Claire didn't even see Michael move; he was that quick. Until that moment she'd thought he was just a normal guy, really...okay, one who disappeared into mist during the day. But nobody moved that fast.

Nobody human.

And nobody was that strong, either. Michael grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, lifted him into the air, and launched him headfirst down the hall to crash into the far wall. Claire dived out of the way. So did Shane, and Eve, although Eve was diving toward Oliver, not away. Shane got hold of her ankle and dragged her backward, kicking and screaming.

Michael went after Oliver. As the vampire was rolling to his feet, Michael smashed into him. Oliver was strong, and fast, but in this house Michael was unstoppable, and he was really, really angry.

"You fool!" Oliver screamed at him. "Do you understand what I said? Claire has the book!"

"I don't care!"

"You have to care! If you don't give it over, they'll rip all of you apart to get it! I'm trying to save you!"

Michael slammed his fist into his face two or three times, quicker than Claire could blink. Oliver went down again, scrabbling at the floor, then rolled over and stared furiously through tangled graying hair up at them. Vampires bled, after all, but it didn't quite look right - not red enough, and too thick. It trickled from the corners of Oliver's mouth as he snarled, fangs down, and tried to drag Michael close enough to bite. Michael hit him so hard that one of the fangs broke off and skittered away across the floor like an ivory dagger. Oliver shouted in surprise and pain and rolled, trying to protect himself.

"Eve!" Michael yelled, and dragged him by one foot down the hallway toward the door. "Revoke the invitation! Do it!" Oliver was fighting him wildly now, ripping long raw scratches in the wooden floor with his fingernails, snarling and twisting to get free. "Eve!"

Shane lunged for Eve, pulled her to her feet, and shook her hard. That didn't work. She just stared right past him, her face still and dead.

Claire moved him out of the way and slapped Eve hard.

Eve yelped, clapped a hand to her wounded cheek, and blinked. "Hey! What the hell...?" And then she looked past Claire to the furious battle going on in the hallway, lips parted in amazement.

"Eve!" Michael yelled again. "The invitation! You have to withdraw it now!"

"But I didn't - " Eve didn't waste time arguing. "Hey! Oliver! Get the hell out of our house!"

Oliver went still. Completely still, like a dead man. Michael picked him up by an arm and a leg, and threw him out into the dark. Claire heard the vampire hit the pavement outside and curse as he rolled back to his feet and came back at the door.

He bounced off a solid cushion of air in the doorway.

"You're not welcome," Michael grated. He had a cut on his face, bleeding a thick thread down the side of his neck, and he was breathing hard. "And by the way? Eve quits."

He slammed the door in Oliver's snarling face, and collapsed against it, shaking. He didn't look all-powerful anymore. He looked terrified. "Michael?" Eve asked, breathless. "You okay?"

"Peachy," he said, and got it together. "Eve, stay away from the door. He got to you once; maybe he can do it again. Claire! You, too. Stay away from the door." He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the hall - which was a mess, wow, the floor all ripped up, the walls scraped and scratched - and shoved her down to a sitting position on the couch. "Claire."

"Um...yes?" Things were moving too fast. She didn't know what he was waiting to hear.

"The book?"

"Oh. Yeah. Well - see, there was this floor in the library where they were going through books, and Professor Wilson was stealing things, and - "

He held up a hand to stop her. "Do you have the book?"

"Yes."

"Please tell me you didn't bring it here."

She blinked. "Well - yes."

Michael fell into the armchair, leaned forward, and buried his face in his hands. "Sweet baby Jesus, do you not pay any attention to what goes on in this town? You really have the book?"

"I...guess so." She got up and started to retrieve it, but he raised his head and grabbed her wrist as she moved by him.

"No," he said. "Leave it, wherever it is. The less we know, the better. We need to figure out what we're going to do, because Oliver wasn't kidding around. He wouldn't have come here if he hadn't intended to kill us all for that book. As it was, he took a big chance. He knows how powerful the Protection is on this house."

