Kiss of Death

Chapter Eleven

When she woke up, the bus was pulling to a stop. Claire flinched, tried to lift her arms, and immediately was reminded that plastic handcuffs hurt as they cut into her skin. She took a deep breath and relaxed, deliberately, looking around. Eve was awake, too, her dark eyes narrow and glittering in the dimness. In the row ahead, Claire could see the back of Shane's head as he tried to make sense of whatever was outside the window. "Where are we?" Claire asked. Shane's head shook. "No idea," he said. "Can't really see a whole lot. It looks like maybe some little town, but I can't tell."
"They don't need more, uh, supplies. No empty seats."
"That's what I was thinking," Shane said. There was nothing in his voice, but Claire knew he was feeling just as worried as she was about this development. Morley brought the bus to a stop with a hiss of air brakes and a lurch, then opened the door and descended the steps. It was still daylight out there; the light spilling in from the opened accordion doors was milky white and intense. None of the other vampires tried to follow. They just waited. Morley came back, stood at the front of the bus, and grinned. "Brothers and sisters," he said, "I have stopped for gas. Feel free to snack while I attend to the fuel."
"Oh no," Eve whispered. "No no no." Claire tried to get her hands free, again. The plastic handcuffs cut deep, almost drawing blood, and she had to stop; the smell of blood wouldn't be a good thing, just now. The vampires were turning to look at those in the back of the bus, and their eyes were glowing. Patience and Jacob Goldman weren't among them. They were closer to the back, and they had their heads bent together, whispering. Patience seemed upset at something Jacob was saying, but he was insistent, and as the first vampire got up to get his snack, Jacob suddenly flashed out of his seat and stood in the way. The vampire was a woman, nobody Claire had ever met; she looked older, and not very nice. She also didn't like Jacob's getting in her face, and she said something in a language Claire didn't recognize. Jacob must have, because he spouted something right back. Patience finally got out of her seat and stood nearby, clearly backing him up. Jacob reached into his pocket and handed over two blood vials. He switched to English to say, "This will hold you for now. There's no need for anyone to be killed, and you know what will happen if we allow feeding in here. Take it and sit down."
"Who do you think you are, Amelie?" The woman bared her fangs in a mocking laugh. "I left Morganville to escape these stupid rules. Give me what I want, or I'll take it."
"The rules are not stupid," Patience said. "The rules are sensible. If you want to alert humans to our presence and restart the bad old times, the times when we ran for our lives, owned nothing, were nothing--then wait until we have reached our destination. You can go off on your own and do what you will. But while Jacob and I are here, you will not feed directly from these people. I will not see them dead because you can't control yourself." She sounded absolutely sure about what she was doing, and very matter-of-fact, as if only an idiot would argue with her. The other vampire frowned, thought about it, and then made a sound of frustration. She grabbed two vials from Jacob's outstretched hand. "I'll expect more," she snapped. "You'd better start draining them. You have a lot of mouths to feed." Jacob ignored her. "Who else? I can give out four more...." Four more vampires got up and accepted the vials. Jacob took out his medical kit and handed it to Patience. "I'll stay here," he said. "Draw the blood."
"Yeah, don't make any of them short ! one of the other vampires called, and there was a ripple of laughter. "Enough," Jacob said, and there was a hint of relaxed humor in his voice. "You'll all get what you want. Just not now. And not here." He looked over his shoulder at Patience, who was strapping a tourniquet around the first human she'd found--a woman, this time. There was a little resistance, but not much, and Patience proved herself to be just as good at drawing blood as her brother. She filled ten more vials, which she handed over to Jacob for distribution as she moved on to the next donor. So it went, even after Morley came back inside after fueling up the bus. He saw what was going on, and shook his head. "You can take the vampire out of Morganville ... ," he said, and left the rest unsaid as he dropped into the driver's seat. "Right, young ones, bloodbath later. First, we drive." Claire half hoped that the vamps would be done with lunch before Patience worked her way back to her row, but no such luck. However, she turned left, and started with Angry Guy, whose bug eyes and muffled shrieks seemed to make no impression on her at all. She did the blood draw quickly and easily, pocketed the vials, and moved on to Orange Cap, who'd lost his cap now and was crying wet, messy tears. His nose was dripping, too. When Patience was finished tapping him, she turned to Claire. She looked at her for a long moment, then said, "I will not take your blood. Nor that of your friends. Not yet." Next to Claire, Eve let out a little sigh of relief. Shane, who'd been sitting tensely in the row ahead, relaxed as well. Claire didn't. "Why?"
