by Rachel Caine
‘Hey, it’s me,’ I said. ‘I can spot ’em a mile away.’ I only wished that was true; it would have avoided so many problems over the years. My dad was the one with the nose for the Nosferatu … not me. ‘Pete’s human, by the way. In case you were wondering. He cut himself on a bottle the other day, and I helped him dress the wound. Didn’t heal immediately.’
Claire nodded, because it was a good piece of proof, at that, because vampires couldn’t control the speed at which they healed, not without putting something on the wound that held it open or continued to burn, like silver. ‘Is Jesse the only one you’ve spotted?’
‘Yeah, so far. Though it’s pretty rare to find one on her own out here, isn’t it? Vampires like safety in numbers, because they’re so rare, especially these days. If she feels confident enough to be out here on her own, I’m pretty sure she’s nobody we want to cross.’ I shifted, because my arm was hurting again, bone-deep throbs as if I’d just slammed it hard into a brick wall. And it itched like mad. I clenched and released my fist, and then shook it out, hoping that it’d get better. It didn’t.
‘What’s wrong?’ Claire asked. She still sounded distant, and a little unwilling to ask, but she was asking. Which was encouraging.
‘Well, when you get a major-league ass-kicking from a bunch of guys, even if they generally suck at it, you do feel it later,’ I said. ‘No big thing. I’ll live.’ Yes, I was trying to be a tough guy. I didn’t feel like it, right at that moment; I wanted to curl up against her, feel those wonderful soft hands touching my face and tracing lightly over the hurts. She always, always made it better. There was something so healing in being with her; it felt like standing in the sunlight when I’d spent my whole life in the dark.
But the best I could feel from her right now was … shade.
We sat in silence for a long, painful moment, and then a waiter came up and asked us if we wanted anything, in that annoyed voice that waiters develop in college towns when they figure you’re only marginally good for the cheque in the first place, and tips are out of the question. I tried to order a plain coffee, Claire tried to order a mocha, we talked over each other, and we both looked up at the same moment, and …
… And we stopped, just staring at each other. Because all of a sudden it was real. The moment was real, and there was no avoiding it any more. The waiter’s annoyed sighs finally sparked me to say, flatly, ‘Beat it,’ and he did, muttering under his breath the whole time. I didn’t care. I didn’t care if Jesse descended on us, fangs out, and the entire zombie horde from Dead Rising suddenly started shambling through the restaurant. They could wait.
Claire said, ‘I really thought you were back in Morganville. You got Michael and Eve to lie to me.’
‘I just asked them not to volunteer where I was, that’s all. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but sometimes – sometimes it doesn’t matter. Right, wrong, it’s just the thing you have to do. And I had to see you. I had to know you were okay. I’ll apologise for basically hovering, but I can’t be sorry for being worried about you. I didn’t crash your door and demand to see you. I just … stayed close.’
‘Watching me from a distance,’ she said. ‘You didn’t trust me enough to let go.’
I felt a surge of panic, followed by a confused bolt of realisation. Was she right? Was it a trust thing, and not a worry thing? How did it look from her side … like I’d been following her, spying on her, judging her? Yeah, it probably did look that way, horribly enough. It wasn’t what I’d been doing, or at least I didn’t think it was.
I leant forward, elbows on the table, and I held her gaze as I said, ‘Claire, I don’t want to let you go. But that has nothing to do with not trusting you. I trust you with my life. Always have.’
I didn’t keep talking, because that pretty much said everything I meant to say. She blinked slowly, thinking about it, and then sighed, shook her head, and said, ‘You’re an idiot, but I know you mean that. And you’re not angry, I know that too. You just …’
‘Wanted you,’ I said. ‘Needed you. That’s why I’m here. Maybe it’s a bad thing, I don’t know; if you look me in the eyes and tell me to go back to Morganville, I’ll go. I won’t like it, but—’
She suddenly sat straight up, eyes growing wide, as if someone had jabbed a pin in her, and she lunged forward and caught hold of my hands. I was surprised, but not too surprised to wrap mine around hers. Touching her stilled some voice inside me I hadn’t even known was screaming.