"That how come you could beat him?" Shane asked. "Because you know, I'm your best friend, but you're just not that badass, man."

"Thanks, asshole. Yeah. I'm part of the house, and that means I can use what the house has. It's strong.

Really strong."

"Good to know. So what's the plan?"

Michael took in a deep breath, then let it out. "Wait for daylight," he said. "Eve. You ever see Oliver outside in the sun?"

"Um..." She thought hard. "No. Mostly he stays in his office, or in the bar area, away from the windows.

But I didn't think vampires could be awake during the day!"

Claire thought about the church Monica had chased her into, and the elegant, ancient woman sitting in the pews. "I think they can," she said. "If they're old. He must be really old."

"I don't care how old he is - he's not tanning," Shane said. "We wait for dawn, and then we get Claire and the book out of here."

"She can't go home. They'll go there first," Eve said. Claire went cold.

"But - my parents! What about my parents?"

Nobody answered her for a second or two, and then Shane came and sat down next to her. "You think they'll listen? If we tell them the truth?"

"What, about Morganville? About vampires?" She laughed, and it sounded hysterical. "Are you kidding?

They'd never believe it!"

"Besides," Eve said, and sat down on her other side to take her hand, "even if you convinced them, they'd forget all about it once they were out of town. It's hard to be paranoid when you don't remember they're out to get you."

"Ouch," Shane agreed. "Okay, then. Running's out - for one thing, we can't throw Claire's parents to the vampire wolves...right?"

Michael and Eve nodded.

"And besides, same problem for Claire. Even if we got her out of town, she'd forget why she was running. They'd catch her."

More nods.

"So what do we do?"

"Trade the book," Claire said. They all looked at her. "What? I was going to, anyway. In exchange for some things."

"Like what?" Michael asked, amazed.

"Like - Brandon not holding Shane to his deal. And Monica and her freaks backing off of me.

And...Protection for all the dorms on campus, so that the students are safe." She blushed, because they were all staring at her like they'd never seen her before. "That's how Oliver knew I had the book. I messed up. I was trying to make a deal, but I thought he was just, you know, a good guy who could help. I didn't know he was one of the vampires."

"Oh, he's not one of them," Michael said. "He is them."

Shane frowned. "How do you know that, man?"

"Because in a way I'm one of them," Michael replied. "And something in me wants to do what he says."

"But - not a big part, right?" Eve ventured.

"No. But he's definitely in charge."

Shane got up and walked to the windows, twitched back the curtain, and looked out. "No kidding," he said.

"What've you got?"

"Vamp city, man. Check it out."

Michael joined him at the window, then Eve. When Claire squeezed in, she gasped, because there were dozens of people in view, all standing or sitting facing the house. Unnaturally still. Eve dashed to another set of windows. "Same here!" she called. "Hang on!"

"Shane," Michael said, and jerked his head after her. Shane loped off in pursuit. "Well, so much for sneaking out. I think we're here for the night, at least. Most of them have to go underground during the day. Those that don't won't be able to stay out in direct sunlight - I hope - so maybe we'll have more options then."

"Michael - " Claire felt like crying. "I didn't know. I thought I was doing something good. I really did."

He put his arm around her. "I know. It's not your fault. It might have been a dumb idea, but at least it was a sweet one." He kissed her cheek. "Better get some rest. And if you hear voices, try not to listen.

They're going to be testing us."

She nodded. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "But we'll think of something."

Claire curled up on the corner of the couch, piled under an afghan; Eve took the other end. Nobody felt much like going upstairs to bed. Shane paced a lot, talking in low whispers with Michael, who hadn't once gotten out his guitar. The two of them looked wired. Ready for anything.

Claire didn't mean to fall asleep - she thought she was too scared - but she did, eventually, as night spun on toward morning. Voices whispered to her - Michael's, she thought, and then Shane's. Get up, the voices said. Get up and open the door. Open the window. Let us in. We can help you if you'll just let us in.

