Some people in the crowd looked confused now, and some

seemed uncomfortable. As if the truth was starting to dawn.

“We’ve been harsh masters here,” Amelie continued. The

strength of will it took to ignore her impending death in those silver stakes the Daylighters held, having seen how it had destroyed

Morley, was staggering. Claire couldn’t imagine how she was doing

it. “Vampires are slow to learn, and slow to change, but we have changed. We know we must change. Before Fallon arrived, we were building a new Morganville, an equal Morganville, one where we

might all live in peace together. Don’t let him take that from

you— because if you build your new town on the bones of victims,

it will never bring you peace. Watch what he does to us now, and

remember.”

Fallon knew he was finished, then. He must have. The fact that

the vampires hadn’t attacked, that his side had been seen to shoot

Oliver and kill Morley, and was now threatening to kill a woman

9780451414274_Daylighters_TX.indd 329

7/17/13 9:02 AM

22318

3 3 0

Rachel Caine

who kneeled, weaponless . . . it was a PR disaster for him. Morgan-

ville resented the vampires, yes, but Claire realized that the crowd here in the square wasn’t as big as it could have been. A lot of the town wasn’t here. Wasn’t singing about the sun and celebrating the defeat of the vampires. Maybe that other half still resented the vamps, but if they weren’t here, that meant that they’d had a reason not to show up. It meant that some of them, a lot of them, didn’t agree.

And Amelie knew that.

Fallon could have made a graceful retreat, kept his cool,

preached his anti- vampire screed. Amelie would have let him, most

likely.

But he wasn’t content with that. He didn’t want to lose.

“Kill her!” he told his men, and snatched up Jesse’s limp body

from where she’d fallen to the ground. He took a silver stake from

his coat pocket. Sweat was pouring down his face, and his skin was

flushing an unhealthy red from the strength of his fury.

Shane dropped the roses he’d been holding and racked the

shotgun, then aimed it at the group of men standing around Ame-

lie. “Hey, guys? Don’t,” he said. “This won’t hurt her so much, but it’ll definitely hurt you.”

They froze. All but one dropped their stakes, which tumbled

to the stage and rolled to the edge.

One decided to go for it. He stabbed down, hoping Shane

would hesitate to fire . . . as he did.

Amelie reached up and effortlessly caught his arm as it de-

scended toward Jesse’s chest. She turned and looked at him. “No,”

she said. “Not today.” She plucked the stake from his hand and

plunged it into the wooden floor of the stage next to her.

Then she let him go. He backed away, clearly not sure what to