“Gin?” that same voice asked again.

   I opened my eyes to find Silvio standing beside me. “Yeah,” I said, my voice thick with heartache, sleep, and memories. “What’s up?”

   “Ira says that the park is closing in thirty minutes. It’s time.”

23

   We all checked and made sure that we had our weapons and other supplies at the ready. Then we all gathered in front of the fireplace, me in my black clothes, my friends still in their trucker garb, and Ira in his Christmas sweater, although he’d turned off the lights on it.

   “No matter what happens to me, get Finn, Bria, and Owen to safety,” I said.

   Silvio, Phillip, and Lorelei nodded back at me. Ira patted his shotgun.

   “Be careful,” Silvio said, worry filling his gray eyes.

   I flashed the vampire a confident smile and winked at him. “Always.”

   I opened the door and left the cabin. My friends did the same, although they stepped onto the path heading up to the hotel, while I took the one that wound past the lake and back over to the theme park.

   According to Ira, Bullet Pointe closed at eight o’clock sharp, and it was just after seven thirty now. Darkness had already cloaked the landscape, blacker than coal in some places, but since it was the holiday season, strands of small white lights had been wrapped around many of the trees, lighting my way. Still, I kept to the shadows as much as possible, walking just inside the tree line instead of out on the path itself.

   I reached the staging area and slid behind the stagecoach, crouching down and peering out from behind one of the back wheels. The area was deserted, but I knew that would soon change.

   “Attention, y’all,” a voice boomed through the park’s loudspeaker system. “The theme park will be closing in fifteen minutes. Attention, the park will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please gather your belongings and head for the nearest exit or the hotel. Thank you.”

   Over the next fifteen minutes, more than two hundred folks streamed into the staging area, everyone from the costumed characters to the people who manned the food carts to the ticket takers at the front gates. The workers moved through the pavilions, opening their footlockers and exchanging their cowboy boots, chaps, and hats for regular old sneakers, jeans, and toboggans to ward off the winter chill. They all looked like snakes shedding their skins for something far more comfortable.

   I looked out over the crowd, but I didn’t see Roxy, Brody, or any of their giants. They’d be here soon enough, though.

   And I’d be ready for them.

   I held my position behind the stagecoach and waited for the workers to clear out. It didn’t take long. Ten minutes later, everyone was bundled up, their phones in one hand and their car keys in the other, ready to go home to their families after a long day of dealing with everyone else’s. They left the pavilions, headed down the alleys, stepped out onto Main Street, and vanished. Five minutes later, I was all alone, and I didn’t even hear the faint murmurs of their conversations anymore.

   Good.

   I got to my feet, stepped out from behind the stagecoach, and moved through the pavilion, gathering up the supplies I’d scoped out earlier and stuffing them into the empty black duffel bag that I’d brought along for this purpose. I wasn’t supposed to meet Tucker until midnight, but the vamp would send Roxy, Brody, and their giants into the park after me as soon as the last of the tourists and workers cleared out. I had maybe half an hour, tops, to prepare for them.

   So I slung my duffel bag of supplies over my shoulder, walked down the alley, and stepped out onto Main Street. As in the rest of the park, white lights were wrapped around practically everything, from the iron benches to the hitching posts to the signs overhead. On a normal night, I was guessing that the lights would have been turned off by now, but Tucker wouldn’t want his men stumbling around in the dark after me. But I didn’t mind the lights because they would give my enemies false confidence—and there were still plenty of shadows to hide in.

   I glanced up and down the street, surveying all the shops and storefronts, thinking about the items that each one sold, and how I could potentially use them to my advantage. Some of the shops had absolutely nothing that would help me, like the Silver Spur, with its fancy designer clothes and oversize belt buckles, or the Gold Mine, with its display cases full of jewelry. My gaze went past those two shops down the rest of the street to the barbecue restaurant, the candy store, the saloon . . .

   The saloon.

   I focused on the Good Tyme Saloon, a grin spreading across my face. Now that could be interesting. So I walked over to it. The swinging doors were shut, and two normal doors were closed and locked behind them. But I’d grabbed a gold miner’s pickax from the pavilions earlier, and a couple of swings from that were more than enough to break the locks on the doors.

   I pushed through the busted doors and stepped into the saloon. More white lights glimmered in here, casting plenty of illumination. I stuffed my pickax back into my duffel bag and dropped the whole thing on the floor before going around behind the bar and staring at the old-fashioned bottles of liquor on the mirrored glass shelves. I picked out a couple, pulled out the stoppers, and sniffed the contents inside. Every time, the caustic whiff of alcohol wafted up to me. Not just for show then. Excellent.

   I spread several bottles around the saloon, slapping them down on the tables in the corners like they were centerpieces. I also lined up four bottles on the bar itself, then reached into my duffel bag and came up with a crisp white cowboy shirt that I’d grabbed from one of the clothing racks. A couple of passes with my knife reduced the shirt to long strips, which I stuffed into the tops of those bottles. I also plucked a stolen cigarette lighter out of my bag and put it on the bar next to the bottles.

   Once that was done, I grabbed my duffel bag and left the saloon. My next stop was the water tower at the entrance to Main Street. I peered up at the tower, which was also decked out with holiday lights. The sturdy structure sat on four legs of thick, solid wood—at least until I gave the two legs facing the street a couple of swipes with a battery-powered electric saw from my supplies. I didn’t cut all the way through the wood, and the tower remained standing, but I’d weakened those two supports enough for my purposes. I also grabbed a nearby water hose and opened the nozzle wide, letting water cascade out all over the walkway in front of the tower.