Live, and know it was happening. Eaten alive.

The draug were the one thing vampires feared, really and truly. Humans they treated with casual contempt, but their response to the draug had been immediate mass evacuation, except for the few who’d chosen to stay and try to save the vampires already being consumed.

They’d all tried—vampires and humans, working together. Even the rebellious human townies, who hated vamps, had taken a drive-by run at the draug. It had been a heart-stopping military operation of a battle, the most intense experience of Claire’s life, and she still couldn’t quite believe she’d survived it … or that anyone had.

Even with all that effort, they’d saved only three vampires from the mildewed, abandoned pool—Michael, the elegant (and probably deadly) Naomi, and the very definitely deadly Oliver. Then things had gone from terrible to awful, and they’d had to leave everyone else.

Except Amelie. They’d saved Amelie, the Founder of Morganville … sort of. And Claire was trying not to think about that, either.

“Hey,” Shane said, and nudged her. “Coffee, remember? Eve’ll be all sad, emo Goth face if you don’t drink some.”

Again, Shane was the practical one, and Claire had to smile because he was completely right. No one needed sad, emo Goth Eve today. Especially Eve. “I could kill for a cup of coffee. If there’s, you know, cream. And sugar.”

“Yes and yes.”

“And chocolate?”

“Don’t push it.”

Michael had, by this time, gotten up and joined them. He still looked pale—paler than usual—and there was something a little wild in his eyes, as if he was afraid that he was still in the pool. Drowning.

Claire took his hand. As always, it felt a little cooler than room temperature, but not cold … living flesh, but running on a much lower setting. Almost as tall as Shane, he looked down at her and smiled the rock-star smile that made all the girls melt in their shoes. She, however, was immune. Almost. She only melted a little, secretly. “What?” he asked her, and she shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said. “You’re not alone, Michael. We won’t let that happen again. I promise.”

The smile disappeared, and he studied her with a strange kind of intensity, almost as if he was seeing her for the first time. Or seeing something new in her. “I know,” he said. “Hey, remember when I almost didn’t let you into the house that first day you came?”

She’d shown up on his doorstep desperate, bruised, scared, and way too young to be facing Morganville. He’d been right to have his doubts. “Yep.”

“Well, I was dead wrong,” he said. “Maybe I never said that out loud before, but I mean it, Claire. All that’s happened since … We wouldn’t have made it. Not me, not Shane, not Eve. Not without you.”

“It’s not me,” Claire said, startled. “It’s not! It’s us, that’s all. We’re just better together. We … take care of each other.”