Текст книги "Bite Club"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

He crossed the room in a flash, standing toe-to-toe with her. He was taller than she was, and gangly, and raggedly just the opposite of her elegance…but there was something about him, something that made Claire catch her breath and hold it. “I am your friend,” he said quietly. “I’ve always been your friend, dear one. But on the subject of your father, you’ve never been very rational. Don’t let him drive you. Don’t play with him; he’ll always be crueler than you. Kill him when you find him.I’d have killed him for you just now, if I’d been able. But he’s fast and strong, and I couldn’t afford to let him bite me. He can assemble an army frighteningly fast. You have to find him, and when you do, you must execute him. Immediately.”

For a second, Claire thought that he’d reached her—that she was listening to the quiet pain in his voice. But then her pale, strong hand closed around Myrnin’s throat and squeezed.Spots of blood formed where her fingernails dug in. With a single jerk, she pulled him off balance and sent him crashing to his knees and held him there.

He didn’t try to struggle. Claire wasn’t sure he could; there was a thick, cold wave of menace coming from Amelie that froze Claire where she stood.

Amelie bent toward him very slowly and said, “My hateful father never had a better student than me, Myrnin. And I willkill him, but I’ll do it in my own time. Don’t tell me what to do, or I might find it necessary to remind you that Iam the Founder of Morganville. Not you.”

“I never forget,” Myrnin said in a choked whisper. “Certainly not with your nails in my throat. They’re quite an excellent mnemonic device.”

She blinked and let him go. As she stepped away, she frowned down at her bloodstained fingernails.

Myrnin rose to his feet in a smooth, effortless motion, and whipped a black handkerchief out of the pocket of his shorts. She took it without a word, wiped away the blood, and gave it back. He cleaned the red from his neck. The wounds had already closed.

“That’s the second time I’ve spilled my blood for you tonight,” he said. “I believe I’ve made my point, and you’ve made yours, most graphically. So I’ll be taking my leave. Oh, and Claire. I’ll be taking Claire.”

Amelie nodded. There was a slight groove between her eyebrows—the ghost of a frown. As Myrnin and Claire—who’d finally dared to breathe again—headed for the outer door, Amelie said, “You’re right. My father’s escape has…unsettled me.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Myrnin said. “My advice is sound. Don’t punish him. Don’t make an example of him. When you find him, kill him quickly and quietly. It’s the only peace you can hope for. You can’t afford to allow him to become a power in this town again. Someone is working with him, helping him, or you’d have him by now. He wouldn’t dare to be out there, hunting. This is going to go bad, quickly. Act.”

She nodded slightly, still frowning.

And Myrnin grabbed Claire’s arm and propelled her fast, outside, down the steps, and into the dark. This time, he ordered one of Amelie’s cars.

Armored.

The fact that Myrnin had actually been scared enough to be careful with her…that said more about the danger than anything else.

SIX

The ladder was still in place when she got home. Myrnin, in typical Myrnin fashion, delivered her to the base of the ladder, and by the time she’d climbed three steps and looked back, he was gone. Of course. She pulled herself up the rest of the way, carefully, trying not to notice how the ladder shivered and rocked around as she shifted her weight.

Achieving the open window was a massive relief, and she wriggled through and landed with an unbalanced thumpon the floor. It was still dark outside, but not for too much longer—another hour and a half, max, from her glance at the glowing digital clock on the bedside table.

God, this was terrible.Just when she’d thought things in Morganville might be stabilizing, just a little bit…now Bishop was on the loose again. He’d come so frighteningly close to bringing it all down once; he considered Amelie and everyone in town his rightful property. His playthings.

What he’d do this time now that he was actually angry….…. Myrnin was right. Claire wasn’t one to yell for anybody to die, but for Bishop, she’d make an exception. He needed killing, quickly.

Why was he still here? Why hadn’t he blown out of Morganville first thing?

Revenge. He was the kind who lived for it. And what had Jason said that Bishop had said to Stinky Doug? Did you think you could threaten me?

How could a mere human ever hope to threaten Bishop enough to draw his full, personal attention, in broad daylight, in a public place?

Doug had something. The blood—sure, that was bad enough, but he’d had other things. Papers. Bishop had taken them.

Doug had been blackmailing Bishop.Not only Bishop, though—because Bishop couldn’t be out on his own. He’d have been caught already.

Claire sank down on the bed, rested her head in her hands for a moment, and then began to untie her shoes.

