Bite Club Page 0,9

getting used to all the..."

"Mayhem," Eve said, for once not laughing or making a joke. "Blood. Death. Yeah, sadly, itis something you get used to. But still, this one caught me off guard, too. I'll call Shane, okay?"

"No, no, don't. He'll take off from work, and I'm all right. I'll be fine." She was lying through her teeth. She felt cold and shaky and she wished--oh, God, more than anything--that Shane were here right now. Or her parents. She'd never missed her mom and dad more than she did right at this moment, which was dumb, because what were they going to do?

Hug her. Make her feel safe again, just for a little while. Because that was what parents did, or at least what they were supposed to do. Eve hadn't had that privilege, because her home life had been crap, and neither had Shane, who'd had the worst dad in the world. But Claire's family had been great, and she hadn't even known how much she missed it until...well, now.

While they waited for the sirens to arrive, Claire pulled out her phone and dialed her dad's cell phone number. He answered on the third ring.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said. He sounded better than he had before, almost normal. Strong. Considering that he'd left Morganville in an ambulance and had almost died--not from the vampires, but from his own bad heart--it was so good to hear him be more like himself. The connection crackled and hissed. "Sorry for the noise. I'm out walking. It's getting windy."

"Here, too. Looks like it might rain."

"We had some rain earlier this morning. Cooled things down quite a bit. How are you, Claire?"

"Good," Claire said, and swallowed. "I...just wanted to see how you were doing, Dad."

"Doing great. They've got me walking a lot, trying to build up the old cardiovascular health again. I have to say, I'm glad I finally got that surgery. I didn't realize how bad I'd been feeling until I felt better." He paused, and, with that Dad radar she'd always both loved and dreaded, said, "You didn't just call to say hello, honey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The concern in his voice turned her all trembly again, and made her want to cry, but she couldn't do that. Wouldn't. "It's pretty much the same here; you know how it is. How's Mom?"

"She's joined some kind of scrapbooking club. I never knew you could spend so much time and money on sticking photos in albums, but that's your mom. Once she gets excited about something..."

"I know, she's a madwoman," Claire finished, and smiled a little. She could just see her mother coming home with bags and bags of stuff to hot-glue into memories. "How's the new house?"

"Embarrassingly large. With a yard, too. I may have to learn how to garden."

"Grow me something. Irises. I like irises."

"Purple ones, right?"

"Yeah, purple's good."

"Honey, are you sure you're all right? You sound odd."

"Just...allergies," she said, and wiped her leaking eyes. "You take care, Daddy. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," he said, doubtfully. "Call tomorrow. Your mother will hate me if she doesn't get her turn."

"I will. Bye."

Eve had turned away, watching the dorm, but she'd been paying attention. As Claire finished her call, she said, "Feel better?"

"Yeah," Claire said. She did. Still shaky, but steadier inside, where it counted.

"I wish I could do that," Eve said. "Call my mom. But no. Whiny, self-absorbed bitching from her probably wouldn't have the same effect, although it definitelywould make me forget about Doug for a second."

Michael held out his hand, and Eve took it, and their eyes met for a second before Eve looked away. "Yeah," she said. "Life sucks, we die, or not. Mom is the least of my problems, right?"

"Right at the moment? Yeah," Michael said. "And now I want to callmy parents."

Claire thought he might be joking, but with Michael, you never could tell. His parents were cool; she'd met them once, but they didn't live in Morganville anymore, and they weren't even nearby. Like Claire's parents, they'd been given permission to move because of medical problems. Michael didn't say much about them, but then, Michael was the quiet type.

In any case, he didn't have time to do anything, because a police car, siren blasting and lights flaring, pulled up in front of the dorm in the parking lot, where a crowd of students was gathering. Almost all the students promptly pulled their cell phones out and began busily clicking pictures and taking videos of the police presence. Next