Fallon’s office.
Claire moved closer, trying to hear what they were saying, but she caught only random words. Michael’s name was mentioned— not a surprise— but what worried her was the way Eve was talking.
It sounded . . . relaxed. Calm. Almost drowsy. Had he done some- thing to her? Drugged her?
She was about three steps from the door when she heard Fal- lon’s voice very clearly. He’d moved closer on the other side, and he said, “I know it seems strange to you, but I do admire you, you know. I admire your audacity in coming here. I admire the strength of your conviction that there’s something of the young man you loved left buried inside the monster. Maybe there is, because he’s so very young. I hope so, for your sake.”
“You have to let him go,” Eve said. “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
The words were fierce, but not the voice. She sounded almost on the verge of the giggles. “You drugged me. You drugged my water.
That was mean.”
“I didn’t want to harm you, Eve,” he said. “You’re what I’m fighting for— humanity. You simply can’t accept the truth. That’s not your fault, but it is dangerous, both to you and to me. You and your friend Claire, you’re not like the rest. You see vampires as humans with a problem— but that’s wrong, very wrong. There’s nothing human left in them.”
“Michael’s still Michael.”
“You’re wrong about that. I see that I have no choice but to prove it to you, Eve. You’re a remarkable young lady, you know— I’ve never seen anyone stand quite so firm on a relationship with a vampire before. It makes me sad. It also gives me hope.”
There was the sharp, musical sound of a desk phone ringing then, and Fallon answered it. He didn’t say much, but what he did say sounded razor- edged and angry. “How? Whose incompetence allowed that to happen? Yes, I’ll want to talk to them. Keep them there. I’m on my way.” He slammed the phone down and cursed in some liquid, fluid language Claire didn’t recognize, but she was sure it was cursing; it had that tone.
“What’s happening?” Eve asked. It sounded like she was trying to stand up, but not managing the job very well. “Michael? Is Mi- chael safe?”
“Let’s go and see him,” Fallon said grimly. “I’ll have some ques- tions for him, and all the rest.”
There was something in those words that warned Claire to get out of the way, and she turned and ran quickly down the corridor to the intersection, whipped to the right and pressed herself against the wall. She made it with only a second to spare before she heard Fallon’s door click open and heard Eve say, in that lazy, almost dreamlike voice, “Where are we going?”
“To visit young Michael, remember?” Fallon said. “And show you that he isn’t worthy of your love. Come on, my dear, let’s have your arm, there you go. How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy,” Eve said. She didn’t sound good. “Did I drink? I re- ally should get home now. It’s late. Claire’s going to worry. She’s a worrier, you know. Claire. She thinks too much. Thinks all the time. I wish she’d just let go sometimes and be . . . you know.
Just be.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Fallon said, and Claire gritted her teeth.
What a liar he was— he’d have known exactly what had happened to her at the house, known all about the dead guard, too. He’d know she’d been arrested and taken to the police station. He prob- ably even knew she’d been broken out, and that there were hell- hounds on her trail.
The thing was, no matter how many date- rape drugs Fallon gave Eve, she wasn’t going to get over loving Michael— which meant that she was going to be in even more danger once he real- ized that.
Claire heard footsteps and wondered if she ought to move, but there really wasn’t any place to hide; the door behind her was locked, and running to the storage closet would be noticed. So she stayed very still, held her breath, and listened as Fallon and Eve made their way past her to the corner and then turned left, toward the lobby. Away from her.
Eve was walking on her own, but only just barely; she seemed unsteady in her combat boots, and was holding onto Fallon for support. He seemed happy with that. Claire’s eyes narrowed when she saw that he’d put his other arm around Eve’s shoulders, as if he had the right to do that.
No doubt about it, Fallon intended to do something to Mi- chael; he wanted Eve to have her heart crushed, her love destroyed.
And Claire couldn’t let that happen— but she had no idea how to stop it, either. As Fallon and Eve reached the lobby, she realized that one thing Eve didn’t have on her was her purse, a black coffin-shaped thing with silver studs. Eve loved that purse. She’d never leave it behind, unless she’d been drugged enough to forget it.
Claire backed up and ran as quietly as she could down the hall to Fallon’s office. He hadn’t locked the door— confident of him— and she quickly scanned the room. It was big, which she’d ex- pected; a golden sunrise plaque decorated the wall behind Fallon’s large wooden desk. The whole room was done up in golds and or- anges and browns, tasteful and soothing.
Eve’s black coffin purse lay discarded on the floor next to the visitor’s chair across from the desk. Claire picked it up, checked inside, and found Eve’s car keys. There was a small container of pepper spray clipped on them, for emergencies. No sign of the gi- ant backpack she’d brought, unfortunately; Claire really could have used an arsenal right now, but Fallon must have confiscated it and locked it away. She slung Eve’s purse over her shoulder and went around to the other side of the desk, sat in Fallon’s still- warm chair, and began pulling open drawers. Boring stuff. Office supplies. A few folders, but mostly they were concerned with civic planning and nothing to do with vampires.
There was, however, a locked drawer. Locked drawers were al- ways interesting.
Claire opened the office supply drawer and found a long steel letter opener. She slipped it between the cracks at the top of the locked drawer and tried to pry it open; she managed to get it sepa- rated a bit, but the letter opener was too springy to really work.
A pair of sharp, long- bladed scissors worked much better as a fulcrum.
The lock broke free with a snap, and the drawer slid smoothly open, revealing a whole collection of neatly ranked files. They all had printed labels, and Claire recognized every single name in there.