"Sam!" Michael yelled. Sam gathered up Amelie in his arms and jumped off the stage. Most of the others followed him. Michael grabbed Eve and Shane, and Claire turned to follow as they clattered down the stairs.
Ysandre stopped her.
"Not so fast," she said. Her voice no longer sounded like a purr; it was a growl, low and vicious. "You I want."
Claire fumbled for a weapon. She came up with a fork from a fallen place setting, and stabbed it into Ysandre's arm. The vampire yelped, plucked it out, and fastened her hand around Claire's throat, bending her back over the table. Claire couldn't breathe. She battered at the vampire's iron hand, and tried to twist free, but it was no use.
She was dying.
Oliver hit Ysandre in a flying leap. He knocked her into Bishop, and they both went down. Before they hit the floor, he'd grabbed Claire's wrist and pulled her toward the stairs. She wasn't moving fast enough for him. He scooped her into his arms, and the world blurred around them.
Vampire speed.
Screams smeared into noise, and Claire heard crashes and sirens, and then nothing.
Strange, to feel safe in Oliver's arms.
When she woke up, her head was in Shane's lap, and he was stroking her hair. She heard the hushed murmur of voices. "What - " Her throat hurt. Hurt a lot. And her voice sounded funny.
"Hey," Shane said, and smiled down at her. It didn't look right, that smile. "Don't talk. We're home - we've got everything secured. It's okay."
She doubted that. She could hear sirens outside, racing past on the street. Voices inside the house, lots of them. She tried to sit up, but Shane held her back. "Sam's upstairs with Amelie, in the rec room." Which was Shane's term for Amelie's hidden lair. "The city's in lockdown. Bishop had a lot of people on his payroll already. Lots of surprises. He's been busy."
She mouthed, Who's here?
"Yeah, well, we've got guests tonight," he said. "Couldn't get them to their own places, so they're taking refuge here. Your mom and dad are right here - "
And there they were, pushing Shane out of the way. Mom was crying as she stroked Claire's face. Her dad was more stoic, but his face was flushed and his jaw was tightly clenched.
"How you doing, kiddo?" he asked.
"Fine," she whispered, and pointed at them.
"We're just fine, sweetheart," her mother said, and kissed her on the forehead. She was still wearing the long white dress, but the angel wings looked battered and off center. "When Oliver brought you in, I thought - I thought it was too late. I thought - "
They'd thought she was dead. Claire felt guilty, even though passing out hadn't been her idea, exactly. "I'm okay," she managed to say. She tried to swallow, and found that was not just a bad idea; it was a terrible idea. She coughed. That hurt worse.
Pitiful.
"Oliver?" she whispered. Her dad nodded to someplace behind the couch, where she was stretched out.
"On the phone," he said. "He's quite the take-charge guy, isn't he?"
The lights in the house went out, and people screamed. Almost immediately, flashlights clicked on; Eve and Shane had them ready, and so did Michael.
"Calm down," Michael said. "Everybody relax. The house is secure."
Nothing was secure from Bishop, Claire wanted to tell him. Ysandre and Fran?ois had been here, and they'd get in again if they wanted. The gloom felt thick and oily around her. If there were ghosts in the house - other than the one Michael had been - they were coming out in force tonight, drawn by the fear and fury.
"Hey," Eve said. She was standing at the front windows, looking out. "Something's on fire out there."
A fire truck roared by, screaming, chased by a fleet of patrol cars. Busy night for city services, Claire thought dizzily. She got up, despite her mother's attempts to keep her flat. The room spun a little, then steadied. She joined Eve at the window. Eve put an arm around her and hugged her, eyes still on the fire. It was a big one, maybe three streets away. Flames were leaping a dozen feet into the air.
"How you doing?" Eve asked her.
Claire gave her a silent thumbs-up, and saw Eve smile.
"Yeah, you went all Spartacus up there. I was proud, you know. Well, until you kind of got your ass kicked."
Claire tried to choke out an indignant "Hey!"
"Okay, so, maybe not your fault." Eve hugged her again. "Holy water. Nice touch. I was almost impressed."
"Whose house?" Two words, Claire managed in one whisper. That was progress. "On fire?"
"I think it's the Melville house." Eve angled for a different view. "Crap. I see some more. This isn't good."
Michael joined them. "It's part of Bishop's plan," he said. "Or at least, that's what I'd guess. Create chaos. Keep Amelie off-balance."
Claire bet the power failure was all part of the plan too. "How many are here?"
"In our house? About thirty." Eve rolled her eyes. "Half of them vampires. Great, huh? After all that."
Claire stared at her. "Thirty?"
Eve nodded. "What?"
"Makes us a good target."
"She's right," Michael said. "We need to stay alert."
Shane pressed in next to Claire. He was still wearing his leather pants, but he'd thrown on a grotty old Marilyn Manson T-shirt that looked rescued from the bottom of the laundry bag.
She didn't care. She collapsed against him, and felt his arms go around her, and just for a second, it was all right.
"Killer rabbit," Shane said fondly, and kissed her. "What's with the outfit?"