Daylighters (The Morganville Vampires #15)(73)

“Shane!”

“Claire, don’t—,” Michael yelled, but it was too late, she was already out of the car and racing toward him. He won’t hurt me, she thought. He didn’t hurt me before and he won’t hurt me now.

And he didn’t.

Shane’s hands were back to normal human hands, though they looked bloody and bruised, and when he raised his head to meet her gaze, the hot golden color was fading out of his eyes. “Claire?” He sounded lost and scared. “I was looking for you. For Amelie—I smelled her blood . . .”

Michael had opened the driver’s-side door and stepped out, watching them. Ready, Claire thought, to come to her defense if necessary . . . or to Shane’s, if he needed it, too. Now he came up and put his weight under Shane’s other arm as her boyfriend threatened to drop completely.

“Hey, bro, you found me instead,” Michael said. “You been fighting without me?”

“You’re—you’re not a— Mikey, what the hell . . . ?” Shane was just beginning to realize the magnitude of what had happened, but nobody had much time to explain it. The sirens were wailing behind them. Granted, those cop cars would be making straight for the asylum, but they would definitely have the description of Amanda’s car in minutes, and then it would be almost impossible to make it out of town.

“Got to go,” Claire said, and on Shane’s other side, Michael nodded.

“Let’s get you in the car. We’ll talk on the way.”

“On the way to where?” Shane asked. “Can’t go home. They’re in the house.”

Claire wanted to ask about that, badly, but they were out of time. Instead, she helped Michael drag Shane around to Eve’s side of the car. Eve squished over, and Shane got his customary shotgun seat.

The door just barely squeezed shut.

Michael and Claire dove back in, and Michael hit the gas hard, peeling out with a screech that probably would have drawn attention if it hadn’t been for the unholy racket of sirens a few streets over.

Sunset was painting the skies a bloody mess of red and orange.

“Um . . . are you okay? Is she okay?” Shane asked, looking at Eve, who was trembling and looking green around the edges.

“She’ll be okay. Where are we going?” Claire asked, holding on to Michael’s seat for dear life.

“We’re getting the hell out of Morganville,” he said. “We’re going to Blacke.”

? ? ?

Blacke, Texas, was a little town (small even by Morganville standards) about two hours away as the crows flew . . . but crows didn’t build roads, and the road builders had no reason to want to go to Blacke. Most people didn’t. Morganville was practically a tourist trap by comparison.

But the little place had the distinction—the secret distinction—of being the only other town where vampires lived in peace with humans. That wasn’t because of the unselfishness of the vampires who’d moved there; the leader of that ragged band, Morley, didn’t have even a hint of altruism in him. What he did have was a burning desire to run his own life and to not live by Morganville’s rules . . . and a healthy fear/respect for Mrs. Grant, the town’s librarian. Blacke had been overrun by a vampire plague brought on by a visit from another, much nastier predator who didn’t care about the consequences, and Mrs. Grant had organized the town’s survivors into an armed camp. Morley had intended to come to Blacke as a conqueror, but instead he’d become its protector and savior.

He seemed to find that oddly thrilling. Or maybe he’d just found Mrs. Grant thrilling. He’d had a hot-for-teacher thing going on when last they’d seen him. Their partnership running the town—and protecting the citizens of Blacke who’d been unwillingly turned into vampires—seemed to work better than anyone expected.

Or so Claire had heard. She hadn’t visited since she’d left the town behind to return to Morganville.

“You’re sure?” she asked Michael.

“Do you think we’ve got a choice?” They were heading fast for Morganville’s town limits; she could see the silhouette of the billboard ahead. “If we don’t get the hell out of here, then Fallon will have me, and he’ll have Oliver. If Amelie’s still free, he’ll have what he needs to bring her back in. Plus, whatever else happens, he is never going to touch Eve again.” Wow. Michael was usually a calm guy, but Fallon’s attack on Eve had put him on the edge, for sure.

“That’s sweet,” Eve said. She was pressed up against him, a situation Claire was sure she didn’t mind, and now she let her head rest lightly on his shoulder. “Sweetie, I’m sorry I lost my ring.”

“Didn’t lose me.”

“I know.” She gave a happy sigh and wiggled closer. “Is it weird to say this is nice?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, but he was smiling. He looked . . . more himself, Claire thought. “Pretty weird, weirdo.”

Eve turned her head toward him, considering him carefully. “Speaking of. What the hell happened to you? I mean, your eyes . . . they’re okay now, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t have a night-light feature before. Unless you swallowed your phone, your eyes really shouldn’t do that.”

He shrugged. “Dog bite, remember?”

“So now you’re what, a hellhound?”