Текст книги "Dead Girls' Dance"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

While she was hesitating, she heard Amelie say something that she couldn’t quite understand, except for one word.

“Vampire.’”

And she heard Michael say, “Yes.’”

“No!’” Claire jumped up and pelted down the steps, fast as she could, but before she could get to the bottom Sam was standing there, looking up at her. Blocking her path. She looked over the railing at Michael and Amelie, and saw Michael watching her.

He looked scared, but he gave her a smile—broken, like the one Shane had put on for her in the cage. Trying to show it didn’t matter.

“It’s okay, Claire,’” he said. “I know what I’m doing. This is the way it has to be.’”

“No, it doesn’t!’” She edged down another step, clinging to the rail with both hands. She felt hot and disoriented again, but she figured if she was going to fall, at least Sam was there to cushion her. “Michael, please. Don’t do this!’”

“Oliver tried to make me a vampire. He made me into—’” Michael made a disgusted gesture at himself. “I’m half-alive, Claire, and there’s no going back. I can only go forward.’”

She couldn’t say anything to that, because he was right. Right at every point. He couldn’t go back to being just a regular guy; he couldn’t live with being stuck here, helpless. Maybe he could have, if Shane hadn’t been taken, but now…

“Michael, please.’” Her eyes were filling up with tears. “I don’t want you to change.’”

“Everybody changes.’”

“Not as you will,’” Amelie said. She was standing there like the Snow Queen, all perfect and white and smooth, nothing really human about her at all. “You will not be the man she knows, Michael. Or the one Eve loves. Will you risk that, too?’”

Michael took in a deep breath and turned back toward her. “Yes,’” he said. “I will.’”

Amelie stood in silence for a moment, then nodded. “Sam,’” she said. “Take the child away. This wants no witnesses.’”

“I’m not leaving!’” Claire said.

Yeah, good plan. Sam walked up three steps, scooped her into his arms, and carried her upstairs. Claire tried to grab for the railing, but her fingers slipped away. “Michael! Michael, no! Don’t do this!’”

Sam carried her to her room and dumped her on the bed, and before she could struggle up to a sitting position he was already outside, closing the door.

Later, thinking back on it, Claire couldn’t say if she heard the scream or felt it; either way, it seemed to vibrate through the bones and boards of the Glass House, through her head, and she moaned and clapped her hands over her ears. That didn’t stop it. The scream just went on and on, shrill and painful as a steam whistle, and Claire felt something…pull at her, like she was made of cloth, and a gigantic, malicious kid was yanking at her loose threads.

And then it just…stopped.

She slid off the bed, ran to the door, and opened it. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Eve was rushing out of the bathroom, clutching her bathrobe around her dripping body, her black hair plastered wet against her face. “What’s happening?’” she yelled. “Michael? Where’s Michael?’”

The two girls exchanged a desperate look, and then ran for the stairs.

Amelie was sitting in an armchair, the one Michael usually used; she looked drawn and tired, and her head was bent. Sam was crouched next to her, holding her hand, and he rose to his feet when Eve and Claire arrived breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

“She’s resting,’” he said. “It takes a lot to do what she did. A lot of strength, and a lot of will. Leave her alone. Let her recover.’”

“Where’s Michael?’” Eve demanded. Her voice was shaking. “What did you do to Michael, you bastard?’”

“Easy, child. Sam had nothing to do with it. I set him free,’” Amelie said. She raised her head and let it rest against the back of the chair, eyes closed. “So much pain in him. I thought he could be happy here, but I see I was wrong. One such as Michael can never stay caged for long.’”

“What do you mean, you set him free?’” Eve was stammering now, her face ashen without any Goth cosmetics to help. “You killed him?’”

“Yes,’” Amelie said. “I killed him. Sam!’”

Claire couldn’t see why she snapped the other vampire’s name until Sam turned in a blur, and met another blur coming at them from across the room. That turned into a struggle, two bodies moving too fast for Claire’s eyes to follow until it ended and one was flat on his back on the floor.

