“Hey,” she said, and took his hand. “Stay with us, okay? I don’t know what’s wrong, but just … stay focused. We need you.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. There was a dark, damp chill in the air, and overhead the clouds rumbled. “Right. I’m here. You’re here. We’re okay.” He turned a smile on her, and it almost felt right.

But not quite.

“Come on,” Michael said, more urgently. “Let’s go, guys, now. We’re in neutral territory, but it’s too close to them for comfort. Move.”

Claire led Shane across the gravel and into the shed, where Michael clicked a light switch that threw a bright, industrial glow over the contents. It smelled of chemicals and rust and oil in here, and there were industrial-sized drums, boxes, cans, all kinds of things that looked like they might be used by janitorial or groundskeeping staff.

“Claire, you’re not going to be of any help with this,” Myrnin said. “Get shotguns from the trunk, please. One each for you and Shane, I think. I assume Michael and I will be lifting and carrying. And what exactly is it we are to be carrying, if you would be so kind …?”

Shane looked around, and pointed to a big industrial drum painted shiny black. It was covered with labels, but Claire didn’t recognize any of them; none seemed to have to do with flammability or toxicity, at least. She wasn’t actually sure what it was, other than big and very bulky.

She ducked out and ran to the car. The trunk was mostly empty, but there were three shotguns stored in the wheel well area; she grabbed two, then added a third, because … well, because. Besides, they were going to need the space, it seemed.

She heard a grinding metallic noise, then a hollow boom—the drum tipping over on its side, she guessed. In another second or two, she saw Shane leading the way out as Michael and Myrnin rolled it over the gravel to the open trunk of the car, and then each grabbed an end, lifted, and dumped it into the space.

Vampire sedans had incredibly large trunks. They doubled, Claire guessed, as sunlight protection for the younger vamps who might be caught outside in the sun. This one could have fit four or five, at least.

Of course, there were other, less generous interpretations that she didn’t really want to consider.

The drum settled the car down on the back tires, and slightly lifted the front. Myrnin slammed the trunk lid. He was carrying his boom box in one hand, and now he zipped around to the driver’s side, loaded it into the car, and said, “Quickly now. I think we’re safe enough, but there’s no reason to—”

He didn’t have time to finish, because the sprinkler system went off. It happened with a click, as the metal heads pushed up through the grass, and then a cough and hiss as water started spraying out in all directions. A lot of water. Much more, and more pressurized, than a normal sort of system. Fat drops hit the windshield of the car, and Claire felt them slap against her skin as well—not water, or not completely, because it had a different, thicker consistency.