"Hey." Claire nodded. "Do you want some coffee? We just made a pot."
"I've got some in the car. Let's go." Hannah was already heading down the walk toward her cruiser, so Claire hurried after her, taking two steps for every one of Hannah's longer legs. "Thanks for staying inside."
Claire got in on the passenger side of the police car and put on her seat belt. As Hannah started the car, she said, "What was happening?"
"Where?"
"Over there." Claire pointed in the approximate direction where she'd seen the other police cars. "Something happened."
"Nothing you need to worry about right now." That wasn't like Hannah Moses at all. She was usually relaxed, calm, confident, and she was hardly ever evasive. Now she sounded tense.
Claire tried for humor. "Michael and I had a bet. He said meth lab. I say international spy ring."
"Neither," Hannah said, and pulled the car away from the curb. "What are you going to tell the council?"
"I . . . don't want to talk about it yet."
"You should," Hannah said. "My lover woke up this morning and didn't recognize me."
Claire blinked. "Your . . . what?"
"Yes, get over it, Claire; women older than you have boy-friends. But he didn't know who I was. He said he'd never met me." Hannah was crying. Not a lot, just a shimmer of tears in her eyes, but it was chilling. Claire didn't know what to say. "It lasted a while, and then he was fine. It's been happening all over town, but only to some people. For some it's worse than others, and it doesn't seem to go away. You heard about the murders?" Claire nodded. "Do you know something about what's causing it?"
"I--" Claire swallowed hard. "Maybe. Yeah. I think so." Hannah pressed harder on the gas. "Then let's get you to the council, because I want this stopped. I never want to feel that again, and I never want to work another murder scene like the one I saw last night."
Claire shuddered, and changed the subject. "Is . . . is he human? Your boyfriend, I mean."
"Yeah, he's human. Why?"
"It's not just humans who get it, whatever it is. Vampires do, too." Claire hesitated, then plunged on. "I think Michael forgot who I was this morning. Not for long, just for maybe a minute or two. But I don't think it's the first time he's forgotten."
Hannah looked, if possible, even grimmer. "That's not good news. Not at all."
"I know." Claire couldn't shake the memory of the vampire in the diner, who said the world was wrong, and then tried to kill the first person who came close. What if that happened to Michael? To Oliver? God, to Amelie? "That vampire who went crazy, the one from Marjo's Diner the other night--how long did it take for her to come out of it?"
Hannah gave her a sideways look as she made the last turn toward Founder's Square, and slowed for the security station they had to pass. "She didn't," she said. "Best we can tell, she never will."
NINE
Kyle was still in the cage in the middle of the park, heavily guarded; Claire caught a glimpse of the barred square box and the heavy police presence as the car passed the borders of the square, and then took a ramp down to the underground parking beneath the buildings. Hannah had a reserved space, and as they walked toward the elevator it opened with a hiss. One of Amelie's black-suited guards--the woman--nodded to Hannah and looked at Claire with pointed intensity.
"She's with me," Hannah said. "I'll take responsibility."
"Good enough," the vampire agreed, and pressed the button for the meeting floor. "I'll warn you, they're not in a wonderful mood."
"They never are."
The vampire chuckled, a very human sort of sound, but somehow at least twenty percent more sinister. "Well, that's true. Good luck."
Once they'd stepped out of the elevator, the vampire was all business again, following Hannah and Claire as they walked down the long marble hall to a set of polished wooden doors that opened before they arrived, from inside. Claire supposed that was intended to look impressive, but it wasn't any big trick; the vampires could clearly hear them coming.
There was only one guard in the room this time, and their escort stopped outside and pulled the doors shut behind them. Amelie was seated in her place, and so was Richard; there were folders on the table, each one neatly labeled.
Oliver was pacing, hands behind his back.
"You're late," he snapped at Hannah. The guard was right--he was clearly not in a good mood. Hannah sat down beside Richard, leaving Claire standing in indecision. "And you've brought a friend. How . . . nice."
Claire quickly sat down in the first available chair. Oliver was eyeing her like a piece of trash he was considering taking out.
"Claire," Amelie said. "This is unexpected." Unexpected, Claire thought, did not mean welcome. Amelie, like Hannah, looked un-characteristically tense.
"I needed to talk to you," Claire said. "Both of you." "Must we always be distracted by the yapping of your favorite pet?" Oliver said, and crossed the room in a flash to slap both hands flat on the table, glaring at Amelie. "Silence her until we're done. She shouldn't be here."
That was . . . shocking. Claire had never seen him quite that aggressive toward the Founder before. It occurred to her, uneasily, that maybe she ought to have called Amelie first before showing up.
Amelie didn't flinch, blink, or react to Oliver's anger in any way. "She's not my pet," she said evenly, "and I don't take orders from you, Oliver. Truly, you must try to remember that from time to time."