That was Michael on his back…but not the Michael she knew. Not the one she’d seen five minutes before, talking to Amelie, making this choice. This Michael was terrifying. Sam was having trouble holding him; Michael was struggling, trying to throw him off, and he was snarling, oh God, and his skin—his skin was the pale color of marble and ashes….

“Help me up,’” Amelie said quietly. Claire looked at her, stunned. Amelie was holding out a queenly hand, clearly expecting to be obeyed. Claire gave her help up to her feet, just because she’d always been taught to be polite, and braced the vampire, as she seemed about to lose her balance. Amelie found her balance and gave her a weary, thin smile. She let go of Claire’s arm, and walked slowly—painfully—to where Sam was fighting to keep Michael down.

Claire looked at Eve. Eve was backed into the corner, her hands in fists covering her mouth. Her eyes were huge.

Claire put her arm around her.

Amelie put one white hand on Michael’s forehead, and he instantly stopped struggling. Stopped moving at all, staring straight up at the ceiling with fierce, strange eyes. “Peace,’” Amelie whispered. “Peace, my poor child. The pain will pass; the hunger will pass. This will help.’” She reached into a pocket of her dress and took out a very small, very thin silver knife—no bigger than a fingernail—and sliced a gash across her palm. She didn’t bleed like a normal person; the blood seeped out, thicker than normal, and darker. Amelie put it to Michael’s lips, pressed it, and closed her eyes.

Eve screamed beneath the cover of her hands, then turned blindly and hid her face against Claire. Claire wrapped her in a tight, shaking hug.

When Amelie withdrew her hand, the gash was closed, and there was no blood on Michael’s lips. He closed his eyes, swallowing, gasping. After a few long seconds, Amelie nodded to Sam, who let go and stepped back, and Michael slowly rolled over on his side and met Claire’s horrified stare.

His eyes. They were the same color, and…not the same at all. Michael licked his pale lips, and she saw the bright white flicker of snake fangs in his mouth.

She shuddered.

“Behold,’” Amelie said softly, “the youngest of our kind. From this day on, Michael Glass, you are one of the eternal of the Great City, and all will be yours. Rise. Take your place among your people.’”

“Yeah,’” Sam said. “Welcome to hell.’”

Michael got to his feet. Neither of them helped him up.

“That’s it?’” Michael asked. His voice sounded strange—deep in his throat, deeper than Claire remembered. It gave her a little shiver at the base of her spine. “It’s done?’”

“Yes,’” Amelie said. “It’s done.’”

Michael walked toward the door. He had to stop and brace himself against the wall on the way, but he looked stronger every second. Stronger than Claire felt comfortable with, in fact.

“Michael,’” Amelie said. “Vampires can be killed, and many know the ways. If you grow careless, you will die, no matter how many laws Morganville holds to protect us from our enemies.’” Amelie glanced at the two girls, standing together in the corner. “Vampires cannot live among humans. It is too difficult, too tempting. You understand? They must leave your house. You must have time to learn what you are.’”

Michael looked at Eve and Claire—more at Claire than Eve, as if he couldn’t stand to really face her yet. He looked more like himself now, more in control. Except for the pale skin, he might nearly have been normal.

“No,’” he said. “This is their home, and it’s my home, and it’s Shane’s home. We’re a family. I’m not giving that up.’”

“Do you know why I stopped you?’” Amelie said. “Why I ordered Sam to stop you? Because your instincts cannot be trusted, Michael, not at this point. You cannot care, because your feelings for them will hurt them. Do you understand? Were you not moving toward these two girls with the intention of feeding on them?’”

His eyes went wide and, suddenly, very dark. “No.’”

“Think.’”

“No.’”

“You were,’” Sam said quietly, from behind him. “I know, Michael. I was there once. And there was no one to stop me.’”

Michael didn’t try to deny it again; he looked at Eve, right at her, with such terrible dawning pain that it hurt to see it.

“It won’t happen again.’” Eve hadn’t said a word since all this had started, so it was a little shocking to hear her say that, so calmly. So…normally. “I know Michael. He wouldn’t have done this if he was going to hurt any of us. He’d die first.’”

