Black Dawn

were no longer important, she thought; now that the vampires could fight the draug with an edge, the last thing they wanted was their blood bank underfoot. It was all business now.

She liked being ignored.

“Hey,” said a quiet voice from behind her. She turned and saw a door open just a crack, and through it peered a slice of a narrow face. Someone shorter than she was, and probably not a vamp. “Don’t go, Claire.”

The door opened wider, and Claire saw that it was, of all people, Miranda—Morganville’s town psychic/lost girl. If she had any real family, Claire had never met them; most often, the girl looked as if she’d dressed out of one of those donated clothing bins, and she never quite looked … there. Until suddenly she focused on you. Then things really got interesting. Claire hadn’t been a true believer in psychic predictions when she’d come to Morganville—she was too scientific for that. But a few encounters with Miranda, and she was prepared to at least entertain the idea of some very esoteric physics that nobody could quite explain yet.

“Don’t go where, Mir? And what are you doing here? I thought you left town!”

“I tried, but I couldn’t go,” Miranda said, and swung the door all the way open. It was a storeroom of some kind, piled with boxes. “I’ve been hiding in here.”

“You don’t need to do that. We’d let you stay with us …”

“That’s not a good idea,” she said, with confidence that was far too firm for her age. “You know that things happen when I’m around. I try to stay on my own as much as I can.”

“Miranda—”

“I only wanted to tell you not to go. That’s all.” Her blue eyes studied Claire with eerie focus. There was something sad about the girl’s expression that didn’t make Claire feel any better. “You should go back to Shane. He’s okay now. I don’t think he’s going to be all crazy anymore.”

“Was he going crazy?” Claire asked.

Miranda shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “It’s not exactly easy to tell with him. I think that’s because I don’t understand boys very well.” She said that with utter seriousness, and Claire had to fight not to laugh.

“Who does? Anyway. Where is it I’m not supposed to go?” Because Miranda’s warnings, while usually on the nose, rarely occurred in a logical fashion. It was always beforehand, but how long before it would happen was an open question. Once Claire had tried graphing the intervals. It was as random as the value of pi, and made her head hurt in Myrnin-like ways.

“Home,” Miranda said immediately. “Don’t go home.”

“I’m not likely to be going home before the situation outside gets better,” Claire said gently. “So it’s probably not an issue, right?”

“Maybe,” Miranda agreed, but she still looked troubled. “I just—it keeps moving. I don’t understand. Maybe you should just stay here with me and not go anywhere. It might be safer here.”

“I can’t stay here, sweetie. Listen, do you have any food? Water?”

“I took some from the other closets. Power bars and water and those energy drink things. Do you ever read the labels? It’s a little scary. And they don’t taste very good. Next time Eve makes cookies I’ll get some.” Claire couldn’t tell if that was a promise or a prediction. She decided to let it go.

“Mir, thank you, but I really need to go now. Are you going to be okay here?”

“Here?” Miranda nodded. “I’ll be okay here. But you really shouldn’t go home.”

“I won’t,” Claire promised. “Not soon.”

“Don’t tell anybody I’m here.”

“I won’t,” she repeated, and backed out the door. “Stay safe.”

Miranda caught the closing door and locked gazes with her. “I mean it,” she said. “Claire, don’t go home. Bad things happen if you go home.”

That sent a little shiver over the back of Claire’s neck. “Promise,” she said. “Not going home.”

Miranda nodded and closed the door, then locked it.

That is one screwed-up kid, Claire thought, though Miranda wasn’t a child anymore, not really. Maybe she had never been. But she was more than fifteen now, probably sixteen—the age Claire herself had been when she’d arrived in Morganville. Wow. It didn’t seem so long ago, but at the same time, it seemed like … forever. Like there was no world out there beyond the borders of the town.

One day, I’ll get out of here, she thought. I can leave anytime I want.

That sounded uncomfortably like what addicts told themselves, now that she thought about it.

The ride down in the elevator was uneventful, but when she stepped off, she didn’t see Myrnin, or Oliver, or … well, anyone. Not right off.

Then she saw a Myrnin-shaped shadow over on the left side of the garage, standing next to a Morganville police cruiser. He was talking to someone.

Claire walked over, and Myrnin spun in place toward her. “Ah!” he said. “You’re here. Good.” He had that manic, frantic edge to him this time; she always dreaded when that happened. It made her very tired, and it was bound to be a sackful of crazy, whatever he wanted.

“Where’s Oliver?” Claire asked. Because he wasn’t here, although this had allegedly been all about the scary boss man. Hannah Moses was, standing next to the driver’s side door of the cruiser; she looked … remote was probably the best way to describe it. Closed off. “Don’t tell me he left. I didn’t take that long.”

“Yes, yes, Oliver,” Myrnin said. He seemed nervous to her. Oddly off balance, whereas Hannah just seemed —cold. Nobody was acting quite like they ought to, and for some reason, it rang an alarm bell, deep inside. “Oliver is over here. Come, he’s right over here.”

Claire took a step back instead of toward him.

She was too late.

Myrnin lunged forward, grabbed her with one hand over her mouth to trap her scream of surprise and the other around her waist to lift her, kicking, off the ground. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Claire, don’t. I promise, this is necessary. Trust me. Please.”

Hannah was opening the back of the cruiser. “In there,” Claire heard her say, over her own muffled shrieks. Myrnin slid in with her, keeping a tight hold so she couldn’t scream or struggle much. Panic was racing through her veins now, because this was wrong. Myrnin—there was a lot of crazy in Myrnin, but violence? Abduction? Not right. Not right at all.

And Hannah? Why was Hannah helping? Claire trusted her, absolutely trusted her. This … shook the world right out from under her feet.

Hannah slammed the back door and got in the front. “Keep her quiet,” she said. “I need to get us past the front lines. Once we’re out of here, it won’t matter.”

“I don’t prefer to do it this way,” Myrnin said. “I can make her understand. Truly.”

“In time, maybe, but we’re committed now. We don’t have time to sort out her questions. Oliver has the timeline?”

“Yes,” Myrnin said. “And I suppose you’re right. We can’t wait.” He looked down at Claire, who was staring up at him with horror and betrayal. And trying desperately to bite his hand. “I’m sorry, my dear. Just … relax.”

She didn’t. Couldn’t. She fought and fought, kicked the seats, shrieked, scratched, until finally, with a growl of frustration, Myrnin put his fingers to the side of her neck and pressed.

And she …

… Went dark.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN OLIVER

I had been waiting for this moment, and finally it had come. Our enemies, vulnerable. Our future, finally visible, if only we could reach out and take it. On that far horizon was freedom from the fear vampires had carried in their bones since before I’d been made immortal.