She whimpered in her sleep, sweaty and sick, and felt Shane's hand on her forehead. "Claire." She opened her eyes and saw him sitting there next to her. He looked tired. "You're having a nightmare."

"Don't I wish," she muttered, tried to swallow, and discovered she was burning-up thirsty. She felt feverish and weak, too. Well, this was a perfect time to be catching the flu....

"Michael!" Oliver's voice came faint through the front door. "Something you should see, my boy! Look out your windows!"

"Trap," Shane said instantly, and reached out to grab Michael's arm as he walked by. "Don't, man."

"What's he going to do? Make faces at me?"

"If you start doing what he wants, it's hard to stop. Just don't."

Michael considered that for a few seconds, then pulled away and went on to the windows.

Where he stared out, frowning. There were red and blue flashing lights shining on the glass and reflecting on his skin.

"What is it?" Claire asked, and got up.

"Hey! Seriously, guys. Quit playing their game - "

"Cops," Michael said. He sounded blank and shocked. "They've got the whole street blocked off.

They're moving people out."

"What people? The vampires?" Eve wanted to know. She piled on at the window, too.

"Sheesh," Shane said grumpily. "Fine. Don't listen to me. If a vampire tells you to jump off a cliff..."

"They're evacuating the neighborhood," Michael said. "Getting rid of witnesses."

"Oh, shit," Shane said, and jumped up and craned to look over Claire's shoulder. "So just how screwed are we?"

"Well, the cops aren't vampires. And the Protections won't keep them out."

As Claire watched, the six police cars, all with their lights running in bloodred and vein blue flashes, were joined by two long, skeletal fire trucks. One at each end of the block.

Michael said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, shit!" Shane whispered. "They wouldn't."

"Yeah," Michael said. "I think they would. If this book is that important, I think they'd do just about anything to get it."

Oliver's face suddenly popped up in front of the window. They all screamed - even Michael - and jumped back. Shane tried to push Claire behind him. She smacked at him until he left her alone.

She wanted to hear what Oliver had to say.

"It's nearly five o'clock," Oliver said, his voice muffled by the window glass. "We're running out of time, Michael. Either invite me in and give me the book, or I'm afraid this is going to get unpleasant."

"Wait!" Claire balled her hands into fists. "I want to trade for it!"

His eyes weighed her, and dismissed her. "I'm very sorry, my dear, but that opportunity has come and gone. We're in much rougher waters now. Either hand over the book, or we'll come in and get it. I promise you, this is the best deal you're likely to get this side of hell."

Michael yanked down the shade. "Shane. You, Eve, and Claire get into the pantry room. Move it."

"No way!" Eve declared. "I'm not leaving you!"

He took her hand and locked eyes with her, in a way that made Claire's knees go weak even at several feet away. "They can't hurt me, except by hurting the house itself. They can't kill me, except by destroying the house. Understand? You guys are the vulnerable ones. And I want you safe."

He kissed her hand, darted a self-conscious look at Claire and Shane, and then kissed her lips, too.

"Huh," Shane said. "Thought so." He took Claire's hand. "Michael's right. Better get you girls someplace safe."

"You, too, Shane," said Michael.

"No way!"

"Not the time to be proving anything, dude. Just take care of them. I can take care of myself."

Maybe, Claire thought. And maybe he just wanted them out of the way in case he couldn't.

Either way, she didn't have a chance to protest. Shane steered her and Eve into the kitchen, loaded them down with water and prepackaged food like Pop-Tarts and energy bars, and helped them stack things in the dark, gloomy hiding place where Claire had spent her first morning in the Glass House.

She didn't know if Shane really might have followed Michael's orders - it was possible, she guessed - but just as they were pushing the last of the supplies into the narrow little doorway, there was a loud crashing of glass from the living room.

"What the hell?" Shane blurted, and ducked out to see what was going on. Claire went after him, and when she looked back, Eve was following, too.

But they didn't get very far, because the kitchen window smashed into splinters, and Claire and Eve stopped and turned to look.

Oliver was standing just outside the window. They heard more glass breaking, all over the house.

