ELEVEN

Afew months back, a girl named Kim had wormed her way into Eve's friendship, and she'd betrayed it. She'd recorded a lot of things all over Morganville, but her personal favorite had been sex tapes.

Claire, fingers trembling on the keyboard, did a search forShane Collins on YouTube.

It came back empty, and she slumped back in her chair, so relieved she thought she might faint. If Kim had somehow gotten that on the Internet......

"Try Google," Michael said. He was crouched down next to her chair. Eve was hovering over her shoulder, all of them fixed on the glowing screen of her laptop. Claire bit her lip and tried that, and results scrolled down. Most of them weren't abouther Shane, but one caught her eye. She clicked it, without even consciously realizing why she'd picked it.

A Web site came up, loud and red and edgy, all jagged type and torn-up graphics. The banner read immortal battles. An animated thing underneath asked if she had the courage to enter the game.

There were lots of fragments of pictures making up the splash page--dark, gritty stuff, mostly guys looking intense and sweaty.

And immediately, one face jumped right out at her. She gasped at the same time Michael leaned forward and pointed. "That's Shane," he said. She nodded. "Click it."

"I--"I don't want to, she thought, but she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then aimed the mouse at the glowing entry box.

She clicked. It exploded, and the sound rattled harshly out of the speakers. Michael didn't flinch, but she did.

When the screen cleared of the animated explosion, there was a sign-in box and a link to create an account. She clicked that. "It says I need a credit card," she said. "And that it's a hundred bucks to sign up."

Michael opened his wallet and handed over a card. He hadn't had it long, she guessed; it still looked shiny and new. It was black, with Amelie's logo in gray in the background and the bank's info at the bottom. "Do it," he said. She typed in the info and handed the card back, then clicked register. There was the usual wait, and then the screen cleared for a video.

"That's a vampire," Eve said, leaning forward. "What thehell ?"

"His name is Vassily," Michael said. "I never liked him."

Vassily--whom Claire had never seen before, except maybe at a distance--was a long-haired guy only a little older in face-age than Michael. Kind of good-looking, if you went for lots of sharp angles and arrogant smiles. He was wearing period costume, which struck her as a little weird; some vampires did, but not many. They were anxious to fit in, not stand out. He looked like he'd ripped the clothes off Dracula in an old black-and-white movie.

"Welcome," Vassily said, and smiled. He showed teeth. "To Immortal Battles. We don't fight to the death--we fightbeyond death, in the world's most dangerous sport. You'll never see ultimate fighting the same way again--I promise you. Ah, I see our betting windows are open. Choose to view previous matches, or place a bet on an upcoming one. And remember: we know who you are." Another flash of vampire teeth. It was all weirdly campy.

"What thehell ?" Michael murmured, almost laughing. "Amelie's going to kill him."

The video went away, and Claire was left with choices. There were two previous-bout videos, and she clicked on the second one.

Michael sucked in a startled breath, and so did Eve.

Two half-naked guys in a wire cage, pounding the hell out of each other. Nothing you couldn't see on pay-per-view, except that one guy's skin was far too pale, and where he got cut and bled, the blood wasn't quite right. That was a human and a vampire, fighting each other.

Then one, the human, went down and was dragged out--Claire couldn't tell if it was theater or not, or if he'd been knocked out--and another guy entered the cage.

"No," she whispered. "Oh no."

It was Shane. He looked scared but determined, eyes dark and fixed on the vampire in the cage with him. The vampire hissed at him. Shane circled, looking for an opening.

"Is he insane?" Michael blurted, looking paler than ever. "He's not even armed!"

He also wasn't bruised, Claire realized. This had been shot before today, before she'd seen all the bruises on his body. Because of that--and only because of that--she was able to watch as Shane and the vampire bobbed, weaved, feinted...and attacked. The vampire looked weakened, thanks to the first bout, but Shane looked incredibly fast and strong.

Even so, he got pounded down, time after time. Claire found herself flinching every time a vampire fist landed. Shane kept himself alive, barely, and actually broke off one of the vampire's fangs with an unexpected kick. That earned him a slam into the wire mesh so forceful it cut the pattern into his skin.

"I can't watch this. I can't," Eve said, and put her hands over her face. "He's bleeding!"

It dawned on Claire that if the fight had been dangerous before, now it was incredibly risky--a bleeding human was like catnip to a vampire, and the one Shane faced seemed to get a second wind, so to speak, and come after him with a vengeance.