Then she heard something.

Voices. Low voices, coming from down the hall. Michael, probably, talking to Shane or Eve…but it didn’t sound right, somehow.

She took off her shoes and walked to the door in her socks. It wasn’t locked; she hardly ever locked it. The knob was cold in her hand but turned easily, and she pulled back until there was a narrow crack of light coming through from the hallway, and she could see……

Nothing. No sign of anybody in the hallway. She opened the door wider, slowly, and edged out. This is stupid. It’s my own house. I should be able to just walk right down there…….

Except it didn’t feel that way. It was, she realized, the house itself. The Glass House had always been a little bit alive, and just now it felt…anxious. Worried, maybe. And that was making her move quietly and cautiously.

The voices were muffled, but they were coming from down the hall.

From Shane’s room.

Maybe he’s watching TV.But he didn’t usually watch TV. She supposed he could have turned it on and fallen asleep, but…no, she was almost sure that one of those voices was Shane’s.

And the other one was a girl’s.

And then the girl laughed.And it wasn’t a friendly laugh; it was a low-in-the-throat, teasing laugh, a flirting laugh.

Oh, hell, no, that wasn’t going to happen.

Seeing red, Claire gritted her teeth and grabbed the handle of the door, staring at the rusted metal of the trespassers will be shot sign that Shane had nailed up on his door.

She was not going to take this lying down. Or at all.

SHANE

I couldn’t sleep after Michael and the broken controller and Claire. I felt restless and weird and wired, like I’d drunk about fifteen cups of coffee and chased it with Red Bull. Not a good feeling. I tried the headphones, but blasting speed metal through my skull didn’t help, either. I had a heavy bag in the basement, and I could have gone down there to work off some frustration, but it seemed like the wrong thing. Just…wrong.

Finally, I got up and prowled the house. Michael was still up, strumming his guitar downstairs. That was usually cool—I liked his music, always had—but tonight I just wanted him to shut up. I didn’t want to be reminded of him, of having a vampire living a few feet away and pretending to pass for human. It hadn’t bothered me so much recently, but now all that discomfort was back with a vengeance.

I thought I heard whispers coming from Claire’s room, but they were faint and my ears were still buzzing from the headphones. I thought about her, and the next thing I knew I wanted…Well, I’m a guy. You know what I wanted. If she was awake, maybe she felt the same way.

Maybe being so close together would make both of us feel less…trapped.

I knocked, the quiet way I always had, and maybe I had imagined it, because there wasn’t any sound at all, nothing.She’s asleep, I told myself.Chill out. Go take a cold shower. Or I could work my sore fists against the heavy bag; that would do the same thing—wear me out, drain the adrenaline out of my overactive body.

Instead, I went back to roaming the house.

I don’t know when exactly I noticed the ladder; about two hours later, probably. I had wandered down to the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich. Michael had bagged his rehearsal and gone upstairs to bed, so I had the darkness and shadows to myself. I thought about practicing for the rematch onDead Rising, but even that didn’t have any appeal.

As I passed the window at the back, I saw a glint of silver outside where it shouldn’t have been. I backed up, and, dammit, there was a ladder leaning up against the side of the house. A big silver ladder that didn’t belong to us.

I stared at it for a few seconds, then realized that it was leading up to Claire’s window, and my stomach went cold and twisted and I ran up the stairs, three at a time, down the hall, and threw open her door, ready to attack whatever was in the room with her, ready to kill or die, and……

….. and she wasn’t there. Nobody was there. Her bed was rumpled, but when I touched the mattress it was cold. She’d been gone a while.

Ladder. Open window. I tried to imagine Claire being abducted without making a sound, and I just couldn’t. She’d have found a way to fall off the ladder, if nothing else, or bang it against the house.

It had all happened so quietly that she had to have done it herself, on purpose.

She’d left, and she’d gone without even telling me. Probably with some vamp, I thought; she trusted them way too much. She just didn’t have that instinct that Morganville natives had growing up, to mistrust everybody, always.

If it was that ass hat Myrnin who’d lured her away in the middle of the night, I was going to have to hurt him. Bad enough he acted like he owned her when she was at his lab, but hell if he got to come here, to our house, and haul my girl away in the thick of darkness, for who knew what insane reason.

