The Dead Girl's Dance

It stood to reason that Eve would know places to go that Claire didnt, but for some reason it surprised Claire where those places were. A Laundromat, for instance. And a photo-processing place. In each case, Eve made her wait in the car while she talked to somebodya human somebody, Claire was almost sure. But nothing came out of it, either time.



Eve got back in her big, dusty Cadillac looking grim and already wilting in the mornings heat. Father Jonathans on a trip, she said. I was hoping we could get him to talk to the mayor. They go back.



Father Jonathan? Theres a priest in town?



Eve nodded. The vampires dont care about whether or not he celebrates Mass, as long as he doesnt display any crosses. Communions kind of interesting; the vamps keep the wafers and wine under guard. Oh, and forget about the holy water. If they ever caught him making the sign of the cross over anything liquid, theyd make sure his next congregation has an address behind the pearly gates.



Claire blinked, trying to get her head around it. Buthes on a trip? Out of town? What?



Gone to the Vatican. Special dispensation.



The Vatican knows about Morganville?



No, idiot. When he leaves town, hes like anybody else: no memory of the vamps. So I dont think we can count on the Vatican Strike Team storming in to save Shane, if thats what you were thinking.



It wasnt, but it was kind of comforting to imagine paramilitary priests in bulletproof armor, with crosses on the vests. So what now, then? If you cant get to Father Jonathan?



Eve started the car. They were parked in the tiny photo-store parking lot, next to a big industrial-sized Dumpster. They were the only car in the parking lot, although a white van was just turning into the lot and squealing to a stop in the space next to them. It was still pretty earlybefore nine a. M. and what passed for traffic in Morganville was slowly filtering around the streets. The photo-processing place claimed to be open twenty-four hours; now, that was a job Claire figured she didnt want. Did vampires take pictures? What kind? Maybe the trick was not to look at what came spitting out of the machine, just shuffle the prints into an envelope and hand them overbut then, that was probably the trick outside of Morganville, too.



She checked the clock again. Eve! What about your job?



I can get another one.



Claire, it wasnt that good of a job. Look at what I had to put up with. Jocks. Jerks. Monica.



Eve started to back out of the parking lot, then slammed on the brakes when another car pulled in behind her, blocking her in. Dammit, she breathed, and fumbled for her cell phone. She pitched it to Claire. Call the cops.



Why? Claire twisted to look out the back, but she couldnt see who was driving the other car.



She was looking in the wrong place. The threat wasnt the car behind them; it was the white van next to the passenger side of the Cadillac, and as she started punching 911, a sliding panel came open, and someone reached out and pulled on the handle of Claires door.



It was locked. She wasnt a total idiot. But two seconds later, it didnt matter, because a crowbar hit the window behind her, smashing it into a million little sparkly pieces, and Claire reflexively jerked forward, hands over her head. She fumbled the phone into the floorboards, and tried frantically to find it. Eve was cursing breathlessly.



Get us out of here! Claire yelled.



I cant! Were blocked in!



Claire grabbed the phone triumphantly, finished pushing buttons for 911, and pressed SEND just as a hand reached in from the backseat and slammed her face-first into the dash.



After that, things got a little distant and fluffy around the edges. She remembered being taken out of the car. Remembered Eve yelling and fighting, then going quiet.



Remembered being bundled into the van and the door sliding shut.



And as her head began to clear up again, except for a monster-sized headache centered right over her eyes, she remembered the van, too. Shed seen it before. Shed been in it before.



And just like before, Jennifer was driving, and Monica and Gina were in the back. Gina was holding her down. The girls looked flushed. Crazy. Not good.



Eve, Claire whispered.



Monica leaned closer. Who, the freak? Not here.



What did you do to her?



Just a little cut, nothing too serious, Monica said. You ought to be worried about yourself, Claire. My daddy wanted to get a message to you.



Yourwhat?



Daddy. What, you dont have one of those? Or do you just not know which john was the sperm donor? Monica sneered. She was wearing a tight pair of blue jeans and an orange top, and she looked as glossy as a magazine page. Oh, dont bother, mouse. Just stay downyou wont get hurt.



Gina pinched Claire, hard. Claire yelled, and Monica grinned in response. Well, she amended, maybe hurt a little. But a tough chick like you can take it, right, genius?



Gina pinched Claire again, and Claire gritted her teeth and managed to keep it to just a whimper this time. Easier, since she was already prepared for the pain. Gina looked disappointed. Maybe she should scream her lungs out no matter what, save herself the trouble of Gina having to work harder for it.



