Amelie had understood that all along, Claire realized. That was why Morganville existed. Because you had to try.
Oliver ended up doing the blood pickup himself, maybe as a kind of offhand apology for putting Eve and Shane at risk in the first place, though that of course went unsaid. As the stuff was being passed around—one small plastic cup per vampire, to start—Claire knelt beside Morley’s still body, rolled him on his side, and snapped the arrow off just below the point. Then she pulled it out of his chest and hands with one sharp tug, dropping it to the concrete.
Morley took in a huge gasp of air and let it out in a frustrated shout. He held up his hands and stared at the holes punched through them until the flesh and bone started to knit itself again.
He rolled over on his back, staring up at nothing, and said, “I was going to say you aren’t a killer. And I still stand by that statement, because evidently I’m not dead. Only very upset.”
“Here.” Claire handed him a cup of blood. “You’re right. I’m not a killer. I hope you’re not, either.”
Morley sat up and sipped, eyes narrowed and fixed on her. “Of course I’m a killer, girl,” he said. “Don’t be stupid. It’s my nature. We’re predators, no matter what Amelie likes to pretend in her little artificial hothouse of Morganville. We kill to survive.”
“But you don’t have to,” Claire pointed out. “Right now, you’re drinking blood someone gave you. So it doesn’t have to be kill-or-be-killed. It can be different. All you have to do is decide to be something else.”
He smiled, but not with fangs this time. “You think it’s so simple?”
“No.” She got up, dusting her knees. “But I know you’re not as simple as you like people to think you are.”
Morley’s eyebrows went up. “You know nothing of me.”
“I know you’re smart, people follow you, and you can make something good happen for the people who trust you. People like Patience and Jacob, who’ve got good instincts. Don’t betray them.”
“I wouldn’t—” He stopped, and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. I promised to get them all out. They’re out. What they do now is up to them.”
“No, it’s not,” Oliver said. He was standing near them, leaning on a stack of old tires as he sipped from his own plastic cup. “You made yourself responsible for them when you left Morganville, Morley. Like it or not, you’re now the patriarch of the Blacke vampires. The question is, what are you going to do with them?”
“Do?” Morley looked almost panicked. “Nothing!”
“Not an answer. I suggest you devote some thought to it.” Oliver smiled, eyes unfocused as he drank with evident pleasure. “Blacke could be an ideal location, you know. Remote, isolated, little traffic in or out. The humans remaining have a vested interest in keeping your secrets, since their own have been turned. It could be the start of something quite ... interesting.”
Morley laughed. “You’re trying to make me Amelie.”
“Goodness, no. You’d look terrible in a skirt.”
Claire shook her head and left them arguing. Dawn was rolling over the town’s sky in waves of gold, pink, and soft oranges; it was beautiful, and it felt ... new, somehow. The destruction was still there; Hiram’s statue was still facedown in the weeds; there were still a dozen feral vampires hiding out somewhere in the shadows.
But it felt as if the town had just come alive again. Maybe that was because across the square, the Blacke library doors were wide-open, and people were coming outside into the cool morning air.
Coming across the square to see those they’d thought they’d lost forever.
Shane was sitting on the curb next to the old, cracked gas pumps, eating a candy bar. Claire plopped down next to him. “Half?” she asked.
“And now I know you’re my girlfriend, since you’re not afraid to demand community property,” he said, and pulled off the uneaten half to hand it over. “Look. We’re alive.”
“And we have chocolate.”
“It’s not just a miracle; it’s a miracle with chocolate. Best kind.”
Eve emerged from the garage doorway and settled down next to Claire, leaning her chin on her fists. “I am so tired, I could throw up,” she said. “What’s for breakfast ? Please don’t say blood.”
Claire separated her half of the candy bar into two pieces and gave Eve one. “Snickers,” she said. “Breakfast of—”
“Champions?” Eve mumbled around a mouthful of sticky goodness.
“Not unless it’s competitive eating,” Shane said. “So, Morley’s staying? He’s becoming King of Blacke?”
“I think it’s more like Undead Mayor, but yeah. Probably.”
“So can we ditch Oliver now?”
“Don’t think so,” Claire said. “He says we leave soon.”
“How are we planning to do that, exactly?”
“No idea—”
She heard the engine first as a faint buzz, like a stray but persistent mosquito; then it built into a roar.
A big, black hearse slewed around the corner from the highway and skidded to a stop in front of the garage.
The window rolled down, and Jason Rosser looked out. He grinned. “Anybody need a ride? I figured I’d head back to Durram and grab yours, sis. Since it’s officially legal and all. Oh, and I got your cell phones, too.”
“Bro, you rock.” Eve lunged up to her feet and ran possessive hands over the paint job. “Okay, creep, out of my driver’s seat. Now.”
Jason held the door open for her. As she started to get in, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, hard, even with the door between them. He looked surprised.
And so relieved, it hurt Claire a little to see it.
“Come on,” Eve said. “We have to lightproof the back.”
“Give me a sec,” Jason said. “I need a bathroom.”
“There’s one in the library,” Shane said. “Hey, how’d you get out of town?”
“I stole a tractor,” Jason said.
“What?”
“A tractor. It took me all night to get to Durram. Wasn’t sure if I’d ever make it, either. I ran out of gas two miles from where they’d towed the car.”
“Huh.” Claire could tell Shane was grudgingly impressed. “So you walked?”
“No, I flew on angel wings.”
“Ass.”
“How’d you get it out of impound?”
“Trade secret,” Jason said. “But it involves not actually asking. Same with the phones. Speaking of which ...” He dug in the pocket of his hoodie and came up with them, which he handed over to Shane. They didn’t tap fists or high-five or anything, but Shane nodded, and Jason nodded back.
“No signal,” Claire said, checking hers. “Man, the Morganville provider network sucks.”
“It works when Amelie wants it to work,” Shane said. “Apparently, she doesn’t want it working right now.”
“Michael needs to call the guy in Dallas. You know, let him know we’re on the way.”
“Let him know we got trapped in a vampire town and fought off a vampire zombie army, you mean?”
“I was thinking maybe car problems.”
“Boring, but effective,” Shane said. “I’ll go see if we can make it work. Maybe cell phone wastage doesn’t apply to vampires.”
As they were talking, Jason walked across to the library, head down, looking like a thin stick in blue jeans. Claire wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for Eve’s brother.
Not much of one, but ... maybe.
EPILOGUE
“It’s you,” Eve said, and gave the wig a final tug on Claire’s head, setting it just right. All of a sudden, it looked right-not just some random collection of plastic threads stuck on top of her scalp, but ... hair. Pretend hair, sure, but, it looked ...
Claire couldn’t decide how it looked. She cocked her head first one way, then the other. Tried a pose.
“Is it cool? I think it’s cool. Maybe?” The girl looking back at her wasn’t just a mousy, skinny girl anymore. The new, improved Claire Danvers was taller, a little more filled out, and she was wearing a new hot pink shirt layered over black, a pair of low-rise jeans with skulls on the pockets, and pink and white hair. She was rocking the streaked wig. It flowed down over her shoulders in careless waves, and made her look mysterious and fragile and smoky, and Claire just knew she had never been smoky or mysterious in her entire life.