"Girls," he said. "I'm sorry to do this. Truly I am. But you're not giving me much choice. Last chance.

Invite me in, and this can end peacefully."

"Bite me!" Eve taunted. "Oh, wait...you can't, can you? Not from way out there!"

His eyes flared, and his fangs snapped down. Threat display. That was what it was called when a rattlesnake shook its tail, or a cobra spread its hood. He was giving them a clear sign that he didn't find them very funny.

"The book," he said. "Or your lives. That's the only deal you're going to get, Claire. I suggest you make the right choice quickly."

"It's okay," Eve said. "They can't come inside."

Oliver nodded, his faded, curling hair blowing in the hot night wind. "That's true," he said. "But then, I'm hardly all alone."

And he stepped aside as a policeman, in uniform, broke out the remaining glass with a nightstick and hopped up on the windowsill to climb through.

Eve and Claire screamed and ran.

The living room was a mess of broken furniture, scattered papers, struggling bodies - Shane punched out some guy in a black jacket, who flew back out of the window and into the arms of some waiting, snarling vampires. Michael was fighting a couple more, whom he just bodily picked up and threw out. As Eve and Claire skidded into the room and broke right and left, the cop in pursuit ran headlong into Michael and got tossed out, as well.

"They're coming in!" Eve screamed, and slammed the kitchen door and jammed a chair under the handle. Michael grabbed the nearest bookcase - not the one with the Bible on it, Claire saw - and pulled it over to block the window, then leaned the sofa against it.

"Upstairs!" he yelled. "Move it!"

Shane grabbed Claire by the hand and pounded up the steps, half dragging her; she missed a step and stumbled, and pulled him off-balance just at the right moment, because the bat that was swung at his head missed and thumped into the wall with a crack of wood. Another person hiding at the top of the stairs, this one female and tall. Shane grabbed the bat away from her and menaced her with it, driving her back down the hallway. Claire recognized her - one of the dorm girls, Lillian.

"Don't!" Lillian yelled, and put up her arms when Shane pulled back the bat.

"Hell," Shane spit in disgust. "I can't hit a girl. Here, Claire. You hit her." He tossed her the bat. Claire grabbed it and came to a clumsy batting stance, wishing she'd paid more attention in phys ed. Lillian screamed again and ran into the open doorway of Eve's room. Eve, coming up the stairs, screamed, too, for different reasons.

"Hey! That's my room, bitch!" And she flew in to grab Lillian by the hair, swing her around, and throw her out into the hall, then shoved her toward the stairs. "Michael! This one needs to go out!"

She shoved her again. Lillian tottered down the steps, and shrieked once more before leaving the building at speed, propelled by Michael-power.

"Check the rooms," Shane panted. "If one got in, there are probably more. Don't take chances. Yell for help."

Claire nodded and hurried to her room. It looked quiet, thank God - the windows were unbroken, and there was no sign of anybody hiding in the closets or under the bed. Same for the bathroom, although she had a bad shower-curtain moment. She heard crashing from down the hall. Shane had found somebody.

She ran out into the hall and started to come to his defense, then hesitated when she saw that Eve's door was now open a crack.

She'd left it closed.

She opened it slowly, as silently as she could, and peeked around the edge...

...and saw Eve up against the wall, and Miranda holding a knife at Eve's throat. She recognized the bruises and bite marks on her neck first, then the faded blue eyes as the girl's head turned toward her.

"Don't," Miranda said. "I have to do this. Charles says I need to. To make the visions stop. I want it to stop, Claire. You understand, right?"

"Let her go, Miranda, okay? Please?" Claire swallowed hard and stepped into the room. She could hear fighting from down the hall. Shane and Michael were busy. "You don't want to hurt Eve. She's your friend!"

"It's too much," Miranda said. "So many people dying, and I can't do anything. Charles said he'd make it go away. All I have to do is - "

"What? Kill Eve? Really, don't - you don't want to - to do anything - " Panicked, she looked to Eve for help. One thing was for sure: the pallor in Eve's face wasn't makeup.

