the very least, Monica was a rabbit to throw to the wolves, and she wouldn’t hesitate to do it if it was the difference between life and death for Shane. “If you get in my way, I’ll kill you.” It was glaringly simple to her right now, and she meant it, every bit of it. Monica had never earned herself anything else, and despite all the breaks Claire had been willing to give, and how kind she was deep down, right now all that was gone. Just … gone.
And what was left was something Monica fully understood, all right, because she took a breath and tossed her hair back and nodded. “I’m not getting in your way,” she said. “I’ll help. I owe Shane for something. Besides, who do you know who’s more ruthless than me?
She was perfectly earnest about that, and Claire didn’t have time to untangle the crazy, anyway. She just said, “Fine. Let’s go,” and headed for the armored truck. Michael was already unlocking it. “But you ride in the back, Monica.”
Michael drove, because he was once again the only one with vampire vision; Eve and Claire shared the rest of the front seat, not very comfortably because of the shotguns he’d given them, and Monica, Richard, and Hannah were in the back.
Eve was watching Monica through the narrow window. “If she puts a foot wrong, I am seriously considering playing Shank the Skank,” she said.
“What happened?” Claire asked. “You and Michael—you were convinced he was dead. I saw you. But then …”
“Then Michael overheard Myrnin fessing up to Lord High Inquisitor Oliver, and Oliver mentioned how Shane just
Claire shrugged, not really caring right now. “I think that once they’re in it, it’s pretty hard for them to back out,” she said. “I’m not leaving without him, Eve. I can’t. Not again. I don’t care what happens, but I’m not letting him die like that.”
Grief and terror threatened to spill out of the tightly locked container inside her, and Eve grabbed her hand and held on to it, hard. “I know,” she said. “Trust me, I know.” She did. Michael had been taken by the draug, anchored underwater. Fed on.
She knew.
Claire swam up out of her misery long enough to ask, “What about, you know, the two of you? Better?”
Eve cut a glance toward Michael, who was driving and pretending hard not to be hearing any of this. His acting needed work. “Sure,” Eve said, but that wasn’t so convincing, either. “We’re good to go.”
“I’m not asking if you’re good to be working together. I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” Eve interrupted. “Let’s just … talk about it later.”
Michael could not, Claire thought, have looked more tense, or more sad.
Richard and Hannah were having a fierce, whispered conversation in the corner of the truck as they braced themselves against the metal walls, and gripped the panic straps overhead. Monica had apparently decided that she had every right to sit on Amelie’s plush throne, which wasn’t at all a surprise. Claire really hoped that Amelie found out about it later.
That would be fun.
The drive back across town didn’t take long, especially at the speed Michael was driving. Night had fallen hard because the clouds were still hanging heavy over the town, though the rain had stopped. The air still had that moist, unpleasant feel to it, and Claire felt as if she had mold growing on her skin in a sticky, invisible net.
The clock in her head was ticking, and it had been too long, way too long, for Shane already. She closed her eyes and concentrated on him, on somehow reaching him, giving him strength.
If she’d ever had any doubts that she loved him, really loved him, she knew now. It was easy to love somebody when love was happy, but when it was hard, when it meant facing things you feared … that was different. He’d done it for her, many times. And now she had to do it for him.
She opened her eyes, feeling calm and centered and focused, as Michael brought the truck to a halt. “Same drill,” he said. “I get out and open the back. Claire, you keep the keys.” He didn’t say,
“I still love you,” he said. “I mean it. All of it.”
She didn’t answer, not verbally, but she nodded.
And then he was a blur as he bailed out of the truck.
Tears rolled down Eve’s cheeks, and she whispered, “God, I love you, too.”
Maybe he heard it. Claire hoped so.
Claire climbed out, helped Eve, and by the time she’d made it around to the back, Hannah, Richard, and Monica were out. And Michael was gone. Claire locked the truck again with the remote and stuck the keys in her pants pocket.
Hannah clicked on a heavy flashlight. Eve had one, too. “Richard, I’m with you and Monica. Claire, the cell network should still be working for high-priority users. Call if you find Shane. I’ll do the same. Either way, we’re back here in fifteen minutes.”
“Through the center entrance, staircase down. Then we split off, right and left. Check every pool and tank,” Hannah said. “Girls, you watch your backs in there.”
“Ay-firmative,” Eve said, and tried for a smile. “Sorry. An
They moved together in a group, in through the main entrance.
It was dark inside, and Eve’s flashlight didn’t light up too much. They took the stairs down, and Monica stumbled; Eve hissed at her, something about
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Hannah nodded. “You go right,” she whispered. “Stay quiet. Fifteen minutes, Claire. I mean it.”
Claire nodded. She didn’t mean it at all.
She and Eve split off to the right. Eve’s flashlight illuminated a hot circle that showed concrete, pipes, neon yellow signs and tags; there were some faint emergency lights down here, still functioning on battery, Claire guessed, so she asked Eve to switch her flashlight off. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust, but it meant better peripheral vision.
This bottom level of the building extended out into open-air pools, but they were farther away, on the other side of a large chain-link fence. Inside, there were regimented rows of closed and open tanks. Eve climbed the ladder to the first one and used her flashlight. She shook her head and jumped down.
The next, farther on, was a closed tank with a plastic curved lid over it and some kind of sliding port for taking samples. Claire’s turn to climb, and she slid open the port, gagged on the smell that issued forth, but she couldn’t see anything in the cloudy, foul water. If Shane was in there, he couldn’t have made it.
She jumped down next to Eve. Eve didn’t even ask; Claire guessed she didn’t have to.
They kept going. Five more tanks, some closed, some open. Nothing.
The draug were nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Maybe Michael had been right. Maybe they’d ignore the humans in favor of Michael’s wild-goose chase …
“Out there,” Eve whispered. “Look.”