She didn’t see him that way, but Myrnin was still a guy. An old, lonely guy. I’d seen him looking at her, and maybe it was just fondness, and maybe it was something else—truthfully, from time to time I’ve wondered about that, and him and her. It sometimes made me want to wrap my hands around his neck, but I hadn’t. Yet. I didn’t believe Claire had any idea Myrnin felt anything for her at all.

For Claire’s sake, I’d hidden a lot of what I felt about her boss, but lately it had come leaking out a little. And Myrnin didn’t like me much, either—I’d seen it in his eyes, especially when he’d found us together in his lab. Myrnin was territorial; so was I. Claire wouldn’t like that, but it was a cold fact.

And if Myrnin had taken her somewhere, from my territory…if he did anything to her…Well. I was going to spill some crazy vamp blood. Maybe a lot of it.

I sat in the dark and stared at that ladder for a long, long time before I went back to my room, stuck the headphones back on, turned on the TV to some brainless flickering channel, and zoned out, because there was nothing else to do right now.

When I opened my eyes again, there was a dream girl sitting on my bed.

I knew it was a dream because I felt no sense of alarm at seeing her; it was like she was supposed to be there, so there was no reason to get scared or think it was weird. She was beautiful, too, in a whole different way from Claire: long blond hair that rippled in thick waves around her heart-shaped face, all the way down her back. Small, but with a lot of personality; her smile was like morning sunrise, and she had eyes the color of summer skies. And, yeah, okay, I checked her out. She was worth checking—curves, nice ones, in all the right places. Not fashion-model skinny, but real-girl sexy.

It occurred to me after a few seconds of admiring all that lushness that I shouldn’t be feeling quite this attracted to a vampire. Because she was a vamp, of course. One hundred percent. You’d think that if I’d wanted to put a couple of vamps through the wall earlier, including my own best friend, I’d have felt the same way about her, but…I didn’t. I liked her.

Just like that.

And I kind of recognized her in a distant way. Like I’d seen her before or known her before. But I didn’t feel compelled to reason it out, either.

“You were impressive today,” she said. Even her voice sounded like a dream, like one of those voices you hear in whispers that leaves you feeling warm and sweaty when you wake up. “Vassily was surprised, you know. He’s never had a human touch him in a fight, let alone put him on the mat. I think he was impressed as well as annoyed.”

“Thanks,” I said. I was smiling at her, and it felt good. “It felt good, taking him down a peg.”

“It was enjoyable to watch. You’re so very…solid.” She looked at me through lowered eyelashes, and my heart almost stopped. She just had that kind of presence and power. Like a dream. She was a dream, of course. She had to be. Every few minutes, one of those sex-line commercials was coming on TV. She was probably put together in my brain out of that, and the vampire obsession I seemed to be developing. Even the voice sounded like something you’d pay money to hear murmur your name. “Vassily said it earlier, but he wanted me to extend a personal invitation to you to join his exclusive sparring group. But you can’t tell anyone, whether you decide to join or not. It’s more fun that way. Our secret, you see.”

“Fun,” I echoed. “Are you in it?”

“Only as a spectator,” she said, and smiled again, a slow, wicked stretch of those wet, full lips. “I’m a lover, not a fighter, Shane. Although I’m quite sure you’re both.”

I felt hot all over, and, yeah, again, I’m a guy—don’t judge. I love Claire, I do, but this was a dream. And besides, Claire had just ditched me to run off on her own when I needed her.

I tried to think about Claire, but the perfume in the air was so strong, so sweet, and I could almost feel how good it would be to sink into this dream, let it take me away…….

“I think it’s time for me to go,” Dream Girl said, and I felt a cool brush of lips on my cheek. It made me shiver all over. She laughed, low in her throat. “Do think about my proposition, sweet boy. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“When?”

“When you come to the new group,” she whispered, and put her fingertips against my lips. “Quiet now. Someone’s here.”

Best dreamever.

Right up until the door flew open.

Inside the room, Shane said, “When?” and Claire just couldn’t stand it, not at all.

She threw open the door so forcefully it banged into the wall and almost hit her on the backswing.

There was a blur of motion, too fast for her eyes to track, and a flutter of curtains at the window, and when she blinked, Shane was sitting alone on his bed, headphones on, looking dazed. He picked up the remote, flipping channels on the TV, moving like a sleepwalker.

“Shane?”

He looked up at her, face bathed in that pale blue light, and for a second, he didn’t look anything like the Shane she knew.

Then he looked straight at the screen again as he shoved his headphones back.