“He did die,’” Amelie said. “The human part of him is gone. What is left is mine.’” She said it with a little regret, which didn’t surprise Claire much; she’d seen it in Amelie’s infinitely weary eyes as she’d helped her up. “Come, Michael. You need food. I will show you where to go.’”

“Wait a minute,’” he said. “Please.’” And he stepped away from her, and held out his hand to Eve.

Amelie drew breath to tell him something—probably no—but she didn’t speak. Sam didn’t, either, but he turned and walked away, aimlessly circling the room. Claire reluctantly let go of Eve, and Eve walked directly to Michael, no hesitation at all.

He took both of her hands in his.

“I’m sorry. There wasn’t any other way.’” Michael swallowed, his eyes fixed on Eve’s. “I’ve been feeling it, more and more. Like this—pressure inside. It’s not just that I needed to do this to help Shane. I just…needed it to stay sane. And I’m sorry. You’re going to hate me.’”

“Why?’” Eve asked. It was half bravado, it had to be, but she sounded certain. “Because you’re vamped? Please. I loved you when you were only halfway here at all. As long as you’re with me, I can deal, Michael. For you, I can deal.’”

He kissed her, and Claire blinked and looked away. There was a lot of hunger in that kiss, and desperation, and it was way too personal.

Eve wasn’t the first one to pull away, either.

When he stepped back from her, he was the old Michael after all, never mind the paler skin and the odd shine to his eyes. That smile…he was Michael, and everything was going to be okay.

He wiped away Eve’s silent tears with his thumbs, kissed her again, very lightly, and said, “I’ll be back. Amelie’s right, I need to—’” He hesitated, glanced at Amelie, and then back down at Eve. “I need to feed. I guess I need to get used to saying that.’” His smile looked a little dimmer this time. “I’m going to miss dinners.’”

“You won’t,’” Sam said. “You can still eat solid foods if you want. I do.’”

For some reason, that seemed really important. It was something they could hold on to.

“I’ll make dinner tonight,’” Claire said. “To celebrate getting Shane home.’”

“It’s a deal.’” Michael let go of Eve and stepped back. “I’m ready.’”

“Then come outside,’” Amelie said. “Come back to the world.’”

Michael might have become a vampire, but watching him stand outside in the night air, breathing in his freedom…Claire thought that was as human as it could get.

11

Eve changed into what Claire thought of as “Goth camo’”…black pants, a black silk shirt with red skulls embroidered at the collar, and a black vest with loads of pockets that could hold things. Things like stakes and crosses, as it turned out. “Just in case,’” Eve said, catching Claire’s look. “What?’”

“Nothing,’” she sighed. “Just don’t use them on Michael.’”

Eve stopped for a second, stricken, and then nodded. She was still getting her head around it, Claire knew. Well, Claire was doing the same thing. She kept expecting to hear Michael’s guitar downstairs; she kept wondering about what time it was. Not dawn yet—she checked the Internet and found out that they still had time, but if Michael didn’t come back soon…

The front door opened and closed. Eve snatched a stake from her pocket, wide-eyed, and Claire motioned to her to stay where she was, then sneaked carefully to the corner.

She nearly ran into Michael, who was moving way more quietly than she was used to. He looked nearly as surprised as she did. Behind him was Sam, but there was no sign of Amelie.

“You okay?’” she asked. Michael nodded. He looked…better, in some strange sort of way. At peace. “Not going to…?’” She mimed fangs in her neck. He smiled.

“No way, kid.’” He ruffled her hair lightly. “There’s a deal on the table for Shane.’”

“A deal?’” Eve sounded tense as she came around into view, and Claire didn’t blame her. Deals hadn’t gone especially well for them so far.

“If we get Monica back safely, Shane goes free. The Morrells still have influence in this town, even with the vamps.’” Of which Michael was one now, but he didn’t seem to be lumping himself in quite yet. “Oliver was willing to trade. Or maybe not willing—convinced.’”

