Midnight Alley (30 page)

The cruiser pulled to a stop, and the passenger-side window rolled down. Claire bent over to look inside.

Officer Fenton. ‘‘You shouldn't be out by yourself,'' he said. ‘‘You know better. Everybody's looking for you. Your friends called you in as missing.''

‘‘Oh,'' she said. That hadn't even occurred to her. She hadn't realized how long she'd been away. ‘‘I just—can I get a ride home? Please?''

He shrugged. ‘‘Hop in.'' She did, gratefully, and buckled herself in. Everything ached now—her head, her eyes, every muscle in her body. And she had the feeling it was going to get worse before it got better. ‘‘Speaking of your friends, how are they? Heard about that thing with Shane. Damn shame.''

‘‘He'll be okay,'' she said.

‘‘And the other one? Michael?''

‘‘Yeah, he's fine,'' she said. ‘‘Why?''

‘‘Just checking. Probably good to keep an eye on him, since he was the target of the hit in the first place,'' Fenton said. He turned the patrol car in a slow, crunching circle and headed back out, away from the alley. ‘‘Since the guy was looking for him, specifically.''

Claire's head hurt too much for conversation. ‘‘I guess,'' she agreed faintly. And then some last flash of cognitive clarity put together strings of chemicals, and she felt her heartbeat jump and hammer harder. ‘‘How did you know that?''

‘‘What?''

‘‘I mean, about Sam not being the real target? He was unconscious when you found him. He couldn't have said anything.''

‘‘Unconscious, crap. He was dead.''

‘‘But anyway, he couldn't have said—'' Things clicked into place, and the pattern looked bad. Very bad. ‘‘You were there before the sirens.''

‘‘What are you talking about?''

‘‘When we first looked out, we saw you parked behind Sam's car and we just thought you'd found him there. But you didn't just find him lying in the street—''

Officer Fenton pressed the gas pedal, and the cruiser shot forward at a high rate of speed. He turned on the lights. She heard the harsh clicking sound they made, and the night was flooded with flashes of blue and red strobes.

‘‘Where are you taking me?''

‘‘Shut up.''

Claire put her hand on the door handle, but they were going so fast she knew she couldn't jump. She'd be badly hurt, at the very least. ‘‘If you hurt me, the Founder—''

‘‘That's what we're counting on,'' Fenton sneered. ‘‘Shut up.''

 
Shane would have totally gotten off on the whole vampire-killer-secret-society thing. Claire just wanted to go home. Badly.

In addition to Officer Fenton, the group that gathered in the shed behind the photo processing store included Fenton's wife, the unpleasant nurse who treated Claire as though she were carrying some totally disgusting disease. She even wore latex gloves to tie Claire to the chair.

Claire barely recognized the others. One was a maintenance worker from the university; she'd seen him a few times. One was a bank teller. One was the smooth-faced, unremarkable guy who'd delivered Amelie's note to her that afternoon. He'd killed her courier, Claire found out. He spent a lot of time tracking down who worked for Amelie and trying to find out where she stayed.

He was the one who leaned over into her space, hands braced on the arms of the chair, and said, ‘‘We don't much care for collaborators. Even little underage ones.''

Claire's mouth felt foul and dry, and she was shaking now with the aftereffects of the crystals. Myrnin had been right: the consequences weren't going to be pleasant. ‘‘Captain Obvious, I presume,'' she said.

He laughed. He had nice, white teeth, no sign of vampire fangs. ‘‘Aren't you the clever one. Living up to your reputation, I see.'' He tapped a finger on her gold bracelet. ‘‘Not too many breathers have ever seen the Founder, much less become her pet. Sam Glass was the last one, before you. Did you know that? This is his bracelet you're wearing. Probably sized down a little, though.''

She squirmed a little, but the ropes were too tight. ‘‘What do you want with me?''

‘‘Leverage,'' said Officer Fenton. ‘‘Vamps seem to like you.''