‘Michael and Eve,’ she said. ‘Did they call you?’
‘Not for a couple of days – wait.’ I checked the phone’s call log, and there it was, a missed call from Eve. No voicemail. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Even if you went back there, you’d end up here again,’ she said. ‘Michael and Eve are on their way. Amelie sent them after Myrnin.’
‘Myrnin is coming here? By himself?’ I admit it, that gave me a surge of tired frustration so strong I wanted to stake him myself. ‘What the hell is he doing?’
‘I’ve got no idea, and neither did Eve, but they’re following. They’re supposed to get him to come home.’
‘I am not driving back home in a car with Bipolar Man,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘Seriously. I’ve got weapons.’
She hadn’t let go of my hands, after the rush subsided, and I thought that was a good sign. I tried to think what I was going to do if she tried to pull away and sit back. Let her go, I guessed, even though my instinct was to try to hold on.
But she didn’t pull back this time.
‘You screwed up,’ she told me. ‘I can’t believe you stalked me like this.’
‘If I’d been stalking you, I’d have been bumming cigarettes from Derrick across the street,’ I pointed out. ‘I was working independently in the same town, not calling and not talking to you. If you want to call that stalking, I have to ask for an on-the-field review of the play by the ref.’
‘Too bad for you that relationships don’t have referees.’
‘You’re right, that does suck. I could use a slow-motion replay right now.’
‘You’re an idiot,’ Claire said, and I went cold inside, and very still. Here it was, the moment I’d been trying so hard to avoid thinking about, when Claire wised up, realised that I wasn’t the smart guy with prospects she needed to be with … but then she smiled, just a little, and the ice freezing my lungs and heart started to thaw a little. ‘You’re an idiot, but I know why you came. You’re conditioned to think that everything is a threat, and you were afraid that I was going to be in trouble here on my own. You were trying to save me. But Shane, I don’t always need saving. Understand?’
‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘You’ve saved me plenty of times. I got the point. But nobody from Morganville ought to be out there alone. It isn’t safe, and you know it.’
‘Nothing’s safe,’ Claire told me then, with the conviction of someone a lot older. ‘Nobody’s ever safe. But that doesn’t mean you don’t respect what I want, Shane.’
‘I’m sorry I let you down,’ I said. ‘But I couldn’t stay there while you were here. Not without making sure you’d be okay. Like you said, Morganville conditioning. If you want me to go, I’ll go. Just tell me. Right now.’
I’d startled her, and worried her, and forced her to stop analysing, and she blinked slowly and said, ‘I don’t want you to go. I missed you, Shane. I missed you so much.’
Her voice broke on the last word, and I saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Tension unwound from a coil inside me, and I wanted to put my arms around her and hold her … but then the waiter appeared near our table again and pointedly cleared his throat, and I resisted the urge to throw a sharp, illegal elbow into his midsection.
‘We’re going,’ I told him, and stood up without letting go of Claire’s hand. I pulled her to her feet. ‘Come on. I’ll make you coffee at Florey’s.’
We made it only half a block before I couldn’t stand it any more. I stopped, pressed her against the brick side of a
building, and leant in. I managed to stop myself just short of kissing her, and said, ‘Is this okay?’
‘Shut up,’ Claire said, and grabbed me by the collar to pull me into her.
It was like falling into summer … warm and sweet and hot. I’d needed to touch her, and I had; I’d needed to kiss her, and the damp, soft feel of her warm mouth did all kinds of things to me. Sweet relief, and desperate tension, all at the same time. It went on for a while, lips and tongues meeting and merging, and I was the one who stepped away first, because damn, I’d forgotten the power of that between us. How she made me feel. How I made her feel. My sweet little Claire’s lips had gone red and flushed, and her cheeks were pink, and her eyes very bright. She looked drunk with pleasure and delight, and I imagined how she would look in the morning light, the way I loved to see her best.
I squeezed her hand and said, ‘I need to get you home. Right now.’
She nodded and slipped her arm through mine, and we walked quickly the short distance to Florey’s.