“Shane for Monica? Sweet!’” Eve realized she was holding a stake in her hand, blushed, and put it away. Neither Sam nor Michael seemed all that bothered. “Ah, sorry. Nothing personal…so it’s you two and us against the world, or what?’”

“No,’” Sam said, and looked at Michael. “It’s the three of you. I can’t go with you.’”

“What? But—you—’”

“I’m sorry.’” Sam honestly sounded like he meant it. “Amelie’s orders. Vampires stay neutral—Michael’s the only exception because of his agreement with Amelie. I can’t help you.’”

“But—’”

“I can’t,’” he repeated, with emphasis, and sighed. “You’ll get some help from the human community—that’s all I can tell you. Good luck.’” He started to walk away, toward the door, then turned back. “Thank you, Claire. Eve.’”

“What for?’”

Sam’s smile was suddenly luminous, and it looked just like Michael’s. “You brought me to Amelie. And she talked to me. That counts.’”

There was a story behind that, Claire was sure, full of heartbreak and longing; she could see it, for a second, written all over his face. Amelie? He loved Amelie? That was kind of like loving the Mona Lisa—the painting, not the person. Presuming Amelie even had enough emotion in her to feel something for Sam these days.

Maybe once she had. Wow.

Sam nodded to Michael, equal to equal, and he left, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,’” Eve said. “Did he have an invitation? To get into the house?’”

“He didn’t need one,’” Michael said. “The house adjusted itself once I—changed. Now humans need an invitation. Except for you, since you live here.’”

“Okay, that’s stupid.’”

“It’s Protection,’” Michael said. “You know how it works.’”

Claire didn’t, but she was fascinated. Not the time, though. “Um, he said the town was sending help…?’”

“Richard Morrell,’” Michael said. “Monica’s cop brother. And he’s bringing Hess and Lowe with him.’”

“That’s it?’” Claire squeaked. Because there were a lot of bikers. Like, a lot. Not to mention Shane’s dad, who frankly scared her worse than most of the vampires just because he didn’t seem to have any rules.

Funny, the vampires seemed to be all about rules. Who knew?

“I’m going to want you both to stay here,’” Michael said.

“No,’” Eve said flatly. Claire echoed it.

“Seriously, you need to stay. This is going to get dangerous.’”

“Dangerous? Dude, they killed kids. On campus!’” Eve shot back. “We were there! Don’t you get it? We’re not safe here, and maybe we can help you. At the very least, we can grab Monica and hustle her skanky ass back to her dad while all you brave, strong menfolk hold off the bad guys. Right?’”

“Not Claire, then.’”

“Claire,’” Claire said, “decides for herself. In case you forgot.’”

“Claire doesn’t decide when it’s something like this, because Claire is sixteen and Michael doesn’t want to be explaining her tragic accidental death to her parents. So, no.’”

“What’re you going to do?’” Eve asked, and cocked her head to one side. “Lock her in her room?’”

He looked from one of them to the other, his frown deepening. “Oh, crap. What is this, Girl Solidarity?’”

“Bet your ass,’” Eve said. “Somebody’s got to keep you in line.’” Her smile faded, because that was true now, not just a funny idea. Michael cleared his throat.

“Did you hear that?’”

“What?’”

“A car. Brakes. Outside.’”

“Great,’” Eve said. “Vampire hearing, too. I’m never going to be able to keep a secret around here. Bad enough when you were a ghost…’” She was doing a good job of looking like she wasn’t freaked-out, but Claire thought she was. So did Michael, apparently, because he reached out and touched her cheek—just one small gesture, but it said a lot.

“Stay here,’” he said.

He should have known they wouldn’t—not completely, anyway. Claire and Eve followed him partway down the hall, enough to watch him unlock the front door and swing it open.

Richard Morrell stood on the doorstep in his police uniform. Next to him were Detectives Hess and Lowe, both looking even more exhausted than normal.

“Michael,’” Richard said, and nodded to him.

He tried to move across the threshold, and was stopped cold. Hess and Lowe exchanged a curious look and tried to come across, as well. Nothing.

