Midnight Alley (24 page)

He looked up, and she saw the hard gleam of fangs before his face came into focus and became shockingly familiar.

There were two raw holes in the girl's neck, and her open, dry eyes had gone gray. Her skin was the color of old, wet paper, more blue than white.

‘‘Oh,'' Claire whispered, and stumbled backward out of the room. ‘‘Oh no, no, no—''

Michael shot to his feet. ‘‘Claire,
wait
! I didn't—''

Eve was in the doorway now, and Shane. Eve took one look at the dead girl, one at Michael, and turned and ran. Shane just stood there, staring at him, then said quietly, ‘‘Claire. Go after her. Now. The two of you, stay together. I'll come find you.''

Michael took a step toward them. ‘‘Shane, I know you're looking for reasons to hate me, but you know I wouldn't—''

Shane backed up, fast, keeping distance between them. His eyes had gone very dark, his face flushed and set with anger. ‘‘Claire,'' he said again. ‘‘Get the hell away from him.
Now.
''

‘‘Shit!'' Michael looked furious, but he also looked scared and hurt. ‘‘You
know me,
Shane. You know I wouldn't do this. Think!''

‘‘You come near me or the girls, I will kill you,'' Shane said flatly, and then turned and yelled at Claire, full volume.
‘‘Go!''

She backed out of the room and ran after Eve. Her heavy platform shoes felt awkward, and her cool outfit was nothing but a cheap dress-up costume. She wasn't cool. She wasn't sexy. She was a stupid jerk to be here, and now Michael . . . God, he couldn't have, could he? But there was a flush to his skin, as though he'd fed. . . .

Eve was heading down a set of back stairs. Claire caught sight of the sweep of her long black dress around the spiral. She followed as fast as she dared, with the treacherous shoes. As she neared ground level, the volume of the party swelled and broke into a roar.

When she got to the bottom of the steps, there was no sign of Eve anywhere. It was a sea of moving, swaying bodies, a drunken orgy of dancing (and maybe, in the corners, just an orgy), but she didn't see anybody in formal wear.

‘‘Eve!'' She yelled, but even she couldn't hear it. She looked back up the stairs but she didn't see Shane, either.

She was alone.

When she craned her neck, she caught a flash of black velvet heading out of a door, and threw herself into the crowd to follow. If drunks groped on her way by, she barely noticed; she wanted out of here, badly, and she couldn't let anything happen to Eve. Her dignity was the least of her worries.

A hand slipped under her skirt. She turned, instinctively furious, and slapped the guy, hard. Didn't even register his face, or anything about him. He held up his hands in surrender, and she turned and plunged on.

The next room was nearly empty for some reason that Claire didn't understand, until she saw (and smelled) some guy throwing up in the corner. She hurried faster.
Was
that Eve she was following? She couldn't be sure. It looked like her, but the glimpses were too short, the angles all wrong. Claire had to move quicker.

She wasn't sure how it happened, but she ended up in the vast, gleaming kitchen. A bunch of burly guys were carrying in boxes of liquor. Claire pushed past two frat guys who were high-fiving each other. ‘‘Liquid panty remover's here!'' one of them yelled, and there was a cheer in the other room.

Claire made it outside and gulped the cool, clear night air. She was shaking, sweating, and she felt utterly filthy, inside and out. That was
fun
? Yeah, she supposed if she were drinking and didn't care, it'd be fun, but then again, this was Morganville. Fun like that, you could end up passed out on a bed with strangers . . . or in a morgue drawer.

Eve was leaning against a tree in the glare of a security light, gasping for breath. She looked glamorous, like some lost Hollywood starlet from the days of black and white, except for the red blaze of her lipstick.

‘‘Oh God,'' she moaned, and as Claire came toward her she realized she was crying. ‘‘Oh God, he's done it; he's really done it—''

‘‘We don't know that,'' Claire heard herself say. ‘‘Maybe he just found her. Was trying to help her.''

Eve glared at her. ‘‘He's a
vampire
! There's a
dead girl with holes in her neck
! I'm not stupid!''

