“It’ll be okay,” she told it, and patted the countertop. “He’ll be okay. We’llbe okay.”
The lights dimmed a little as she shut the door.
Eve’s car wouldn’t start.
“Um . . . this isn’t good,” Eve said as Shane cranked the engine again. There was a click, and nothing. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is notthe time, stupid evil hunk of junk!” She slapped the dashboard, which had zero effect. “Come on, work!”
It was very dark outside—no streetlights on, and the moon and stars were veiled by thick, fast-moving clouds. In the glow of the dashboard, Shane and Eve looked worried. Shane pulled the old-fashioned lever under the dash, and the hood of the car popped up with a thick clunkof metal. “Stay inside,” he said. “I’m going to take a look.”
“Because you’ve got guy parts, you’re automatically a better mechanic than me? I don’t thinkso,” Eve said, and bailed out of the passenger side. Shane banged the back of his head against the seat.
“Seriously,” he said. “Why is it always so hard with her?”
“She’s worried,” Claire said.
“We’re all worried. Youstay in the car.”
“ Idon’t know anything about cars. I will.”
“Finally, a girl with some sense.” He leaned over the seat to kiss her, then got out to join Eve as she hauled the giant, heavy hood of the car upward. From that point on, Claire had a limited view of what was going on—the hood, the dark night outside, some lights glowing in nearby houses. . . .
A car turned the corner, and its headlights swept color over darkness, lighting up the Glass House in all its decaying Victorian glory, then the sun-faded picket fence, the spring crop of weeds along the curb. . . .
And then came a group of vampires out of the darkness, heading for Shane and Eve. One of them was Morley, the skanky homeless dude from the cemetery. She supposed the others were his friends; they didn’t look as polished and well-groomed as most of the other vamps seemed to be. These looked hungry, mean, and dirty.
Claire lunged across the big bench seat from the back and slammed her hand down on the horn. It was as loud as a foghorn, and she heard a sharp bang as either Eve or Shane hit their head on the hood of the car as they straightened up.
“Guys!” she yelled. “Trouble!”
Shane, one hand held to the top of his head, opened the back door and pulled her out. “Door,” he said. “Get back inside. The car thing isn’t happening.”
Claire didn’t argue. She dug her front door key out of her jeans pocket as she ran, banged open the front gate, and skidded to a halt in front of the door. The porch light flickered on.
“Thanks,” she told the house absently, jammed the key into the lock, and opened the door.
Shane was at the foot of the steps, but he’d stopped, looking back.
Eve was trapped between the car and the house, and she was surrounded by vampires. Claire gasped, and saw that neither Shane nor Eve had had time to grab the weapons bag out of the car.
She still had hers.
Morley lunged forward, slamming Eve against the rounded fender of her car, and Eve’s scream of panic split the night. Shane rushed toward her, pulling a stake from his jacket, but it wasn’t going to help. There were six of them, all with vampire strength.
He’d get himself killed.
Claire zipped open the bag and pulled out the big plastic Super Soaker. It was a totally absurd color of neon, and it was heavy with a full load of water.
God, please work. Please work.
Claire moved forward at a run, and pressed the trigger. A shockingly thick spray shot out, hit the sidewalk, and splashed; she quickly angled it up, over the fence, and sprayed it in an arc across Shane’s back, the vampires turning to meet him, Morley, Eve.
Where it hit exposed vampire skin, the solution of silver powder and water lit them up like Christmas trees. The bony woman with long dark hair heading for Shane broke off with a yelp, slapped at her burning face, and then gaped at the burns on her hands as the solution began to eat away at her flesh.
Claire pumped the toy gun again, building up pressure, and put it to her shoulder as she came to a flat-footed stop. “Back off!” she yelled. “Everybody just stop! You, let her go!” That last was directed at Morley, who had Eve by the shoulder and was holding her in front of him. He was wearing a filthy old raincoat, and it had protected him from the spray; she could see a livid burn spreading across his cheek, but nothing that would really hurt him.
Shane backed up next to Claire, breathing hard. She aimed the Super Soaker directly at Morley and Eve. “Let her go,” she repeated. “We didn’t do anything to you.”
“Nothing personal,” Morley said. “We’re starving, love. And you’re so juicy.”
“Ewww,” Eve said faintly. “Has anybody ever told you that you smell like tombstones?”
He glanced at her and smiled. “You’re the first,” he assured her. “Which is a bit charming. I’m Morley. And you are . . . ? Ah yes. Amelie’s friend. I remember you from the cemetery. Sam Glass’s grave.”
“Nice to meet you. Don’t eat me, ’kay?”
He laughed and combed her hair back from her pale face. “You’re cute. I might have to turn you and keep you as a pet.”
“Hey!” Claire said sharply, and took a step forward. “Didn’t you hear me? Let her go!She’s under Amelie’s protection!”
“I see no bracelet.” Morley grabbed Eve’s arm and lifted it to the dim light, turning it this way and that. “No, definitely nothing there.” He kissed the back of her hand, then extended his fangs and prepared to munch out on the pale veins at her wrist.
Eve twisted and punched him in the mouth.
Morley stumbled backward against the car, and Claire triggered the sprayer, coating him in silver spray. This time, he screamed and flapped his arms and lunged away from Eve, toward the darkness. Claire sprayed the rest of his crew again as they followed, waking howls of pain and anger.
Shane dashed forward, vaulted the gate, and helped Eve stand up from where Morley had shoved her. “That went well,” he said. His voice was shaking. “No fang marks, right?”
“Lucky me,” Eve said, and laughed wildly. “Get the weapons bag. I can’t believeyou left it in the car; what was that? What town did yougrow up in?”
“I was trying to help you fix the car!”
“Bozo.” She hugged him, hard, and smacked him on the back of the head; then she took a deep breath as Shane left her to retrieve the black nylon bag out of the car. “And you.”
Claire lowered the Super Soaker. “What? What did I do?”
“Saved my life? Redefined awesome in our time?”
“Oh. Okay.” She felt a smile bloom from deep inside, and for a moment, it was all good.
Really good.
“Ladies,” Shane said, and slammed the car door. “Let’s have the champagne inside, okay? And talk about who pulled the wires in the engine, and how we’re planning to back Michael up with no wheels?”
He had a point. Claire covered their retreat with the Super Soaker, feeling kind of like a neon-gunned Rambo, and Eve slammed and locked the door, then put her back to the wood and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
The second Claire put the water gun down, Shane wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, really tender and sweet and a little bit desperate. Hot.
“Hey,” Eve said. “Michael, remember? What are we doing for transpo, cabbing it?”
There was exactly one taxicab in Morganville, and he didn’t work at night, so that wasn’t much of an option. They didn’t even bother to discuss it. “Well,” Claire said, very reluctantly, “there’s another way. But you won’t like it.”