“Eve.”

“Yes, yes, that one.” He flipped a hand impatiently. “Get them.”

“Eve’s not here,” Shane said. When Claire sent him a startled look, he shrugged. “I asked. She took about a dozen vampires, got Oliver’s approval, and went out to set up weapons caches at different places around town. She’s not back yet.”

“Did Michael go with her?”

He didn’t say anything, but she knew all too well what that meant—even before Michael came walking in, looking rumpled, tired, and about as depressed as she’d ever seen him. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he walked over to the center table and tested the carafes.

“That’s AB,” Myrnin said helpfully. “It’s still warm. Oh, and there’s a hint of sweetness in it. High triglycerides. I think the donor needed a bit of medication.”

“Are you high?” Michael asked him, in a totally colorless voice.

Myrnin blinked, and looked at Claire for help. “He means, are you on drugs.”

“Well, obviously.”

“More than usual?”

“Oh. No, no, just the usual doses. And where is Shreve?”

“Eve,” they all said in unison, and exchanged a look. Well, Shane and Claire did, and Michael made a fast-aborted effort at it. Shane licked his lips and continued, “She’s out.”

“Of the building?” Michael asked, still in that same nothing voice.

“Yeah. She’s got escorts, though.” That sounded weak, even from Shane, and he clearly didn’t know where to take it from there. “I mean, I’m sure she’s okay and everything.”

Michael just nodded. He looked tight and grim, and he sipped his cup of blood as if he really didn’t want it at all. Myrnin looked from him to the others, eyebrows going up and down as if he was about to blurt out a question that none of them wanted to answer, and then shrugged. “Very well,” he said, “evidently there is some difficulty that I really don’t care about, and is no doubt quite dramatic. Does anyone else care for coffee?”

Claire glanced at the red-stained cups he and Theo had left, and shuddered. “No, thanks.”

Shane clearly decided a change of subject was in order. He turned his most harassed expression on Michael. “Bro,” he said, in an injured tone, “I had to go out with a flamethrower, and you weren’t there to see it.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“Dude, little busy for pics. You know, throwing flame.”

That earned a glance up, and a brief grin, and some of the tension leaked out of Michael’s body language … but not all. And the grin didn’t last. “Wish I’d been there,” he said, with a clear implication of anywhere but here. Which did not, again, bode well for the whole deal with Eve.

Myrnin rolled his eyes. “Oh, enough of this. Follow me.” He immediately set off at a rapid, though not vampire-quick, walk down yet another hallway, identical to all the others; Claire fell in with Shane, behind Michael.

“What the hell are we into now?” Shane asked her.