‘‘I can't believe he'd do it,'' Claire said. ‘‘Come on, Eve, do you? Really? You know him. Is he a killer? Especially when he doesn't have to be?''

Eve shook her head, but that wasn't really an answer. She was shaking off the question.

Shane came out of the kitchen door with the brunette still held in his arms. ‘‘Let's go.''

‘‘We came in Michael's car,'' Eve said numbly. ‘‘He has the keys. I could—''

‘‘No. Nobody goes up there, and you guys stay the hell away from Michael until we know what's going on.'' Shane thought for a second, then pulled in a breath. ‘‘We walk.''

‘‘Walk!'' Claire and Eve both blurted. Eve improved it by squeaking, ‘‘Are you freaking
mental
?''

‘‘Claire's got Protection, and I'm in the mood to beat the hell out of the first vamp to look at me sideways, and it's safer than getting the three''—he glanced down at the nameless girl in his arms—‘‘four of us in the car with Michael right now. I want room to run if I have to. And fight.''

‘‘Shane—''

‘‘We walk,'' he interrupted. ‘‘University first, we can drop this one off with the campus cops.''

Claire cleared her throat. ‘‘Can't we wait for the police here?''

‘‘Trust me, no,'' Eve said. ‘‘They're going to roust everybody that isn't tagged, and that includes me and Shane. And once they find a drained dead girl, it'll be a free-for-all. We can't take the chance. We need to go. Now.''

Claire was half hoping that Michael would show up, but he didn't come out after them. She wondered why. She wondered where he'd been, while they'd been searching the house for him.

Shane started walking toward the street, with the drugged girl murmuring and giggling in his arms. He'd saved one victim, but lost another. And he was taking that second part very personally.

Claire looked at Eve, put her arm around her, and hurried the both of them after Shane.

 
It was a quiet walk to the university campus. They didn't see anybody. The few cars that passed didn't stop, and although they heard sirens converging on the party, none of the police cars cruised their way.

The night was just cool enough to be pleasant, and the air felt dry and crisp. No clouds. It would have been pretty and romantic, except for the general crappiness of the evening. Eve had stopped crying, but that was almost worse; she'd been so happy before, and now she'd sunk into a gloom so deep she really did seem like a true Goth.

Claire's feet hurt. She was glad when they turned the corner and caught sight of the big, well-lit campus behind the wrought-iron fencing. They'd have to go to one of the four entrances to get through. She'd never really thought about it before, but the place looked unnatural, like a wildlife park.

Or a zoo.

Shane was getting tired, and put the girl down on the first bench they came to once they were inside the fence, while Eve flagged down a passing campus cop car. The Q&A went pretty well, but then, the campus cops weren't especially sharp. It took about half an hour, and then the girl was whisked off to the clinic for detox and checkups, and the three of them looked at each other in the glow of the cop car's headlights as it backed up and pulled away.

‘‘Right,'' Shane said. ‘‘Probably ought to get moving.''

Eve got out her phone.

‘‘What are you doing?'' he asked.

‘‘Calling a cab.''

He snorted. ‘‘In Morganville? At night? Right. Eddie doesn't even like picking people up during the daytime. No way is he risking his ass out here for us at night. He probably took his phone off the hook, anyway. He hates frat parties.''

‘‘What about Detective Hess?'' Claire offered. ‘‘I'm sure he'd give us a ride.''

‘‘Light it up.''

Claire tried. The number rang, but nobody picked up. Same thing with Travis Lowe. She looked at Shane with a sinking feeling and shrugged helplessly. Eve stood up, shivered, and crossed her bare arms for warmth. Shane took his black jacket off and draped it around her shoulders.

‘‘Guess we're on foot,'' he said, and took Claire's hand, then Eve's. ‘‘Don't slow down, and don't stop for anything. If I tell you guys run, you run. Got it?''

He didn't give them a chance to argue. They walked down the path to the exit from the university grounds. Outside, the streetlights were few and far between, and Claire could just feel eyes on her in the shadows. Whether that was real or not, she didn't know, but it made her shake all over with fear.
Come on, Claire, get it together. There are three of us, and Shane can kick enough ass for all of us.