“Come in,’” Michael said, and stepped back. This time, all three men could enter.

Richard was looking at Michael closely. “You’re kidding,’” he said. “You’ve got to be kidding. All this time, and she picks you?’”

Hess and Lowe exchanged looks, a second behind the curve, and both appeared startled.

“Yeah,’” Michael said. “What about it?’”

Richard smiled, all teeth. “Nothing, man. Congratulations, and all that. You’re going to be the talk of the town. Get used to it.’”

Michael shut the door behind them. “Whatever. How much time do we have to get to Shane?’”

“Not much,’” Hess said. “And the thing is, we don’t have anyplace to start. No leads.’”

“Well, we’ve got one. We know the van went through the Underground,’” Richard said. “We’ve got an eyewitness. Right?’” He looked straight at Claire, who nodded. “We pulled all the surveillance tapes, and we tracked the van in and out of the Underground half a dozen times, but it finally disappeared. Problem is, one white van looks a lot like other white vans, especially on Night Sight surveillance cameras.’”

“We know that Shane’s dad had maps of Morganville. Shane provided them. You’re sure he didn’t say anything about where his father might be making his base of operations?’” Hess asked. “Any of you?’”

“He never said anything,’” Claire said. “Not to me. Michael?’” Michael shook his head. “God, I can’t believe nobody knows where these guys are! They have to be somewhere!’”

“Actually, two people probably know exactly where they are,’” Richard said. “Shane, and the biker, Des. One of them, maybe both, has to know the places Frank was using.’”

“And nobody’s asked them?’” Eve questioned, and then her expression turned blank with horror. “Oh God. Somebody has.’”

“It’s not so bad as that,’” Lowe offered. “I was there observing. They’re all right.’”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll stay that way,’” Michael said. “Especially now. Or was that the plan, Richard? Get the two neutral cops here with you so your guys could beat the information out of Shane?’”

Richard smiled slowly. “You know, that’s not a bad idea, but no. I honestly thought you guys would have a place for us to start looking. We can go with that plan B if you come up empty, though. I never liked that kid anyway.’”

Michael’s eyes were narrowing, and Claire felt the whole barely reasonable alliance starting to come apart. “Wait!’” she said. “Um, I think I have something. Maybe.’”

“Maybe?’” Richard turned to her. “Better be good. It’s your boyfriend on the line, and if anything happens to my sister, I swear I’ll torch him myself.’”

Claire looked at Michael, then Eve. “I saw him,’” she said. “Shane’s dad. He was in Common Grounds.’”

“He was what?’”

“In Common Grounds. It was the same day I met Sam for the first time. I wondered what he was doing there, but—’”

Richard interrupted her, grabbing the neck of her T-shirt and hauling her forward. “Who was he talking to? Who?’” He shook her.

“Hey!’” She smacked at his hand, and to her surprise, he let go. “He was talking to Oliver.’”

Silence. They all stared at her, and then Hess put a hand to his forehead. Lowe said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on a second. Why would the Fearless Vampire Killer be talking to Oliver? He knows, right? Who Oliver is? What Oliver is?’”

Claire nodded. “Shane must have told him. He knows.’”

“And Oliver knows who Frank Collins is,’” Hess said. “He’d know him on sight. So we’ve got two mortal enemies sitting down together, and we don’t know why. When was it, Claire?’”

“Right before Brandon was killed.’”

Another silence, and this one was deep. Lowe and Hess were staring at each other. Richard was frowning. After a long moment, Lowe said slowly, “Anybody want to take a bet?’”

“Spit it out, Detective,’” Richard said. “If you know something, say so.’”

“I’m not saying I know. I’m saying I’ve got a hundred dollars that says Oliver knew all about Frank Collins rolling back into town, and he used Frank to get rid of a troublemaking child-molesting bastard who’d outlived his usefulness.’”

Claire asked, “Why didn’t he just kill him, if he wanted him dead?’”