“Hey. I thought you were sleeping,” he said. “Then I checked again, and you were gone.”

All her righteous indignation fell into confusion. She’d been going to accuse him, not the other way around…but now, she wasn’t sure anymore what she’d actually seen. A blur. It could have been the flickering TV light combined with the wind blowing the curtains on the window. And the voices…the voices could have been the TV, too.

But she, on the other hand, had undeniably sneaked away, in the middle of the night, without telling him.

“There was a ladder under your window,” he continued. “And unless you were planning to do late-night house painting, I don’t know why you’d be out there climbing on a ladder. Front door’s perfectly good if you want to leave, far as I know.”

“I had to…It was—” This was ridiculous. She hadn’t come in here to beconfronted. “Who was in here with you? I heard her talking to you.”

Shane raised his eyebrows and looked back at the TV, where a woman was lying around in skimpy lingerie, talking on the phone and winking at the camera. Some kind of phone sex ad. “You mean her? She’s been on five times an hour. Sometimes they even run the ads back-to-back.”

“No, I mean—” What didshe mean? How had this gone so wrong, so fast? “I mean, there was a girl in here. A vampire.” It had to be a vampire, to move so fast.

Shane shook his head. “You’re kidding, right? You know how I feel about them. And I’m not a fang-banger.”

“You said you’d stop saying that.” Because of Eve, of course. And Michael.

“Yeah, well, nobody here but us breathers. Or is that something I can’t say, either?”

She was losing the thread of all this. It was all slipping away, like a dream at dawn. “Shane, I sawher. I thought—”

“Yeah,” he said. “I thought the same thing when you were gone without saying a word to me. Just be straight with me, okay? Was it Myrnin?”

She was speechless, absolutely speechless. For one thing, she couldn’t lie about it—it hadbeen Myrnin who’d shown up in her room in the middle of the night. And she hadrun off with him. And now, inexplicably, she felt guilty about it, too. She could feel a traitorous burn in her cheeks, but the words just wouldn’t come to save her.

Shane’s face went still and cold. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Shane, I—”

“Morganville’s changing you,” he said. “You used to be scared of them, but the more you’re around him, the more you think the vamps can be your friends. They aren’t. They can’t be. They’re ranchers. We’re cattle.”

Where the hell was all this coming from? She knew how he felt about the vampires, about Morganville, but this seemed—so edgy. So bitter. “We’re here,” she said. “We have to make the best of it until we can leave. You’ve said so yourself.”

Shane shook his head, still not looking at her. He looked drawn now, and a little bit haunted. “I need to get you out of this place before it’s too late. I should have done it before the barriers went back up around town, but now…now it’s going to be more difficult. Got to do it, though. You can’t be here anymore.”

“Shane, what are you talking about? What makes you think I want to go right now?”

Suddenly, his focus shifted, and she felt hot and cold all over at the passion and intensity in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you want to go? Because of him? Myrnin?”

“No!” She felt appalled now, entirely out of control. This had notgone anything like she’d thought. “God, Shane, are you jealous?”

“Do I need to be? ’Cause you’re running away in the middle of the night with him, Claire.”

“I—But it was—”

He turned away. “Just go, Claire. I can’t talk right now.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes, tears of anger and sheer, maddening frustration. It didn’t matter what she said now. Shane had just shut her out, as effectively as if he’d slammed the door between them.

As she watched, he turned off the TV, pulled up the blanket, and rolled over on his side.

Away from her.

“Shane,” she whispered.

No response.

She couldn’t take it—she couldn’t. Maybe it would have been better to stay there, tell him everything, but she felt trapped. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, and she just wanted…wanted…

She wanted out.

Claire didn’t even make the conscious decision to run, but she did—out the door, into her own room, slamming and locking it behind her.

And then she sank down to a crouch against the door, wrapped her arms around herself, and cried like her heart was broken.

Which, in fact, it was.

SEVEN

Morning felt like the end of the world. Claire didn’t remember sleeping, but she supposed she must have a little. Outside her window the sun was shining, and when she pulled the sash up a warming breeze fluttered the white curtains. It was going to be a nice day.

For the end of the world, anyway.

She rolled over in bed and found herself facing a lot of empty space—space that Shane had occupied sometimes, whether they were just lying together talking or watching TV or…doing other things. But no Shane. Not today. That side of the bed was smooth.

Claire rolled back over to face the other side, which was just a view of the blank wall and a dresser. On the dresser was a picture of her and Shane, arms around each other, laughing.