"Because--we owe you a favor, I think. Let this be payment." She started to move on to the next row. "Wait," Claire said. Patience's dark, strange eyes returned to her face. "They're going to kill us all. You don't want that, you and Jacob."
"Jacob and I are outnumbered," Patience said softly. "I am sorry, but there is little we can do more than we are doing now. Forgive me."
"There has to be something--" Claire bit her lip. Eve was paying attention now, and Shane, although Claire was trying to keep the whole conversation to a whisper. "Can't you maybe let us loose? We promise, we won't tell Morley."
"Child, you have no idea what you're saying," Patience said, a little sadly. "He'll catch you, and then Morley will find out what he wants to find out. He has no reason not to rip this information from you, and it would be suspicious enough that I haven't drawn blood. He already thinks Jacob and I are too weak. You put us at risk, as well as yourselves."
"So what's our choice?" Eve hissed, leaning over as far as she could. "Getting fanged to death? No, thank you. Pass. If I'd wanted that kind of gruesome, horrible horror-movie ending, I could have stood on a street corner in Morganville and saved myself the trouble!" Patience looked even more uncomfortable. "I can't help you," she said again. "I'm sorry." That was her final answer, apparently. Claire watched her continue on with her blood work, apparently satisfied that she'd done her good deed for the day. "We're screwed," Shane said, in a matter-of-fact voice, and turned back, face forward. "Still want to go back to Morganville? Because every day is pretty much just like this, one way or another." Eve sighed, slumped against the window, and looked as if she was close, again, to bursting into tears. She didn't. Claire almost wished she would. It wasn't like Eve, all this nervous anger. It made her nervous, and the last thing she needed right now was more to raise her pulse rate. "Michael will find us," Eve said. "They'll come for us." Claire wished she felt that sure about it.
Patience and Jacob distributed all of the collected blood, two vials per vampire, and gave the rest to Morley, who chugged it back like shots at happy hour. It was disgusting, watching all the vampires having their snack; Claire's stomach turned, and she found it was easier staring down at her feet than actually paying attention. Some of the blood donors had actually passed out, though whether that was just sleep, low blood pressure, or panic, Claire wasn't sure. It was quieter, at least. Morley kept driving, and it seemed like hours before he slowed the bus again. He didn't stop, just geared down and beckoned to a vampire sitting behind him. The vampire nodded, pointed to three others, and gestured for them to follow. "What's going on?" Shane asked. "Can you tell?"
"No," Claire said, and then gasped as Morley opened the bus doors. The bus was still rolling along at maybe thirty-five or forty miles an hour. The four vampires up front put on coats, hats, gloves-sunny-day wear--and lined up on the stairs. One by one, they bailed out. "What the hell?" Shane twisted around awkwardly to the limit of his ability. "Eve, can you see anything? What's going on?"
"I can't--wait, I think--" Eve squinted, leaned her head against the window, and finally continued. "I think they're going after something behind us. A car, maybe." Four vampires had just bailed out of a moving bus, in broad daylight, to attack a car that was behind them. Following them? Claire gasped as an electric shock zipped up her spine. Michael. Oliver. It had to be! They'd figured it out. They were right behind them. Yeah, her tragic, pessimistic little voice said in her head. They're right behind us, and four vampires are about to drag them out of the car and leave them to fry. "Can you see--" Claire's voice was shaking now. Eve didn't answer. "Eve!"
"I'm trying!" Eve snapped. "It's all just shadows out there, okay? I can barely tell there's a car! Oh no ..."
