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“Oh, man, Eve’s not letting that go, is she?”
“Not remotely.” She felt herself smiling, too. Shane always brought out some crazy streak in her she didn’t think she had—that was probably what worried her parents so much about the two of them. But Claire liked it. When she was with Shane, she could feel—feel the blood pounding in her veins, feel every nerve awake and alive and hungry to be touched. Everything was brighter, clearer, cleaner. A little crazy was a good thing. “Want to make out?”
“Maybe I should take a shower. I smell like sweat and barbecue.”
“You smell great,” she said. “I love the way you smell.”
“You’re getting sappy, you know that? And maybe a little creepy.”
“Oh, shut up, you like it.”
He did, she could tell, especially when they were under the blanket, curled together on the couch, and Amelie’s refuge was their own, their private, sweet, warm heaven where nothing could intrude.
Well, except for Claire’s cell phone alarm, which was set for seven a.m.
That sucked.
Morning was hard, partly because neither one of them had slept much, and partly because Claire just didn’t want to ever leave the room, but she finally managed to kiss her way free and get down the stairs to the closed door.
It didn’t open. “Shane!” she yelled. “I have to go!”
His evil laugh drifted down to her, movie-campy, but he pushed the button and let her out. She beat Eve to the shower, of course; Eve was not voluntarily an early riser, and it was her day off, so Claire could take her time in the hot water, and get herself pulled together without knocks rushing her along. When she opened the bathroom door and stepped out, she found Shane sitting on the floor next to it, blocking the hallway with his legs. He had on his rumpled jeans, but he’d left off the shirt.
So not fair. She loved looking at his chest, and he knew it.
“We have got to get a second bathroom in this monster,” he said, and kissed her on his way through the doorway. “You take way too long.”
“Do not!” she said, outraged, but the wood had already closed between them. “I take half the time Eve does!”
“Still too long!” he called from inside. “Girls.”
She banged on the door, then winced and hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake Eve or Michael, and went down the hall to her room. Shane had been right: she had never made the bed yesterday, but she did it today, putting the pillows right and everything. Then she pulled out old, ratty clothes and her worst high-tops.
There was no sense in wearing good clothes to Myrnin’s lab. They were just going to get splashed with icky stuff, or stuff that burned holes, or stuff that never came out, no matter how creative you got with laundry add-ins. Claire gulped a bowl of cereal in the kitchen, standing over the sink, and started to wash the bowl—but it was Shane’s kitchen day, and with a grin, she put the dirties down unscrubbed.
Served him right for trying to make her late.
She dumped most of the contents of her backpack, except for the things that were relevant to her project with Myrnin, then added in the slim history book and took off.
It was a beautiful morning. She’d missed sunrise, but it was still a little cool, and the sky was a beautiful clear blue with only a few scrubby clouds on the horizon. At this hour, the sun seemed friendly, not like the scorching monster it would become by noon. Claire skipped down the steps and out the gate, and set off for Common Grounds first. No Oliver, and this time both the baristas were new employees. Her name was spelled wrong again.
Coffees in hand, she headed for Myrnin’s lab.
Morganville was busy at this hour, with practically everybody who wasn’t a vampire taking advantage of the sunshine and the safety it afforded. Kids walked in groups, even so; most adults didn’t go alone, either, but go they did. Claire met several people she knew as she walked along.
It felt like home. That was actually a little sad.
A police car pulled up next to her on the street, idling and crawling along, and Claire saw Ha
Ha
“No, thanks,” Claire called back. “I appreciate it, but it’s a really nice day. I should walk. And you’re probably busy.”
“Busy is vampires fighting over the snack supply,” Ha
“Your—You let him borrow something you put food in?”
Ha
“Um, never mind. I’ll make sure it gets disinfected before you get it back. But don’t lend anything to him again unless you can put it in some kind of sterilizer.”
That made even Ha
“I will,” Claire promised. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking—when did he borrow it from you?”
“He just showed up at my door one night about a week ago, said, ‘Hi, nice to meet you. Can I borrow your Crock-Pot?’ Which I understand is pretty typical Myrnin.”
“Very,” Claire agreed. “Well, I should go; the coffee’s getting cold—”
“Be safe,” Ha
The Day House was at the end of the cul-de-sac. Ha
Claire wasn’t pla
And here she was, walking right into the trap-door spider’s lair.
The door to the rickety shack at the end of the alley banged open before she could reach it, and the spider himself charged out, grabbed his coffee out of her hand, and dashed back inside at vampire speed before she could say a word. From the glimpse she had of him, he’d been wearing black cargo-style pants that were too big for him, flip-flops with daisies on top, and some kind of satin vest with no shirt, probably because he just forgot to put one on. Myrnin didn’t dress for vanity. Completely at random, really, as if he just reached into the closet blindfolded and put on whatever pieces he touched first.