You were following us, Claire said. She felt nauseated, probably from smacking her head into the dashboard, and she was deeply worried about Eve. A little cut. Monica wasnt the type to do anything halfway.



See? I told you she was a genius, didnt I? Monica sat down in one of the padded leather seats that lined the van, and crossed her legs. She had on cute platform shoes that matched her orange tank top, and she inspected her nailsalso done in orangefor signs of chipping. You know what, genius? Youre right. I was following you. See, I wanted to bring you in quietly, but no, you and Zombie Girlfriend had to make it all difficult. Why arent you in class, anyway? Isnt that, like, against your religion or something, cutting class?



Claire struggled to sit up. Gina glanced at Monica, who nodded; Claire edged away from Gina and put her back up against the sliding door of the van. She rubbed her stinging arm where Gina had given her pinches. Shane, she said. Thats what your dad wants to see me about, isnt it?



Monica shrugged. I guess. Look, I dont like Shane; thats no secret. But I never intended for his sister to get killed in that fire. It was a stupid school thing, okay? No big deal.



No big deal? Of everything Monica had ever said to herand thered been some jaw-droppersthat was maybe the worst. No big deal? A kid died, and you destroyed their whole family! Dont you get it? Shanes mom



Not my fault! Monica was suddenly flushed. Not used to being blamed, Claire guessed; maybe nobody ever had blamed her except Shane. Even if she remembered, if shed kept her mouth shut, shed have been fine! And Alyssa was an accident!



Yeah, Claire said. Im sure that makes it all better. She felt gritty and tired, never mind the sleep shed had, or the shower. The floor of the van was filthy. What the hell does your father want with me, anyway?



Monica stared at her in silence for a few seconds, then said, He doesnt think Shane killed Brandon.



Youre kidding.



No. He thinks it was Shanes dad. Monicas perfectly lipsticked mouth curved into a slow smile. Hed like for you to tell Shanes dad that and see what happens. Cause if he was any kind of a father, he wouldnt stand by and let his baby boy take the heat for him. Literally.



So he wants me to tell Shanes dadthe mayor is willing to make a deal?



Shanes life for his fathers, Monica said. No real dad could resist something like that. Shanes not important, but Dad wants this over. Now.



Claire had a very bad feeling squirming in the pit of her stomach, like shed swallowed earthworms. I dont believe it. Theyd never let Shane go! Not if Oliver had any say in it, anyway.



Monica shrugged. Im just delivering a message. You can tell Frank whatever you damn well want, but if youre smart, youll tell him something to get him out in the open. Get me? Amelies Protection only goes so far. You can still be hurt. In fact, Gina would probably enjoy that a lot, even if she gets a slap on the wrist for punishment.



And think about your friend, back there all by herself, Gina said. She was smiling, a wet, crazy sort of smile. All kinds of things can happen to girls out on their own in this town. All kinds of bad things.



Yeah, well, Eve should know, Monica said. Look who her brother is.



Claires head knocked back against metal as the van bumped over what felt like railroad tracks, setting off a nuclear vibration in her head with the already-fierce headache in the front. So, Monica said. You know what you have to do, right? Go to Shanes dad. Convince him to trade himself for Shane. Oryou may find out just how unfriendly Morganville can really be.



Claire didnt say anything. The things she wanted to say would, she figured, get her killed; whether or not Monica and Gina would be punished for it later wasnt much of a comfort.



She finally gave them one sharp, unwilling nod.



Home, James! Monica called up to Jennifer, who gave the OK sign and turned a corner. Claire tried to peer out, but she didnt recognize the street. Somewhere close to campus, though. She saw the bell tower next to the UC rising up on the right-hand side.



She grabbed for a handhold as Jennifer slammed on the brakes. Monica wasnt so lucky; she spilled out of her seat and onto the floor, screaming and cursing. Dammit! What the hell was that, Jen, Driving for Dummies?



Jen didnt say anything. Her hands slowly came up in a position of surrender.



The door behind Claire slid open, and a big hand grabbed her by the back of the neck and hauled her backward into the hot sunlight. Not a vampire, she thought, but that wasnt much of a comfort, because a burly, muscular arm stretched out past her, and it was holding a sawed-off shotgun. She recognized the blue flame tattoos licking down his arm and onto the back of his hand.



One of the bikers.