"What?" She and Shane blurted it out together, leaning toward Eve as if somehow they could make things out any better. "The car," Eve said. "I think--I think it crashed. It's not behind us now." She sounded dull again; defeated. "It's gone."
"Dammit," Shane said. "Probably was some farmer driving to market. Didn't have anything to do with all this crap."
"Doesn't matter now," Eve whispered. "They're not coming now." She began to cry, producing wrenching sobs that made her whole body vibrate, and banged her forehead against the window glass--hard. Claire instinctively tried to reach out for her, and came up against her restraints, again. "Hey," she said, trying hard to sound compassionate and soothing. Her heart just ached for Eve, who sounded so ... lost. "Eve, please don't. Please don't do that. It's going to be okay; it's all--"
"No, it's not!" Eve screamed, and turned toward Claire in a tearful fury. "It's not okay! Michael! Michael!" She started thrashing against her restraints. Shane tried to calm her down, too, but Eve wasn't listening anymore--not to anybody. Patience came and, with a sad but determined look at Claire, leaned over and gave Eve a quick injection in her shoulder. It was so fast Claire couldn't react to try to stop her, and Eve stopped thrashing to say, in blank surprise, "Ow!" Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she went completely limp in her chair, her head tilting toward the window, wild strands of hair covering her face. "What did you do?" Claire demanded, and tried not to scream it. She'd just seen what screaming got you. "She'll sleep," Patience said. "She's not injured. It's better this way. She could hurt herself, otherwise."
"Yeah, can't have that," Shane said bitterly. "Gotta save that for you guys. What was that, with the vamps getting off the bus?" Patience put the cap back on the needle she'd used to inject Eve and put it in her pocket. "Someone was following," she said. "They're not now. That's all you need to know." The bus changed its pitch again, air brakes sighing, and slowed to a relative crawl. The doors banged open again, and two vampires got on, wearing hats and gloves and long coats against the sun. One of them was smoking, even with all the protective gear. The other one, a little taller and thinner, grabbed Morley by the neck, dragged him out of the driver's seat, and tossed him right out the door. "Go!" he shouted, and stripped off his hat. The tall one was Oliver. Michael--who was the incoming vampire trailing wisps of smoke--raced down the aisle, slammed into Patience and Jacob, and knocked them out of the way. Nobody else had time to stand up, although a few vampires lunged and caught pieces of his coat as he ran toward the back of the bus. Oliver was right behind him, and as they reached the rows where the humans were, Oliver turned and snarled at the other vampires, who were starting to get to their feet.
They were hampered by close quarters, but there were a lot of them. Jacob bounded up, gave Oliver a second's dark look, and then jumped up on top of the headrest of the seat next to him, crouching like a bird of prey. Patience did the same on Oliver's other side. "No," she said flatly, as the vampires started to move toward them. "Stay where you are." Michael reached them and snapped Claire's bonds first. It took him a precious few seconds, because the plastic was tougher than he'd thought, and he had to try not to hurt her. As soon as she was free, he leaned over Eve and pushed out the side window with one powerful punch. Metal bent and shrieked, glass shattered, and the whole window assembly fell out onto the road. Light streamed in, pure and white-hot, and hit him full in the face. Michael jerked back into the shadows with a choked cry. Claire had a blurred impression of burns, but he didn't give her time to worry about him. "Out!" he yelled, and grabbed her by the waist to boost her toward the window. The inch of skin exposed between his coat and gloves sizzled like frying bacon. Claire grabbed hold of the jagged edge of the window and looked down. The bus was still rolling, and it was picking up speed as it started down the hill. "Claire, jump!" She didn't really have a choice. Claire jumped, hit the hard pavement with a stunning thump, and rolled. She managed to protect her head and curled up in a ball on the white-hot surface. The bus kept on rolling. She could hear screaming--and fighting. Another window broke, next to Shane. "Come on," Claire whispered, and clambered to her feet. She hurt all over, and her ankle felt as if she'd sprained it, but that didn't matter right now. She watched the bus. Nobody came out the window. Claire started to run after the bus--limped after it--and had to stop when her ankle folded under her after a dozen steps. "Shane!" she screamed. "Shane, come on! Get out!" Her attention was completely fixed on the bus, but she had good survival instincts, thanks to Morganville's harsh training; she sensed a shadow behind her, and dropped just in time. Morley. He was baking in the blazing day--not sizzling like Michael, but definitely turning toxic-sunburn red.
