Rachel Caine - Lord of Misrule

The ones in Common Grounds seemed content to stay on, which made sense; it was kind of a secured location anyway, from what Oliver and Amelie had said before—one of the key places in town to hold if they intended to keep control of Morganville.

But Claire wasn’t entirely happy with the way some of those vampires—strangers, mostly, though all from Morganville, according to Eve—seemed to be whispering in the corners. “How do we know they’re on our side?” she asked Eve, in a whisper she hoped would escape vampire notice.

No such luck. “You don’t,” Oliver said, from several feet away. “Nor is that your concern, but I will reassure you in any case. They are all loyal to me, and through me, to Amelie. If any of them ‘turn coats,’ you may be assured that they’ll regret it.” He said it in a normal tone of voice, to carry to all parts of the room.

The vampires stopped whispering.

“All right,” Oliver said to Claire and Eve. The light of dawn was creeping up like a warning outside the windows. “You understand what I want you to do?”

Eve nodded and gave him a sloppy, insolent kind of salute. “Sir, yes sir , General sir!”

“Eve.” His patience, what little there was, was worn to the bone. “Repeat my instructions.”

Eve didn’t like taking orders under the best of circumstances, which these weren’t. Claire quickly said, “We take these walkie-talkies to each of the Founder Houses, to the university, and to anybody else on the list. We tell them all strategic orders come through these, not through cell phone or police band.”

“Be sure to give them the code,” he said. Each one of the tiny little radios had a keypad, like a cell phone, but the difference was that you had to enter the code into it to access the emergency communication channel he’d established. Pretty high tech, but then, Oliver didn’t really seem the type to lag much behind on the latest cool stuff. “All right. I’m sending Hannah with you as your escort. I’d send one of my own, but—”

“Dawn, yeah, I know,” Eve said. She offered a high five to Hannah, who took it. “Damn, girl, love the Rambo look.”

“Rambo was a Green Beret,” Hannah said. “Please. We eat those army boys for breakfast.”

Which was maybe not such a comfortable thing to say in a room full of maybe-hungry vampires. Claire cleared her throat. “We should—”

Hannah nodded, picked up the backpack (Claire’s, now filled with handheld radios instead of books), and handed it to her. “I need both hands free,” she said. “Eve’s driving. You’re the supply master. There’s a check-list inside, so you can mark off deliveries as we go.”

Myrnin was sitting off to the side, ominously quiet. His eyes still looked sane, but Claire had warned Oliver in the strongest possible terms that he couldn’t trust him. Not really.

As if I would, Oliver had said with a snort. I’ve known the man for many human lifetimes, and I’ve never trusted him yet.

The vampires in the coffee shop had mostly retreated out of the big, front area, into the better-protected, light-proofed interior. Outside of the plate glass windows, there was little to be seen. The fires had gone out, or been extinguished. They’d seen some cars speeding about, mostly official police or fire, but the few figures they’d spotted had been quick and kept to the shadows.

“What are they doing?” Claire asked as she hitched her backpack to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. She didn’t really expect Oliver to reply; he wasn’t much on the sharing.

He surprised her. “They’re consolidating positions,” he said. “This is not a war that will be fought in daylight, Claire. Or in the open. We have our positions; they have theirs. They may send patrols of humans they’ve recruited, but they won’t come themselves. Not after dawn.”

“Recruited,” Hannah repeated. “Don’t you mean strong-armed? Most folks just want to be left alone.”

“Not necessarily. Morganville is full of humans who don’t love us, or the system under which they labor,” Oliver replied. “Some will believe Bishop is the answer. Some will act out of fear, to protect their loved ones. He will know how to appeal to them, and how to pressure. He’ll find his human cannon fodder.”

“Like you’ve found yours,” Hannah said.

They locked stares for a few seconds, and then Oliver inclined his head just a bit. “If you like.”

“I don’t,” she said, “but I’m used to the front lines. You got to know, others won’t be.”

Claire couldn’t tell anything from Oliver’s expression. “Perhaps not,” he said. “But for now, we can count on our enemies regrouping. We should do the same.”

Hannah nodded. “I’m out first, then you, Eve. Have your keys in your hand. Don’t hesitate, run like hell for the car, and get it unlocked. I’ll get Claire to the passenger side.”

Eve nodded, clearly jittery. She took the car keys out of her pocket and held them in her hand, sorting through until she had the right key pointing out.

“One more thing,” Hannah said. “You got a flashlight?”

Eve fumbled in her other pocket and came up with a tiny little penlight. When she twisted it, it gave a surprisingly bright glow.

“Good.” Hannah nodded. “Before you get in the car, you shine that in the front and backseats. Make sure you can see all the way down to the carpet. I’ll cover you from the door.”

The three of them moved to the exit, and Hannah put her left hand on the knob.

“Be careful,” Oliver said from the back of the room, which was kind of warmly surprising. He spoiled it by continuing, “We need those radios delivered.”

Should have known it wasn’t personal. Claire resisted the urge to flip him off.

Eve didn’t bother to resist hers.

Then Hannah was swinging open the door and stepping outside. She didn’t do it like in the movies; no drama, she just stepped right out, turned in a slow half circle as she scanned the street with the paintball gun held at rest. She finally motioned for Eve. Eve darted out and headed around the hood of the big, black car. Claire saw the glow of her penlight as she checked the inside, and then Eve was in the driver’s seat and the car growled to a start, and Hannah pushed her toward the passenger door.

Behind them, the Common Grounds door slammed shut and locked. When she looked back, Claire saw that they were pulling down some kind of steel shutters inside the glass.

Locking up for dawn.

Claire and Hannah made it to the car without any problems. Even so, Claire was breathing hard, her heart racing.

“You okay?” Eve asked her. Claire nodded, still gasping. “Yeah, I know. Terror Aerobics. Just wait until they get it at the gym. It’ll be bigger than Pilates.”

Claire choked on her fear, laughed, and felt better.

“That’s my girl. Locks,” Eve said. “Also, seat belts, please. We may be making some sudden stops along the way. Don’t want anybody saying hello to Mr. Windshield at speed.”

The drive through predawn Morganville was eerie. It was very . . . quiet. They’d mapped out a route, planning to avoid the most dangerous areas, but they almost had to divert immediately, because of a couple of cars parked in the middle of the street.

The doors were hanging open, interior lights were still shining.

Eve slowed down and crawled past on the right side, two wheels up on the curb. “See anything?” she asked anxiously. “Any bodies or anything?”

The cars were completely empty. They were still running, and the keys were in the ignition. One strange thing nagged at Claire, but she couldn’t think what it was. . . .

“Those are vampire cars,” Hannah said. “Why would they leave them here like that?” Oh. That was the odd thing. The tinting on the windows.