They crossed the street and headed over a couple of blocks, then down. It was the straightest shot to the house, and the best lit, but it also was going to take them right by Common Grounds. Somehow, Claire felt even more uncomfortable at the idea that Oliver was going to see them trailing by, in all their not-too-smart glory. They'd had a rough enough night without that.

Although, it was a cheering thought that Monica almost certainly was having a worse one, trying to explain to the cops about why there were more drugs in her house than the Rite Aid Pharmacy, not to mention the underage drunken orgies and the dead girl in the bedroom.

By contrast, walking home in darkness in Vampire U.S.A. seemed a little bit mild.

At least until Eve whispered, ‘‘Somebody's following.''

Claire almost faltered, but kept walking when Shane's hand tightened around hers. ‘‘Who?'' he asked. Eve didn't turn her head.

‘‘Don't know; I just caught a glimpse. Somebody in dark clothes.''

Since only Amelie seemed to like colors in the pale winter hues, Claire figured that didn't narrow it down much. She walked faster, tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and nearly went down, if it hadn't been for Shane's steadying grip. But it slowed them all down, and they couldn't afford for it to happen again.

‘‘Crap,'' Shane breathed. They were still at least a block from the next burning streetlight, and now Claire could hear slow, steady footsteps behind them. Up ahead, a single open storefront spilled warm yellow light onto the street. Common Grounds. Neutral territory, at least theoretically. ‘‘Right. We're not going to make it all the way home. We go into Common Grounds, and—''

‘‘No way, I'm not going in there!'' Eve blurted. ‘‘I can't!''

‘‘Yes you can; you have to. Neutral ground. Nobody will hurt you there. We can make some kind of deal with Oliver if we have to, temporary protection or something. Promise me—''

Shane didn't have time for anything else, because all hell broke loose. The footsteps behind them suddenly accelerated to a run, Shane swung around and pushed the two girls behind him, and there was a flash of movement Claire couldn't really see. Something hit Shane in the head. Hard. He stumbled and went down to one knee.

Claire screamed and reached for him, but Eve grabbed her and hauled her by force toward the glow of Common Grounds.

‘‘Get up!''

Claire twisted out of Eve's grip and whirled to see that the yell had come from the jerk from the party, the one who'd felt her up and then gotten his ass kicked by Shane. He'd followed them, and he had a baseball bat. He'd hit Shane in the head
with the baseball bat
and he was getting ready to do it again.

‘‘No!'' Claire cried, and lunged back toward them, but Eve grabbed her tightly and swung her around toward the coffee shop again.

‘‘Get inside!'' she screamed.

‘‘Let go—''

They stopped fighting each other as a shadow stepped out of the alley, right in front of them, blocking the way.

A long silver line glinted in the starlight. A knife.

It was Eve's brother Jason, looking as greasy and starved and fevered as he had at the party.

‘‘Hey, sis,'' he said, and the knife turned, and turned, and turned. ‘‘I knew you'd be coming this way. Soon as I heard you left the party without your bloodsucking bodyguard, I knew the time was right.''

‘‘Jason''—Eve let go of Claire and stepped in between the two of them—‘‘this isn't her problem. Let her go.''

Claire was torn—watch Jason, who was terrifying, or pay attention to what was happening behind her, because Shane was fighting now, fighting for his life, and he was already hurt. She risked a glance back and saw Shane grab the baseball bat from his attacker, hit a home run to the guy's shoulder, and send him spinning into the brick wall. The frat guy went down, screaming, but Shane was clearly not doing well, either—he lurched, off balance, and went down to his hands and knees. The bat rolled away.

‘‘Oh God,'' Claire whispered. There was blood running down his face, dripping in a wet thread to the pavement. ‘‘
Shane!
''

Shane shook his head, and the blood flew in a spray, splattering the concrete around him. He looked up, saw her, and blinked.

Then he saw Eve, and behind her, with the knife, Jason.

Shane fumbled for the bat, found it, and climbed to his feet. He stumbled forward, grabbed Claire and pushed her behind him, then yanked Eve away from Jason, as well. He set his feet wide apart and took up a batting stance.