Feast of Fools

Two people out in the night like this . . . seemed wrong, and when they were about halfway to the coffee shop, Claire saw someone pull a car into a driveway ahead of them and jump out. The look on the woman’s face was starkly panicked as she looked toward them, and Claire realized that she’d thought they were—

Vampires. Which was both fu

The woman grabbed her groceries and hurried into her house, shutting the door with a bang and locking it with a harsh rasp of metal.

Claire didn’t say anything to Shane, and he didn’t venture a comment, but she had no doubt he felt the same unsettling guilt. But what could they have said? It’s okay, lady, we’re not here to eat you?

Claire was glad when the hot golden spill of light from Common Grounds’ front window came into view. It was obviously doing good business—cars lined the streets on both sides, and more parked as she and Shane approached the entrance. “Going to be nuts,” Shane said, but he didn’t sound displeased. “Next time I’ll take you someplace nice and quiet.”

Claire searched her memory. So much had happened since she’d met Shane, but she was almost sure that this constituted their first real, actual date on their own. Which was startling, and sweet, and precious to her in ways she suspected Shane would never imagine. She savored the warmth of his hand in hers, smiled at him, and entered Common Grounds while he held the door for her.

The noise level was amazing. The coffee shop was normally quiet, although never boring, but as the sun went down, the excitement level rose, and tonight it was blowing through the roof. Every table was already crowded with people—humans, mostly, but toward the corners of the room Claire saw a few vampire faces she recognized, including Sam’s. Michael’s only family in town had come to support him. Sam sent her a smile and a wave, which Claire returned.

Michael himself was standing in the clear area behind the coffee bar, looking tense and a little bit blank. He was dressed in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans, and he had his acoustic guitar slung around his body. Claire thought the puka shell necklace he was wearing looked new—a gift from Eve? A good-luck charm?

Eve was standing next to him, and although she couldn’t see clearly, Claire thought they were holding hands.

Claire and Shane pushed through the crowd to the bar. Shane nodded to Michael, who nodded back—all very manly—and then Shane went to place some drink orders, leaving Claire to fumble for words.

“You’re going to do great,” she finally said. Michael’s blue eyes blinked and focused in the here and now.

“Man, I don’t know,” he said. “It was supposed to be casual—I show up and play a couple of songs. Just to get used to it again. But this—”

Somebody out in the corner of the room started clapping, and suddenly everybody was doing it, a wave of rhythmic noise.

Michael couldn’t possibly get any more pale, but Claire saw the outright doubt in his eyes. Eve did, too, and gave him a quick kiss.

“You can do this, Michael,” she said. “Come on. Get out there. It’s what you do.”

Claire nodded and smiled her support. Michael lifted the hinged section of the bar and stepped out, to a thunderous wave of applause. There was a small stage set up at the far end of the room, near the closed door that said OFFICE, and as Michael moved up on it, the stage lights caught and glittered in his golden hair, sparked an unearthly blue in his eyes.

Wow, Claire thought. That wasn’t Michael anymore. That was . . . something else.

Eve ducked under the bar and came to lean next to Claire, her arms folded. She had a wistful smile on her Evil Queen-red lips. “He’s beautiful,” she said. “Right? He is.”

Claire could only agree with that.

Michael adjusted the microphone, tested it, played a couple of fast finger exercises she knew he used to calm himself, and then smiled out at the crowd. It was a different smile than she’d ever seen from him before—more, somehow. More intense, more joyous, more personal. She felt a hot flutter somewhere deep inside as his gaze brushed over her, and immediately felt embarrassed about it.

But man, he was hot. She understood now what Shane was talking about, and she wasn’t immune.

Shane touched her shoulder and handed her a drink just as Michael said, “I guess you all know who I am, right?”

And about eighty percent of the room cheered like thunder. The others—college students, who’d either wandered in or come because they were bored— looked lost.

Michael gave the mike stand one last, precise adjustment. His hands were sure now, moving with confidence. “My name is Michael Glass, and I’m from Morganville. ”

More cheers. Before they died away, Michael started to play, a fast and complicated song that Claire had heard him fooling around with at the house—but this wasn’t fooling around; this was serious talent. He glittered like white gold, and music flowed out of his hands like streams of light. It wrapped around Claire like a shining net, and she didn’t dare breathe, didn’t move, as Michael played like she’d never heard anyone play before, ever.

She managed to glance aside at Shane, whose eyes were wide and fixed on Michael, as well. She nudged him. He gave her a dumbfounded shake of his head.

Eve was smiling, as if she’d known it all along.

Michael brought the song to a liquid, blazing finish, and as the guitar strings rang in the silence, the crowd was utterly still. Michael waited, just as motionless, and then the room spontaneously erupted in applause and cheers.

Claire thought that the smile that spread across Michael’s face was worth everything about Morganville, right at that moment.

His next song was slower, sweeter, and Claire realized with a shock that it was a slowed-down version of the song he’d been writing the other night, when he’d been too busy to go to the store. It had lyrics, too, and Michael’s voice transformed them into sad, aching beauty.

It was a song for Eve.

Claire realized her chest was hurting, both from the pressure of unshed tears and the fact that she wasn’t breathing. She’d never known music could have that much power. As she glanced around the coffee shop, she saw the same thing in the others’ faces—common rapture. Even Oliver, standing behind the bar, was transfixed. And in the shadows, Claire glimpsed someone else—Amelie, nodding thoughtfully, as if she’d known all along, like Eve.

Sam’s eyes were full of tears, but he was smiling.

Michael’s voice drifted to a whisper, and he finished the song. This time, the applause didn’t stop, and the cheers were a full-throated roar.

Michael adjusted the mike stand again. “Save it, guys,” he said over the noise, and smiled. “We’re just getting started.”

It was the best night Claire had ever had in Morganville. She’d never felt so much a part of something— never seen so much unity in a room full of people so diverse. Clueless students were backslapping Morganville natives with bracelets, vampires were smiling impartially at humans, and even Oliver seemed affected by the general euphoria.

When Michael came offstage, it was only after three encores and thunderous standing ovations. He made a beeline straight for Eve, folded her in a hug, and then kissed her so deeply Claire had to look away. When they came up for air, Michael was still gri

“So?” he asked. “Didn’t suck, right?”

Shane offered his hand. “Didn’t suck. Congratulations, dude.”

Michael ignored the hand and hugged him, then turned to Claire. She didn’t hesitate to embrace him. He was warmer than usual, and sweaty; she hadn’t known vampires could sweat. Maybe they just usually didn’t exert themselves that much. “You were amazing,” Claire whispered. “I just—amazing. Wow. Did I say amazing?”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then turned away to the press of well-wishers coming to shake his hand. There were a lot of them, and many of them were pretty girls. Claire retreated back to Shane’s side.