet under her. She stumbled and touched a hand to the floor to keep her balance as she came to a full stop. Michael was looking at Claire. His face was tortured and in more pain than she'd ever seen. He wasn't calling her to help him; his expression said he was calling her to commiserate.

In his hand was a large envelope. Michael's name was written on it in clear, black letters followed by a stylized “and” sign and then Claire's own name. Things began to come together as Claire looked at the paper crushed and clutched in Michael's hand. He hadn't and wasn't calling Shane or Eve. No one was running down the stairs behind her. The letter had come from Amelie, she recognized the writing. Claire's heart began to pound in her chest as fear leased an apartment inside her thoughts. Michael was struggling to get up; he had vampire powers, there was no reason he should be struggling.

Claire unconsciously stepped out, reaching her hand out to help him. She leaned forward as he reached for her hand and was surprised when instead of taking it, he placed two small porcelain and metal objects into her open palm. Claire shook her head in a wishful negative, the objects in her hand blurred as she pulled them closer. She was shaking with dread, and all she could hear in her head was a continual stream of denial, "No, no, no, no...." and soon there was no sound. Everything unfocused, her ears buzzed and the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of the two pins in her hands. One pin was Eve's and the other was Shane's.

They somehow made it to the couch. Claire had a vague memory of Michael's arm wrapping around her middle and dragging her backwards into the living room. She fell onto the couch out of habit as she sat silently reading the note Michael had received. Claire recognized Amelie’s writing from the many notes she'd received from the Queen Mother in the past. She was re-reading it, because the first scan had offered information too horrible to be true. She must have misread it.

My dearest ones,

I am mortified to be the one to inform you of last evening’s events; Shane's father has taken Eve and Shane. He came to me to inform me that neither of them would be in need of my protection any longer and provided me with the pins you now hold. When I insisted he explain himself, he said both Shane and Eve had been changed. He informed me that the transition has been as difficult for Shane and to some degree Eve, as it was for Mr. Collins himself. Therefore he will not allow them to return home at this time.

It is imperative that you hold on to their pins. They will not be safe from everyone despite the unfortunate actions of Shane's father. They are in greater danger now than before. Most importantly, and I address this to you Michael; you must keep Claire away from both of them for now. She is human and in great danger now. Shane's father has plans, he won't share them, but I am certain to be drawn into them, whatever they may be. Do not come to me. When I have more information, I will have it brought to you at once.

Please accept my compassion, I'd much prefer this had not happened.

Amelie

A second reading didn't make it any less awful. Michael had been pacing while Claire read, slowing at each turn to watch Claire's reaction. As the note dropped from Claire's hand, Michael caught her before she could slide all the way off the couch. He gathered her into his arms, he spun around and sat where she'd been sitting, pulling her onto his lap. Claire nuzzled against his shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably. Michael cradled her with his head tipped against the top of hers, rocking her silently. What could he say, neither had words.

Shane a vampire? Sweet, golden, loving Shane? Her boyfriend, her friend, and protector; could he really be like Michael? Would he have the strength to be good? She knew he had to be and just wouldn't believe otherwise. Claire's sobbing began to subside and she began to feel self conscious about being on Michael's lap.

"I think I need some water, would you like...a bottle?" she asked, awkwardly.

Claire could see Michael scrutinizing her, probably trying to figure out if she was really okay, or if she was going to lose it. The worst was over, now she was ready to start thinking of the battle she was about to fight. He nodded slowly and said, "Thank you."

Claire went in to the kitchen and poured some water for herself and grabbed one of Michael's mysterious bottles from the back of the bottom shelf and went back out to the living room. Michael had moved to his favorite chair and his guitar was out of its case and in his hands. Claire sat on the couch after handing over Michael's drink. She watched him drink from the bottle and momentarily thought about how she would soon be the only person in the house who wasn't drinking it...she shuddered. She just couldn't bring herself to acknowledge what she knew was inside that bottle.

Thinking about Eve being a vampire made Claire feel sick. Eve was the happiest Goth she'd ever met. She took everything in stride and was always, always by Claire's side when things got bad. Would she still be able to? God, would she want to? She thought about how Michael must have felt at first, wondering if he could handle being around Eve. At least Eve would come home to someone she'd be able to be with.

It would be different with Shane. He'd have a difficult time because she was human and he'd hate that he would be drawn to her and not in the way he usually was. She vividly recalled one of the blissful mornings Claire had woken in Shane's arms. It actually caused her physical pain; her chest ached.