And Shane went down. The vampire pinned him, and Claire caught a glimpse of red, glowing eyes and one fang as it lunged for his throat.

Shane slammed a fist into the side of the vampire's head and snapped it sideways, and managed to use the momentum to roll him over. Once Shane was on top, he pounded the vampire with merciless punches, over and over again, and Claire could see the horror and anguish and rage that she knew was trapped deep inside him bubbling over,taking over. He wasn't just fighting for fun or money--he was fighting for his mother, his sister, even his father.

He was fighting his nightmares and his own hatred of Morganville.

A black-shirted referee jumped in and stopped the fight, and hefted Shane's sweating arm into the air to signal victory. Shane collapsed to his knees and had to be helped out of the cage.

But he'd won. His vampire opponent had to be carried out.

When the screen went dark, there was silence in the room, and then Michael said, very quietly, "Look at the hit counter."

Hundreds of thousands of views for this video, at a hundred dollars per account. Millions, for whoever was running Immortal Battles.

"That doesn't even count the betting, and youknow there's betting. Shane's not just doing this for fun. He's getting paid," Michael said. "He's getting paid to fight vampires."

"Click the other one, the older one," Eve said. She sounded better now that she'd seen the ending of the first fight. Claire wasn't so sure she could handle another one; she never wanted to see Shane like that again, or be that afraid for him.

But she needn't have worried, because Shane wasn't in this one.

Stinky Dougwas.

Stripped down, with his hair tied back, Stinky Doug looked lanky, all muscle. His fight was over quicker than Shane's, although he displayed the same unnerving quickness and strength. It didn't go in his favor. Doug got his ass kicked by a slender young female vamp, and was dragged out unconscious. Not dead, Claire knew; from the date on the fight, this had been at least two weeks before he'd died.

So Stinky Doug had stolen blood from the lab experimentafter this fight was filmed--why?

"He already knew about the vamps. He must have needed proof," she murmured. "Proof of the vampires. That's why he took the blood. He was going to go public, or he was blackmailing them."

"What?"

Claire pointed to Stinky Doug's slack face as he was dragged out of the cage. "He fought two weeks ago, right? Maybe he wasn't happy with what he got paid. He stole vamp blood from a college lab experiment. I think maybe he was going to use it for proof, or to get more money out of the Immortal Battles people. After all, they're playing the vampire part of it like theater. Like a joke."

She was right; the comments proved it. People were playing along with it, but clearly, nobodybelieved there were vampires fighting on screen. They were guys in makeup. But they liked it all the same.

Claire remembered the phone call she'd gotten that had tipped her off to the Web site. Somebody inside Morganville knew for sure, and theywould take it seriously.

"There's something else," Michael said. "Shane's fast, yeah, sure, and he's always been strong. But he's not superhuman. Or he wasn't. But you saw him tonight. That was...different. He's gotten faster and stronger and able to take more punishment. They've done something to him."

And it all came together in Claire's head in a blinding flash. Doug...the lab experiment. Her discussion with Frank about why someone would want vampire blood in the first place. He'd told her it wouldn't make a decent drug, because there wasn't a high and it wore off too fast, butit made you stronger and faster.

"Vassily's giving them vampire blood," Claire said. "In the protein shakes, probably. It's a temporary boost, but it breaks down fast."

"Oh, God," Eve said. "That's bad. That's damn bad, isn't it?"

Michael didn't deny that at all. "Click on the link for upcoming bouts."

Claire did. In three days, Shane was scheduled to fight again, this time a vampire named......

"Jester," Michael murmured. "He's fighting Jester. And Jester will murder him." He didn't mean it figuratively. "We have to get to Shane and get him out of this. He can't survive that, not even with the help of whatever they're giving him. The human body's not made for it."

"We have to get him out of it before Amelie finds out," Claire said, "because she'll kill everybody involved, no questions asked. This is a high-security risk for the town. She won't hesitate."

Eve dropped down onto Claire's bed and buried her head in her hands. "And how are we supposed to do that, exactly? Shane's allgrrr now. He's not going to listen to us. And he's got an entourage of his very own tough guys who'd gladly beat the crap out of us for breathing his air."

"What are we going to do, then? Just let himdie ? Formoney ?" Claire stood up and glared at the Web site again in utter fury. Her hands ached, and she didn't know why until she realized she was clenching them into tight fists. That made her think about Shane fighting, and that made her even angrier. There was a red-hot pressure inside her head that felt like it might blow her apart. "We can't tell Amelie. We can't go to Shane. Thenwhat ?"