She squeezed her eyes shut. They felt raw and red, swollen from crying, and she knew she looked as miserable as she felt.

Get up,she told herself. You can’t just lie around here all day, feeling sorry for yourself.

But if she got up, she might run into Shane in the hall or downstairs in the kitchen or……

Get up. You live here, too.

She didn’t want to, but the idea of wallowing around in her misery didn’t sound so great, either. She was tired of crying, and her head hurt. She needed something to drink, something to eat, and to tell Eve all about it.

Crawling out from under the covers, Claire realized that she was still wearing the clothes she’d thrown on to follow Myrnin; she hadn’t bothered, in her generally awful mood, to undress. She took a fresh set with her to the bathroom (she noted that Shane’s door was closed as she passed) and showered and dressed and fixed her hair. When she realized that she was actually taking longer than Eve generally did, mainly to avoid any possibility of coming into contact with him, she sucked in a deep breath, dumped the old clothes in the laundry basket, and reached for the bathroom doorknob.

Her cell phone went off, scaring her so badly, she banged her elbow into the sink while reaching into her pants pocket. Ow.That hurt, hurt bad enough to make her take an extra second of deep breaths to stare down at the lit-up screen. She didn’t recognize the number, not even the area code. Probably a wrong number.

She answered, and a voice on the other end, sounding brisk and businesslike, said, “May I speak with Claire Danvers, please?”

“I’m Claire.” She swallowed a bubble of anxiety. Could it be about her dad? No, he was doing better—he’d said so himself. Everything was all right.

Then why was some stranger calling her? Now?

“My name is Mr. Radamon, and I am in charge of the Atomic, Biophysics, Condensed Matter, and Plasma Physics program at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Did you receive our letter?”

Claire went entirely blank. “Your…letter?”

“You applied for admission into our program last year,” Mr. Radamon said. He sounded so… normal.So human.Somehow, she’d expected an MIT honcho to sound more godlike, with thunder rolling in the background. “We replied about six months ago with an acceptance letter to your home address. I just wanted to be sure you got it.”

“Oh. Oh, no, I didn’t. My parents—my parents had to move. My dad is sick.” MIT. MIT was on her phone. She took it away from her ear and started at it in dreamlike disbelief. “You said…I was accepted?”

“Yes,” he said. “We do have an opening. But, of course, we need to confirm that you’ll be able to attend at the beginning of next year. If you can’t, we’ll have to give the opportunity to another applicant. You understand?”

“Of course,” Claire said, and felt a wave of hot excitement roll over her, followed by an ice-cold wave of realization. “You said…next year? As in January?”

“Yes, January,” he said. “I hope that gives you enough time to make your arrangements. I’m sorry to hear your father is ill. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

Claire honestly didn’t know what to say, and wasn’t sure she could say anything.She’d been dreaming of this moment for years, thinking about how cool and perfect she was going to sound, how she’d impress them with her adult attitude and control.

All she wanted to do was cry. I can’t. I can’t go. They won’t let me, and this is my chance, my only chance….MIT had been her dream ever since she’d been able to understand what they did there, what they taught, what they achieved. There, she’d learn things that even Myrnin couldn’t fathom. She’d discover the secrets of the universe.

All she had to do was get the hell out of Morganville. Which she couldn’t do.

“Miss Danvers?” said the voice of the future on the other end of a very long line. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m here.” All the wayhere. “Mr. Radamon, I’m sorry. I’ll need to get back to you a little later. I need to, uh, talk to my parents before I tell you for sure. Would that be okay?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. I’m sorry to spring this on you without any warning.” He chuckled. “I know how exciting it can be to get this kind of news. I think I yelled my parents’ house down when I got my acceptance letter. Most exciting moment of my life. Well, congratulations, Ms. Danvers. Please call me back when you have all your arrangements in hand. I’ll need to hear from you within the week, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated numbly. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

“No thanks necessary; you were a brilliant candidate, and your scores are extremely impressive. We look forward to having you on the team here.”

She must have said something else, something nice and appreciative, but honestly, Claire couldn’t think of anything except the giant letters flashing in front of her eyes…one set was MIT, and the other was OMG. She’d expected to feel a tremendous rush, but all she felt was…conflicted. And deeply, deeply scared.

