She finally found Clara running laps around the golf course and since the girl looked tired, she must have been doing it for a long time.
“What the . . . Shane said he wasn’t letting you out until ten! I wanted –”
“It’s eleven,” Shamira interrupted.
Clara looked down at the watch that she just realized that she wasn’t wearing. “I wanted to get cleaned up and be there and make sure you had at least one friendly face when you got out.”
“There wasn’t anything friendly about any of this,” Shamira replied, looking away. ‘Just say what you have to say,’ she told herself. “I heard about you getting thrown into a cell too. You didn’t need to do that. You should’ve just stayed out of it.”
Clara stared. “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Shamira said quickly. “I just feel bad enough for Bunny getting hurt in all this, and I don’t want anyone else to suffer. Like I told her, this is between him and me.”
Clara grabbed her companion by the vest, picked her up and pinned her against a tree. Needless to say, it wasn’t a reaction that Shamira had been expecting.
“Listen to me and listen good,” Clara said, her voice low and edgy, “What matters to you matters to me too. Yeah, I believe in rules, and sometimes it bugs me that we can’t do more. Yeah Shane’s incredibly progressive, but he can be just as stubborn in some ways as . . . well, as stubborn as you. He thought that he’d been too lenient in some ways up until now, but I thought he overdid it. We’ve always been allowed to question him, assuming we do it with some tact. But you’re so powerful that he overcompensates, and I know you! I know you better than he does. There’s no way that you were going to just stay there complacently, come out and say you learned your lesson and that you’d behave. Tell me that I’m wrong! Tell me that you aren’t thinking about leaving.”
Shamira was a little nervous. Okay, she was terrified. Not only that a woman thirty or more pounds lighter than her was holding Shamira a foot off the ground, but by the fact that Clara knew . . . somehow, that this woman knew her better than she’d ever let anyone know her. “Yeah, I’m leaving.” Shamira pried Clara’s hands away and dropped to her feet. “He asked me to give him until the meeting was over, but I can’t see staying in this house.”
“And me?” Clara whispered. “So do I get to factor in to your decision?”
“You’ve already gotten into trouble because of me, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, do you really want this? Me getting shoved into that box just for being myself? I can’t look at most of the people in this house anymore, and I certainly don’t feel . . . anything towards them,” she continued, waving her hands. Why did Clara have to make this so difficult for her? “Two days. I feel like such a weakling because it only took two days to completely fuck with my head.”
“Most people don’t get stuck in solitary before they really understand. You were still so angry. Like I said, you’re powerful, and Shane’s so damn concerned about making sure that you behave responsibly that he isn’t even hasn’t realized that you are responsible. One day or two days shouldn’t matter, but only if you’re going to use the time to actually reflect, not stew in your own anger. And don’t be too hard on the rest of the house –”
“They watched me get stuck in there, and they even helped. They don’t give a damn –”
“They do too care!” Clara said, backing Shamira up. “I told Shane I thought he’d made a mistake. So did Bunny and Sebastian and Yosyp and Renata and Banshee –”
“Renata and Banshee?!” Shamira shouted, taking a step forward.
“Before you start, think about their positions,” Clara pleaded. “Renata is Shane’s chief of security and Banshee is his assassin. They have to do what he says, and both of them walked back to his office afterward and told them they thought he was wrong. You think the secret service will avoid protecting the president just because they disagree with his policies?”
“So if everyone was so offended, why were you the only one who got stuck in a cell?” Shamira said, unable to really question this logic.
Clara, in spite of her rant, looked sheepish. “I was the only one who threw a lamp at his head and called him a dumbass.” She dug her foot into the ground, making herself almost appear as the eighteen-year-old girl she had died as. “That was probably pushing my luck a bit.”
“You actually threw a lamp at him?” Shamira found it hard to be angry or cynical when picturing this gorgeous creature hurling furniture at her boss. It was just so . . . preposterous.
“It was an antique too. It’s why I grabbed it. I was actually trying to make a point of what happens when you destroy something priceless just because you’re being pissy. Seriously, I know you’ve heard this, but people have to obey rules they don’t like all the time, and sometimes people get hurt. I think you know that. But you’ve seen the faces of the victims and you’ve seen what happens to them and you’re too damn passionate and wonderful that you can’t let it go.”
“Wonderful?” Shamira asked mid-rant, but Clara wasn’t done.
Clara put her hands on her friend again, this time more gently. “You need to stay because you were right. You need to stay because someone needs to keep everyone else honest, and you have to stay –”
“Clara, I came out of that cell, I looked at Shane, and I can’t imagine ever wanting him to touch me. And I’m so damn mad at him that it sucked all the energy out me. When I was human, I was used to doing the right thing and getting ignored, but to do it and be punished?”
Clara was looking pained. “Like I said, Shane fucked up. But I know him and I know he’ll make amends somehow.”
“Bullshit. All he cares about is his image.”
“That isn’t true! Okay, image is part of his job but it isn’t the only thing. He spends most of his days finding homes and arranging new lives for magical beings immigrating to the United States. He keeps the peace and makes sure everyone obeys those laws he was talking about, and he keeps the magical world from being exposed. He just inherited one of the most important territories on the planet, and he spends a lot of time trying to get his secret weapon ready.”
“What secret weapon?”
Clara just stared at her for a moment. “You really don’t get it, do you? You! You’re the secret weapon.”
“I’m not that much –”
“Shamira, you’re faster and stronger than any fledgling vampire I’ve ever heard of. In a world that lives in the dark, you heal quickly, see everything, and can go anywhere. The one excuse I’ll make for Shane in this is that the idea of you, with three different Shadow Aspects, running loose through the land with a sharp mind and a chip on her shoulder . . . well, that’s something else you should be able to understand. He can’t allow vigilante justice, no matter how much he wants to. Please, just think about this before you make your decision.” Clara paused again. “And think about me. Damn it, I don’t want this thing between us to be over. I haven’t even gotten that first date.” She turned and started to head back to the house, but she stopped after a few feet. “I still want to share a bed with you, but I won’t kiss you again if it means that I’m kissing you goodbye. I can’t handle that.” Then she left.
Shamira was stunned. She had known how she’d felt about Clara, but she’d underestimated the girl’s feelings about Shamira. Again, she found herself cursing Shane for putting her in this position. She gave Clara a head start because both women needed a chance to cool off. Before she got back to the house, she saw Sebastian waiting in the shadows next to the house.