Her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen and it said nothing at all again. Her breath hissed out in a sound of pure, enraged frustration, and she answered it in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. "If you're calling to tell me howhot it is to see my boyfriend get beaten up, I'm going to come over there and--"

"It's Frank," said the weird mechanical voice on the other end. That hit her like a bucket of ice-cold water, making her flinch and shiver at the same time.Oh, God, he could hear her. Frank could hear any of them, anytime, if they had their cell phones on them and he cared to listen. The ultimate eavesdropper, and she'd forgotten all about it. "Get here. Now."

"The lab," she said.

"No, Candyland! Of course the lab! And you'd better come prepared to explain to me what the hell is happening to my son, Claire." He hung up on her. She'd just been hung up on by a disembodied brain in a jar. Fantastic. She hadn't even had time to say,Don't tell Myrnin , but she didn't think Frank would, anyway. He'd have picked up on how dangerous this was for Shane, and if Myrnin knew, well...Myrnin wasn't Shane's biggest fan at the best of times. Claire didn't think he'd rat Shane out just because of that, but he was, ultimately, Amelie's friend first. And Amelie would want to know.

This was so dangerous.God , everywhere she turned there was risk. To Shane and to Morganville. Even to the vampires, though she didn't care quite as much about that, because the vamps could always take care of themselves...and would.

"Who was it?" Michael's face was carefully blank, but she saw the glitter in his eyes. He was waiting to see how much she was going to lie.

She sighed and told the truth. "Frank Collins," she said.

"Frank's dead."

"Yes," she said. "And...I have some things you'd better know before we go any further."

"Oh, this should be good," Eve said, in a "not really" voice. "Somebody make popcorn."

Claire told them about it on the drive to Myrnin's lab. It was darkest night now, and only vampires went out by choice; they took Michael's shiny, town-provided Vampmobile, with highly tinted windows, because Claire wasn't absolutely sure that they'd be back home before dawn, and, besides, it provided her and Eve with some extra protection from snack-inclined vampires. Just in case.

"So, wait," Michael said. "Back up. Myrnin chopped Frank's brain out and put it in a jar to hook up to his machine, after Amelie told him he was officially not supposed to be working on that machine. Is that about right?"

"Amelie was mad at him," Claire said. "But Myrnin was going to do it, anyway, and I think she knew it. It was just...timing. And whose brain he was going to get to use. Considering that he was thinking about using mine..."

"Yeah, I get it; it's a solid win." Michael shook his head, bemused. "Remind me to have myself cremated if I ever get killed around here. Can't trust anybody these days. But I have to say, if I had to pick somebody to trap in a jar for eternity, I'd vote Frank Collins every chance I got. He didn't deserve to live, but he did deserve to suffer. He's suffering, right?"

"Well...I guess." Claire hadn't seen much evidence of suffering, actually, but Michael seemed pretty happy about the whole idea. "The point is that Frank is connected to a lot of sensors, cameras, cell

phone networks, Internet feeds.... I'm guessing that the site we looked at was encrypted, though, because he didn't start yelling about things until we started talking about them. He couldn't see it."

"Somebody knew enough to take precautions," Michael agreed. "Somebody on Team Vampire."

"Like Vassily," Eve said. "Or Gloriana, that bitch."

"She's not that bad."

"Michael, you're going to want to stop defending her now before I have to cut you somewhere you'll feel it."

"Ouch."

"Fiancee," Eve said, pointing one black fingernail at her chest. "Donot defend her to me. She tried to drag you off to her lair. I'll bet she has a lair. And a boudoir in her lair."

Michael gave up. Claire thought she saw him smiling, but if he did, he made it vanish pretty fast. "Who's Frank likely to tell? Myrnin?"

"Maybe," Claire said. "And Myrnin will blab to Amelie, and then--"

"And then the vampires involved get a slap on the wrist, and the humans involved get dead, and we redefinesnafu in our time," Eve said. Michael made a left turn. Claire had no idea where they were; it was featureless blackness out the windows. Michael was the only one who had the super eyesight to make anything out. "We should have taken the portal."

"And what happens if Frank decides to lock down the portals to keep us from leaving?" Michael said. "I like having my own transportation."

