She hesitated, then continued, “They were all her bloodline. Sib- lings, and vampires she created. Family, as vampires count these things.”
Amelie had never seemed all that easy to manipulate, but Claire knew how she felt about her people— she’d created Mor- ganville specifically to protect them against all the threats that surrounded them. She would fight and die for them. And when it came to actual family . . . “That’s horrible.”
“Yes,” Hannah said. “But I don’t think Fallon recognizes it anymore.”
Shane exchanged a look with Claire and said, “We need to get Michael and Eve out of the middle of this. Michael isn’t used to being human. He’s going to make a mistake, get himself killed try- ing to react like a vampire.”
“We can’t,” Claire said. “They’re on the stage. We have to leave them there for now.” She saw the expression that crossed his face, and she sympathized; she didn’t like it, either. But he knew she was right.
“Then we have to hurry,” Hannah said. “Kentworth, you’re in charge of Sully. Keep him quiet.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
Turned out there was no easier way to leave Founder’s Square than in the custody of the Morganville chief of police.
Thirteen
Mrs. Grant hadn’t backstabbed them after all. By the time they arrived at the Bitter Creek Mall, the bus from Blacke was idling on the north side of the park- ing lot, out of sight of the front doors, where the guards were stationed. Claire spotted it from the road, and pointed it out to Hannah, who nodded and turned into the street that looped around the mall. The asphalt was cracked and split, so she took it slow, avoiding the occasional bush that had pushed its way up from the darkness.
Mrs. Grant stepped off the bus as the police car pulled to a halt. She was holding a shotgun, which she pointed at the driver’s- side window.
“No!” Claire yelled, and fumbled at the passenger- side door.
She exited fast and waved her arms frantically. “No! She’s on our side!”
The older woman hesitated for only a moment, then nodded and returned the shotgun to a resting position on her shoulder.
“Just rock salt, anyway,” she said. “Don’t want to be killing any innocent people, even the ones the Daylighters have got their hooks into. We’re visitors here. Wouldn’t be polite, would it?”
Hannah got out of the cruiser and gave Mrs. Grant a profes- sional threat assessment, then stepped forward to offer her hand.
“Chief Hannah Moses,” she said. “You must be Mrs. Grant.”
“Heard of me?”
“You left an impression. You may be the first combat librarian I’ve ever met.”
That earned an almost- full smile from the other woman. “I think most librarians are combat qualified,” she said. “It’s not as peaceful a job as it looks. We were about to go in without you.
What about the others?” She meant Amelie, Oliver, and Morley.
“Fallon’s making them a spectacle,” Hannah said. “Good for us, because that means the attention won’t be here. If you want to save these vampires, you’d better do it now. He plans to start his conversion therapy on all of them today. Odds are, three- quarters of them won’t survive.”
“They won’t just let him do it to them. I know vampires.
They’re not very biddable.”
“If they resist, he’ll kill them,” Hannah said flatly, “and call it a riot and a necessary defensive measure. He’ll firebomb the place.
If there are any survivors, he’ll give them his cure. One thing about Fallon, he’s not squeamish. He’s already got most of his Daylighter guards and my own people in there, armed with things lethal to vampires and ready to use them.”
“And he’s got the vampires wearing shock collars,” Claire added. “So he can stun them first. No matter what, they can’t win without our help.”
“Is there any other way in except the front?” Mrs. Grant asked.
Claire shuddered, thinking of the horrible garbage chute.
“None that humans could do on their own, or would want to.”
“Frontal assault it is, then.”
“Maybe not,” Hannah said. “I can even the odds a little.” She went back to the cruiser and picked up the radio mike, adjusted the frequency, and squeezed the button on the side. “Bitter Creek team, come in. Moses here.”
The response came within seconds. “Salazar here, boss.”
“Situation?”
“Same as ever. Bunch of freaking statues staring at us. No- body’s doing nothing. They’re hungry, though. When the next blood shipment coming?”
“A few hours,” Hannah responded. “Listen, I’m going to need you to send four more men out to Founder’s Square for crowd con- trol.”
“Boss? That just leaves me here.”
“You’ve got Fallon’s Daylighters, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“That’s an order, Salazar.”
He hesitated just a few seconds before his voice came back over the radio. “Yes, ma’am. Sending the rest to Founder’s Square. ETA about ten minutes.”
“Ten- four.” Hannah hung up the mike and nodded to Mrs.
Grant. “That takes most of my guys out of harm’s way for now.
Salazar’s a good man. I’ll go in first and have him turn over the collar control box to me. Look, you’re not going to like it, but we have to wait for the others to leave, and I need Shane and Claire to run a little errand for me.”
“What?” Claire asked.
“Blood,” Hannah said. “If you don’t want those vampires in there snacking on us as soon as I release their collars, we’re going to need a lot of blood. Blood bank’s still got a stockpile. Go get it.”
“Are they just going to give it to us?”
“I’ve got a contact inside,” she said. “I’ll call ahead. You pull around to the back vampire entrance, and they’ll bring it out to you. Hurry.”
She stepped out of the way, and Claire got in on the driver’s side, racked the seat forward, and started the car.
It was only then, when she looked in the rearview mirror, that she saw Shane still sitting in the backseat, looking annoyed. “Oh,”
she said, and covered her mouth with her hand, mostly to hide a smile. “Sorry. We should have let you out.”
“You think?”
“Sorry. We’re going—”
“— to the blood bank. I heard. Awesome. Always wanted to be the plasma delivery service for a bunch of cranky vamps with a grudge. Wait, that pretty much describes daily life around here, doesn’t it?”
She let him have the last word as she pulled the car out to the uneven street, heading for the blood bank.
It was actually a smooth exchange, though Claire had expected something to go really wrong. As she pulled the police car to a stop, the alley door opened, and a man in a white lab coat wheeled out a large cart, like something hotels would fill with laundry.
Only this was filled with blood bags.
“Trunk,” he told her through the rolled- down window, and she searched for a bit to find the release for it. Then she got out, remembering to open Shane’s door along the way, and ran to help the doctor— Was he a doctor? She didn’t ask— fling the bags into the trunk of the police car. Shane joined her, and with the three of them working it took only a couple of minutes to pack the space available. There were a few bags left, and Shane stacked them on the car’s floorboards in the back.
“Tell Hannah it’s the pure supply; I destroyed the stuff they contaminated,” the man said, and rolled the cart back inside.
Claire slammed the trunk shut and jumped in the driver’s seat while Shane climbed in the passenger seat this time. She drove carefully, trying to avoid being spotted by anyone she recognized or by any other patrol car. So far, there were no alerts. She hoped Kentworth still had Sully under control.
As she parked next to the bus once more, she saw that Hannah was organizing the Blacke residents into teams of four— enough to cover each other’s backs if necessary. Claire gave her a thumbs- up as she rolled down the window, and Hannah replied with a crisp nod and turned to address everyone.