‘‘Not all of them,'' Claire said. If they asked Oliver to come running to her rescue, it wasn't too likely he'd so much as yawn. ‘‘And if you think Amelie's going to sacrifice herself for me, you're crazy.'' Amelie had already sold her down the river, by sending her to Myrnin with the clear expectation that Myrnin would . . . eat her. The fact that he hadn't was just Claire's good luck. ‘‘In fact, I don't think any of them would raise a finger—''

‘‘Michael Glass would,'' Captain Obvious said. ‘‘And he's the one we want. She knows that, of course. She's done everything she could to keep him away from us.'' He flipped open the phone and pressed something on speed dial. ‘‘Tell him where you are.''

Claire glared. ‘‘No.'' She clamped her lips shut as she heard Michael's distant
hello
on the other end.
I'm not going to talk; I'm not going to make a sound. . . .

The door at the back of the shed opened, and someone came in. Thin, greasy, dressed in a black leather jacket with a hole in the pocket. Crazy eyes. Fang marks on his neck.

Jason.

He took the phone from Captain Obvious. ‘‘Hey, Mikey, it's Jason. Just shut up and listen. I've got Claire, and I'm thinking about all the things I can do with her until you get here. Better hurry.''

‘‘No!'' Claire blurted, and realized it was a mistake. She'd just confirmed that she was there, and now Michael wouldn't have any choice, would he? ‘‘Michael,
don't
!''

She could hear the sound of Michael's voice, but not what he was saying. Jason put the phone back to his ear and listened. ‘‘Yeah, that's right. You've got half an hour to show, or I'll bring her home in pieces. Oh, and it's not a trap; it's a business proposition. You walk in alone, you both walk out alive.'' Pause. ‘‘Where? Oh, come on, man. You know where. The captain's waiting.''

He snapped the phone shut, tossed it in the air, and caught it, smiling. His eyes never left Claire.

Michael wouldn't do it. He just wouldn't be that stupid, right? But Shane was in the hospital. He didn't have anybody he could turn to for help except the other vampires, and they wouldn't lift a finger to save Claire. She wasn't sure anymore that Amelie would bother, unless she was just saving her as Myrnin's midnight snack.

The door to the shed opened again, and both Captain Obvious and Jason turned to look.

Detective Travis Lowe stepped inside and closed the door, and for a second Claire felt a wild jolt of relief and satisfaction, but it faded just as quickly. Lowe looked at Jason and Captain Obvious as though he was expecting to find them there, and when his gaze moved to Claire, he didn't react except to seem angry and harassed.

Oh God.
He was one of them. Whoever
them
might be.

‘‘Could you screw this up any more?'' he asked, low and vicious. ‘‘I told you, Glass isn't important. We don't need to do this.''

‘‘He's the youngest. He's a symbol, man,'' Captain Obvious said. ‘‘And he was one of us. He's a traitor.''

One of us?
Did he mean—no, he couldn't mean that. He couldn't mean that Michael
knew
these people, that he'd been part of this skanky little conspiracy . . . but Jason had acted as though Michael knew where they were.

Nurse Fenton destroyed that hope by saying, ‘‘We've already been over this. Michael knows too much. If he decides to talk, we're all dead. We can't take the risk. Not anymore.'' She shot her husband a dark look. ‘‘If you hadn't screwed up—''

‘‘Don't blame me! Vampire car pulling out of the vampire's house, how was I supposed to know it wasn't him?''

Of course. No wonder that had bothered her all along—the house had woken all of them up not because of the threat to Sam, but the threat to Michael, its owner. Even though Michael wasn't there, it was reacting to intent.

Officer Fenton hadn't been the first man on the scene; he'd been the one who staked Sam and left him to die, then pretended to be Johnny-on-the-spot. If Richard Morrell hadn't shown up to scoop and run, he would have succeeded.

Claire swallowed hard and focused on Detective Lowe. ‘‘I thought you were a good guy.''

Something weary and painful passed across his face. ‘‘Claire—'' He shook his head. ‘‘It's not as simple as that. Not in Morganville. You don't just get to be one thing around here.''

‘‘It's not his fault,'' Jason said, and grinned like a wolf. ‘‘If he wants his partner back, he's not going to do anything stupid.''