He had a point. Claire didn't trust the portal system, which Amelie and Oliver--and sometimes Myrnin--used to skulk around the town. Sure, it was all magically amazing until it stopped working. She'd seen it stop working midtransit. The results hadn't been pretty.

Michael braked. "We're here."

"Maybe you guys should--"

"Go in with you," Eve said. "Because we're not dumping you off on the curb like an abandoned puppy, Claire. You know that's not happening."

She did know, and she was grateful. Very grateful.

Michael, though, had one more question, as they were walking down the alley toward the lab, lit eerily by the bobbing flare of the little flashlight Eve kept in her bag for emergencies. "Does Shane know? About his dad being kind of alive?"

"No," Claire admitted. "I didn't want to tell him. I thought,Maybe later . It was too soon. He'd just come to terms with losing him. I couldn't stand to see him hurt all over again."

"I probably would have done the same thing," Michael said.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me. Just because I'd have done it doesn't mean it was right."

That was not exactly comforting. Claire thought about it all the way inside the leaning, dry-rotted shack that stood at the end of the narrowing alley, and down the unlit steps that led to Myrnin's lab.

She was prepared for Myrnin to be there, but he wasn't. She found the light controls and brought up the glow on the wall sconces. The lab looked its usual disorderly self, half cool steampunk junk shop, half dump. She still hadn't broken him of the habit of leaving stacks of books everywhere, including blocking the paths between the lab tables. He'd just gotten in a new shipment, she saw. More alchemy books. The top one, designed in garish black and yellow and white, was titledAlchemy for Idiots . He'd probably picked that one out just for her.

"Myrnin?" She called out, but not very loudly. No sign of him. When she raised her eyebrows at Michael, he shook his head. Not here, then.

That was confirmed by the flickering black-and-white ghost dressed in motorcycle leathers that appeared at the far end of the lab and came toward them at a brisk walk, passing through everything in his way...stacks of books, lab tables, and Eve, who wasn't looking the right way at that moment. She squawked and jumped back as Frank Collins's arm thrust its way through her stomach. "Hey!"

He smiled. With Frank's craggy, scarred face, it was a gruesome sight, especially in horror-movie black-and-white. "Don't stand in the way if you don't want to get hurt," he said, and dropped his arm back to his side. "I see you brought your friends, Claire."

"I didn't have a choice. They needed to know about you."

"In your opinion."

"Yes. In my opinion." Claire stared at him, and he stared back, and finally Frank shrugged.

"Fine by me, but keep my son out of it. By the way, Myrnin's not home."

"Where is he?"

"Hunting," Frank said.

Claire stiffened. "Myrnin doesn't hunt. He has regular blood deliveries."

Frank just looked at her, then at Michael. "You. Best friend. What the hell's going on with my son?"

Michael exchanged a quick glance with the others, then said, "Probably easier if I show you. Got a computer? One with Internet?"

"Yeah, over there." Frank pointed, and Claire led the way to the laptop that she kept in the corner, the one that she'd set up for Myrnin but he never seemed to use. "I was monitoring your keystrokes, but I couldn't see the Web site. Somebody's gone to some trouble to blind me."

Claire pulled up the Immortal Battles site. "Can you see it now?"

"No." Frank's insubstantial, flickering ghost leaned forward, frowning. "Just a blank screen. White noise."

"Try this," Eve said. She took out her cell phone and turned on the camera, then focused it on the screen. "Can you see it now?"

He wasn't looking at her cell phone screen, but he grunted in acknowledgment. "That works," he said. "I can see your cell in real time, so I can watch it through your camera. Good thinking. All right. Show me."

He didn't have any comment until Claire loaded up the video of Shane's first fight. As he watched the boy get thrown into the fence and then turn it around on the vampire, he did the thing Claire most dreaded.

He smiled in genuine pride.

"Hey!" she said sharply. "Your son is beinghurt. I know you're an abusive asshole, but could you maybe focus on the fact that he could have beenkilled ? Maybe?"

Frank lost the smile, but the pride remained. "He won," he said. "My son won a bare-knuckles fight with a vampire. You, Glass. You want to tell me how unlikely that is?"

"Pretty damn unlikely," Michael said. "But Claire's got a point."

"I trained my son to survive in Morganville. I'm not apologizing for that."

"You beat the hell out of him," Michael said, and behind his soft tone there was steely anger. "I remember how many times he came to my house to stay the night because he couldn't face going home to you. How many times he had bruises from yourtraining . My parents didn't do that to me to train me to survive."

