strolling around town shopping for one. So here's an idea: You take care of the girls; I'll get the wheels."
"Did you just tell me to stay with the girls?" Michael said, and grinned. Shane did, too. "Yeah," he said. "In your face, man. How does it feel?" They tapped fists. Eve sighed. "You are both morons and we're all going to die, and my head hurts like crazy," she said. "Can we please just get out of here? Please?" Michael went to her and put his arms around her, and Claire heard her let out a little, sad sob as she melted against him. "Shhh," he whispered. "It's okay, baby."
"So not," Eve said, but she'd lost her edge. "And where the hell were you while I was getting dragged along on the party bus, nearly getting fanged?"
"Racing after you," he said. "Jumping onto the bus? Breaking out windows? Almost rescuing you?"
"Oh yeah," Eve said. "But I was unconscious for all that part, so I couldn't really appreciate how brave you were. This is all right, though. Being with you." Shane exchanged a look with Claire, made a gagging sound, and got her to laugh. Then he took her hand, held it for a second, then lifted it to his lips. His mouth felt so warm, so soft, that she felt every muscle in her body shiver at the touch. His thumb brushed over the claddagh ring, their secret little promise. "Wait for me," he said. "Any requests on the kind of car?"
"Something with armor?" she said. "Oooh, and headrest DVD. Bonus for surround sound."
"Rocket launchers," Michael said. "One hot yellow Hummer with optional mass destruction package, coming up." Shane squeezed her fingers lightly, one more time, then ducked out the window. Claire watched him drop to the grass, roll to his feet, and take off at an angle through the afternoon glare. The glare, she realized, was at a lower level than before. It was late afternoon, and the sun was heading west, fast. "Nightfall," she said. Michael stepped up near her, out of range of the sun still flooding the window. "We don't have too long before it gets dark, right?"
"Right," he said. "But if we stay here in this building, I think we're going to have even less time. There are a lot of these... other vampires. And they're not exactly shy." He grabbed the two fallen vampires and dragged them out into the hallway, where he dumped them next to the one still decorated with Claire's silver stake--that one was definitely dead now, burned by the silver. She tried not to look too closely. Michael barricaded the doors again and sat Eve down in a somewhat-secure chair, in the corner. "Stay," he told her. "Rest." He ripped down the other half of the dusty, thick curtain and wrapped it around Eve; one of those cute romantic gestures that was a little spoiled by her bout of uncontrollable sneezing as a gray cloud floated up around her face. Claire stayed by the window, staring out. Not that it would help; even if she saw Shane, even if she saw he needed help, what was she going to do? Nothing, because she was human, slow, and had a torn-up ankle on top of all that. But somehow, it was important that she stand there and watch for him, as though it were some agreement they'd made, and if she didn't keep it, something bad would happen. Superstition. Well, I'm standing in some kind of pseudo-Gothic castle thingy with a bunch of vampires fighting in the halls. Maybe superstition just makes sense. "Did you see Jason?" Eve was asking Michael. "Was he okay?" Michael acted as if he didn't hear her. He came to join Claire at the window, although just to the dark side of the sunlight. "Anything?"
"Nothing yet," she said. "Did you see him? Jason?"
"Not really."
"That's not really an answer, is it?" Michael shot her a look. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a thump from overhead--a hard one, followed by what sounded like scratching. Lots of scratching, like very sharp claws. Maybe knives. Like something was digging down through the floor-boards from the second floor. "Okay, that's not a good sound," Eve said. "Michael?" He was standing very still, staring upward, his face marble white in the shadows. Dust filtered down from the ceiling. Pieces of old plaster rained down in flakes, like snow. Claire backed away from the window, away from that sound--all