"Yeah," Eve said faintly. "I'm your friend, Mir. You know that."

Miranda shook her head so hard her dark hair flew. The knife trembled against Eve's throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, whispering something that sounded like, "Charles," and when she opened her eyes again she looked different. Not scared. Focused.

She's going to do something. I need to -  Claire didn't have time to figure it out; she just moved, because Eve was moving, her arm flashing up and smacking Miranda's elbow. In the second that the knife was away from Eve's throat, Claire grabbed a thick handful of Miranda's hair and yanked, hard, dragging her backward. Miranda shrieked and slashed wildly at them. Eve's upraised arm got a bloody cut, and Claire moved backward, gasping, holding on to Miranda's hair and trying to stay out of cutting range.

Miranda swept the knife around and cut off the clump of hair a couple of inches away from Claire's knuckles. Ohno...

Miranda lunged at her, knife held out, and Claire ran into the black bedside table, toppled over onto the black satin comforter, and saw the knife coming for her.

"Hey!" Eve screamed, and spun Miranda around and slapped her, hard, across the face. Twice. When Miranda tried to stab her, Eve smacked the girl's hand into the wall and twisted her wrist until Miranda's fist opened and the knife dropped to the wood floor.

Miranda started crying. It was a hopeless, helpless sound, and if Claire hadn't been angry-scared, she might have actually felt sorry for her. "No, no, I don't want to see it anymore, I don't want to - he said he'd make it stop - "

Eve grabbed her by the arm, opened up the closet door, and stuffed Miranda inside, then jammed a wooden chair under the door handle to hold it shut. She looked furious and really, really hurt. Her arm was bleeding all over the place - not spurting, but flowing pretty freely. Claire grabbed up a black towel lying on the bureau and pressed the makeshift bandage to the wound; Eve blinked, like she'd forgotten all about it, and held it in place.

"Maybe she was just under his spell. Like you were, when you - " Okay, maybe it hadn't been smart to bring that up, Claire thought.

"That's why I slapped her," Eve said. "But I don't think that's it. Miranda's always been crazy. I just thought - well, I thought she wasn't that crazy."

Eve looked better. More color in her face, anyway...and then Claire thought, no, she looked too good.

Claire's eyes turned to the broken window. Outside, there was a slight edge of sunlight climbing above the horizon, and the sky had turned a deep blue gray.

"Michael!" she blurted. "Oh my God!"

She left Eve and ran into the hall. Shane was just coming out of his room, shaking out his right hand. His knuckles were bloody. "Where's Michael?" she yelled.

"Downstairs," he said. "What the hell is that?"

Claire realized with a shock that somehow she was still holding the handful of Miranda's severed hair.

She made a face and let go, then fluttered her hand to shake off the clingy strands. "You don't even want to know. Oh, Miranda's locked in Eve's closet, by the way."

"Well, that's a bonus. Sorry, but I really don't like that kid."

"She's not growing on me, either," Claire admitted. "Come on, we need to get to Michael."

"Trust me, he's doing okay without us."

"No, he's not," she said grimly. "The sun's coming up."

He didn't get it for a second, and then he did, and oh, boy. He was gone before she could yell at him to wait for her.

She reached the bottom of the staircase a few seconds behind, and saw him race across to where Michael was grabbing another - presumably, human - intruder on his way in through the broken-down front door.

"I don't need you!" he yelled at them both, and tossed the guy halfway to Kansas. "Get upstairs! Shane, show her where!"

Shane ignored him, plunged past him and into the hallway. Guarding the front door. Michael started to follow him, and stepped into the growing light from the back window.

He spun to look at it, then wordlessly at Claire. She saw the outright fear in his eyes. "No," he said. "Not now!"

She couldn't say or do anything to help, and she knew it. "How long...?"

The terrible look on his face pretty much answered the question, but he said it anyway. "Five minutes.

Maybe less. Dammit!"