"Yeah," Frank said. "And look how you turned out, Glass, with all the blood drinking. No offense."

"Lots taken," Michael said. "And by the way, you wound up with fangs, too. So screw you and your self-justification for being Worst Parent of Our Lifetime, Drunken Ass Division."

"I'd kick your disrespectful butt if I still had legs, but I'll let it go. For now," Frank said. "So my son's tangled up with this. I'll admit, it's risky, but it's right up his alley."

"He's doing it for money," Claire said.

"Good for him. I'd have done the same thing myself if it had been around in my day. Good training and cash, plus the chance to pound some bloodsucker in the face."

"It's illegal!"

Frank shrugged. "Maybe. But who cares?"

"Frank, it's run byvampires . They're getting rich off your son's blood!" Michael said. Frank raised his eyebrows.

"You think that's a news flash? That's how it's been from the beginning, Glass. Humans get boned; vampires get rich. It's their whole lifestyle."

Claire shook her head. "Maybe, but I guarantee you that Ameliedoesn't know about this particular little project, and she's going to care big-time. Anything that puts Morganville on the radar is a bad thing, right?"

"Eh," Frank said. "They're playing it for the cheap seats, all opera capes and bad Transylvanian accents. Nobody out there's going to take it seriously. They're watching it for the fighting. They don't believe for a second there are actual vampires involved. Not much of a risk."

"Maybe not, but what happens when somebody takes it seriously and sends somebody to check it out? It would make a hell of a60 Minutes story," Michael said. "One guy already tried to extort them for money. He's dead."

"Wait," Claire said as Frank opened his mouth to reply. Not that he needed to have a mouth to talk; it was just theater. His voice was coming out of her phone. He waited while she thought for a second. "Michael.Bishop killed Stinky Doug. That's what Jason told me."

"And--Oh." Eve's eyes grew very wide. "Wait. You saw Jason? Where?"

Dammit,again she was saying things she shouldn't have been. Too late to call that back, anyway. "He's been arrested," Claire said. "Again. Sorry."

"And you were going to tell me that my brother was in jailwhen , exactly?"

"When they said I could. I'm sorry, Eve, but that's not the point. Jason accused Bishop."

"Wait,the Bishop? Evil old man who is supposed to bedead --that Bishop?"

This was a house of cards, and it was all crashing down around her. Claire decided she couldn't care about that, not now. Better to try to get it all out in the open. "Bishop broke out," she said. "And the next thing anybody knew, he grabbed Jason and had him take him to Stinky Doug. Then he killed him. Jason didn't know why."

"But we do now," Michael said. "Doug was trying to blackmail Immortal Battles. He lifted vampire blood and was probably planning to go to a reporter with it, along with his story and the Web site evidence. Proof."

"Proof nobody could afford, not even Bishop," Claire said. "So no more Doug. But the thing is, Bishop had to already know about the fighting. He was in on it. Or behind it. Amelie's got a full-scale search going for Bishop, and she's going to find out about this, probably soon."

Michael leaned against a lab table and crossed his arms. "That means Shane will be just as guilty as everybody else, for aiding and abetting," he said. "You know how she's going to feel about that. And if we knew and didn't tell her, we'll be there right alongside him."

"I know howI'm going to feel," Eve said. "I'm going to feel sorry, because I don't look good in prison clothes. Or I'll be dead, in which case I won't feel much. Claire, sweetie, I hate to say this, but I don't think we have a choice. We have to tell somebody. Wehave to."

"But Shane--"

"Shane needs to understand that this little sideshow is over, like it or not," Frank said. "And that he's falling with it if he stays. He'd better decide to end up on Amelie's side, not Bishop's, because Claire is right: Bishop in the mix changes it from illegal fun to a serious threat."

"Shane doesn't know about Bishop's involvement. I'm sure. He'd never have anything to do with it if he had any clue," Claire said. "We just have to tell him, that's all. He'll break it off."

"That'sall ," Michael said. "You were there, right? The last time we tried to talk to him?"

Claire took a deep breath. "No offense, Michael, but I think--I think it was you who really caused the problem. Not what you said. What youare. Somehow he's gotten conditioned to be angry whenever it involves vampires. You saw how he treated Eve, and helikes Eve. I think I have to talk to him alone."

"No!" Eve blurted that out, but she didn't back down when Claire turned to her. "No, seriously, just...no, honey. You can't, Claire. You saw how he was. If you go alone he might...he might hurt you. I know you don't think he will, but I saw him. I know he could. I hate it, and I wish it wasn't true, but...you can't take that risk."

