Claire’s instincts were that Hannah didn’t want to help Fallon, but she was forced to, and they were proven right as Hannah heard Mrs. Grant out, and said, “You’ve done the right thing turning them over, and Mr. Fallon will thank you for that. But I have to ask, why did you bring so many with you?”
“These are the humans from Blacke,” Mrs. Grant said. “I fig- ure when you’re done ridding Morganville of the vampires, you can take care of the nest in our town, too. Until then, it’s safer for them here, with you. They’re eager to learn about the Daylight Foundation. Bring a little light into our lives, too.” Her tone turned dark. “And we deserve a chance to kick some vampire ass for a change. They destroyed us. Tore our town apart.”
It sounded good, especially the angry way Mrs. Grant referred to the vampires. Claire had no doubt that she was being honest about that. Bishop’s nasty, gratuitous feeding in that town had brought disaster down on it, divided families and killed friends.
Of course she hated the vampires, on some level, even if none of that was their own fault. Who wouldn’t?
What if this is all just a scam to get us to go along with it? What if those Daylighter silver stakes are loaded with liquid silver? She got them to agree to be staked.
How genius would that be? It was just plausible enough that Claire caught her breath in real alarm, but it was too late, way too late, and Hannah Moses was now mounting the steps into the bus and surveying the situation. It wasn’t much of one, by this point. Just her and Shane, zip- tied, and the three staked vampires.
Hannah knew that it was some kind of trick; Claire read that in the way she looked over the bodies. But instead of raising the alarm, she nodded slightly and stepped aside as Fallon’s Daylight- ers moved in behind her. “Take them all to Fallon,” she said. “He’ll want to see this.”
She meant Fallon would want to enjoy it . . . enjoy the sight of Amelie dead at his feet.
Claire sincerely hoped that Mrs. Grant hadn’t brilliantly played them all.
Morganville was having some kind of celebration today; there were new, bright red- white- and- blue banners hung across the streets that flapped in the wind, and Daylight Foundation flags on the lawns of most of the houses, and in the windows of the shops and businesses.
The banners read, welcome to the new morganville! you’ll never need to leave!
Right sentiment, wrong reasons. Claire shuddered, because it was a play on the town’s original motto: You’ll never want to leave.
And it was a lie. She knew Fallon now. He might have started out with good intentions a long time ago; he might have sincerely wanted to protect humans from vampires and save the vampires from themselves. But he’d gone wrong somewhere, probably when he’d decided it was okay to kill a lot to save a few. What was the old saying her mom used to love? The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Now, all these years later, Fallon saw anybody who didn’t agree with him as a traitor to humanity, worthy of punishment and death. And she knew that she and Shane, by their actions, had def- initely earned that label. They’d helped vampires over humans. He wouldn’t forget, or forgive.
“What do we do with them?” one of the men asked Hannah, and nodded toward Claire and Shane as the three silent, limp vam- pires were carried out. The self- control required for them to look that dead was beyond Claire’s comprehension, but none of them— not even Morley— so much as flickered an eyelid at the jostling, even when they were carelessly knocked against metal rails or bounced off of steps.
Hannah raised her eyebrows for a second, considering, and then said, “I think they go with the vampires. They’ve obviously thrown in their lot with Amelie. They should stay with her. Fallon will want to show everyone they’ve been caught and the situation is under control.”
“How many people died last night when he let the vampires out, Hannah?” Claire asked. She kept her voice quiet, but she knew the question would cut. “How many?”
“Two,” Hannah replied. “And six vampires. The rest were re- captured and confined. They’re awaiting trial.”
“You know he engineered that attack. He wanted it to happen.
He’s probably disappointed that his body count was so low.”
“Shut up,” the Daylighter next to her said, and he sounded an- gry. “You don’t know anything about Mr. Fallon. He saved this town, and everybody in it. We don’t have to live in fear anymore.
Not now that we’re getting rid of the vampires.”
Shane raised his head for the first time. “Getting rid of, how?”
“The only way to be sure. We’ve tried to be kind and give them a place to live in peace. They couldn’t follow the rules. They never could. You should know that, Collins. The rules of Morganville, the rules they made up to control us . . . they never applied to them.”
The man wasn’t actually all that old, Claire realized; maybe the age of Monica’s deceased brother, Richard Morrell, mid- to late twenties. He knew Shane, clearly.
Just as clearly, Shane knew him. “You’ve always been a cow- ardly little whiner, Sully. I didn’t see you or your family stepping up to defend people. You just kept your heads down like good little citizens. Hell, you didn’t even have the guts to stand up with Captain Obvious when you had the chance.”
He’d struck gold with that one, Claire saw from the red flush that spread across Sully’s broad face. “Collaborator,” Sully spat back. “Traitor. You’ll get what’s coming to you, and I’m going to enjoy seeing it.” He literally spat the words out; Claire got flecks of saliva on her face. Ugh. She felt filthier than ever, which was saying something, considering she was wearing someone else’s underwear.
“Sully,” Hannah said, with the snap of command in her voice.
“As long as you’re working with me, you’ll treat my prisoners with respect and keep quiet. Shane’s no danger to you, and all he can do is needle you. Don’t let him score points.”
“Did I?” Shane asked, and smiled the most casually bitter smile Claire had ever seen on his face. “Score points?”
“Quiet,” Hannah said, but Claire caught a quick gleam of hu- mor in her expression before she locked it down to her professional mask again. “Time’s wasting. Get them out of here.”
Sully took personal charge of Shane, which was weirdly com- forting; Claire knew Shane could get to him, and that was a kind of control that they both needed just now. Her own guard was one of Hannah’s cops— a familiar one. “Officer Kentworth,” she said.
He was one of the two who’d searched their house with Halling: the polite one. He touched his fingers to his cap.
“Miss,” he said. “Let’s be businesslike about this, okay? No funny business.”
“You know you’re taking us to be killed, right?”
He flinched, but controlled that quickly, and gave her a flinty stare. “You’re just being transported, miss. Let’s not make this any more complicated,” he said.
Shane was led to yet another car by Sully, and Claire could al- most imagine how much fun that ride was going to be. She hoped Shane didn’t push him so far that Sully really snapped. With his hands pinned, Shane couldn’t fight back very well . . . and Eve was the one who still had the nail clippers to snip their zip- tied bonds.
Eve and Michael, she noticed, were also being separated out from the folks from Blacke and loaded into a car.
Claire hoped they would all end up in the same place, because she had the feeling they’d really need those nail clippers before too long, regardless of what kind of positive spin Officer Kentworth tried to put on things.
Claire expected to be driven to the Daylight Foundation’s building, but instead, the little parade— complete with flashing lights, though no sirens— wound its way through Morganville’s main streets toward Founder’s Square. That seemed odd. Found- er’s Square was vampire territory; it was where they’d lived and worked and had their own late- night businesses. It was where Amelie had her offices, and where they kept the records of their long, long lives.
It was also where they’d executed people, from time to time, for infractions of the Morganville rules. Where they’d threatened to execute Shane, when Amelie had thought him guilty of a vam- pire’s murder.