“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.”

“But—”

“Oh, just shut up and follow,” Oliver snapped. “I am tired of debate. There will be no more.”

Claire knew a door slamming when she heard it. She twisted around a little and pulled up the pant leg over her left ankle. It was puffy and starting to bruise. Yep. That was sprained. “Do we have any first aid stuff in here?”

Oliver dug out a box and passed it through the torn grate on Michael’s side. She found some of that rubberized wrapping bandage stuff, and tried to do it herself, but Michael took it away from her, removed her shoe and sock, and wrapped it for her without saying a word.

“Thanks,” she said softly. It felt better, once that was done, although there was still a dull red ache that flared up every time she moved. “Is there anything—”

“I’m healing,” Michael said. He put the medical kit down and let his head fall back against the seat. “Man. This has not been the trip I planned.”

“Really?” Oliver’s voice was dry. “It’s exactly what I expected. Sadly.”

They drove for what seemed like a very long time, but according to the clock built into the cruiser’s dashboard, it was only a couple of hours. The bus kept taking crazy back-road turns, as if they were searching for something. Finally, though, the dot stopped moving. “What is that?” Jason asked, and tapped the screen. It magnified. “Is that a town?” Claire couldn’t see through the grate, other than a dot on a map. “It’s tiny, if it is. Smaller than that last place where you got yourselves jacked.”

“No other roads in,” Oliver said, looking at the display. “They’ll see us coming in any case. The land is as flat as a griddle. And just as hot.”

“Yeah, who ever decided to locate Vampireville in Texas, anyway? Whose good idea was that?” Jason asked.

“Amelie’s,” Oliver said. “And none of your business why she chose it. It’ll do us no good to wait until dark—they will only have sharper senses with which to detect us. Better to strike in the day, if we can. Unfortunately, my army consists of one unreliable criminal, one girl with a disability, and one incredibly foolish young vampire with a tanning issue. I am not confident.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Claire said. “We have to go. Eve and Shane—”

“I am more concerned with what Morley is doing,” Oliver interrupted. “He’s defying Amelie. Defying me. I can’t allow that to go unanswered.”

It boiled down to the same thing, luckily—they didn’t have a choice, and Oliver had to help. He thought about it in silence for a few minutes as the cruiser continued on its path to the dot on the map, then nodded sharply. “All right,” he said. “We go in. Now. But when we do, you must be fast, and you must be ruthless. Michael, since you’re so hell-bent on saving the girl and your friend, that will be your mission. Claire, Jason, you will stay with me. I may require someone to act as distraction.”

“He means bait,” Michael said. “You’re not using Claire.”

“She’s a wounded deer,” Oliver said. “She’s perfect.”

“You’re not using Claire. And that’s not optional. I don’t care if you think you’re the boss; you’re not using her.” Michael sounded utterly, completely dedicated to that proposition, and Oliver, after a second’s frozen silence, nodded.

“Very well. I’ll use the criminal. He’s serviceable, I suppose.”

Jason cleared his throat. “Do I get the shotgun if you’re staking me out for bait?”

“No,” Oliver said. “Not ever.”

Claire was struck by a random thought, which was proof her brain was finally shaking off the effects of bailing out of the bus at speed. “Hey,” she said. “It takes hours to get here from Morganville. How did Jason—”

“Jason says shut up,” Eve’s brother snapped. “It’s none of your business, okay? Let’s just say I was in the neighborhood.”

Oliver said nothing. That meant that either Jason had tried to get out of Morganville and managed to get himself caught, by Oliver—or he’d been on Oliver’s business errands. Either way, there was some kind of relationship there that Claire was sure hadn’t been in force a month ago. In fact, Oliver had been pretty definitely on the “Let’s execute the jerk” team. So why was Jason suddenly part of his crew—and a trusted part, if Jason had gotten some kind of permission to leave Morganville?

Claire figured she would probably never know. Jason was angrily not talking; Oliver was never Mr. Great Communicator even when he was in a good mood, and this wasn’t one.

He looked angry, focused, and very, very dangerous.

“Take us in,” Oliver said. “You all know what’s required. Do it. Get allies from Morley’s people if you can, by whatever means you can. Intimidate if you can’t persuade. Don’t allow yourself to be surrounded. Arm your friends, destroy your enemies, and whatever the cost, win. Are we understood? I will take care of Morley.”

Michael nodded. His face was healing faster than Claire had expected, but she guessed it wouldn’t last, not if they were going out in the daylight again. She wondered how much he could really take, before the pain and damage got too much and just overwhelmed him.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.

Jason drove way too fast, gunning the engine to race-car levels, chasing dust devils down the road, and grinning like the maniac he was, from Claire’s glimpses of his expression. He looked more than ready for a fight. She’d never exactly seen him like this, and it was more than a little frightening.

Next to her, Michael was closed off, focused on controlling the pain he had to be feeling, and the worry. Oliver probably didn’t feel anything. He’d sneer at the idea of being worried.

Claire wanted to throw up, but she was determined to hang on and be as strong as she could. She rooted through the first aid box and found a couple of extra-strength pain relievers, not that they would help much. She also asked Michael, quietly, if he had any kind of weapon he could give her.

He silently dug a silver-coated stake out of his pocket and handed it to her. It had a wicked-sharp tip, enough to slice as well as stab, and it felt cold and solid in her hand as she gripped it hard enough to leave sweat prints on the shiny surface. “Last resort,” he told her. “Don’t get close enough to need it, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, and tried for a smile. She thought she actually managed to pull one off. “Does it hurt? Never mind; stupid question. Of course it hurts. I’m sorry.”

His pale hand, with its vivid red burns at the wrist, gripped hers tightly for a few seconds. “You’re a good person, Claire. You know that, right?”