Ghost Town Page 0,88

With your bare hands."

"I had to try," she said. "He's my friend."

Oliver gazed at her for a few seconds, then shook his head and let go. "Just don't let it slow us down."

Chapter Twelve

TWELVE

Eve was right: limos felt a whole lot like hearses, when you got right down to it.

Oliver drove fast, which was alarming, because Claire of course couldn't see a thing through the extremely dark windows. She concentrated on air bags and seat belts and all the nice safety features that car manufacturers built in these days. Vamps couldn't opt out of air bags, could they? Well, at least there were seat belts. That was something.

"Why not you?" Oliver asked.

"What?"

He glanced over at her. "Why not you, or me? What keeps us from being affected by this miasma?"

"What's a miasma?"

"A fog," he said. "An influence."

"I don't know," Claire said. "To be honest, I don't know if we're immune, or if it just takes longer for some people, or if it's just completely random. But it could be that because we weren't here three years ago, it doesn't affect us."

"Hannah Moses wasn't here, either."

"Yeah, but she's from here. Maybe there's a connection. We're both--"

"Outsiders," Oliver finished. "Interesting. I'm not certain how that would work."

"It might not, for much longer," Claire said. "It hit Myrnin sooner than Amelie. It hit some people right off the bat, and others days later. I don't think it's following any kind of pattern. Maybe we're going to get it after all."

"Are you armed?" Oliver asked her.

She glanced down at her backpack and instantly, instinctively held back. "No."

"Lie to me again and I'll put you out on the street and do this myself."

Claire swallowed. "Uh, yeah."

"With what?"

"Silver-coated stakes, wooden stakes, a crossbow, about ten bolts . . . oh, and a squirt gun with some silver-nitrate solution."

He smiled grimly at the dark windshield. "What, no grenade launchers?"

"Would they work?"

"I choose not to comment. Very well, I will take your crossbow. Try to use nonlethal methods, if you please; there's been enough disaster in this town recently. Also, I assume you're still fond of Myrnin, in some way." He said that as if he had no clue why that might be the case. Well, she could understand that, from his point of view.

"I won't kill him," she said. "But I'll hurt him if he tries to hurt me."

"An excellent strategy, except that if you hurt him, he will kill you, most likely. So leave Myrnin to me. You do your job, and this will soon be over. . . ." His voice faded as he made a turn, and Claire saw something happen in his face, which was an eerie blue-white in the car's dashboard lights. She just wasn't sure what it was. "Get down, Claire."

"What--"

He didn't tell her again, just reached over, grabbed her head, and pulled her sideways on the seat, then pushed her down into the wheel well.

The windshield rattled, and all of a sudden there were holes in it, sunlight streaming in. No, that hadn't been the windshield rattling. Something had hit the car.

Bullets had hit the car. Oliver swerved the limousine and accelerated, but there was more noise, and this time Claire realized it was gunfire. The entire windshield fell out, and Oliver made a choked sound as he got a faceful of blazing sun.

But he kept driving, until they hit something with a crash. Above her, Claire saw a flash of white as she was thrown forward against the carpet.

Great, the air bags had deployed, and she was in the wheel well. But at least she hadn't had far to go, and in fact, she didn't think she was hurt at all, though there was some glass that had fallen on her.

Oliver was fighting to get free of his seat belt and the deflated air bag, but he didn't make it. Someone yanked open his door, and Claire guessed they cut the seat belt, or broke it, because they dragged him out of the limo. He was struggling, but their attackers must have been vamps, because he wasn't getting away.

They don't know I'm here, Claire realized, and stayed where she was, curled into a very small ball in the shadows under the dash. Her backpack had slid off the seat and was next to her. She carefully unzipped it and pulled out the small, folding crossbow, cranked it open, and got out the bolts. She did it very carefully, hoping the noise of the fighting outside would cover up