Of course. She’d been told that Dr. Anderson had been work-

ing on making new models. This was a prototype, something he’d

brought today to show the true believers. A real weapon they could

use to protect themselves from the vampires.

Claire could tell that it had been pushed to its highest setting. It might not kill her, but it would disable her so badly she’d be utterly helpless. My fault, Claire thought in a sickening rush. My invention.

I’m the vil ain after al .

She watched helplessly as Fallon pressed the trigger.

Oliver threw himself in the way of the blast. He must have

known what it would cost him; he’d been hit with it before,

twice, and he understood the pain he was in for. But he didn’t

hesitate. Claire saw the beam hit him, and saw him fall to the

stage floor. He writhed in agony and then curled into a helpless

ball, shaking with fear and horror.

That gave Morley an opportunity. He grabbed Fallon, ripped

the gun out of his hands, and shattered it over his knee as easily as 9780451414274_Daylighters_TX.indd 326

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if it had been made out of balsa wood. Fluids sprayed, sparks flew, but just like that, he’d reduced Fallon’s ultimate weapon to junk

and recycling.

It cost him his life.

The Daylighter who’d dragged Jesse up to the stage pulled out

a silver stake and lunged forward to drive it into Morley’s chest.

Morley might have survived that, at least for a while, but the man

quickly pulled it back out . . . which triggered the release of the liquid silver solution inside.

It flooded into Morley’s chest cavity, and he began to burn,

screaming.

Claire clapped hands over her mouth and looked away in hor-

ror, knowing there was nothing they could do for him; it was fast,

and it was deadly. It was also an awful way to die. She heard him

fall, and smelled the bitter stench of ashes.

Amelie ignored Fallon, who was backing away now. She moved

in a blur to the man who’d staked Morley, and she threw him off

the stage— as far as the wall, into the bushes— and dropped down

next to her fallen ally. She took his hand as he trembled, staring

into her face as the silver bubbled and hissed in his chest cavity.

“I’m here,” she said. “Morley, I’m here. Thank you, my old

friend. May God grant you rest.”

He couldn’t speak, but he held her gaze until he was gone, his

chest eaten away to a smoking hole filled with ash.

Then Amelie rose, and looked at Fallon with those calm, ice

gray eyes, and Claire knew he was finished, one way or the other.

He backed away from her, and it came to Claire that what he

feared most in the world was being made into a vampire again.

Amelie might find that a fitting punishment. Might even find