“Vampires do not kill each other. They just don’t. So this way, he and Frank both get what they want. Oliver gets Morganville in chaos, Amelie losing control—and I heard about the attack on her downtown. Maybe Oliver was hoping they’d take her out, leave him in charge. Brandon was probably a small price to pay.’” He paused for thought. “I’m guessing here, but I’ll bet Oliver made Frank a whole lot of promises he never intended to keep. Brandon was a sign of good faith, to get Frank to commit. And holding on to Shane was insurance. No way would Oliver have let Frank keep on killing, though. Chaos is one thing. A bloodbath is another.’”

“How does this help?’” Michael asked. “We still don’t know where they are.’”

Hess reached in his pocket and pulled out a folding pocket map—a Morganville map. It was marked in grids, color-coded: yellow for the university, pale red for the human enclaves, blue for the vampires. The center of town, Founder’s Square, was black. “Here,’” he said, and walked to the dining room table. Michael moved his guitar case out of the way, and Hess spread the map out. “Travis, you know who owns what near the square, right?’”

“Yeah.’” Lowe leaned forward, fished some reading glasses out of his coat pocket, and looked closer. “Okay, these are warehouses here. Vallery Kosomov owns some of them. Most of these belong to Josefina Lowell.’”

“Anything owned by Oliver down there?’”

“Why down there?’” Lowe asked.

“You want to answer that one, Officer Morrell?’” Hess asked. Richard edged in to consider the map, and marked out something with his finger.

“Underground runs right through here,’” he said. “This is the only area of the Underground where we didn’t see the van come and go.’”

“Which tells you what?’” Hess asked.

“Crap. They were faking the video. Showing us where they weren’t, sending us all over town. And hiding where they were.’” Richard looked up at Hess, then Lowe. “Oliver’s warehouses are off of Bond Street. It’s mostly storage.’”

“Gentlemen, we have exactly’”—Hess consulted his watch—“fifty-two minutes. Let’s get moving.’”

They all moved to the door, and it was going fine until Richard Morrell glanced at Claire and Eve, put his arm up like a barricade, and said, “Oh, I don’t think so, kids.’”

“We’ve got a right to—’”

“Yeah, I’m getting all choked up about your rights, Eve. You stay here.’”

“Michael’s going!’” Claire said, and winced, because she sounded like a disappointed little kid instead of the responsible, trustworthy adult she’d intended.

Richard rolled his eyes nearly as well as Eve. “You sound like my sister,’” he said. “That’s really not attractive. And it’s not going to work. Michael can take care of himself on a whole bunch of levels you can’t, kid, so you. Stay. Here.’”

And Hess and Lowe backed him up.

Michael just looked vaguely sorry to be in the middle of it, but relieved all the same that they weren’t going. It was Michael who took Eve’s car keys from the tray on the hall table, where she always left them. “Just in case,’” he said, and dropped them in his pocket. “Not that I don’t trust you or anything, just that I know you never listen to me.’”

He slammed the door on Eve’s frustrated cry.

And that, Claire thought, was that.

“I can’t believe they left us,’” Claire said numbly, staring at the door. Eve kicked it hard enough to leave a black mark on the wood and stalked away, into the living room. She stood at the window until the police cruiser pulled away from the curb and glided off into the night. Then she turned and looked at Claire.

She was smiling.

“What?’” Claire asked, confused, as Eve grinned wider. “Are we happy about getting left behind?’”

“Yes, we’re happy. Because now I know where they’re going,’” Eve said, and reached in her pocket. She pulled out a second key ring and shook it with a merry, metallic jingle. “And I’ve got a spare set of keys. Let’s go save their asses.’”

It was a good thing the Morganville police force was otherwise occupied, because Claire thought that Eve probably broke every traffic law that was on the books. Twice. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes very often—just peeks every other block or so—but it seemed like they were going very, very fast, and taking corners at speeds that would have given a driver’s-ed instructor a heart attack. Not much traffic, at least, in this predawn darkness. That was something, Claire supposed. She clung to the stiff aftermarket shoulder belt as Eve screeched the big black Cadillac through a hairpin right-hand turn, then another, and into one of the storm-drain tunnels.