"Youtake that risk all the time with Michael," Claire said, and stepped forward to touch Eve's choker, beneath which lay bite marks. "You trust he'll know how far to go. Right? I trust Shane. I have to trust him."

"Well...they'll never let you in," Eve said, but she sounded doubtful now rather than definite. "You'd never make it past the bouncer."

Claire locked eyes with her and held the stare, trying to put all her grief and passion into it. "I have to," she said. "Please understand.Please. "

Eve didn't want to, but she finally, unwillingly nodded. When Michael tried to interject, she shook her head firmly. "She's right, Mike. She's not a little kid; we can't always be there. And she's also right about how Shane feels about vampires. If either one of us shows up, it kicks it up to a whole new level. If she's alone, it's more personal. And no matter how wack Shane may be right now, I can't believe he would hurt her, not on purpose."

Michael clearly had his doubts, but he held up both hands to signal surrender. "First we wait to see if he comes home tomorrow," he said. "If he doesn't, then we'll drive you to the gym and wait for you--and Frank monitors your signal. Any sign of trouble, he pushes the alarm button, and all bets are off. Oh, and we tell Amelie. Immediately, regardless of how that conversation goes with Shane."

Claire didn't like it particularly, but she could see the wisdom of it, too. It hadn't occurred to her, but since she knew Frank could use the camera, too, she could be wearing her cell phone around her neck with the camera activated, and he could see and hear everything. He'd wanted eyes and ears inside the gym; this was the best she could do.

"I'll go there tomorrow," she said. "If he doesn't come home tonight."

"Hang on," Frank said. "What about this Web site?"

"Can you block access?"

"Only for people inside of town."

"How about, you know, launching some kind of attack? Like a virus or a denial of service?"

Frank blinked. "No idea what you're talking about. Look, I was never the Internet guy. And it's pretty freaking strange to be--this. I got no idea how to do that denial of whatever. And I don't have any viruses."

"What if I give you one?"

"Try it, and you won't need to be afraid of what my son does."

"Okay, right. Never mind," Claire said. "It was just an idea. Obviously not a very good one."

"Bad enough I'm stuck like this, without you getting any ideas about making me sick like the last occupant." Meaning Ada, Myrnin's old assistant. And girlfriend. Claire was suddenly glad she hadn't suggested the whole virus thing while Myrnin was around, because he would surely have beenvery unhappy with her.

And as if she'd conjured him up, thanks to even thinking his name, Frank suddenly turned to face the side of the lab where the portal door was located. "He's coming back," he said. "Nobody tells him nothing." And just like that, Frank vanished, leaving behind nothing but a trailing hiss of static in Claire's cell phone speaker, just as a pool of darkness formed inside an open doorway, then rippled into what looked like a dimly lit library.

Myrnin stepped through, and the portal collapsed behind him into darkness. He shut the wooden door and padlocked it, rolled the bookcase back in front of it as additional cover, and, without turning around, said, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, uninvited guests?" He didn't sound happy. Or even, as was more typical for Myrnin, wacky. Bad sign.

"I...needed to check on something," Claire said. "Sorry. We were just leaving."

"Were you?" He turned, clasping his hands behind him. He looked very old-school Myrnin, formally dressed, even down to shiny boots. Well, the shirt and vestmight have clashed, but apart from that, he'd obviously been somewhere that didn't accept his usual wardrobe choices. Like, say, Amelie's office. "There are a number of odd things happening in this town, Claire. Most notably, the behavior of you and your friends. Including that boy most strangely absent from your little group. I don't often see him separated from you."

She felt a prickling of fear and tried not to let it show. "He's busy," she said. "So am I." She nodded to Michael and Eve and headed for the stairs.

Myrnin got there ahead of her. She came to a fast stop, wondering what the hell was up with himthis time. She'd seen so much insanity from him that it was tough to work up real terror anymore. He'd wig out on her and grow fangs, or not. But she wasn't going to let him stop her.

"Wait," he said. Not angry after all, and not crazy. He looked worried and sad. "You know that you can trust me, don't you? You understand that I'm your friend. I am. I have always tried to be."

"I know," she said. It sounded hollow, because it wasn't true. She'd seen Myrnin be a whole lot of things, and she knew better than anyone how fragile he was. She couldn't depend on his current mood. She justcouldn't. There was too much at stake.