When we turned the corner, though, there was a police car sitting in front, light bar flashing, and the manager Mick was in the door talking to two cops and looking very serious. I pulled Claire to a halt, and saw Mick spot me.
He gave me a slow tilt of the head to the side. Get out of here. I picked up the signal and backed Claire up. ‘Change of plans,’ I said. ‘Florey’s is out. Do you have some place else we can go?’
‘Not really – what’s going on?’
‘Not a clue, but whatever it is, remember that I’m from Morganville.’
She didn’t get it for a second, and then she looked sharply at me. ‘Oh God, Shane, did you bring weapons?’
‘Only my favourites,’ I said. ‘But they’re kinda illegal.’
She shook her head and tugged at my hand. ‘Come on.’
CHAPTER TEN
Claire wasn’t sure that the police were actually after Shane, but if they were, staying in plain view was a bad idea. She bought (over his protests) an MIT hoodie for Shane from one of the souvenir shops, and he put it on with an annoyed sigh. She pulled the hood up for him. ‘Just trust me,’ she said. ‘You really need to lay low. These police aren’t going to be the kind that you can call off with a plea to the Founder; they’re serious stuff. And don’t forget, my own place is a crime scene. If they’ve connected me to you and found your weapons, it looks even worse.’
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I can see your point. So where are we going to go? Got any friends who don’t mind hiding wanted fugitives? Because it usually takes a little longer than a few days to make those.’
Shane had a point, and she didn’t really have an answer, but it didn’t really matter. Shane had already pulled out his phone and checked something. He scrolled and hit keys, and put the phone to his ear.
‘Who are you calling?’ she asked.
‘Pete,’ he said. ‘Look, the guy hangs out with a vampire chick and is some kind of midnight vigilante. He probably isn’t too judgemental when it comes to hiding other people’s secrets.’
‘You think he knows about Jesse?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure he does. Hold on …’ Shane turned partially away from her, focusing on the new voice in his ear. ‘Hey, man, it’s Shane – yeah, I know about the cops. Speaking of that, I need someplace to get out of sight. You got any suggestions?’ He listened for a few seconds, then made a scribbling gesture to Claire, and she dug out a pen and paper and handed it over. Shane wrote something down and handed it back to her. It was an address. ‘Got it. I owe you, Pete. Big time.’
He hung up and dropped the phone in his hoodie’s pocket. Claire held up the address. ‘Where’s he sending us?’
‘His place,’ Shane said. ‘It’s not far.’ He offered her his elbow, and she threaded her arm through the crook, and they set off toward the south, down the tree-lined street. Funny how it felt so familiar, too … just another street in another town, but the two of them were together, and that made it home. Even knowing what she did – Liz missing, the police after Shane – she felt oddly peaceful now. Whatever was coming, they’d be facing it together.
Shane winced and let go of her to rub at his arm beneath the hoodie’s sleeve. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said before she could ask. ‘Itches like crazy, and it burns. I’ve never been allergic to anything, but maybe that’s what it is. Maybe I’m just allergic to hot, smart college girls.’
‘Ha, ha,’ she said, and reclaimed his other arm. ‘Maybe you’re allergic to being in trouble all the time.’
‘Nah, I’m completely inoculated against that one. It’s in the genes.’ Shane checked his piece of paper, then his phone’s map, and nodded up the street. ‘One block up, then right. His place will be on the left.’
There was no sign of police presence, at least, as they made the final turn and spotted the address on the note. It was a squat brick building dwarfed by the taller, more elegant row houses on either side, and to Claire’s eyes it looked more like a storage shed than a home. The front door was a faded green, plain wood, no design. She didn’t see any windows on this side of it.
‘Is he here?’ she asked.
‘No, but he told me how to get in.’ Shane walked up, counted bricks, and pulled one out. Behind it, he found the key, and used it to open the door. ‘After you.’
‘No, seriously, you go first. I hardly know this guy. What if he’s working with the people who took Liz?’
‘Pete?’ Shane shook his head, evidently finding the whole thought funny, though Claire felt it had been a pretty reasonable caution. ‘Never happen. But okay. I’ll protect you.’
