No. It was no time to be crying.

When she did finally sleep, she felt safe.

The next day, there was no sign of the vampires, none at all. Claire checked the portal networks, but as far as she could tell, they were down. With nothing concrete to do, she helped around the house—cleaning, straightening, running errands. Richard Morrell came around to check on them. He looked a little better for having slept, which didn’t mean he looked good, exactly.

When Eve wandered down, she looked almost as bad. She hadn’t bothered with her Goth makeup, and her black hair was down in a lank, uncombed mess. She poured Richard some coffee from the ever-brewing pot, handed it over, and said, “How’s Michael?”

Richard blew on the hot surface in the cup without looking at her. “He’s at City Hall. We moved all the vampires we still had into the jail, for safekeeping.”

Eve’s face crumpled in anguish. Shane put a hand on her shoulder, and she pulled in a damp breath and got control of herself.

“Right,” she said. “That’s probably for the best, you’re right.” She sipped from her own battered coffee mug. “What’s it like out there?” Out there meant beyond Lot Street, which remained eerily quiet.

“Not so good,” Richard said. His voice sounded hoarse and dull, as if he’d yelled all the edges off it. “About half the stores are shut down, and some of those are burned or looted. We don’t have enough police and volunteers to be everywhere. Some of the store owners armed up and are guarding their own places—I don’t like it, but it’s probably the best option until everybody settles down and sobers up. The problem isn’t everybody, but it’s a good portion of the town who’s been down and angry a long time. You heard they raided the Barfly?”

“Yeah, we heard,” Shane said.

“Well, that was just the beginning. Dolores Thompson’s place got broken into, and then they went to the warehouses and found the bonded liquor storage. Those who were inclined to deal with all this by getting drunk and mean have had a real holiday.”

“We saw the mobs,” Eve said, and glanced at Claire. “Um, about your sister—”

“Yeah, thanks for taking care of her. Trust my idiot sister to go running around in her red convertible during a riot. She’s damn lucky they didn’t kill her.”

They would have, Claire was certain of that. “I guess you’re taking her with you . . . ?”

Richard gave her a thin smile. “Not the greatest houseguest?”

Actually, Monica had been very quiet. Claire had found her curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, sound asleep. She’d looked pale and tired and bruised, and much younger than Claire had ever seen her. “She’s been okay.” She shrugged. “But I’ll bet she’d rather be with her family.”

“Her family’s under protective custody downtown. My dad nearly got dragged off by a bunch of yahoos yelling about taxes or something. My mom—” Richard shook his head, as if he wanted to drive the pictures right out of his mind. “Anyway. Unless she likes four walls and a locked door, I don’t think she’s going to be very happy. And you know Monica: if she’s not happy—”

“Nobody is,” Shane finished for him. “Well, I want her out of our house. Sorry, man, but we did our duty and all. Past this point, she’d have to be a friend to keep crashing here. Which, you know, she isn’t. Ever.”

“Then I’ll take her off your hands.” Richard set the cup down and stood. “Thanks for the coffee. Seems like that’s all that’s keeping me going right now.”

“Richard . . .” Eve rose, too. “Seriously, what’s it like out there? What’s going to happen?”

“With any luck, the drunks will sober up or pass out, and those who’ve been running around looking for people to punish will get sore feet and aching muscles and go home to get some sleep.”

“Not like we’ve had a lot of luck so far, though,” Shane said.

“No,” Richard agreed. “That we haven’t. But I have to say, we can’t keep things locked down. People have to work, the schools have to open, and for that, we need something like normal life around here. So we’re working on that. Power and water’s on, phone lines are back up. TV and radio are broadcasting. I’m hoping that calms people down. We’ve got police patrols overlapping all through town, and we can be anywhere in under two minutes. One thing, though: we’re getting word that there’s bad weather in the forecast. Some kind of real big front heading toward us tonight. I’m not too happy about that, but maybe it’ll keep the crazies off the streets for a while. Even riots don’t like rain.”

“What about the university?” Claire asked. “Are they open?”

“Open and classes are running, believe it or not. We passed off some of the disturbances as role-playing in the disaster drill, and said that the looting and burning was part of the exercise. Some of them believed us.”

“But . . . no word about the vampires?”

Richard was silent for a moment, and then he said, “No. Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“We found some bodies, before dawn,” he said. “All vamps. All killed with silver or decapitation. Some of them—I knew some of them. Thing is, I don’t think they were killed by Bishop. From the looks of things, they were caught by a mob.”

Claire caught her breath. Eve covered her mouth. “Who—?”

“Bernard Temple, Sally Christien, Tien Ma, and Charles Effords.”

Eve lowered her hand to say, “Charles Effords? Like, Miranda’s Charles? Her Protector?”

“Yeah. From the state of the bodies, I’d guess he was the primary target. Nobody loves a pedophile.”

“Nobody except Miranda,” Eve said. “She’s going to be really scared now.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” Richard hesitated, then plunged forward. “Miranda’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Disappeared. We’ve been looking for her. Her parents reported her missing early last night. I’m hoping she wasn’t with Charles when the mob caught up to him. You see her, you call me, okay?”

Eve’s lips shaped the agreement, but no sound came out.

Richard checked his watch. “Got to go,” he said. “Usual drill: lock the doors, check IDs on anybody you’re not expecting who shows up. If you hear from any vampire, or hear anything about the vampires, you call immediately. Use the coded radios, not the phone lines. And be careful.”

Eve swallowed hard, and nodded. “Can I see Michael?”

He paused, as if that hadn’t occurred to him, then shrugged. “Come on.”

“We’re all going,” Shane said.

It was an uncomfortable ride to City Hall, where the jail was located, mainly because although the police cruiser was large, it wasn’t big enough to have Richard, Monica, Eve, Shane, and Claire all sharing the ride. Monica had taken the front seat, sliding close to her brother, and Claire had squeezed in with her friends in the back.

They didn’t talk, not even when they cruised past burned-out, broken hulks of homes and stores. There weren’t any fires today, or any mobs that Claire spotted. It all seemed quiet.

Richard drove past a police barricade around City Hall and parked in the underground garage. “I’m taking Monica to my parents’,” he said. “You guys go on down to the cells. I’ll be there in a minute.”

It took a lot more than a minute for them to gain access to Michael; the vampires—all five of those the humans still had in custody—were housed in a special section, away from daylight and in reinforced cells. It reminded Claire, with an unpleasant lurch, of the vampires in the cells where Myrnin was usually locked up, for his own protection. Had anyone fed them? Had anyone even tried?

She didn’t know three of the vampires, but she knew the last two. “Sam!” she blurted, and rushed to the bars. Michael’s grandfather was lying on the bunk, one pale hand over his eyes, but he sat up when she called his name. Claire could definitely see the resemblance between Michael and Sam—the same basic bone structure, only Michael’s hair was a bright gold, and Sam’s was red.