Michael had been playing for awhile now. Claire was so lost in thought that she wasn't sure how much time had passed. He plucked the strings; it was a contemplative and sad song. Though each pluck caused a twangy sound, it wasn't a country song at all. He began to sing softly to himself, and Claire realized she recognized the song. The song sounded something like love being given back to someone, to her. Claire didn't realize she was crying until she felt a tear land on her arm.

She looked down at the tears that had accumulated and was caught by the slight discoloration on her arm where her bracelet had once been worn. She thought of the Dallas trip, of things she and Shane had been through. His anger when Claire had been attacked during chemistry by a Monickette, running beneath the founders square, his face when she first saw him again in Bishop's chamber after they'd been separated for so long. She remembered Shane's horror as he watched Bishop change his father.

"He won't accept it, Michael." Claire said softly.

Michael plucked a bad string and the guitar twanged unpleasantly off-key. He stilled the strings with his left hand on the frets and exhaled loudly.

"He has to." It wasn't an argument, it sounded like a fervent wish. He ran his hand roughly through his hair.

"Michael, Shane isn't-" Claire began.

Michael cut her off. "Claire, I've known Shane since we were kids. I've watched him grow up. I've watched his reaction to my change and his father’s. I know what Shane is or isn't going to do." He took a deep breath and started plucking the guitar absent-mindedly again. "I know this. Shane is going to live through this. Shane and Eve will come back to live with us and Shane isn’t going to be able to deal with what he's become."

"So what do we do?" Claire asked softly. She could hear the sadness in her voice. She felt defeated and wasn't sure there was anything she could do, only that she wanted to try.
"We wait." He answered in the same tone.

Claire stared at Michael. He'd never just given up like that before. He always fought and he always had an answer. The one time she was desperate for any answer he could give her to allow her to hold on to a little hope, he decides it's a good time to wait.

Feeling a little annoyed with Michael, Claire went upstairs and decided to get herself prepared. She pulled out her emergency kit contents, a tiny bit of silver powder from Myrnin, small wooden stakes Eve had given her and a silver knife from Amelie she'd somehow managed to retrieve and hold on to. She tried to imagine using any of it on Shane or Eve and felt herself mentally shy away from the idea. She left the emergency kit in its bag and slid it back under her bed.

Instead Claire walked over to her closet and got dressed. Faded jeans and a black t-shirt Eve had given her that had dark epic battle images on it and surprisingly not one skull. After putting on some boots she clomped over to her school pack. She pulled out a pencil and slid it into her side pocket. She hesitated as she reached for a second. Sighing she pulled out another and put it with the first.

Then she pulled her books out and started studying. The light brightened and then began to fade; the heat of the day began to cool. Claire was on her computer when she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Claire?" Michael asked.

"You can come in." Claire said. She was sitting on her bed with her laptop on her crossed legs. Michael walked in, crossed to Claire's bed and sat on the end of it.

"Did you hear them leave last night?"

"No." Claire had thought about that too. She'd thought about a lot through the course of the long day. Her head ached with all of it.

"I was...out." He ended awkwardly. Claire nodded, understanding it was sort of code for taking care of his needs. Michael was discreet and considerate to all of them. Claire supposed in some way it might be a relief knowing he wouldn't have to be discrete around Shane and Eve anymore.

"Do you think..." Claire began, but she couldn't finish. It might sound selfish to Michael.
Michael put a hand on her ankle. "Do I think?" He asked.

Claire looked down into her lap. She changed her wording a little, "Why didn't he take me too, Michael? I know he knows I love Shane."

Michael pulled his hand off her ankle and clasped his hands together as he leaned his elbows on his legs. "He does, but I think the important thing is that he knows Shane loves you. He's probably hoping to draft Shane to do whatever plans he now has. If he changed you, Shane would never forgive him and he knows it."

Claire rubbed her hands across her face and dropped them into her lap. She was suddenly angry. Why does everyone always have to use their love for each other against the two of them?

"But why Eve then, that just doesn't make any sense, Michael." She said, her irritation coming through in her tone. She fell back against the wall, her pillow puffing out under her.
"Actually, I think that had the same purpose only from a different angle. He knows I'm with Eve. He manipulates people. He did it to Shane for years, using his sister as an angle. After his dad was changed, Shane and I had a long talk about what happened during the years he was with his father."

"I don't think he told me everything, not by a long shot, but it was enough. Frank Collins is a cruel and vindictive man, there's no two ways about it. I have a bad feeling I know what he's up to and if I'm right, Morganville is going to get real ugly." Michael stood up and walked to the head of Claire's bed, he cupped his hand around her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "I'll keep you safe, Claire. I owe that to Shane; that and so much more." As he said the last bit, his hand dropped and his eyes glassed over. He looked tired somehow. That seemed impossible and yet he did. Claire reached her right hand up and grasped his hand softly. "I know and I'm glad...I wish more than anything that all of us were here," she could feel her eyes tearing up again, "but I'm glad you're here. We'll figure it all out and when we can, we'll fight for them."