And he was angry. His hand blurred through space where she'd been, and if she'd been in the way, he would have broken her neck. She rolled and stumbled back to her feet, felt the left one give way again, and hopped backward. Morley gave her a feral, awful grin. "Nobody leaves the tour," he said. "Especially not you, little girl. Amelie wants you back. I'm certain of that. You're my insurance. No fair limping off on your own." He reached for her, and out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw a black shape hurl itself from the shattered bus window and streak toward them. At first she thought it was Michael, but no --Oliver. He hit Morley like a brick wall and threw him fifty feet down the road in a rolling, slapping mess. Then, after an irritated look at her hopping on one foot, he scooped Claire up in his arms, then turned back to shout, "Michael, leave it! Get out!" A car was roaring over the hill behind them--a police car, with half the light gear ripped off and dangling, and holes punched in the doors and windows. It had clawlike scrapes in the hood. It didn't slow down for Morley, who scrambled to his feet and dived out of the way as the cruiser rocketed past. It screeched to a sliding halt, crossways in the road, and the driver threw the passenger door open, then the back. Oliver tossed Claire into the back of the car, left the door open, and raced back to the bus. He leaped up, clinging to the open window, reached in, and grabbed something--a handful of black coat--and dragged. Michael toppled out the window and fell heavily on the road. Oliver dropped down, cat- steady, and reached down to pull Michael to his feet. He took off his own hat and jammed it down on Michael's bare blond head, stripped off his own long black coat, and flung it over him as additional protection. Michael fought to get free, but as Claire flailed and struggled to sit up, Oliver dragged her friend all the way to the police car, shoved him in the back door, and slammed it, hard, penning Michael inside.
The handles didn't work, of course. Michael landed half on top of her, heavy and smelling like burning hair, but he quickly rolled up and tried to smash out the window glass--which, Claire realized with a shock, was painted over black--spray painted. Only the driver's side part of the front window was left unaltered. Oliver got in the front, turned, and drove a fist through the metal grating that separated the back of the squad car from the front. He peeled back the metal, grabbed Michael's arm, and said, "You can't help them by dying. You tried. We'll try again. This isn't over."
"Eve's still in there! I can't leave her there!" Michael yelled, and yanked free. Oliver, with a weary, impatient sigh, grabbed him by the neck this time, and pinned him back against the stained vinyl seat. "Listen to me," he said, and peeled back more of the grate so their eyes could meet, and hold. "Michael, I swear to you that we will not abandon your friends. But you must stop this nonsense. It's doing nothing to help them, and everything to destroy your usefulness to me and everyone you love. Do you understand?" Michael was still tense, ready to fight, but Oliver held him there, staring him down, until Michael finally let go of Oliver's arm and held up both hands in surrender. His whole body slumped. Defeated. Still, Oliver didn't let go. "Drive," he told the man behind the wheel. "Follow the bus. Morley's already back on board. He'll keep driving, but we should hang back out of sight."
"I can't follow it if I can't see it!" the driver protested, and Claire knew that voice, but it didn't sound like the sheriff from Durram, or even his deputy. It sounded ... No way. Claire leaned forward and peered through her half of the grate, which was still in place. "Jason?" Jason Rosser? Eve's brother? "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Oliver needed some support that wouldn't combust," Jason said. "Besides, that's my sister in there, right?" Eve. Eve was still in the bus--that was why Michael was fighting so hard. Claire felt strangely behind the curve right now; maybe she'd banged her head harder than she'd thought. It ached on the right side. She was starting to feel a whole lot of aches, as the adrenaline started to recede a little. Shane. Shane was still on the bus, too. Why was he still on the bus? "Jason. Use this to track them," Oliver said, and pulled something out of the glove compartment of the cruiser. It looked like a GPS navigation device. "It's been keyed to follow the bus."
