“Nice,” Shane said under his breath as she led them out into the street. The wreckage of cars and dropped weapons had been mostly cleared from that area—residue of the not-so-successful riot that humans had staged the night before against the vamps; it hadn’t been effective, but it had definitely been enthusiastic. “Any idea of how far we have to go?”

“No,” Naomi said, and furrowed her brow. “Why?”

“Just thinking that it might be better to go in a vehicle than on foot. For safety.”

“You,” Naomi said, “have a flamethrower, which is not of much use in the enclosed space of an automobile. Perhaps you might have considered that in your choice of weapons.”

“Not a car. A pickup,” he said without hesitation. “I get the back. Ladies in the front. Maximum speed, minimum exposure, plus a good firing platform for me and Claire, with the shotgun. Or you. Whichever.”

Naomi cocked her head and looked at him in silence for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Obtain one, if you please.”

“I always knew hot-wiring skills would come in handy, other than getting me more frequent-flier jail points,” Shane said. “Stay here.” He jogged away, light and lithe even under the weight of the heavy equipment he was carrying, and Claire watched him go with a hungry little stab of anxiety. For all his easy comebacks, Shane was as vulnerable as any of them. Even Naomi, who was also watching her boyfriend with a thoughtful frown grooved between her brows.

“I was told Shane Collins was unreliable,” she said, “but I see little sign of it now. I was also told he loathed my kind and would see us dead if he could. Yet he came with you to rescue us. Odd.”

“People change,” Claire said.

Naomi shrugged, and made it look like some exotic foreign gesture. “Assuredly,” she said. “But mostly I find they change for the worse, not the better. In fact, some who once liked me have changed so much that they tried to burn me as a monster.”

“Well, then you’re even,” Claire shot back, “because Amelie had Shane in a cage and was going to burn him for something he didn’t even do. He’s changed. For the better. And he didn’t have to.”

“Perhaps he has changed for you.”

For some reason the whole idea of that just made Claire … angry. “No. Not for me. He’s a good guy, deep down, and he wants to make things better. Same as me. So just—shut up about it.” She was, she realized, short of sleep, tired, anxious, and scared, and Naomi’s cool analysis of someone she loved made her unreasonably irritated.

Naomi said nothing, just gazed at her with placid, polite interest. There was a lot of frost inside her. She’d been nicer when there hadn’t been lives at stake, Claire thought; now survival was a big and increasing concern for her, and it was testing the limits of her willingness to put up with disrespectful humans.