“You all keep your mouths shut until you’re asked to speak,’” Hans said, and put the car in gear as Gretchen got back in. He turned the big car with a squeal of warm rubber and accelerated fast down the street.
They passed 716 Lot Street. All the lights were on, and the door was open, and someone was standing in the doorway, watching them roar by. It was too quick to tell whether it was Shane or Michael, but Claire hoped it was Shane.
She hoped that if something happened, she at least had gotten to see him before the end.
“I thought we were going to the police station,’” Eve whispered as the car took some turns and wound through the confusing maze of streets.
“We’re not?’” Claire whispered back.
“Passed it back there. I guess we’re going somewhere else.’” Eve sounded flat-out scared, and when Claire reached over, she found Eve’s hand was cold and shaking. They held on to each other as the car made more turns, and then slowed for some kind of barricade. “Oh God. We’re going to the square.’”
“The square?’”
“Founder’s Square. It’s, like, vamptown this time of night.’” Eve swallowed and gripped Claire’s hand more tightly. “I’m trying to think of any way this could be a good thing.’”
“Hush,’” Detective Hess said quietly. “You’re okay. Trust me.’”
Claire did. She just didn’t trust the two vampire detectives sitting in the front seat, who were obviously more in charge.
The barricade lifted. Hans drove them through, brought the big car to a stop in an unlit parking lot, and turned to look at them. Claire first, then Eve. Hess, last of all.
Gretchen turned, too. She was smiling.
“Something we want you to see,’” Hans said. Gretchen exited the car and opened the back door on Eve’s side. “Out.’”
They clambered out into the cooling night air. The moon was up, casting a sickly yellow glow that didn’t illuminate much. The dark seemed very deep, even though there was still some indigo lining the horizon. Not even really full night yet…
A cold, strong hand closed over Claire’s upper arm. She squeaked breathlessly, and heard Eve making a sound of surprise, too. Gretchen had somehow gotten between them, holding them both by the arms.
Hans threw a look at Detective Hess. “Stay with the car,’” he said.
“I’m coming with the girls.’”
“You’re taking orders like a good little neutral,’” Hans said. “Unless you want to lose that status for both you and your partner. This isn’t some minor incident. This has the attention of the Elders. If the girls don’t cause trouble, they’ll come back unharmed, but you stay here.’”
Gretchen said, “No, Hans. Let him come. It’ll be good for him to attend.’”
Hans frowned at her, then shrugged. “Fine. But get in the way, Hess, and you’re meat.’”
Gretchen hustled the girls forward.
“What’s going on?’” Eve asked. Neither of the vampires answered. Claire turned her head and saw that Hess was behind them, but somehow, that didn’t give her all that much comfort. Gretchen frog-marched them around the corner of a blank-faced brick building, and into…
A park.
Claire blinked, surprised, because this was actually very…nice. Green grass, big shady trees rustling in the darkness. There were lights, too, strung through the tree branches and shining on flowers and bushes and walking paths.
The area that bordered the park was more alive than anything she’d seen yet in Morganville. Where the stores bordering the campus were run-down and dingy, the ones facing the square were shining, polished, beautifully maintained. Beautiful in an old-world kind of way, all stone and marble and pillars. There were gargoyles, too, built onto the roofs as drain spouts.
It looked like pictures Claire had seen of old European towns, only…nicer.
Every business facing the square was open. Two outdoor restaurants were serving, and the smell of roasting meats and fresh bread made Claire’s mouth water. All she’d really had for the day was coffee, and that was long gone.
And then she remembered what Eve had said. If downtown at night was vamptown, why the restaurants?
She knew when they passed close to one of them. There were groups dining, mixed vampire and human; the vampires had plates of food and were eating just as enthusiastically as the humans. “You eat!’” Claire blurted, astonished. Gretchen glanced at her with those cold, alien eyes.
“Of course,’” she said. “It provides us no nutrition, but the taste is still attractive. Why? You’ll find that poisons will do you no good, if you’re searching for a way to kill us.’”
Claire hadn’t even thought that far, actually. She was just…weirdly intrigued.
The stores they passed were incredible. Jewelers, with displays of gems and gold. Book dealers carrying ancient volumes as well as new best sellers. Clothing stores, lots of them, with tasteful and expensive styles. It was like a rich neighborhood from a major city, like Dallas or Houston or Austin, had been transplanted directly in.
Weird.
And all the shoppers were vampires. In fact, there were lots of them around, more than Claire had ever imagined lived in Morganville; the more she saw, the more scared she felt. They were staring at her and Eve like the girls were cows on the way to the slaughterhouse, and she felt horribly alone. I want to go home. I swear, if you let me get out of this, I’ll move back with Mom and Dad. I’ll never leave again….
Gretchen steered them toward a black marble building with gold lettering at the top. ELDERS’ COUNCIL, it said.
“It’s okay,’” Hess said quietly from behind them. “You’ll be okay, girls. Just cooperate. If they ask questions, tell the truth.’”
Claire barely felt her feet on the polished black marble steps. It was a little like moving in a dream, helpless and numb, but Gretchen’s grip on her arm was all too real. And painful. Ouch. Bruises later.
Hans opened the big polished door, and they went inside.
Of all the things Claire expected to see, she somehow hadn’t expected a television set, but there one was, tuned to a twenty-four-hour news channel showing flickering pictures of a war—bombs exploding, soldiers shooting. And standing in front of it, arms folded, was Oliver. He wasn’t wearing his hippie-dippie Coffee Shop Guy clothes; he was wearing a suit, black, tailored, and sharp as a knife. His graying hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, and he was wearing a tie. No, not a tie, exactly. Kind of like a scarf, with a diamond pin through it to hold it in place. Maybe it had been fashionable when Oliver was younger.
“Some things never change,’” he said, staring at the television. “People continue to kill over the stupidest possible excuses. And they call us monsters.’”
On the last word, his gaze snapped to Claire, and she shivered. Oliver had nice eyes, but somehow, they scared her even more than Gretchen’s ice-cold ones. Maybe it was because she still wanted to like him, no matter what he’d done. He killed Michael! she reminded herself. Well, he’d mostly killed him, anyway.
“Hello,’” Oliver said to her, and nodded. He moved his stare to Eve. “Eve. We’ve missed you at the shop.’”
“B—’” Eve swallowed what she’d been about to say, which Claire was ninety-nine percent sure was Bite me. “Thanks.’” Which for Eve was amazingly cautious. If anybody had been shocked and angry about Oliver turning out vampire, it had been Eve.
Oliver nodded and walked across the large, empty room—empty except for the silently playing television and thick plush maroon carpet—and opened a set of double doors. He wasn’t the doorman; he walked on through and into the next room. Gretchen pushed Claire and Eve forward. The carpet was squishy soft under Claire’s feet, and she caught the scent of fading flowers. Roses. Lots of roses.
It hit her full force when they entered the next room, which was a big circular place with burgundy velvet curtains all around, with pillars in between. A low-key chandelier cast a medium-bright glow. Same carpet, but this room had furniture—chairs laid out in neat rows, in three sections with aisles between.