“Oh God,’” Claire whispered. If she’d been in danger of motion sickness before, it was ten times worse in the tunnel. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and tried to breathe. Between the dark, the panic, and the closed-in spaces, it wasn’t exactly her best rescue attempt ever.

“Almost there,’” Eve said, but Claire thought she said it to herself. Eve wasn’t calm, either. That was…not comforting. “Left turn up ahead…’”

“That’s not a turn!’” Claire yelped, and braced herself against the dashboard as Eve slammed on the brakes and the big car shimmied and sprayed shallow water as it skidded. “That’s a dead end!’”

“Nope, that’s a turn,’” Eve panted, fought the wheel, and somehow—Claire had no idea how—got the car to make the impossible corner with only a little bang and scrape up against the concrete wall. “Ouch. That’s gonna leave a mark.’” And she laughed, high and wild, and hit the gas again. “Hold on, Claire Bear! Next stop, Crazytown!’”

Claire thought they were already there, actually.

She lost track of the nauseatingly twisty course they were following. In fact, she started to think that Eve didn’t know where she was going at all, and was just making random turns hoping to find an exit, when suddenly the tunnel ended, and the car hit an upslope, and they rocketed out into the open darkness again.

“Bond Street,’” Eve said. “Home of upscale vampire shopping, fine restaurants, and…oh shit.’”

She hit the brakes and brought them to a fast, complete stop that tossed Claire painfully against the restraints. Not that Claire noticed all that much, because like Eve, she was pretty much horror-struck by what she was seeing ahead.

“Tell me that’s not the place,’” she said.

Because if it was, the place was on fire.

Richard Morrell’s police cruiser was parked at the wrought-iron gates, its doors hanging open. The guys had bailed out fast. Eve moved the Caddy closer, then shut off the engine, and the two girls looked in dawning horror at the flames shooting out from the windows and roof of the big stone building.

“Where’s the fire department?’” Claire asked. “Where are the cops?’”

“I don’t know, but we can’t count on help. Not tonight.’” Eve opened the door on her side and stepped out. “Do you see them? Anywhere?’”

“No!’” Claire flinched as glass exploded from one of the upper windows. “Do you?’”

“We have to go in!’”

“Go in?’” Claire was about to point out how crazy that was, but then she saw someone inside the gates, lying very still. “Eve!’” She ran to the gate and rattled it, but it was locked tight.

“Up!’” Eve yelled, and scrambled up on the wrought iron. Claire followed. It was slippery and sharp, and cut her hands, but somehow she made it to the top, then dangled from the crossbar and let herself fall on the other side. She hit hard, and rolled clumsily back to her feet. Eve, who’d come down a lot more gracefully, was already moving toward the guy lying on the ground…

…who was one of Frank’s guys. Dead. Eve looked up at Claire wordlessly and showed her the blood on her hand, shaking her head. “He was shot,’” she said. “Oh, God. They’re inside, Claire. Michael’s inside!’”

Only he wasn’t, because between one blink and the next, as Eve tried to rush into the open smoke-filled door, Michael plunged out of it, and he grabbed her and hauled her back. “No!’” he yelled. “What the hell are you doing here?’”

“Michael!’” Eve turned and threw herself into his arms. “Where’s Monica?’”

“In there.’” Michael looked terrible—smoke-stained and red-eyed, with little burned patches in his shirt. “The others went in to get her. I—I had to come out.’”

Vampires could be killed by fire. Claire remembered that from the list she’d made shortly after moving to Morganville. She couldn’t believe he’d risked his just barely begun life to get as far as he’d gone.

“Damn right you can’t!’” Eve yelled. “If you go and get yourself killed for Monica Morrell, I’ll never forgive you!’”

“It wouldn’t be for Monica,’” he said. “You know that.’”

They stared at the flames, waiting. Seconds ticked by, and there was no sign of anyone: no Monica, and no cops, either. The horizon was getting lighter in the east, Claire realized, going from dark blue to twilight.

Dawn was coming, and they were almost out of time to get Monica to Founder’s Square, if they could get her at all.

If she was still alive.