I pulled back the curtain and he shouted in surprise, swerving even worse than he’d already been, “Get back, Carrie, or I swear to God I’ll stake you!”

“With what?” I demanded, reaching toward my back pocket.

He grabbed the stake he’d propped in the cup holder. “With this. Now sit down and shut up. We’re going back for her.”

“For who? Angie?” I laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find a replacement for her.”

“Angie?” He hit the accelerator hard, then let off abruptly. “No! Mouse. We have to go back for her before they figure out I’m gone. Damn it, is this the right way?”

A cold, sick feeling gripped my stomach. “Mouse?”

He glared at the road and hit the gas again. “Yes. It’s what I call her. Her real name is just ridiculous. She’s human.”

“She was human?” I eased into the passenger seat, shock slowly numbing my body. “I didn’t know she was human.”

“She is. Is human,” he insisted, pounding the steering wheel. “Am I even going the correct way?”

I nodded woodenly. I’d left a human being behind in that place? With those vampires? Trembling, I reached into my pocket and withdrew the key. “Take this.”

He looked down for just a second, the car heading for an instant toward the shoulder as he did. “What is that, a marble?”

“It’ll help you find the place. Unless…you want me to drive,” I offered.

“No time,” he answered tersely.

I was as eager to get the girl out of there as he appeared to be, but I wasn’t willing to die in a fiery crash to do it. “Have you ever driven before?”

“No.” He sounded impatient. “It looks much easier in the movies.”

Ahead was the intersection just before the church. In the distance, where I should have seen the small, black shape of the burned-out ruin, the ghostly outline of the church broke the line of the horizon. Whatever spell the Fangs had cast on the place was wearing off.

“Maybe they’ve just gone and left her behind,” I said hopefully. But I knew better. So did Cyrus.

The tires squealed as he pulled into the parking lot. If he thought the Fangs were still there, he was sure making plenty of noise.

Grabbing a stake, he kicked the door open. “They won’t hurt me. They’ll probably kill you, though.”

“I’ll take my chances.” I pocketed a stake, too, just in case.

“Mouse!” he shouted as we entered the dark vestibule. But his voice fell silent at the sight of the sanctuary doors ripped from their hinges and lying like splinters of firewood on the carpet.

He seemed to freeze for a minute, his Adam’s apple the only part of him moving as he swallowed. “No.”