"I can't run," she said, very reasonably. Hobbling wasn't really an option; either one of these vamps could take her down in seconds. One slow, sliding step at a time, she backed away from the approaching old vampire, heading for the window. He didn't seem to get her plan until he'd followed her into the sunlight and begun to burn. Even then, it seemed to take a few seconds to really sink in that he was in trouble. He kept coming in that awkward crab walk even as his clay white skin turned pink, then red, then began to smoke. Then, finally, he howled and ducked away into the shadows. Claire, pressed up against the windowsill and bathed by the hot sun, breathed a sigh of relief. Briefly. "Smart," Michael said. He stayed where he was, holding Vamp Boy down, and watching the older vampire shuffle around and stalk Claire. "Stay where you are. He may try to grab you and pull you out of the sun. If I let this one go--"
"I know," Claire said. "I've got it." She didn't, really, but what choice did she have? She looked around frantically for something, anything, to use, and blinked. "Can you throw that over here?" she asked, and pointed. Michael looked around and picked up something off the floor, frowning. "This?"
"Throw it!" He did, and Claire snatched it out of the air just as the older vampire made his run at her, howling. Claire buried the pencil in his chest. She got lucky, sliding it between his ribs just as Myrnin had taught her to do in his occasional, completely random self-defense classes, and the older vamp's eyes went wide and he fell at her feet, in the sun. Claire rolled him out of the way, but she left the pencil in his chest. "You've got to be kidding," Michael said, and shook his head. "That is just embarrassing."
"Have you noticed something about them?" Claire asked, shaking now that the surge of adrenaline was passing. The vampire Michael was leaning on swiped at him, but Michael easily avoided the blow. "These guys? They're not too smart."
"They're sick," she said. "I recognize the way the older one moved. Notice that they're not really talking? They can't. They've been broken down to basic levels. Hunt and kill. Like the worst-off vampires in Morganville when I got there." Michael clearly hadn't thought of that. His whole body language changed, and for a second Claire thought he was going to get up and move away from the other vampire, but sense won out over fear, and he stayed put. Michael had never gotten sick from the disease the rest of the vampires had carried; as the youngest, he'd never had the chance. But he'd seen what it had done to some of the others in Morganville. He'd seen the creatures they'd become, confined for their own protection in cells in an isolated prison. "It's okay," she said. "You've had the shot, Michael. I don't think you can get it now." She hoped that was true, anyway. If this was some new strain of the disease, then that was worse. Lots worse, especially if--as she suspected, from the condition of these two vampires, and the one she'd staked in the hall--they were actually getting sicker a lot faster than the typical Morganville vampire had. Shane came pelting into the room, almost tripped over the pencil-staked vampire, and looked around, lost. "Uh--what happened?"
"Where's Eve?"
"I left her next door," he said. "She's okay."
"You left her?" Michael snapped. "Oh, you'd better tell me you didn't just say that."
"She's fine, Mike. She's awake, kind of. I left her with a letter opener, hiding under a desk. She's safer than any of us right now." Shane looked down at the staked vamp at his feet. "Claire?"
"Yes?"
"You staked a vampire with a number two pencil."
"I didn't actually check the number."
"Have I told you lately how freaking awesome you are?" She tried to smile, but her heart was fluttering in her chest now, and not in a good way. "Compliments later. We really need to get out of here and get to the car. Any ideas?"
"Find another pencil and I'll pin this one down, too," Michael said. "You know how weird that sounds, right?" Shane said. "Right, never mind. Number two pencil, coming up. Why do I feel like we're taking a test?"
"Claire." Michael looked past Shane, at her. "Go to Eve. Make sure she's okay." Claire nodded and hobbled out the door, across the hall. The door was shut but not locked, and she pushed it open ... Only to have to duck an awkward lunge from Eve, who was standing up, clinging to a chair and holding a glittering silver letter opener in one deathly tight-gripped hand. Eve yelped and opened her fingers to drop the knife when she saw what she'd almost done, and fell into Claire's arms with a sob of relief. "You're okay, you're okay," Eve whispered, and hugged her with feverish, shaking strength. "God, so sorry. I thought you were one of the creeps."
"Not today," Claire said, and winced at the blood trickling down the side of Eve's face. "That must hurt."
"Not so much now." Eve's eyes looked kind of vague and unfocused, but she was staying on her feet. That had to be a good sign. "I thought--I thought I saw Michael. But then Shane was here, and--"
"Michael's here," Claire said. "He was carrying you, but he had to fight. He's coming, Eve. I told you he would." Eve squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, breathing deep. "Okay," she said then, and her voice sounded stronger. "Okay. We'll be okay." From the other room, Claire heard the sound of metal bending, and then a loud clang. "Yo!" It was Shane's voice, ringing off stone and wood. "Girls, the party's over. We are leaving!"