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She was three sips into her mocha and checking e-mail on her phone when a plaid book bag thumped down on the table. Claire glanced up and saw Monica Morrell dropping into the chair across from her. Monica wasn't making any concessions to the weather. She had on white kneesocks and a plaid, pleated miniskirt with a low-cut white top. No coat.
"Aren't you freezing?" Claire asked. "Oh, and by the way, the seat's taken by my invisible friend."
"Yes, I'm freezing - it's what you do for fashion, not that you'd know anything about that, Brainiac. And screw your invisible friend. I want my coffee, and you've got the only open chair. Not like I want to be besties or anything." Monica tossed her lustrous dark hair back over her shoulders. It had been a while since she'd changed the color, and Claire thought this one suited her best anyway. She was a tall, attractive girl with a mean, sharp edge to the pretty, but she and Claire had, over the long months, achieved something like armed truce if not friendship.
"How's Gina?" Claire asked, and took another drink. The faster she finished her coffee, the faster she could escape from Planet Princess. "I heard she's in rehab."
Gina was one of Monica's two normal wing girls, and she wasn't in the celebrity kind of rehab; no, this was physical rehab, because she'd smashed up her car in a pretty spectacular wreck. One that Claire figured was karmic in nature. She felt a little guilty about not being more concerned. The question had been purely for form's sake.
"She's walking fine," Monica said. "They're thinking about putting her into some kind of mental-therapy thing, though. Apparently she slapped a nurse."
"Well, that's Gina," Claire said. "Making friends."
"Grudge-hold much?"
"She pulled a knife on me, Monica. More than once. And she broke Miranda's nose." Miranda was a skinny kid who'd taken way too much trauma in her short life; Gina had cold-bloodedly punched her, and just for that, Claire hoped that the rehab lasted forever. Well, not literally. But hopefully it was at least painful.
Monica didn't say anything to that. She hadn't, Claire knew, been all that thrilled with Gina's behavior, but she hadn't put a stop to it, either. "It's probably good they get her in to see a shrink," Monica said. "Bitch is crazy."
Three words, and she dismissed one of her most loyal followers and henchwomen. Claire didn't know whether to be impressed or disgusted. Probably both. "She's not the only one around here."
"You should know. Speaking of crazy bitches, can't wait to see what happens at the engagement party. Ought to be epic." Monica's eyes sparkled with petty delight. "I hear Wannabe Dead Girl invited half the rebel alliance of Morganville, and they're bringing their friends. I'm wearing something that blood will wash out of, just to be safe."
Of course Monica would be coming to the party; Monica never missed one, especially one where she could cause mayhem. Well, Claire figured she wouldn't be the biggest problem they had. Or even the worst behaved.
That was just sad.
"This has been fun," Claire said, and even though she had half her coffee left, she got up to leave.
Monica flung out her hand, grabbed Claire's coat sleeve, and said, "Wait. Sit. Please."
A please from Morganville's self-appointed crown princess? Now, that was interesting. Claire settled back down and took a sip of her mocha, waiting for the other designer shoe to drop.
"Something's going on," Monica said. She dropped her voice, and leaned across the table as she glanced around to be sure nobody was watching them. As far as Claire could tell, nobody was. "My brother got called in to some kind of closed-door meeting with Amelie yesterday and he hasn't come out yet. He doesn't answer his cell, either. Can you find out . . . ?"
Richard Morrell, Monica's brother, was the mayor of the town - young for it, but one of the most responsible people Claire had ever met. He'd gotten Monica's normal share of it, apparently. And Monica was right - closeted with Amelie all night? That didn't sound good at all.
"I can ask," Claire said. "But they probably won't tell me anything more than what you know."
"I just want to know if he's okay." Monica looked almost . . . well, human. "Richard's all I've got. You know?"
Claire nodded. "I'll see what I can find out, but I'm sure he's okay. Don't worry."
"Thanks." Monica said it grudgingly, but she did say it. That was more than a little amazing. Claire didn't want to spoil it by saying anything else, so she drank her coffee in silence, and so did Monica, and after a while, it almost felt . . . comfortable.
Compared to the other times when they'd tried to kill each other, anyway.
Claire's next stop was the TPU science building, where she found Professor Howard waiting with her test. She took it in twenty minutes, not needing the hour he'd allotted; it was an easy A, she knew that, and so did he as soon as he glanced over her answers. She got a nod of approval from him, and a stern warning not to miss any other tests.
Sadly, she wasn't sure she could accommodate him on that. Not in Morganville.
After the test, she sat on the steps in the chilly sunlight and dialed Oliver's phone. Not surprisingly, it went to his voice mail, which sharply ordered her to leave a message. "Monica Morrell's worried about her brother," she said. "She's worried enough to talk to me, and that means she's probably tried everybody else in town. I assume you don't want the buzz, so go calm her down. Please." The please was an afterthought, and half hearted; she was still angry at him, and furious at Myrnin. And Amelie. She was truly furious at Amelie.
She'd given so much to the vampires, given so much to keep things stable around here, and this was how they paid her back? By trying to take away Shane?
The longer she considered it, the angrier it made her. And the more frightened. Because what it meant opened up a terrifying gulf in front of her.... She'd always thought that at a certain level she could trust Myrnin, and Amelie. (She'd never deluded herself about Oliver.) But if she couldn't . . . if deep down, they saw her as disposable . . . what chance did any human really have in Morganville?
None.
That was what Shane had been trying to tell her all along. We don't mean anything to them except as a life-support system, Claire thought. Individually, we're nothing. Servants. No, cattle with opposable thumbs, occasionally useful.
She clutched her phone hard, stood up, and went down the steps, two at a time. Burning in her stomach was a mixture of nerves, nausea, and a new sense of purpose.
She went straight to the camera store that she and Shane had visited; the engagement party flyer wasn't posted, but Claire hadn't really expected it to be. The man behind the counter - the same one - straightened as she entered and put both hands on the glass top. "What do you want?" he asked. The indigo dye of the stake tattoo showed against the pale skin of his forearm, peeking out from under his rolled-up shirtsleeve.
Claire pulled off her cap and gloves, jammed them in a pocket, and said, "I don't know." That was honest. She'd come here on impulse, but now that she was facing him, she wasn't sure what she wanted to ask. "What's the deal with the tattoos?"
He rolled down his sleeves, staring at her with cold suspicion. "Chicks dig them," he said. "I don't do tats. This is a camera store. You might want to check down the street."
"Captain Obvious used to be your friend."
He didn't answer that at all. He was frowning now, and she was wondering if she'd made a terrible, impulsive mistake.
"I just - " She took a deep breath and plunged on. "Shane may be in danger. Real danger. From the top. Can you protect him?"
"Sorry?" His eyebrows rose. "Don't know what you're talking about. I just run a - "
"Camera store, yeah, I heard you. Listen. I need to know - can you, I don't know, watch out for him? Please?"
"You think I'm going to fall for your innocent act? You've been in the vampires' corner since day one around here. No chance, sweetheart. And if you keep poking around here, you're going to get hurt."
"It's not for me," she said. "It's for Shane. And I think you know he's never been in the vampires' corner. So please. Just - help him if you see he's in trouble. That's all I'm asking."
"What about you?" he asked, and gave her an evil little smile. "What if you're in trouble?"
Claire shrugged and put her gloves and hat back on. "I guess I'm on my own. Right?"
