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"Oh my God, are they on me? Spiders? Are there spiders?"
If there were, Claire hoped they bit her. "No," she said shortly. Well, there were, but they were little ones. She brushed them off Monica's back. "Shut up already!"
"Are you kidding me? Did you see that rat? It was the size of freaking Godzilla!"
That was it, Claire decided. Monica could just wander around on her own, screaming about rats and spiders, until someone came and ate her. What. Ever.
She got only about ten feet away when Monica's very small whisper stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Please don't leave me." That didn't sound like Monica, not at all. It sounded scared, and very young. "Claire, please."
It was probably too late for being quiet, anyway, and if there were vampires hiding in German's Tire Plant, they all knew exactly where they were, and for that matter, could tell what blood type they were. So stealth didn't seem a priority.
Claire cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled, very loudly, "Shane! Eve! Hannah! Anybody!"
The echoes woke invisible birds or bats high overhead, which flapped madly around; her voice rang from every flat surface, mocking Claire with her own ghost.
In the whispering silence afterward, Monica murmured, "Wow, I thought we were being subtle or something. My mistake."
Claire was about to hiss something really unpleasant at her, but froze as another voice came bouncing through the vast room--Shane's voice. "Claire?"
"Here!"
"Stay there! And shut up!"
He sounded frantic enough to make Claire wish she'd stuck with the whole quiettime policy, and then Monica stopped breathing and went very, very still next to her. Her hands closed around Claire's arm, squeezing bruises again.
Claire froze, too, because something was coming out of the mouth of that painted clown--something white, ghostly, drifting like smoke. . . .
It had a face. Several faces, because it was a group of what looked like vampires, all very pale, all very quiet, all heading their way.
Staying put was not such a great plan, Claire decided. She was going to go with run away.
Which, grabbing Monica's wrist, she did.
The vampires did make sounds then, as their quarry started to flee--little whispering laughs, strange hisses, all kinds of creepy noises that made the skin on the back of Claire's neck tighten up. She held the glass vial in one hand, running faster, leaping over junk when she could see it coming and stumbling across it when she couldn't. Monica kept up, somehow, although Claire could hear the tortured, steady moaning of her breath. Whatever she'd done to her right leg must have hurt pretty badly.
Something pale landed ahead of her, with a silent leap like a spider pouncing. Claire had a wild impression of a white face, red eyes, a wideopen mouth, and gleaming fangs. She drew back to throw the vial . . . and realized it was Myrnin facing her.
The hesitation cost her. Something hit her from the back, sending her stumbling forward across a fallen iron beam. She dropped the vial as she fell, trying to catch herself, and heard the glass break on the edge of the girder. Silver dust puffed out. Monica shrieked, a wild cry that made the birds panic again high up in heaven; Claire saw her stumble away, trying to put distance between herself and Myrnin.
Myrnin was just outside of the range of the drifting silver powder, but it wasn't Myrnin who was the problem. The other vampires, the ones who'd come out of the clown's mouth, leaped over stacks of trash, running for the smell of fresh, flowing blood.
They were coming up behind them, fast.
Claire raked her hand across the ground and came up with a palm full of silver powder and glass shards as she rolled up to her knees. She turned and threw the powder into the air between her, Monica, and the rest of the vampires. It dispersed into a fine, glittering mist, and when the vampires hit it, every tiny grain of silver caught fire. It was beautiful, and horrible, and Claire flinched at the sound of their cries. There was so much silver, and it clung to their skin, eating in. Claire didn't know if it would kill them, but it definitely stopped them cold.
She grabbed Monica's arm and pulled her close.
Myrnin was still in front of them, crouched on top of a stack of wooden pallets. He didn't look at all human, not at all.
And then he blinked, and the red light went out in his eyes. His fangs folded neatly backward, and he ran his tongue over pale lips before he said, puzzled, "Claire?"
She felt a sense of relief so strong it was like falling. "Yeah, it's me."
"Oh." He slithered down off the stacked wood, and she realized he was still dressed the way she'd seen him back at Common Grounds--a long, black velvet coat, no shirt, white pantaloons left over from his costume. He should have looked ridiculous, but somehow, he looked . . . right. "You shouldn't be here, Claire. It's very dangerous."
"I know--"
Something cold brushed the back of her neck, and she heard Monica make a muffled sound like a choked cry. Claire whirled and found herself facetoface with a redeyed, angry vampire with part of his skin still smoking from the silver she'd thrown.
Myrnin let out a roar that ripped the air, full of menace and fury, and the vampire stumbled backward, clearly shocked.
Then the five who'd chased them silently withdrew into the darkness.
Claire turned to face Myrnin. He was staring thoughtfully at the departing vamps.
"Thanks," she said. He shrugged.
"I was raised to believe in the concept of noblesse oblige," he said. "And I do owe you, you know. Do you have any more of my medication?"
She handed him her last dose of the drug that kept him sane--mostly sane, anyway. It was the older version, red crystals rather than clear liquid, and he poured out a dollop into his palm and licked the crystals up, then sighed in deep satisfaction.
"Much better," he said, and pocketed the rest of the bottle. "Now. Why are you here?"
Claire licked her lips. She could hear Shane--or someone--coming toward them through the darkness, and she saw someone in the shadows behind Myrnin. Not vampires, she thought, so it was probably Hannah, flanking Shane. "We're looking for my friend Eve. You remember her, right?"
"Eve," Myrnin repeated, and slowly smiled. "Ah. The girl who followed me. Yes, of course."
Claire felt a flush of excitement, quickly damped by dread. "What happened to her?"
"Nothing. She's asleep," he said. "It was too dangerous out here for her. I put her in a safe place, for now."
Shane pushed through the last of the barriers and stepped into a shaft of light about fifty feet away. He paused at the sight of Myrnin, but he didn't look alarmed.