"You bugged the bus?"
"I bugged your sister. I slipped a cell phone into her pocket during the confusion. Hopefully she'll have an opportunity to use it." He handed the device over to Jason, who stuck it up on the dashboard, angled so he could see the colored road-map display. "Nice," he said. "Hey, if you could unlock the shotgun, that would be good, too."
"No," Oliver said flatly. "The last thing I trust you with is a firearm. Just drive." Claire was having trouble focusing, she realized. "You gave Eve a phone?"
"I put it in her pocket," Oliver said. "Unless they search her again, I doubt they'll find it. There were plenty of distractions."
"What about Shane? Is he okay?"
"I don't know." Oliver kept staring at Michael. "Was he?"
"I got one of his hands free," Michael said. "I could have gotten them both out. You just had to give me one more--"
"One more second and you'd have been pulled to pieces, which would have done me no good at all," Oliver said. "Patience and Jacob were stepping aside. They know a lost cause when they see one, and you couldn't have gotten Eve and Shane both out in any case. It's better to leave them together, where they can protect each other. Now, are you going to behave yourself? Or do I need to prove to you, again, who is master here?" Michael didn't answer, but he dropped his hands to his sides. Oliver let him go. "How do you feel?" Michael let out a brittle little laugh. "What, you're concerned?" He looked bad, Claire realized, even in the dim light bouncing in from Jason's side of the front window. He was burned red, his face swollen. "Not really," Oliver said. "I'm concerned you'll be a liability. Which is almost certainly going to be the case, if you continue to act like some lovesick boy instead of a thinking man. Are we understood? If you want to save your fragile little friends, you must be a great deal smarter about when you risk your own safety." It was hard to tell what the expression on Michael's swollen face was, but there was no mistaking the flash of hate in his eyes. Claire swallowed, hard. Michael took a deep breath and turned toward her. "You're okay?" he asked, and stripped off his gloves. His hands were pale, but just above the line where the gloves had been were vivid black and red burns. He gently touched her face, turning it to one side, then the other. "You're going to have some action-star bruises, tough girl." But she knew what he was looking for, really. "No fang marks," she said. "Well, none that weren't already there, from before, you know. Look, not even any needle marks."
"Needle marks?"
"Patience and Jacob, they insisted that all blood get drawn with a needle. I think they were trying to sort of ration it out."
"They were trying to keep you alive," Oliver said, turning back to face the front. "That many vampires in an enclosed space, a feeding frenzy would be inevitable. None of you would have survived it, especially not restrained as you were." As Eve and Shane still were. Claire felt sick. She also felt horribly, horribly guilty. "Why me?" she asked. "Why save me, not Eve? Or Shane?"
"You were the closest," Michael said. "And--you're the youngest. Eve and Shane would both kick my ass if I tried to save them ahead of you." But he looked sickly guilty, too, and she knew he was thinking, just as she was, of Eve. "I heard her screaming for me. That was why we--why we decided to go in."
"It was that or listen to his yowling the rest of the drive," Oliver said. "I've never been in love, and more and more, I'm glad I haven't. It seems to make you foolish, as well as very tiresome." Jason snorted; it might have been a choked laugh. "Yeah, you got that right." Oliver smacked Jason in the back of the head. "I don't need your agreement. Drive." Claire tried to pull her head back together. "Wh-what are we going to do?" she asked. "Just follow them? What if--what if something happens on the bus? Are we just going to sit here?"
"Yes," Oliver said. "Because going back now, we've lost the element of surprise, and Morley will be ready for us. In fact, he may try to engineer a provocation, to force us to do something stupid. We follow them until they stop. Once they're off the bus, we have a much better chance." Jason said, "What about, you know, ramming the bus? Out here in the sun, they can't really chase us down on foot. Not for long."
"Ramming a bus will simply yield us a car that will no longer drive, and will not ensure the bus is disabled," Oliver said. "It would take something larger. Much larger. In any case, it's not prudent. Too much risk of damage to your delicate little humans on board."