Clark was right. It was going to be a really long, bad day to be Monica Morrell. Even Gina and Jennifer were fading back now, heading out in a different direction and leaving her to face the music.
Monica's gaze fell on Claire. There was a flash of fear in her eyes, and shame, and genuine pain.
And then she armored up and snapped, "What are you looking at, freak?"
Claire shrugged. "Justice, I guess." She frowned. "How come you didn't stay with your parents?"
"None of your business." Monica's fierce stare wavered. "Dad wanted us all to go back to normal. So people could see we're not afraid."
"How's that going?"
Monica took a step toward her, then hugged her books to her chest to cover up most of the labels, and hurried on.
She hadn't gotten ten feet before a stranger ran up and slapped a label across her back that had a picture of a slender young girl and an older boy of maybe fifteen on it. The words beneath said KILLER OF ALYSSA.
With a shock, Claire realized that the boy in that picture was Shane. And that was his sister, Alyssa, the one who'd died in the fire that Monica had set.
"Justice," Claire repeated softly. She felt a little sick, actually. Justice wasn't the same thing as mercy.
Her phone rang as she was trying to decide what to do. "Better come home," Michael Glass said. "We've got an emergency signal from Richard at City Hall."
Chapter Twelve
The signal had come over the coded strategy network, which Claire had just assumed was dead, considering that Oliver had been the one running it. But Richard had found a use for it, and as she burst in the front door, breathless, she heard Michael and Eve talking in the living room. Claire closed and locked the door, dumped her backpack, and hurried to join them.
"What did I miss?"
"Shhh," they both said. Michael, Eve, and Shane were all seated at the table, staring intently at the small walkie talkie sitting upright in the middle. Michael pulled out a chair for Claire, and she sat, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Richard was talking.
--No telling whether or not this storm will hit us full on, but right now, the Weather Service shows the radar track going right over the top of us. It'll be here in the next few hours, probably right around dark. It's late in the year for tornado activity, but they're telling us there's a strong possibility of some real trouble. On top of all the other things we have going on, this isn't good news. I'm putting all emergency services and citizen patrols on full alert. If we get a tornado, get to your designated shelters.
Designated shelters? Claire mouthed to Michael, who shrugged.
If you're closer to City Hall, come here; we've got a shelter in the basement. Those of you who are Civil Defense wardens, go doortodoor in your area, tell people we've got a storm coming and what to do. We're putting it on TV and radio, and the university's going to get ready as well.
"Richard, this is Hector," said a new voice. "Miller House. You got any news about this takeover people are talking about?"
"We've got rumors, but nothing concrete," Richard said. "We hear there's a lot of talk going around town about taking back City Hall, but we've got no specific word about when these people are meeting, or where, or even who they are. All I can tell you is that we've fortified the building, and the barricades remain up around Founder's Square, for all the good that does. I need everybody in a securitydesignated location to be on the alert today and tonight. Report in if you see any sign of an attack, any sign at all. We'll try to get to you in support."
Michael exchanged a look with the rest of them, and then picked up the radio. He pressed the button. "Michael Glass. You think Bishop's behind this?"
"I think Bishop's willing to let humans do his dirty work for him, and then sweep in to make himself lord and master on the ashes," Richard said. "Seems like his style. Put Shane on."
Michael held out the radio. Shane looked at it like it might bite, then took it and pressed TALK. "Yeah, this is Shane."
"I have two unconfirmed sightings of your father in town. I know this isn't easy for you, but I need to know: is Frank Collins back in Morganville?"
Shane looked into Claire's eyes and said, "If he is, he hasn't talked to me about it."
He lied. Claire's lips parted, and she almost blurted something out, but she just couldn't think what to say. "Shane," she whispered. He shook his head.
"Tell you what, Richard, you catch my dad, you've got my personal endorsement for tossing him in the deepest pit you've got around here," Shane said. "If he's in Morganville, he's got a plan, but he won't be working for or with the vamps. Not that he knows, anyway."
"Fair enough. You hear from him--"
"You're on speed dial. Got it." Shane set the radio back in the center of the table. Claire kept staring at him, willing him to speak, to say something, but he didn't.
"Don't do this," she said. "Don't put me in the middle."
"I'm not," Shane said. "Nothing I said was a lie. My dad told me he was coming, not that he's here. I haven't seen him, and I don't want to. I meant what I said. If he's here, Dick and his brownshirts are welcome to him. I've got nothing to do with him, not anymore."
Claire wasn't sure she believed that, but she didn't think he was intentionally lying now. He probably did mean it. She just thought that no matter how much he thought he was done with his dad, all it would take would be a snap of Frank Collins's fingers to bring him running.
Not good.
Richard was answering questions from others on the radio, but Michael was no longer listening. He was fixed on Shane. "You knew? You knew he was coming back here, and you didn't warn me?"
Shane stirred uneasily. "Look--"
"No, you look. I'm the one who got knifed and decapitated and buried in the backyard, among other things! Good thing I was a ghost!"
Shane looked down. "Who was I supposed to tell? The vamps? Come on."
"You could have told me!"
"You're a vamp," Shane said. "In case you haven't checked the mirror lately."
Michael stood up. His chair slid about two feet across the floor and skidded to an uneven stop; he leaned his hands on the table and loomed over Shane. "Oh, I do," he said. "I check it every day. How about you? You taken a good look recently, Shane? Because I'm not so sure I know you anymore."
Shane looked up at that, and there was a flash of pain in his face. "I didn't mean--"
"I could be just about the last vampire around here," Michael interrupted. "Maybe the others are dead. Maybe they will be soon. Between the mobs out there willing to rip our heads off and Bishop waiting to take over, having your dad stalking me is all I need."