Detective Hess. They had him. No wonder she hadn't seen him for days—and no wonder Lowe had been acting weird. She looked more closely at Officer Fenton, and found he had a dark bruise on his left cheek that matched the scrapes on Detective Lowe's knuckles. He'd been in the house, maybe with Detective Hess, and Lowe had taken a swing at him.

Lowe's eyes were dark and full of misery, and he looked away from Claire. ‘‘The kid has nothing to do with this,'' he said.

‘‘The
kid
hangs with the top-shelf vampires,'' Nurse Fenton shot back. ‘‘How many humans do you know with access to the Founder? She doesn't even let her own kind get close! Of
course
she's got something to do with this. Probably a lot more than you know.''

Truer than Nurse Fenton knew. Claire thought about what she'd learned from Myrnin—the vampire sickness, the wormhole doorways through town, the network of Founder Houses—and realized that she knew enough to destroy Morganville.

She did her best to look scared and clueless. The first part, at least, wasn't much of a stretch.

When Jason sauntered over and put his hand on Claire's shoulder, she flinched. He smelled like a garbage heap in the summer, and she caught a lingering hint of blood from his coat.
He stabbed Shane.
And he'd smiled about it, too.

‘‘Get your hands off me,'' she said, and turned to stare right at him. ‘‘I'm not afraid of you.''

Lowe grabbed Jason by the arm, swung him around, and slammed him face-first into the rough wooden wall of the shed. ‘‘Me neither,'' he growled. ‘‘And I'm not tied to a chair. Leave her alone.''

‘‘Big hero,'' Nurse Fenton said bitterly. ‘‘You and Hess, you're both pathetic.''

‘‘Am I?'' Lowe twisted Jason's arm painfully high. ‘‘I'm not the one raping and killing girls for fun.''

‘‘Jason's not the one doing it, either,'' Fenton said. ‘‘He just likes to talk about it.''

Claire said, ‘‘Then how'd he know about the one in our basement?''

They all looked at her. ‘‘I never saw a report about any body in your house,'' Lowe said. ‘‘Just the one in the alley.''

Jason laughed, a dry crack of sound. ‘‘They moved it. Hey, Claire, you ever think that maybe it wasn't me? Maybe it was one of your two boyfriends
inside
the house. Shane, he ain't too stable, you know. And who knows about Michael these days?''

She wanted to scream at him, but she saved her strength. She had thin wrists, and Captain Obvious hadn't done a very good job of tying her; she could feel a little give in the ropes, and she wouldn't need much slack to slip at least one hand free. The rough surface of the rope sawed at her skin, but she kept pulling, trying not to make it too obvious, and felt a sudden sharp pain in her wrist as the cut Jason had given her broke open again, sending a slow trickle of blood down her wrist.

It helped, along with the sweat running down her arms. She coughed, and at the same time pulled, and her right hand slipped free of the ropes with a fiery scrape. She kept it behind her back and started working on the knot holding her left hand to the crossbar of the chair.

‘‘So what are you?'' she asked, to fill the silence and keep them from noticing what she was doing. ‘‘Vampire hunters?''

‘‘Something like that,'' Officer Fenton said.

‘‘Not that I've noticed,'' Claire sniffed. ‘‘Shane's dad blew into town and killed all the vampires that I know about. What have
you
done?''

‘‘Shut up,'' Nurse Fenton said flatly. ‘‘You've been here months, if that. You have no idea what this town is like to live in. When we're ready, we'll act. Frank Collins had the right idea, but he wasn't much of a planner.''

‘‘So you're planning a revolution,'' Claire said. ‘‘Not just random attacks.''

‘‘Would you
stop
telling the prisoner our plans?'' Captain Obvious snapped. ‘‘Jesus, don't you watch movies? Just shut up!''

‘‘She's not going to tell anybody,'' Officer Fenton said, in such an offhand way that Claire's heart sank.

They didn't intend to keep any promises to Michael. No way were they letting Michael, or her, walk out of here alive.

But fifteen minutes later, the door burst open and a vampire rushed in, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The greasy smell of cooking flesh filled the shed, and then the vampire kicked the door closed and collapsed against it, gasping. Smoke rose up from him in a thick, choking cloud. In a few places, Claire could see blackened skin beneath the covering.