As if the vampires knew, there was a rattle at the window behind the bookcase blocking it. It heaved uneasily, then started to topple forward. Michael got in between it and the floor, caught it, and flung it back upright, then braced it again with the sofa.

"Back up!" Michael ordered her, and she retreated to the stairs. She could hear Shane fighting in the hall again. "Claire, you and Eve need to find a way to block everything. Seal it up. Don't let Shane - "

She wasn't sure what he was going to say, but just then he gasped and doubled over, and she knew that it was lost. He looked pale. Paler.

Mist.

Gone, along with a fading ghost of a scream.

Eve skidded to a stop beside her, eyes wide. "He's gone," she whispered, as if she really couldn't believe it. "He left us."

"He couldn't help it." Claire took her hand. "Come on, Eve, let's get the bookcase down the hall. We need to wedge it in the doorway."

Eve nodded numbly. It was like all the fight had gone out of her, and Claire understood why.... What hope was there now? Michael had been handling things, but without him...?

"Help me," she said to Eve, and she meant it in every way she could.

Eve gave her a tiny little smile and squeezed her fingers. "You know I will."

Between the three of them, they managed to block the front door pretty thoroughly, wedging the bookcase in place and bracing it with two more at an angle. Sweaty, panting, scared, they looked at each other.

It got quiet. Weirdly quiet.

"Well?" Eve looked around the corner. "I don't see anything...."

"Can we get to the pantry?" Claire asked. "I mean, I don't hear anybody...."

"Too risky," Shane said. He grabbed the phone from a pile of debris and started dialing on the fly, then dropped it. "They cut the line."

Eve pulled her cell phone out of a holster on her belt. Shane grabbed for it, checked the signal, and held up his hand for a high five. He was already dialing when they smacked it. "Come on," he muttered, pacing, listening. "Pick up, pick up, pick up...."

He stopped in midstep. "Dad? Oh, damn, it's the machine - Dad, listen, if you get this, it's Shane, I'm at Michael Glass's house in Morganville, and I need shock and awe, man - come running. You know why."

He flipped the phone shut and threw it to Eve. "Upstairs, both of you. Get in the secret room. Michael?

Are you with us?"

Claire shivered in a sudden cold draft. "He's here."

"Watch out for them," Shane said. "I - I kind of have a plan." He said it as if he was half surprised.

"Girls. Upstairs. Now."

"But - "

"Go!" He'd learned how to yell orders from Michael, and it seemed to work, because Claire was moving for the stairs without any conscious decision to do it. The cold chill stayed around her, and she saw Eve shivering, too.

The upstairs was quiet, as well, except for the distant knocking sound of Miranda hammering on her door. "I don't like this," Claire said. "Oliver knows Michael can't do anything after dawn, right?"

"I don't know," Eve said, and chewed at her bottom lip. Most of her makeup had sweated off or gotten wiped away; even her lips were normal lip color now, for nearly the first time Claire could remember.

"You're right. It's weird. Why would they just give up now?"

"They haven't," said a voice that Claire's tingling spine recognized before her brain. Michael's bedroom door opened, and standing there, smiling, was Monica Morrell. Gina and Jennifer were behind her.

They were all holding knives, and that was a hell of a lot scarier than Miranda, no matter how crazy she might be.

Eve got in between Claire and Monica and began backing her away, down the hallway. "Get in your room," Eve said. "Lock the door."

"Won't do you any good," Monica said, leaning around Eve. "Ask me why. Go on, ask me."

She didn't have to. She heard the door open behind her, and whipped around to see a man in a police uniform stepping out into the hallway with his gun drawn.

"Meet my brother, Richard," she giggled. "Isn't he cute?" He might have been, but Claire couldn't look anywhere but at the gun, which was big and shiny and black. She'd never had a gun pointed at her before, and it scared her in ways that even knives didn't.

"Shut up, Monica," he said, and nodded toward the far end of the hall. "Ladies. Downstairs, please. We don't have to make this bloody." He sounded harassed more than anything else, like mass home invasion was just something standing between him and morning coffee.