The world had just opened up for her. Doves and angels and choirs singing. And all she could feel about it was…dread. Dread because she didn’t think Amelie would release her in the first place, but even if she did…even if she did, what about Shane? If Shane was even talking to her ever again.

God, it was such a mess.

She took another five minutes, sitting in silence, staring at her turned-off phone. Wondering who she should call. Her parents would support her no matter what; no help there. She wanted to talk to Shane, suddenly, but…but after last night…

She had nobody she couldtalk to.

Well, she would have said something to Michael, who was in the living room, getting his stuff, but by the time she got her courage together, he was on his way. He just waved as he put on a sun-blocking black coat and hat and headed out the back door.

She shut her mouth, still trying to figure out how she felt. Mostly she just seemed…confused.

Eve was in the kitchen making pancakes. Alone.

“Morning, girlfriend,” Eve said, and dumped some lumpy batter into a hot pan, where it immediately started to sizzle. “You look like you need carbs.”

“Totally,” Claire said, and sat down to rest her forehead in both hands. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. Here.” Eve grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee, and slid it to her on the table. “Caffeine. Makes the world all bright and sparkly, or maybe that’s just me. Look, I gave you the fun mug.”

In Eve’s world, it was. It was a coffee mug with a dead-guy chalk outline on it, and it said he had decaf.

Claire mixed the coffee with all the things that made coffee drinking possible for her—milk, sugar, a little cinnamon—and sat nursing it, staring into the light brown surface but not seeing anything. She couldn’t think. All she could do was…feel awful.

She needed to tell Eve, but saying it out loud would make it all real. MIT wants me to go there. Because part of her was so excited it was vibrating apart, and the other part, the practical part…that was crying. Did she wantto go…leave behind Morganville? Well, yes, obviously. But that meant leaving the people, too. Eve. Michael. Myrnin. Shane.

She wanted to talk about that, badly, but she just…couldn’t. Not yet.

“Incoming!” Eve said, and as Claire looked up, slid a plate in front of her with two thick, steaming pancakes. A pat of butter melted like lava on top, and Eve thumped down a bottle of syrup. “Everything gets better with pancakes. It’s a law of the universe. Bonus for bacon, but we’re out.”

Eve had a plate, too, and sat down opposite her. Claire hadn’t noticed, but Eve was makeup-free this morning, and her Goth-black hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. Even her clothes were subdued, or as much as Eve ever got—a form-hugging tee with a black-on-black skull design and a pair of black jeans. She picked up her fork and dug into her own plate.

Claire just watched the butter melt and poked at the pancakes a little. She dragged her fork through the syrup and spelled out MIT. Finally, she took a bite. They were good, really good, but as soon as she started to chew, tears came to her eyes and she could hardly swallow. She coughed to cover it, but Eve was watching her with a steady kind of focus that made it unnecessary.

“Hey,” Eve said. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

Not about that. Not yet. But the other thing, yes. “Shane hates me,” Claire said in a very small voice, and dragged her fork through the moat of syrup around the fortress of pancakes.

“Seriously?” Eve waited for Claire’s nod before eating a bite of pancakes. She chewed and swallowed before she said, “Sorry, Claire Bear. He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t hear what he said to me last night.” That did it—the tears came now, for real, and she picked up her napkin and tried to wipe them away with shaking hands. God, what a mess she was.

“I heard what he said this morning before he blew out of here. He was angry at himself, not you—or, at least, more than at you. He said you’d gotten dragged away by Myrnin last night and he’d acted like a dick about it. Isn’t that what happened?”

“Well, sort of. He was right—I didgo off with Myrnin.”

“On a job.”

“Yeah.”

“Not on a date.”

“Oh, God, no!”

“Then Shane acted like an ass, and he’s got nothing to be jealous about, and he knows it. I saw him, Claire. Believe me, he knows he was wrong. He feels bad.”

“Then why—?” Why didn’t he come talk to me? Why didn’t he try? Why did he just…leave?

“He’s cooling down. It’s a guy thing,” Eve said. “He’ll be okay when he gets back. And you? He said you were all angry about him watching sexy commercials on TV, which, frankly, is weird—you being mad about it, not him watching them, because I’m pretty sure teen boys get a pass on that. They can’t help hitting the pause button when the half-naked girls show up.”

“No, that wasn’t it. It was—” She replayed it in her mind. A blur, a flutter of curtains. Whispers and laughter in the dark.

In the end, nothing she could truly say wasn’t just a product of her tired mind and of jealousy.