Michael adjusted his hand so he could squeeze Claire's hand tighter, as if to convey his determination. "We'll fight for them, every day. I'll be by your side until Shane can fill that place again." He leaned over and put a hand behind her head to softly pull it forward so he could kiss the top of her head. He gave Claire's hand one more squeeze and then loosened his fingers, letting her hand slide out of his. "There's some food downstairs if you feel like eating."

"You cooked?" She asked, astonished and despite her mood found herself smirking in amusement.

"I re-heated." Michael smiled sheepishly. "It's some of Shane's chili."

"Oh." Claire said in a small voice. "I'm not...I..." Tears started running down her cheeks again and the rest of her words came out in a whisper. "I'll come down...in a bit." She could see Michael's expression from the corner of her eye. He looked like he didn't know whether to leave or stay, so Claire let him off easy. She plastered a fake smile on and wiping the tears from her cheeks, grinned up at him. "I'm fine Michael, its okay. I'll come down after I clean myself up a bit."

Michael nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him without looking back. Though she couldn't see his face as he left, Claire thought he looked a little lost.

She eventually made it downstairs. She and Michael both ate in silence. It was awkward, and impossible to feel their usual comfort without their usual foursome. After he finished eating, Michael stood and carried his dishes into the kitchen. Claire heard the water running as he washed them. Looking at her barely touched bowl, she realized she couldn't eat any more. She stood and followed him into the kitchen. He took her bowl from her and she picked up a towel and dried the dishes he'd already set in the strainer.

He looked aside at her every few moments. Feeling his eyes on her, she'd look at him. He looked away and focused on washing. After several more glances, he dropped his hands in the water and sighed loudly. "Please say something, Claire. I'm honestly worried about you."

"That's different from any other day how, exactly?" She answered with a mischievous grin.
Michael moved his hand in a swift gesture which splashed just the slightest bit of water at her, hitting her right in the face.

Claire jumped back and gasped, dropping the bowl she was drying. They both looked down at it and then at each other. Michael's mouth was curved into a smile like a kid who's just put a frog in his mother's purse. Claire snapped her gaping mouth closed and gritted her teeth.
Michael laughed deeply and loudly at the expression on her face. After a moment Claire started laughing too. Michael dried his hands on the towel Claire was holding and walked out of the kitchen still chuckling. She turned to dry the rest of the dishes and heard Michael's guitar begin a soft, but happy tune.

After she finished drying the dishes, she walked out to the living room. Michael was in his usual seat and she sat on the couch. Grabbing a blanket, she balled it up to make a pillow. She shoved it against the armrest and fluffed it as best as she could and spread herself out across the sofa. She put her hands behind her head, and closed her eyes. The songs Michael played changed, different rhythms and tempos. She swam along with each and at some point, she drifted off to sleep and into a dream.

She was walking down a long wide, white hall. The ceiling was arched, with cemented beams crossing the hall about every twenty or thirty feet. Each beam had a wood and bronze light fixture dangling from it and each fixture glowed with candlelight; there was no electric. To her right she approached an enormous, Medieval looking, wooden door. It was heavily lacquered and appeared to almost be black. As she reached the door, both sides opened inward. She didn't wait for them to open and walked through feeling compelled to hurry in and see what awaited her.

It was an enormous oblong room and she had entered from the far end. The entire room was bathed in very dim light from the edges, leaving the center of it in shadow. At the other end she could see two figures outlined in the soft glow of the lamps above them. Both figures were slumped and still; they looked dead. That didn't make her heart begin to pound, but the fact that both figures were familiar to her, did. She began to run and thank whoever you wanted to, both figures heads lifted at the sound of her footsteps. Her that her suspicions were correct. It was Shane and Eve. They were both pinned to the walls with silver-plated, wooden stakes forced, through middle of their forearms and as she reached them, she saw that additional stakes had been stuck through their feet into the floor.

They both looked up at her and they both looked terrible. Eve had none of her usual make up on, but she was still just as pale as if she did. Shane too looked pale, but more than that, he looked furious and something else. She was trying to place it when Eve made a strange gurgling sound. When she looked at Eve, she nearly fell backwards in her hurry to back away. Eve was snarling at her, there was no friendliness in her face, none of the usual Eve-like caring. Her mouth was curled viciously and as her lip lifted, Claire plainly saw vampire teeth fully extended; they were glossy looking in the light.

"What the hell are you doing here, Claire? Get out of here before something happens that I will seriously regret. You don't belong here, I don't want you here. Get away, Get away from me. Go away." Shane snarled and hissed at her.