Claire backed up, touched Eve, and whispered, "What do we do?" She was asking Michael, too, for all the good it would do.

"I guess we go downstairs," Eve said. She sounded defeated.

The chill swept across them stronger than ever. "Um, I think that's a no?" Warm air flooded in. "That's a yes?" More warm air. "You're kidding me, Michael. Stay here?" Fine, if you were already a ghost, but how the hell were the two of them supposed to fight off three girls with knives and a cop with a gun?

Eve fainted. She did it convincingly, too, so well that Claire wasn't totally for sure that she wasn't really out. Monica, Gina, and Jennifer looked down at her, frowning, and Claire bent over her, fanning at her face. "She got cut," she said. "She's lost a lot of blood." She hoped that was an exaggeration, but she wasn't too sure, because the black towel had fallen away from Eve's arm and it looked soaked.

"Leave her," said Monica's brother. "We only need you, anyway."

"But - she's bleeding! She needs - "

"Move." He shoved her, and she nearly ran into the knife Gina was holding out. "Monica, for God's sake, back the hell off, will you? I think I can handle some little girl!"

Monica frowned at him. "Oliver said we could have her when it's over."

"Yeah, when it's over. Which isn't now, so back the hell off!"

She shot him the finger, then stepped back to let Claire move past her. Claire did it as slowly as she could, manufacturing a crying jag and some shaking that, once started, felt too real to stop.

"See?" Monica said over her shoulder to Jennifer. "Told you she was a punk."

Claire doubled over, moaning, and very deliberately puked all over Monica's shoes. That was all it took.

Monica screamed in horror and slapped her, Gina grabbed her, Jennifer stepped away, and Richard, confused by all the sudden girl fighting, took a couple of steps back so he wouldn't put a bullet in the wrong one.

"Hey!" Shane's voice, loud and angry. He was on the stairs, looking through the railing at them. "Enough already. I'll give you the damn book. Just leave them alone."

"Not fair," Monica muttered, glaring at him. He glared right back, looking like he'd take back that hitting-a-girl rule, just once. Gladly. "Richard, shoot him."

"No," Richard said wearily. "I'm a cop. I only shoot who I'm told to shoot, and you aren't the chief."

"Well, I will be. One day."

"Then I'll shoot him when you are," he said. "Shane, right? Get up here."

"Let them walk out of here first."

"Not going to happen, so just get your ass up here before I decide I don't need either one of them."

Richard cocked the gun for emphasis. Shane slowly came up to the top of the steps and stopped.

"Where is it?"

"The book? It's safe. And it's someplace you'll never get it if you piss me off, Dick."

Richard fired the gun. Everybody - even Monica - screamed, and Claire looked down at herself in shock.

He'd missed. There was a smoking round hole in Michael's door.

Oh. He hadn't missed.

"Kid," Richard said wearily, "I am not in the mood. I haven't slept in thirty-six hours, my sister's crazy - "

"Hey!" Monica protested.

" - and you're not my high school crush - "

"He is not my high school crush, Richard!"

"The point is, I couldn't give a crap about you, your friends, or your problems, because for me this isn't personal. Monica will kill you because she's nuts. I'll kill you because you make me kill you. Are we straight?"

"Well," Shane said, "that's kind of a personal question."

Richard aimed directly at Claire. It wasn't much of a change, but she definitely felt it, like being in the center of the spotlight instead of just on the edges, and she heard Shane say, "Dude, I'm kidding, all right? Kidding!"

She didn't dare blink, or move her eyes away from the gun. If she could just keep staring at it, somehow, that would keep him from shooting her. She knew that didn't make sense, but...

In her side vision she saw Shane reach behind his back and pull out a book. Black leather cover. Oh no.

He's really going to...he can't. Not after all this. Although she didn't have any answers for how he was supposed to avoid it, either.

Shane held up his left hand, showing it empty, and held out the black Bible with his right.

"That's it?" Richard asked.

"Swear to God."

"Monica. Take it."

She did, scowling at Shane. "You are not my high school crush, idiot."

