Black Dawn

soon.” He must have thought about that for a second, because he said, not as if he really meant it, “Sorry.”

Even though he wasn’t glancing her way, Claire felt a kind of pressure settle on her; Myrnin’s original plan, which she very well knew, was that she would be the one to end up in the center of his machine, the eyes and ears and nervous system of Morganville. It wasn’t a role she ever wanted to play, and he knew that.

It didn’t mean he’d really given up his dream, though.

Though he might have been halfheartedly apologizing to Shane, too. Who knew?

After another try, Myrnin sighed and shook his head. “The portals aren’t working,” he said. “We will have to go in vehicles. It’s not my preference, but it’s the best option we have. Going on foot is a ridiculous risk. We will certainly need a fast escape route.”

“Lucky for you I have a bitchin’ pickup downstairs,” Shane said. “Which provides an excellent fire platform for a flamethrower, by the way.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a tank,” Myrnin said. “Pity we don’t have one.”

“Actually,” Michael said slowly, his forehead creased in thought, “we just might. Follow me.”

Anything was better, Claire thought, than the smelly, chemical-heavy cleaner’s closet, and she sucked down a deep, clean breath of air once they were back in the hall. It made her cough. She could almost imagine her breath puffing out the sickly gold color of Pine-Sol. Her clothes reeked of the stuff. She didn’t know if it was bothering any of the others, but it definitely wasn’t her favorite smell in the world, especially in that intense burst.

Michael led them down to the elevators and pressed the button for the parking garage. He looked … well, smug. Definitely smug.

“Spill it,” Shane said. “You look like you won a year’s shopping spree at the blood bank or something.”

“You’ll see,” he said, and then the elevator doors dinged and rolled open …

… And Eve was standing there. She was wet and muddy, and there were four other vampires with her. She actually took a surprised step back when she saw Michael.

And he took the same step back when he saw her.

Oh, so not good. Claire’s heart practically ripped in half at the expression on Eve’s face—a fast-changing mixture of longing, anger, fear, love, and finally, sadness. She reached up and pulled her earplugs out and said, “Sorry—I was just surprised.”

Michael didn’t answer. He was looking … well, sick was probably the only word for it. Myrnin ignored the whole thing and pushed past him, out of the elevator. Shane, after a hesitation, followed, with Claire. Michael stepped out last, and only because the doors started to shut on him.

In the sudden and uncomfortable silence, the brown-haired vamp standing next to Eve took his headphones off and said, “Is there some problem?” He was talking to Michael, but he was looking at Eve.

“No,” she said, and smiled brightly. “Thanks, Stephen. It’s all good. You guys go on.”

“Good work,” said the tall, dark-haired vampire woman, and opened the elevator doors again for the four of them to step inside while Eve lingered behind. “Call on us anytime, Eve.”

She nodded without taking her gaze off Michael, her dark eyes large and unreadable now.

“Making new friends?” he asked her. No mistaking the jealousy in that tone. “Stephen? I thought you were off vampires.”

“Lighten up,” Eve said. “I saved his life. It’s not like we’re going out.”

Even Shane winced at that one. Michael didn’t. He remained stone-faced, staring at his girl, and then he shrugged and said, “Well, you can go with your new friends or come with us. Your choice, I guess.”

“Where are we going?” Eve asked, like it wasn’t even a real question. Which it probably wasn’t.

“The water treatment plant,” Myrnin said. “I’ll catch you up if you’d like.”

“That’s—okay,” Eve said, and held up a hand when he would have kept talking. “I’m so not in the mood, Chatty Batty. Just hand me something to do.”

“Oh,” he said, and rubbed his hands together, “I think I can do that. Yes, absolutely. Michael? If you would lead on, please?”

Michael was no longer smug, but he led them toward the far end of the garage. It felt oppressive and damp down here, and smelled of wet concrete and mold—smells that reminded Claire vividly of the draug, the pool, the horrific fight to survive.

The fear.

She took hold of Shane’s hand, which was strategically stupid but emotionally smart; his warm, steady grip anchored her and made her feel less out of control. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he didn’t let go.

A boxy gray shape loomed up in the dark, and Myrnin said, “Ahhhhh,” in the way people do when they finally understand something. Claire squinted, but couldn’t see much until Eve flicked on her flashlight and cast a harsh white glare over the gunmetal gray surface.

It was an armored cash truck, with some logo on it that was too sun-faded to read. It had a thick metal hide and a very intimidating door on the back.

“Nice. Gun ports,” Shane said, flicking a fingernail at a round metal covering on the side of the truck. “Heavy steel. Run-flat tires. Bullet-resistant glass. Me likey, Mikey.”

“It’s a tank,” Michael said. “Or at least as close as we’re likely to get around here.”

“Pop quiz,” Eve said, and held up her black-fingernailed hand like a kid in school. “Does this thing actually, y’know, run?”

“Oh, yes,” Myrnin said. He was walking around the truck, tapping a finger on his bottom lip. His expression was elated but thoughtful. “It’s the Founder’s personal security vehicle, for her protection in emergencies. Used for her personal evacuation only.”

“Where are the keys?” Shane asked. He’d tried the driver’s side door, but it was, of course, locked.

“No one but Amelie and her assistant would know, and her assistant was evacuated with the others, I’m afraid. Don’t bother trying to force the lock, Michael. It’s hardened against vampires as well as humans. Without the proper keys, we’re not getting in. And yet … it is a good idea. Very good indeed.” Myrnin turned suddenly and focused directly on Claire. “I will go ask Amelie for the keys.”

“Excuse me?” Claire blinked. “That’s … really not a good idea. Oliver wouldn’t let me anywhere close to her. He said she was …”

“Unpredictable,” Myrnin said briskly. “Well, if anyone can handle unpredictable, I should think it would be me. Don’t worry. Oh, all right, then do worry, if that pleases you, but we need the key, and Amelie’s got it. There’s no choice.”

“Pickup truck,” Shane said. “That’s a choice.”

“Not a good one where we’re going,” Myrnin said. He held out a finger toward Michael, then Shane, then Eve, and said, “Stay.”

“Excuse me, we’re not your pets,” Eve said. “You don’t get to order us around …” But she was talking to empty air. Myrnin had already vanished, vampire-speed. The only one who might have caught him was Michael, but Michael wasn’t moving.

When Claire started after him, Michael grabbed her by the shoulder. “No,” he said. “He’s right. Nobody’s better qualified to handle unpredictable vampires than he is. Certainly not you. You are way too vulnerable.”

“I’m not staying here,” she said. “Are you coming or not? Because I don’t think you want to have to tie me up to make me stay.”

Shane heaved a sigh. “Nobody’s tying her up,” he said. “Sorry, Mike. It’s not that I don’t think you’re right, it’s that I know my girl. She’s going. We can either watch her back or stay here. And I’m not staying here, mostly because I don’t take orders from—what did you call him?”

“Chatty Batty,” Eve said. “Hey, it fits.”

“I like it.”

Claire shook off Michael’s hand. He let her. “Then let’s go, before he gets himself killed.”

Shane probably didn’t mean it when he said, “Wait, that was an option? Because I could still stay.”

Myrnin was already well ahead of them, of course, and they had the guards to deal with, but since Claire had