Ghost Town

There were bodies on the warehouse floor. They weren’t moving. Some of them had very, very pale faces, and wide eyes, and mouths still open in silent screams. Bite marks on their throats.

There were also a couple of vampires down—also pale, but with stakes in their chests; that didn’t necessarily mean they were dead, just wounded. There was one who was definitely dead, because—and Claire had to control an urge to retch—his head was missing. There was still a stake in his heart, too.

She thought she saw the head a few feet away in the corner, but no way was she going to go take a closer look. She was thankful Shane turned away from all that, heading into a hallway that cha

The hallway opened into another big room, and the music wasn’t quite loud enough here to cover the screams. Or the sound of fighting.

Shane stopped, zipped open the bag, and pulled out a crossbow. He stuck the silver stake he’d been gripping into a pocket of his jeans, loaded the crossbow, put another bolt between his teeth, and nodded to Claire to follow. She nodded back.

When they came around the corner, they saw where the noise was coming from. A group of people were hemmed tightly into a corner, mostly cowering, but some were big, drunk-looking frat dudes who were yelling challenges and smashing wooden crates over the heads of the vampires who were closing in on them. The lights in here were dim, dirty fluorescents, and flickering like mad, but somehow Claire saw what happened next with high-definition, slow-motion clarity.

A male vampire—young-looking, with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a black leather jacket—grabbed hold of one of the frat boys (who was, she realized, wearing an EEK T-shirt) and dragged him away from the others. The boy was football-big, but the slender vamp lifted him right off the ground by the neck, glaring up at him as he struggled and tried to scream.

Then the vampire said, “You think you can defy us and live? Who do you think you are, meat? This is our town. It’s always been ours. You have to pay for your disrespect.”

And then he closed his fist and crushed the boy’s big, muscular throat like crunching up a sheet of paper.

Shane brought the crossbow up almost as fast and fired. The bolt hit the vamp in the back, on the left side, just about dead center in the heart.

The two bodies hit the floor together.

And then all the vampires turned on Shane and Claire. Shane loaded the second bolt and dropped the bag between the two of them. Claire didn’t need any instructions; she crouched down and groped around inside the bag. No extra crossbow, unfortunately, but plenty more bolts, which she took out, and two vials of silvery liquid—silver nitrate. Claire handed Shane another bolt to put between his teeth and popped the cap on one of the vials.

The vampires didn’t look familiar to her, but then, she didn’t keep up with every bloodsucker in Morganville; she thought these were probably some of the ones Amelie had been concerned about, who weren’t taking the new human-rights decrees of the town quite so well. Well, vampires liked to be in charge, no doubt about that. And they didn’t like being challenged.

I just saw that boy die, she thought, but then shut that thought off, walled it away, because it wouldn’t help to think about it. Not at all. “Eve!” she yelled. “Eve Rosser! ”

From somewhere near the far edge of the human crowd, she saw a very white face turn toward them under a sleek cap of black hair. Eve didn’t say anything, but there wasn’t any time, because the vampires were coming for them.

Shane fired once, taking down one of the five, and as he reloaded, Claire threw the contents of the vial in an arc across the other four. Where the silver nitrate hit vampire skin, it hissed and bubbled like acid. That stopped at least one, and slowed down the others long enough for Shane to get off another shot. It went wide as the vampire batted the bolt aside in midair and lunged for them. Claire dived one way, and Shane the other; he hit the floor and rolled, came up on his knees, and reloaded another bolt in time to get the vamp square in the chest as it rushed him. It still reached him, and Claire uncapped the other vial of silver nitrate, heart pounding, but Shane rolled again, out of reach, and the vamp collapsed on the floor before it could claw him.

The other two still in the fight were women—one about her mom’s physical age, with gray streaks in her long hair, and a lean, mean face. The other looked barely older than Claire herself, with short red hair and a round face that might have been sweet-looking, if it weren’t for the glowing eyes and pointy teeth. Both had gotten burned by the silver nitrate, and they weren’t in a hurry to get another dose, but Claire realized that Shane was out of crossbow bolts, and she’d dropped the rest by the bag, ten feet away.

She made a dash for them. The red-haired vamp cut her off, laughing, and kicked the bolts into the far corner, along with the black canvas bag.

Claire yanked her silver stake out of the waistband of her pants. She was terrified, but she was also angry—angry that Eve had been pe

“Hey!” Shane yelled, and tossed his empty crossbow to the ground as he jumped to his feet. “You going to let her have all the fun? Come on, Vampirella! Let’s go!”

The older vamp turned on him with a snarl, and in one leap was all over him like some horrible jumping spider. Shane hit the ground hard, on his back, and tried to roll, but the vamp was too strong. She snarled again, jaws gaping wide, and Claire desperately threw the silver nitrate at her. It hit, but the vampire ignored the burns.

A blur flashed out of the hallway and hit the vamp in a full tackle, taking her completely off of Shane as she tried to bite him. Both Shane’s attacker and the newcomer hit the far wall with a hollow boom, and then jumped apart. Both snarling.

Both vampires.

Michael. He looked tremendously scary when he was like this, all eyes and teeth, and he looked strong. Claire swallowed hard and focused on the vamp in front of her, the redhead, who had been as surprised as Claire at Michael’s furious arrival . . . but was getting over it fast.

The vamp lunged for her, but came up short with a kind of fu

Behind her stood Eve, both hands in the vamp’s hair. “That’s my friend, you bitch!” Eve said, and—when she was sure Claire was ready—shoved the vamp at her, off balance.

Onto the point of Claire’s silver-coated, blinged-out stake.

The vamp cried out, and for a second her eyes met Claire’s, and Claire felt something terrible: guilt. There was terror in those alien eyes, and hurt, and surprise . . . and then the vamp went down at her feet, taking the stake with her.

The vamp girl had been somebody’s daughter once. Somebody’s sister. Maybe even somebody’s girlfriend. Maybe she hadn’t asked to be what she was now.

Claire felt sick and she wanted to cry, but there wasn’t time, because Shane was at her side now, pulling her into his arms.

“Eve?” he asked. “You okay?”

Claire turned her head to look at her friend. Eve didn’t look okay. Her Goth makeup was a mess, mascara smeared and ru

But it was her eyes that really told Claire how not-okay she was. They were wide and full of misery. Without even knowing why, Claire let go of Shane and hugged Eve, who hugged her back so hard it hurt. Eve was trying not to cry, from her hiccuping little gasps for breath.