Claire wanted to be strong, but it just wasn't there. She could feel the tears starting in her eyes.

"I....I wanted to get you out of here, save you. I....I love you, Shane. You don't belong here." Something warred behind his eyes, compassion crossing through them for just a moment before a terrifying steeliness took over again,

"You don't. You love someone who's dead, Claire. Forget me; forget anything and everything about me. Go home. I don't love you anymore. I only want....want...." Pain shot across his face and he yelled out in anguish. Eve finished his sentence, and her voice was entirely different from the voice Claire was so familiar with; full of malice. "We only want to taste you, Claire. We're friends right, let me just...taste you, Claire. One small..." She breathed heavily, as if it hurt for her to talk.

Shane snarled at Eve. "NO! Not Claire, Eve. Claire go, go now. GO! Damn it, Claire!"
At that moment, Claire heard another voice from behind her.

"You really should forget about Shane, you know. He belongs to me now, Claire." Frank Collins whispered.

His voice was right in her ear, and it wasn't part of her dream. She sat up quickly, the blanket Michael had apparently thrown over her fell to the floor, and she turned to her left to find Shane's father's face right beside her. She jerked back away from him and fell off the sofa onto the floor.

Frank stood up and laughed.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He looked at her with his head cocked a little sideways.
Claire glared at him with tightly closed lips.

He held up a hand, "Okay, you're right, maybe a little. A little scare never hurt anyone.”
Claire stood up then. Sleep had left her completely when she hit the floor. She screamed out as loud as she could. "MICHAEL!"

The sound of a door slamming came from overhead. Claire didn't hear anything until she heard Michael's voice as he came down the stairs. It sounded frantic. "Claire? Claire, what is it?"

His voice changed from frantic to furious as he reached the bottom and saw their guest.
"Get out of my house." Michael's voice sounded forced, like he'd spoken through gritted teeth, which Claire figured was probably the case, but she didn't want to turn around and see for herself. Not while Frank was there.

Frank vaulted over the sofa and was in Michael's face suddenly, he grabbed Michael's throat and Claire turned around to see. Michael was shirtless, a pair of jeans hanging open on his hips.

"Be respectful of your elders." Frank growled.

Michael didn't flinch. He just grabbed Frank around the wrist and hissed, "I am, when they deserve it. You don't!"

Claire frowned, but to her surprise Frank laughed.

"Hmm, you've always been such a nice, polite boy, Michael. Glad to see you've got some balls after all."

Michael twisted and shoved Frank's arm at the same time, releasing himself. He walked around the couch and stood between Claire and Shane's father.

"Having some didn't do your son any good, so I don't really care if it pleases you or not. I meant what I said, Mr. Collins. Get out of my house, now."

"Ok, ok, I recognize when I'm not wanted. I only came by to drop off a couple of things." He pulled a bunched up piece of cloth from his back pocket; it turned out to be a small bag. When it landed on the table it clinked, as if it had glass inside.

"Consider them an act of contrition or a gift from your lost loves." He said as he walked down the hall towards the front door. Claire and Michael moved as one to watch him go out, "because they are you know." He pulled the door open and turned around to grin at them. "lost."

He walked out into the darkness chuckling wickedly and slammed the door behind him.
Michael turned around and grabbed Claire's shoulders. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you or anything, did he?"

"No, I'm fine. He just scared me half to death." She turned and grabbed the bag off the table. Inside were two vials similar to the ones she'd used during the days she'd helped Myrnin. They had labels on them, one was marked Eve Rosser and the other of course, read Shane Collins.

Claire sank down on the couch and with one vial curled in each hand, leaned her fists against her forehead.

"Are those vials of blood?" Michael asked, sniffing.

Ew.

She thought it for one second and then dismissed the thought. "Yes, they're marked with Eve and Shane's name. Why the hell would he think we'd want these? Or maybe he meant them for you, a little gift of sustenance." She said bitterly, trying to fight tears.

"Claire!" Michael said, angry and shocked at the same time.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I'm just....tired and angry and hurt and I'm sick of feeling this way."

She pulled her hands away and looked at him. She didn't mean to, but as she looked up at him, she lingered a moment on his bare chest before she met his eyes. Michael must have seen it, because he looked down and then looked back at her with a guarded expression. He turned and walked around the couch and up the stairs.

As he left he said, "Go to bed, Claire. You need more sleep. I'll be awake; I won't let anyone disturb you."

"Too late." She whispered to herself, thinking she'd been disturbed for a very long time.

"I heard that." Michael said in a mildly teasing undertone. Claire smirked and then headed upstairs.