She hit him in the shoulder. ‘I don’t need you to protect me.’
‘Then why am I going first?’
‘So you can take the first punch while I throw the second?’
‘So I’m bait? Ouch. You’ve been in Morganville way too long, girl.’ But he was grinning when he said it, and he went in first, alert and ready for anything. She came in behind him and shut the door – always cut off the ability of an enemy to sneak up behind you, if you can – and locked it. ‘Pete? Anybody here?’ He shook his head at the continued silence. ‘He said he doesn’t have any roommates. I think we’re good.’
They came down a short, narrow hall into one largish room that served as the entire house. It had been fixed up with some kind of portable dividers on wheels into a sleeping area with a neatly made bed (Pete, Claire thought, was a much better housekeeper than Shane ever had been), a clean little kitchenette with a two-person table, and a small living area with a couch and TV. Not much else, except books. Pete had stunning amounts of them, lining every inch of the walls in custom-built cases. Shane whistled when he looked around, and shook his head. ‘Okay, I thought I knew Pete, but I would have pegged him for a magazine guy, at best,’ he said. ‘And only Sports Illustrated, at that. Think he’s read all these?’
‘I would have,’ Claire said. She wasn’t very often jealous, but somehow, this little, neat, clean place seemed perfect to her. The only thing that had its own separate walls was the bathroom, tucked into a corner – it held a toilet, sink, counter, tiled floor, and corner shower. She peeked in, feeling like an intruder and, at the same time, a tourist in somebody else’s life. She liked it. Pete looked like an orderly, calm, interesting kind of guy.
‘I’m going to have to give him shit for all this,’ Shane said, as he wandered around. ‘He lives alone and makes his bed? Who does that?’
‘People who like things neat?’
‘It’s not natural.’ Shane turned as she walked toward him. The light from the windows on the sides of the house caught his face, and she winced a little at the sight of the bruises – they were getting spectacular now, but probably didn’t hurt nearly as much as before. He looked a little tired, she thought, and although he was trying not to show it, a little worried, too. He knew how alone they were here, away from home. And how vulnerable. Plus, he’d be missing his weapons, most likely.
‘So,’ he said. ‘H
ere we are.’
‘Yes. Here we are.’ She didn’t give him anything more than that, and he continued to watch her warily, as if he was no longer sure what she was thinking. She took a step closer, and then another one, until she had to look up into his face. His brown eyes were half closed, and she knew that look … sharp with longing.
‘Claire – we’re both in the same place, but … are we together?’
It was a brave question. A lot of people wouldn’t have asked it, Claire thought; it would have been easier to just assume things, pretend, gloss it over. But that wasn’t Shane. And he didn’t flinch when she said, ‘I want to be. Do you?’
‘I can safely say that there is nothing I want more in my life,’ he said. ‘Problem is, you have to want it too. Both magnets have to attract.’
‘Opposite poles,’ she agreed, and took that last step forward, until she was pressed against him. His arms slowly went around her … not like they had on the street, full of confidence and strength, but testing her. Seeing what she was going to do. ‘We could talk all day about magnetism and poles and the Pauli exclusion principle and spin glass effect, or I could just do something about it.’
She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. The second their lips met, she felt his tense muscles go slack, and she could almost feel the relief that washed through him. And the laugh that vibrated against her lips from his. ‘I love it when you talk dirty physics,’ he said, and then the tension was back in his muscles, but it was the good kind, and he picked her up and collapsed backward to Pete’s neatly made bed, which bounced and creaked in protest. Claire let out a surprised burst of laughter, too, and straddled him to lean over and kiss him again, deeply, sweetly, with a core of heat that never failed to scorch but didn’t burn. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten how amazing this was, but that her body had deliberately hidden the memory from her to protect her from the longing, and now all those nerve endings were awake, remembering, and craving it again. His big hands held her shoulders, then slid up to caress her face in warmth, and as she unzipped his hoodie and pulled his T-shirt up, he shivered and arched against her. He let out a sigh as her own hands moved up over his abdomen and up to his chest. His skin felt amazing – soft and warm as satin against her palms.