“What?”
“I need to see your taillights disappearing over the town limits. And I’m going to follow to make sure you get there nice and safe.”
Oh
“Well, we can’t exactly give him as an excuse,” Eve whispered back fiercely. She ate the last bit of ice cream cone and smiled at the cop. “We’re ready, sir! Just let us get loaded up.”
Michael grabbed Shane, and they had an urgent conversation, bent over Eve’s giant suitcase. Eve leaped up, tripped over a random bag, and went down with a yelp that turned into a howl.
The sheriff, proving he wasn’t a total jerk, immediately came to bend over her and see if she was okay.
This gave Michael enough vampire-speed time to retrieve the cooler from the alley, put it back in the car, and be innocently reaching for the next bag before the sheriff helped flailing, clumsy Eve up to her feet.
“Sorry,” Eve said breathlessly, and gave Michael a trembling little smile and wave. “I’m okay. Just bruised a little.”
“That’s it,” Shane said. “No more ice cream for you.”
They finished loading things in the car, and Claire took a last look at the deserted streets, the flickering, distant, dim lights. There was no sign of Oliver; none at all.
“Well?” the sheriff said. “Let’s go.”
“Yes sir.” Eve slid into the driver’s side, closed her eyes for a second, then fumbled for her keys and started the car. Michael took the passenger seat in front, and Claire and Shane climbed in the back.
The sheriff, true to his word, got in his cruiser, parked across the street, and turned on the red and blue flashers; no siren, though.
“Thanks,” Michael said, and sent Eve a quick smile. “Good job with the tripping. It gave me time to get the blood.”
“Wish I’d meant it, then.” She put the car in reverse. “And could we please have another word for blood, outside of Morganville? Something like, oh, I don’t know. Chocolate? Red velvet cake?”
“Why is it always sugar with you?” Shane asked.
“Shut up, Collins. This one was all on you, you know.”
He shrugged and put his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
“What are we going to do?” Claire asked. “About Oliver?”
Nobody had an answer.
The sheriff’s cruiser let loose a shocking little whoop of siren, just to let them know he meant business. Eve swallowed, put the car in reverse, and backed the sedan onto the street. “Guess we’ll figure it out as we go,” she said. “Anybody got his cell number?”
“I do,” Michael and Claire said, simultaneously, and exchanged guilty looks. Michael took out his phone and texted something as Eve drove—staying well under the speed limit, which Claire thought was very smart—and as they passed a sign announcing the town limit, the sheriff’s car coasted to a stop. The lights were still flashing.
“Keep going?” Eve asked. She kept looking in the rearview mirror. “Guys? Decision?”
“Keep going,” Shane said, leaning forward. “We can’t get back as long as he’s watching. If we’re going back at all. Which I don’t vote for, by the way.”
“Better idea,” Michael said, and pointed up ahead, on the left side of the narrow, very dark road. “There’s a motel. We check in, wait for Oliver to join us. We’re going to have to sit the day out somewhere, anyway.”
“There?” Eve sounded appalled, and Claire could see why. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz. It wasn’t even as good as that motel in the movie
And the parking lot was empty.
“You can’t be serious,” Eve said. “Guys. People get
“Eve,” Michael said, “horror movies are not documentaries.”
“And yet, I really think a serial killer owns this place. No. Not going to—”
Michael’s phone buzzed. He flipped it open and read the text. “Oliver says to stop here. He’ll join us in about another hour.”
“You are
“Hey, you’re the one who had to have the ice cream. Look what kind of trouble we got ourselves into. At least this way we’re safe in a room with a door that locks. And the sign says they have HBO.”
“That stands for Horrible Bloody Ohmygod,” Eve said. “Which is the way they kill you. When you think you’re safe.”
“Eve! ” Claire was starting to get creeped out, too. Eve put her hands up, briefly, then back down to the wheel.
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, while we’re all screaming and crying. And I’m sleeping in my clothes. With a stake in both hands.”
“It’s probably not run by vampires.”
“First, you wanna bet?” Eve hit the brakes and put the car in park. “Second, sharp pointy things tend to work on everything else, too. Including cannibals running creepy motels.”
They sat in silence as the engine ticked and cooled, and finally Shane cleared his throat. “Right. So, we’re going in?”
“We could stay in the car.”
“Yeah, that’s safe.”
“At least we can see them coming. And also run.”
Claire sighed and got out of the car, walked into the small office, and hit the bell on the counter. It seemed really, really loud. She heard doors slamming behind her—Shane, Michael, and Eve finally bailing out. The office was actually nicer than the outside of the building, with carpet that was kind of new, comfortable chairs, even a flat- screen TV playing on the wall with the sound turned off. The place smelled like ... warm vanilla.
Out of the back room came an older lady with graying hair tied back in a ponytail. Claire couldn’t imagine anyone looking less like a serial killer, actually—she looked like a classic grandma, even down to the small, round glasses. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel and was wearing an apron over blue jeans and a checked shirt. “Help you, honey?” she asked, and put the towel down. She looked a little nervous as the others came in behind her. “Y’all need a room?”
“Yes ma’am,” Claire said softly. Michael and Shane were doing their best to look like nice boys, and Eve was, well, Eve. Smiling. “Maybe two, if they’re not too expensive?”
“Oh, they’re not expensive,” the lady said, and shook her head. “Ain’t exactly the Hilton, you know. Thirty-five dollars a night, comes with breakfast in the morning. I make biscuits and sausage gravy, and there’s coffee. Some cereal. Ain’t fancy, but it’s good food.”
Michael stepped up, signed the book, and counted out cash. She read the register upside down. “Glass? You from around here?”
“No ma’am,” he said. “We’re just passing through. Heading for Dallas.”
“What the hell possessed you to come all the way out here?” she asked. “Never mind; glad you did. Fresh sheets and towels in the rooms, soaps, some complimentary shampoo. You need anything, you just call. You kids have a good night. Oh, and no hell-raising. We may be outside of town, but I know the sheriff personally. He’ll make a special trip.”
“Why does everybody think we’re so insane?” Eve asked, and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, we’re nice. Not everybody our age rolls with anarchy.”
“You would, if anarchy offered free ice cream,” Michael said. He accepted the two keys and smiled. “Thank you, ma’am—”
“Name’s Linda,” the lady interrupted. “Ma‘am was my mother. Though I guess I’m old enough now to be ma’am to you folks, more’s the pity. You go on. Let me finish up my baking. You stop back later. I’ll have fresh chocolate chip cookies.”
Eve’s mouth dropped open. Even Michael looked impressed. “Uh—thanks,” he said, and they retreated out to the parking lot, staring at one another. “She’s making cookies.”
