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"One of these days, he's going to fire you for that," Claire said.
"Not today. Too busy. And he'll forget by tomorrow. Tim's kind of like a goldfish. Three-second memory." Eve looked relaxed. In fact, despite the fact that she was typically Gothed up in red and black, with clown-white makeup and bloodred lipstick, Eve looked almost . . . content. "Thanks."
Claire sipped the mocha, which was actually pretty good. "For what?"
"You know what."
"Don't, actually."
Eve's smile turned wicked around the edges. "Michael came by."
"Oh?" Claire dumped her backpack on a deserted table. "Tell."
"You're too young."
"Seventeen as of yesterday."
"Oh? Oh. Um . . . sorry." Eve looked deeply ashamed. "I . . . Happy birthday. Man, I can't believe I forgot that. Well, in my defense, I was kinda pissed at you."
"Yeah, I noticed that. It's okay. But you owe me a cake."
"I do?" Eve flopped into the chair across from her. "Okay. It'll probably suck, though."
Claire found herself smiling. "I hope so. Anyway. What happened with Michael?"
"Oh, you know. The usual." Eve traced a black fingernail in some carving on the tabletop - apparently Martin + Mary = HOT, or at least it had once. "We talked. He played guitar for me. It felt . . . normal for a change."
"And?"
"Like I'm going to tell you."
Claire stared at her.
"Okay, I'll tell you. God, don't nag, okay?" Eve scooted her chair closer. "So. We kissed for a while - did I mention what an awesome kisser he is? I did, right? - and . . ."
"And?"
"And I'm not going to end up on Blood Bank Row because I told you dirty little stories about me and Michael, Miss Barely Seventeen. So just, you know, imagine." Eve winked. "You can be really vivid if you want."
"You suck." Claire sighed.
Eve opened her mouth, then closed it again without saying a single word. Before either of them could think what to say next, a shadow fell across the table.
Claire had never seen him before, but he had the typical cool-boy-on-campus look . . . a loose black T-shirt over a nice expanse of shoulders, comfortable jeans, the usual pack full of books. Dark hair, kind of an emo cut, and expressive dark eyes beneath his bangs.
"Hi," he said, and shuffled from one foot to the other. "Umm, do you mind if I . . . ?" He pointed to the remaining chair at the table. Claire looked around. All the other tables were full.
"Knock yourself out," Eve said, and pushed his chair out with her foot. "Hope you're not allergic to girl talk."
"Not likely. I have four sisters," he said. "Hey. I'm Dean. Dean Simms." When he extended his hand for Eve to shake, Claire automatically checked his wrist. Not a Morganville native; there was no bracelet, and no sign that there had ever been one. Even those who'd gladly ditched the symbols of Protection still had the tan lines.
"Eve Rosser." From the wattage of Eve's smile, she liked what she saw across the table. "This is Claire Danvers."
"Hey." He gravely shook hands with Claire, too; she thought it was a kind of forced, formal thing for him. He seemed a little nervous. "Sorry to bust in on you. I just need a place to go over my notes before my test." He dug around in his backpack and came up with a battered spiral notebook, which had an elaborate ink-pen drawing of some kind of car doodled all over the front. He saw Claire looking at it, and a faint pink blush worked up over his cheeks. "Core classes. You get bored, right?"
"Right," she said. She'd skipped core classes - tested out of them - but she understood. She'd gotten so bored that she'd read the entire Shakespeare library of plays, and that had been her freshman year in high school. But she'd never been a doodler. "Nice drawing."
"Thanks." He flipped open the notebook, past pages of tight, neat handwriting.
"What class?" Eve asked. "Your test."
"Um, history. World History 101."
Claire had easily bypassed that one. "Seems like you've got all the notes you need."
He smiled. It was awkward and nervous, and he quickly looked down at his pages again. "Yeah, I scribble a lot when I'm in class. It's supposed to help with memory, right?"
"Does it?" Eve asked.
"I'll tell you after the test, I guess." He focused on his notes, looking even more uncomfortable. Claire looked at Eve, who gave a tiny little whatever shrug.
"So," she said. "Plans for today?"
"Apart from . . ." Nothing Claire could say in front of an innocent bystander. "Well, not really. Did you know that Richard Morrell's gone missing? Monica asked me to find him."
"Back up. What?"
"Monica asked me to - "
"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. Now you're doing favors for the Morrell family? Girlfriend, there's nice, and then there's utterly dumb. You don't need to do Monica any favors. What has she ever done for you?"
"That's why it's called a favor," Claire pointed out. "Not an evening of the score. It's something you do before they owe you one."
"You're just asking for it. Stay out of trouble, okay? Just keep your head down. I know that's what Michael told you. If Shane was here, that's what he'd say, too."
Dean was doing a very good imitation of studying, but the tips of his ears had been turning pink, and now, he looked up and stage-whispered, "Yeah, about that. I kind of know Shane."
Which brought the conversation to a quick halt. Dean looked around and lowered his voice even more. "I also know his dad."
"Oh God, please. Tell me you're not one of Frank Collins's lame-ass vampire hunters." Eve sighed. "Because if you are, dude, way to go low-profile. Buy some life insurance today, and please, make me the beneficiary."
"Not exactly a vampire hunter, but . . . I do work for Frank Collins, sort of."
Eve looked at Claire. "I think we found a good choice to replace Captain Obvious." Captain Obvious had been part of the secret vampire-hating underground when Claire had first arrived in Morganville; he'd ended up being a little too obvious toward the end. Obviously dead.
"Because he'd be dead before he got his first sentence out when he came face-to-face with a vampire?" Claire asked, deadpan.
"I was thinking just put him in a custom T-shirt that says, 'Hello, my name is Dean and I'm here to kill you, evil bloodsucking creatures of the night.' With an arrow pointing at his neck that says, 'Bite here.' "
Dean was flipping his attention back and forth between them in obvious consternation. "Okay, let me start over. I've been trying to find out where Shane and his father are. Do you have any idea?"
"Friend," Eve said, and pointed toward her skull-graphic-covered self. "Girlfriend." The black fingernail turned toward Claire. "Housemates." The finger gestured to include them both. "So yeah, we know. How exactly do you know Shane?"
"I . . . I met him when he and his mom and dad were on the run. Did he tell you about that?"
Both girls nodded. Shane's sister had been killed in a house fire; the Collins family had done the forbidden in response - they'd packed up and fled Morganville . . . with some kind of vampire help, because that was the only way to get past the barriers if you were wearing a Protection mark. Out in the world, though, things hadn't gone well. Shane's parents had each gone crazy in their own special way: his dad had become a cold, hard, vampire-hunting drunk, and his mom had turned into a depressed, possibly suicidal drunk, leaving Shane to make his way as best he could.
"I was there," Dean said. "When Mrs. Collins died. I mean, I was in the motel court. I saw Shane after he found her. Man, he was totally f**ked-up."
"You were there?" Claire repeated.
"My brother was running with his dad by then, so yeah. I was around. Me and Shane kind of hit it off, because we were both getting dragged around without any say in what was happening."
"Wait a minute. Shane never said anything about coming back to Morganville with a friend," Eve said.
"Yeah, he wouldn't, because he doesn't know I'm here. Mr. Collins - Shane's dad - sent me after him. I was supposed to stay to keep an eye on Shane, kind of watch his back." Dean shook his head. "Except nothing was the way he said it would be. I didn't know where to hide, so I enrolled at TPU because it gave me an excuse to hang around. Then I kind of lost track of everybody a few weeks ago." He looked at them hopefully. "So? What do I do now?"
