Glass Houses

“Claire,” he said quietly. She looked back at him. “Brandon’s too young to be out before dark, so you’re safe in the daytime, but don’t stay out after dark. Got it?”

She nodded.

“About the other thing…”

“I won’t tell,” she said. “I won’t, Michael. Not if you don’t want me to.”

He let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. “Thanks. I know it sounds stupid, but…I just don’t want them to know yet. I need to figure out how to tell them.”

“It’s your business,” Claire said. “And Michael? If you start, you know, getting this craving for red stuff…?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he said. His eyes were steady and cool. “And I expect you to do whatever you have to do to stop me.”

She shivered and said yes, okay, she’d stake him if she had to, but she didn’t mean it.

She hoped she didn’t, anyway.

Chapter 8

S hane’s turn for cooking di

Eve couldn’t keep her eyes off of Michael. At first, Claire thought, She knows something, but then she saw the flush in Eve’s cheeks showing through the pale makeup, and the glitter in her eyes.

Oh. Well, she guessed Michael had looked pretty hot, grabbing her out of danger like that and dragging her out of harm’s way. And now that she thought about it, Eve had been making little glances his direction every time they’d been together.

Eve finally shoved her plate away and claimed dibs on the bathroom for a long, hot, soaking bubble bath. Which Claire wished she’d thought of first. She and Michael did the dishes while Shane practiced his zombie-fighting skills on Xbox.

“Eve likes you, you know,” she said casually as she was rinsing off the last plate. He nearly dropped the one he was drying.

“What?”

“She does.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No.”

“I don’t think you understand Eve, then.”

“Don’t you like her?”

“Of course I like her!”

“Enough to…?”

“I am not talking about this.” He put the plate into the drainer. “Jesus, Claire!”

“Oh, come on. You like her, don’t you?”

“Even if I did—” He stopped short, glancing toward the doorway and lowering his voice. “Even if I did, there are a few problems, don’t you think?”

“Everybody’s got problems,” she said. “Especially in this town. I’ve only been here six weeks, and I already know that.”

Whatever he thought about that, he dried his hands and walked out. She heard him talking to Shane, and when she went out the two of them were deep into the video game, elbowing each other and fighting for every point.

Boys. Sheesh.

She was on her way to her room, passing the bathroom, when she heard Eve crying. She knocked quietly, and looked in when Eve muffled her sobs. The door wasn’t locked.

Eve was dressed in a black fluffy robe, sitting on the toilet; she’d stripped off her makeup and let her hair down, and she looked like a little girl in a too-large adult outfit. Fragile. She gave Claire a shaky grin and wiped tear tracks from her face. “Sorry,” she said, and cleared her throat. “Kind of a suck-ass day, you know?”

“That guy. That vampire. He acted like he knew you,” Claire said.

“Yeah. He—he’s the one who gives my family Protection. I turned him down. He’s not too happy.” She gave a hollow little laugh. “Guess nobody likes rejection.”

Claire studied her. “You okay, though?”

“Sure. Peachy.” Eve waved her out. “Go study. Get smart enough to blow this town. I’m just a little bit down. Don’t worry about it.”

Later, when Michael started playing, Claire heard Eve crying through the wall again.

She didn’t go investigate, and she didn’t watch Michael vanish. She didn’t think she had the courage.

Shane went with her the next day to buy some clothes. It was only three blocks to the colorless retail section of town, with all its dingy-looking thrift stores; she didn’t want his company, but he wasn’t letting her go alone.

“You let Eve go alone,” she pointed out as he sat on the couch putting on his shoes.

“Yeah, well, Eve has a car,” he said. “Besides, I wasn’t up. You get escorted. Live with it.”

She felt secretly pleased about it. A little. It was another typically su

“Friends? Yeah, I guess. A few. Michael. I kind of knew Eve back then, but we hung with different crowds. Couple of other kids.”

“What—what happened to them?”

“Nothing,” Shane said. “They grew up, got jobs, claimed Protection, kept right on going. That’s how it works in Morganville. You either stay in, or you run.”

“Do you ever see them?” Because she’d been amazed how much she’d missed her friends back home, especially Elizabeth. She’d always thought she was a loner, but…maybe she wasn’t. Maybe nobody really was.

“No,” he said. “Nothing in common these days. They don’t want to hang with somebody like me.”

“Somebody who doesn’t want to fit in.” Shane glanced at her and nodded. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “Nobody’s fault. So what about you? Any friends back home?”

“Yeah. Elizabeth, she’s my best friend. We talked all the time, you know? But…when she found out I was going away to school, she just…” Claire decided a shrug was about the best opinion she could offer about it.

“Ever call her?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But it’s like we don’t know each other anymore. You know? We have to think about what to say. It’s weird.”

“God, I know what you mean.” Shane suddenly stopped and took his hands out of his pockets. They were in the middle of the block, in between two stores, and at first she thought he was going to look in a window, but then he said tensely, “Turn around and walk away. Just go into the first store you see, and hide.”

“But—”

“Do it, Claire. Now.”

She backed away and turned, walked as fast as she dared to the store they’d already passed. It was a skanky-looking used-clothing store, nowhere she’d willingly shop, but she pushed open the door and looked back over her shoulder as she did.

A cop car was gliding to the curb next to Shane. He was standing there, hands at his sides, looking bland and respectful, and the cop who was driving leaned out of the window to say something to him.

Claire nearly fell forward as the door was jerked open, and stumbled over the threshold into a darkened, musty-smelling interior.

“Hey there,” the uniformed cop who’d opened the door said to her. He was an older man, blond, with thi

“I—” She couldn’t think what to say to that. All her life she’d been told not to lie to the police, but…“Yes, sir.” She could tell he already knew, anyway.

“My name’s Gerald. Gerald Bradfield. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. She swallowed hard, wiped her sweaty palm, and shook. She half expected that he’d click handcuffs around her wrists, but he just half crushed her hand as he pumped it twice, up and down, and let go. “People been looking for you, you know.”

“I—didn’t know that, sir.”

“Didn’t you?” Cold, cold eyes, no matter what the smile said. “Can’t imagine that, little girl. Fact is, the mayor’s daughter was worried about where you might have got off to. Asked us to find you. Make sure you were all right.”