look marginally better or marginally worse, when she felt an ice-cold sensation travel through her like a wave. No drafts, nothing like that - this was internal. It was a warning, straight from the semi-self-aware house.
Something was wrong in the house.
Claire grabbed her emergency home defense kit on the way out of her room - a bag of everything from pepper spray to silver-plated stakes - and raced down the hall, then down the stairs, and arrived with a jolt to find everybody else, including Michael, calmly sitting down to dinner.
"What?" Eve asked. Michael rose to his feet, evidently reading the look on Claire's face, if nothing else.
Shane blurted out, "What the hell happened to you?" Under normal circumstances this might have made her feel really bad, but she was off that right now.
"Something's wrong," she said. "Didn't anybody else feel that?"
They exchanged looks. "Feel what?" Michael asked.
"The - cold. It was like a wave . . . of cold?" Her words slowed down, because she wasn't getting any reaction from them. "You didn't feel it. How is that possible? Michael?" Because it was Michael's house, and technically, she didn't even live here anymore. Exactly. The house shouldn't have communicated anything to her before it talked to him.
"I don't know," he said. "Does it feel the same now?"
"Yes." Claire still felt cold, cold enough that she had chills running through her body. She was surprised her breath didn't smoke in the air. "Worse," she managed to say, and Shane got over his shock about her burn and came to take her hands. She winced as the tender skin complained, but she was grateful for the warmth, too.
"You're freezing," he said, and grabbed a fleece blanket from the back of the couch, which he wrapped around her. "Damn, Claire. Maybe it's the sunburn - "
"Not a - sunburn," she said through chattering teeth as he led her to the table and sat her down. "It's the house. It's got to be the house!"
"I - don't think it is," Michael said, and slowly sank back into his chair. "I'd know, Claire; there's no way I wouldn't. This is something else."
She shook her head and hugged the blanket closer, miserable both ways - her face burning hot, her body shaking with cold.
"Try to eat something," Eve said, and loaded tacos on her plate. "How about something hot to drink?"
Claire nodded. The chill seemed to be sinking in deeper, drilling toward her bones. She had no idea what would happen when it got there, but it didn't seem good. Not good at all.
She kept the blanket tight with her right hand and reached out for a taco with the left, hoping her shaking hand wouldn't scatter the contents all over the table . . . and Shane grabbed her arm. "Look," he said, before she could protest. "Look at the bracelet."
It was Amelie's bracelet, the one she wore clasped around her left wrist, the one she couldn't remove, that reminded people who it was Claire worked for (and reminded Claire, every second).
It was supposed to be gold, but its center was now pale white, as if it had turned to crystal.
Or ice.
It was smoking in the air, so cold it was giving off its own mist.
"We need to get it off," Shane said, and turned her wrist over, looking for a clasp. Claire tried to tell him there wasn't one, but he wasn't listening. "Michael, it's cold, man. It's really cold. Something's really wrong."
They were all out of their chairs now, gathered around her. Michael touched the bracelet, drew back, and locked gazes with Shane. "It doesn't come off," Michael said.
"I don't give a crap if it's not supposed to come off!" Shane snapped. "Help me!"
"It won't do any good. It's a Founder's bracelet." Michael grabbed Shane's arm when Shane tried to yank on the bracelet. "Dude, listen! You can't get it off! All we can do is get to Amelie. She can take it off."
"Amelie," Claire repeated, and tried to control her violent shaking so she could get the words out. The whole world seemed to be turning to ice, cold and toxic. "Something - wrong - with - Amelie - "
Shane glared at Michael. "Let go." When Michael did, he kept on glaring. "Shouldn't you know if something was wrong with Amelie, you being her demonic spawn and everything?"
"It's not like that," Michael said, although anger was starting to build in his blue eyes and in the set of his face. "I'm