"Great. I can die happy, then."

"I'm shooting the next person who talks who isn't my sister," Richard said. "Monica?"

She opened the Bible. "There's a hole in it. And another book." She stopped, staring at the inside. "Oh my God. It really is. I thought for sure she was bullshitting us."

"She knows better. Let me see."

Monica tilted the open Bible toward him, and Claire's last faint hope went away, because yes, that was the cover, with its scratchy home-engraved symbol.

Shane had done it. He'd given it up.

Somehow she'd expected better.

"So. We're square, right?" Shane asked tensely. "No shooting or anything."

Richard reached out, took the Bible from Monica, and flipped it close to tuck it under one arm. "No shooting," he agreed. "I meant what I said. I'll only kill you if you make me. So thanks, I really didn't need the paperwork."

He walked past Shane to the stairs, and started down.

"Hey, wait!" Shane said. "Want to take your psycho sister with you?"

Richard stopped and sighed. "Right. Monica? Let's go."

"I don't want to," she said. "Oliver told me I could have them."

"Oliver's not here, and I am, and I'm telling you that we have to go. Right now." When she didn't move, he looked back. "Now. Move, unless you want to fry."

She blew Claire and Shane a mocking kiss. "Yeah. Enjoy the barbecue!"

She followed her brother down. Gina went after, and that just left Jennifer standing there, looking oddly helpless even with a knife in her hands.

She bent over and put it on the floor, held up her hands, and said, "Monica set a fire. You should get out while you can, and run like hell. It probably won't help, but - I'm sorry."

And then she was gone. Shane stared after them for a frozen second, then moved over to kneel next to Eve. "Hey. You okay?"

"Taking a nap," Eve said. "I thought maybe if I stayed down, you'd have it easier." She sounded shaky, though. "Help me up."

Shane and Claire each took a hand and pulled her up; she swayed woozily. "Did I get that right? You actually handed it over?"

"You know what? I did. And it kept you guys alive, so there you go. Hate me." He was going to say something else, but then stopped and frowned and nodded down the hallway.

There was a thin thread of smoke curling out from underneath the door of Claire's bedroom.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, and ran for it; the knob was hot. She instantly let go and backed away. "We have to get out of here!"

"Like they're going to let us go?" Shane asked. "And no way am I letting this house burn. What about Michael? He can't leave!"

She hadn't even thought of that, and it hit her hard. Michael was trapped. Would he die if the house burned? Could he? "Fire trucks!" she yelled. "There are fire trucks outside - "

"Yeah, to keep everything else from going up," Eve said. "Trust me. This is their easy answer. The Glass House goes up in flames, along with all their problem kids. Nobody's going to help us!"

"Then we have to do it," Shane said. "Yo, Michael! You there?"

"Here's there," Eve said. "I'm cold."

"Anything you can do?"

Eve looked puzzled. "Yes? No? Oh. Maybe. He says maybe."

"Maybe's not good enough." Shane opened the door to Eve's room and grabbed the black comforter off the bed. "Blankets, towels, whatever, get it in the bathroom and soak it down. Oh, and let Miranda out, will you? We can hate her later."

Claire kicked the chair out of the way from under the doorknob. The closet door flew open, and Miranda spilled out, coughing. She took one look at them and ran for the stairs.

"My clothes!" Eve yelped, and grabbed a double armful of hangers, then ran to Michael's room to dump them in a pile.

"Yeah, way to stay focused, Eve!" Shane yelled. He had the tap going in the bath, and seconds later he was back, dragging the soaking wet bundle. "Stay back."

He kicked open the door, and behind it Claire saw fire licking from the curtains up toward the ceiling.

Her bed was on fire, too. It looked like that was where Monica had started it, since it was mostly in flames.

"Be careful!" she yelled, and hesitated to watch as Shane yanked the curtains down, threw the wet comforter over the bed, and began stomping down flames.

"Don't just stand there!" he said. "Blankets! Towels! Water! Move!"

She dashed off.

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