AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Claire picked it up, or tried to. It was very heavy. When she scratched it with her thumbnail, the paint peeled off and bright metal was revealed.
Silver.
"Locked," she said. "Do you have the key?"
"Cherub, do I look like I have any keys to anything in this room? The doors I just knocked down would argue against that, I'd think. Here." He snatched up a letter opener-steel, not silver-and set it against the lock. "Hold the box still."
She did, and he hit the letter opener sharply on the end with the heel of his hand, and it drove into the lock and snapped it. Claire folded back the hinged top and said, "Oh, no."
Because there were literally dozens of keys in the box, and not a one of them was labeled. They had colored tags, but that didn't mean anything to her or, she could tell, to Myrnin. He shook his head and said, "Bring the box. Damnation, I believe her security is coming." He glared at her injured right hand, then took hold of a heavy velvet curtain over the window and ripped it down. It didn't make the room that much lighter, since darkness was falling fast. Myrnin smothered the box in the thick velvet and scooped it up. "Well? What are you waiting for? Run!"
She didn't know what they were really running from, and wasn't in any mood to find out. She'd memorized turns this time-right out the door, down the hall, left, then another left-and then she spotted the vampire guards at the end of the long stretch of corridor.
And her friends, waiting.
"Why is there a bloody towel on your hand?" Shane demanded, and then he spotted Myrnin behind her. "Maybe that question's for you, ass**le. What happened?"
"She touched something she shouldn't have, and we don't have time for this. Here." Myrnin shoved the curtain-swaddled box at Eve, who yelped at how heavy it was. Michael took it from her. "It's full of keys. Find the ones we need. Careful of the silver, there's a good lad." He didn't pause, just hurried on with Michael and Eve in his wake. "To the garage!"
That left Shane still holding Claire. He didn't let go. "What happened to your hand?" he asked. "Because if it was him-"
"It wasn't." Well, that was debatable, but she wasn't about to tell Shane; there was enough tension between him and Myrnin already. "It was Amelie. She's turning into ... one of them. The draug." She stripped off the towel and showed him her hand, and the red pinpricks of bite-or stings-that covered her fingers. He winced. "We don't have much time to save her."
"If we can," he said, and lifted her injured hand to his lips. His kiss felt so good that it washed relief all the way through her. "I know you. You're going to try like hell to make everything right again."
"Hell's what's coming," she said. "I'm just trying to avoid it. Come on."
As soon as the elevator doors opened, they heard the sound of an engine coughing, catching, and taking up a heavy thrumming idle. Shane cocked his head in that direction. "That's our cue," he said. "You ready?"
"No." She laughed a little, and he kissed her, and she just wanted that, more of that and less of the blood and terror. Morganville had always been bad, but this had to get better. It had to.
But first, she strongly suspected, it was going to get worse.
Driving inside an armored truck was boring, Claire found. She'd gotten the shotgun seat, which was useless even though she actually had a shotgun, because the windows were vampire tinted and she couldn't see a thing. Michael drove in silence, with an occasional muttered "Sorry" when the heavy truck hit a bump. It wasn't made for bumps. At all. The three in the back were getting bounced around like mad-no, two of them, Eve and Shane. Myrnin had taken the only seat, the one as plush as a throne, with a safety harness. It had obviously been built for Amelie. There were hanging straps for, well, hangers-on, and Shane and Eve were clinging to them, not that it helped much.
"I think I may puke," Shane called up, which was met by a chorus that he'd better not. He wasn't serious, at least. Or Claire hoped he wasn't. "You could fill this thing up with water and detergent and spin clothes in it. Does it even have shocks?"
"Stop complaining," Myrnin said, sitting perfectly comfortably in his velvet-covered seat. "It is the most protected vehicle you could possibly wish to be inside. It is bulletproof, lightproof, and most important, waterproof, although if you could please not put that to the test by driving it into any deep ponds I would appreciate it."
Michael looked sideways at Claire and said, "Could you please see if you can get him to shut up before Shane punches him, or I do?"
"Myrnin," she said wearily, "just shut up."
"You wound me."
"Not yet, but keep it up."
Myrnin didn't answer that, but his smirk, which Claire glimpsed over her shoulder, was enough to make her want to smack him anyway. He was clearly feeling better.
The bouncing slowed to a crawl, finally, and Michael said, "I can see the treatment plant up ahead. The gates are shut. Do you want me to run it?"
"Yes. The less time we spend on foot, the better," Myrnin said. "Run the gate by all means, and take us as near as you can to the main entrance. No discussion once we arrive, we simply move, and everyone must know their jobs. Michael, you and Eve will stay behind to lock the vehicle; we don't want any unpleasantly moist surprises waiting for us when we get back. Once it's locked, you go in and to the second floor on the north side. There are clearly marked manual valve control panels at the end of the hall; shut them all down and evacuate back to the vehicle immediately. Yours is the shortest distance, so you should get back to the truck the fastest. That is why you will have the keys."
"What if something happens? Are these the only keys?"
"Yes," Myrnin said, "so don't let anything happen, by all means. I should deeply prefer not to have to rescue anyone on this particular outing. Shane, you and Claire will take the manual valve controls on the second floor, on the south side. You have a greater distance to go, so you should do the same as Michael and Eve-shut down the valves and run back for the van."
"And what about you?" Claire asked.
"I will be in the center of the first floor, main control room at the far east end of the building. I will be there to disable the start-up panels and program the system to reverse the flow of the pipes. That process is going to take the longest."
Shane raised his hand. "Uh, question?"
"Yes?"
"You didn't design this plant, did you? It's not made out of-I don't know, cow entrails and flywheels or anything?"
Myrnin gave him a cool, blank look and said, "In fact this was built by an engineering firm from Houston, I believe. In the 1950s. There is a sad lack of entrails, cow or otherwise. Are you finished?"
"Suppose so." Shane shrugged. "Hey, is it okay if I wear the flamethrower this time?"
"Can anybody stop you?" Myrnin asked. "By all means."
Shane grinned and put the straps on, lifting the contraption onto his back and checking the ignition flame to be sure it turned on. "Good to go."
"Hold on," Michael said, and pressed the accelerator. Shane and Eve yelped and clung to their panic straps with both hands. Claire felt that they were hurtling through space blindly, and she fought an urge to yell at him to slow down because she couldn't see, but he could, and then there was a shudder, the truck thumped hard, and he did hit the brakes to bring them to a skidding stop.
The sudden silence lasted only an instant before Myrnin bellowed, "Move, now!" and lunged with vampiric speed, throwing open the back doors. Shane scrambled out after him and swung Eve down just as Michael stepped out of the driver's side and Claire got out on the passenger's side. Michael locked up the doors from the electronic key fob and handed it to Eve.
"You hang on to the keys," he said. "Insurance."
She gave him a curious look, but at least it wasn't angry anymore. Just ... conflicted. Then the two of them ran after Myrnin, who had already disappeared inside.
Shane took Claire's hand in his. The water treatment plant was a sprawling mass of concrete, pipes, and shadows, and nothing was moving.
Overhead, thunder rumbled, and it seemed that the clouds were growing thicker. No rain yet, but it was coming. Could the draug actually push the clouds? Make them go where they wanted? That seemed impossible, but then, the thought of something able to break itself apart into individual drops and reform was impossible in itself.