"You'd tell me if there was anything wrong, wouldn't you? Something with which I might help?"

"It's--" She swallowed and studied her scuffed shoes. "Shane and I had a fight. That's all. It's--making me feel pretty awful. I'm sorry if I haven't been myself."

"Yes," Myrnin said a little helplessly. "Well. I see how that might--and I'm, of course, the last one to criticize anyone for not being themselves--but are you sure it's not...? Perhaps it's for the best that you and the boy--"

She felt tears burning in her eyes, real and instant, and looked up to glare at him through them. "Just leave it alone, okay? It's personal!"

He was so surprised that he stepped aside, and she charged up the steps, panting with emotion that she couldn't control and didn't have the vaguest idea of what had brought it up. Everything, she guessed. Stress, worry, Shane, Morganville, Myrnin. Constantly being the one who had to beokay.

She was so tired of beingokay.

Outside, in the alley, she realized that Eve was yelling her name, but she hit the pavement running. She had to run; she couldn't control it, even though it was dark and a dumb idea, and when she hit a trash can with a crash and went flying, she expected, with a kind of fatalistic satisfaction, to get hurt. Maybe badly.

Only she didn't, of course, because Michael had gotten ahead of her by doing that vampire jumping thing and was there to catch her, and she yanked free of his kindness, still furious. "Just leave me alone!" she shouted. It was shockingly loud. Lights went on after a few seconds in the Day House, next to the alley. She'd woken up old Gramma Day, another thing to feel bad about. "I don't need your help!"

Except she had, of course. She wasn't quite stupid enough to run the rest of the way; she walked, kicking bottles and trash out of her way with bitter anger, until she arrived back at Michael's car. She yanked at the handle, but it didn't open. Locked, of course. It beeped at her softly as Michael remotely unlocked it, but he didn't come closer as she pulled it open and got in and slumped in the backseat, feeling blackly miserably. She probably should apologize, she realized. But she didn't care.

Michael got in the driver's side, and Eve, after bending over to look at her over the seat, got into the shotgun position. Nobody said a word. The engine started and the car pulled away with a crunch of tires, and Michael said, "I think Gramma Day thinks I've just abducted you."

"Why?" Claire snapped.

"Because she's out on her porch, loading up a shotgun." He hit the gas. "Good thing she doesn't keep it ready and waiting, or we'd be in a little bit of trouble."

"Oh." Some of her anger managed to fade away as she considered what could have happened. What if Eve had gotten caught in the crossfire? Michael wouldn't have been hurt, but Eve..."I didn't mean for that to happen."

Eve cupped her ear at Claire. "I'm sorry--was that an apology? Because it didn't sound like one."

"Don't push it."

"I'm not, but you're acting like a drama princess."

"Drama queen."

"Hello, no. You need alot more practice at door slamming, flouncing, and pouting before you can even pretend to deserve my throne, bitch. But you're coming along." Eve paused and fixed her with a long, serious look. "That wasn't a compliment, by the way. In case you're wondering."

"I wasn't."

"Good." Eve faced forward. "I get it, though. It's all coming down around you, you don't know what to do, it's all too big and too scary to face, much less fight, so the first person who shows you compassion gets slapped. Been there so often, I pay rent."

"I--" Claire intended to defend herself, but after running it through her head, that was a pretty accurate assessment, all things considered. She finally shrugged. "I guess."

"Progress." Eve laughed. "I love you, CB, but let's face it: we can all be tools. It's in our DNA. Yeah, even yours, Michael." She punched his arm. He pretended to feel it. "So. Next step. We go home, get a good night's rest, hope Shane slinks back with his tail between his legs and realizes what a douche he's been. Right?"

"That's the plan," Michael said. He didn't sound optimistic. "Give him some time. But one way or another, tomorrow we go to Amelie and tell her everything we know. Including about Shane."

Claire raised her chin and stared at the back of his curly blond head, because that hadn't sounded quite right, either. Not the words; the tone. Something just a shade off. "Michael? You're not going to run off and do anything dumbtonight , are you?"

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one running full speed in the dark in Vampireville."

That checked her for long enough until they pulled up at the curb at their house on Lot Street, and by the time Eve and Michael were out of the car, Claire had forgotten the original question.

It was only later, when she woke up in the middle of the night, wondering if she'd heard Shane's door open and close, that she realized that Michael hadn't actually answered her at all.