Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,44
it’s that you’d better stay aware of exactly what they’re into if you want to avoid troubles of your own,’ Claire shot back. ‘I’m not saying I’m doing it out of general altruism. It’s selfish.’
That earned her a glance that was, at least partially, admiring. ‘Okay, then. Consider your ass covered. Now. Tell me exactly what she said. Word for word. Can you do that?’
‘She said, Call Dr Florey and let him know. That was all.’
‘It’s a general heads-up,’ Jesse said. ‘Not run-for-cover DEFCON 4 phrasing. So we’re still good. I’ll break Pete loose to go over and make sure she’s okay.’
‘I thought you’d go.’
‘It’s easier for Pete to cut out than it is me. People notice when I’m gone. Speaking of’ – Jesse checked her watch – ‘time to water the stampede again. God, I hate game nights, except that my tip jar runneth over.’
Claire nodded. ‘Okay. Is there anything you want me to do?’
‘Go home,’ Jesse said, and winked at her. ‘Unless the hot boy you had giving me the message is waiting for you. In that case, hop on that. He was polite.’
‘He was just doing me a favour,’ Claire said, and felt her cheeks growing a little warm. ‘I’m going home.’
‘Your loss. Watch your back,’ Jesse said. ‘If Anderson’s got eyes on her, you probably will too, not that they really expect to see anything. You’re an eighteen-year-old from Podunk, Texas, after all. They don’t know you’re secretly a badass.’
‘Am I?’ Claire asked. Jesse didn’t know anything about her – or at least, she’d assumed that to be true.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Jesse said, and smiled off into the darkness. ‘You couldn’t possibly have survived Myrnin if you weren’t.’
With that stunning comment, she went back inside, and the back door slammed shut behind her. Claire stared after her, thoughts tumbling around in chaos, but what finally stuck was she knows about Myrnin. And Morganville.
Just who was she, anyway?
It was a mystery Claire knew she was going to have to solve … but not tonight. It was dark, and the alley was creepy, and she suddenly wanted, very badly, to retreat to the safety of their little row house, lock the doors, and call Shane.
She needed to hear his voice.
Feeling safe, as it turned out, wasn’t in the cards for her, because when she got home there was an official-looking card stuck to the front door, and when Claire pulled it off she saw that it was from the police department. The note with it said that there had been an attempted break-in reported by a passer-by, and to double-check all interior spaces and locks to ensure that no one had entered.
Fabulous.
Derrick wasn’t at his usual post, which was nice, because the note made Claire feel even more paranoid, and she rushed in, locked the door, and yelled for Liz. Useless, because of course Liz wasn’t home; she would have gotten the note if she had been. It was still and dark inside, and Claire methodically made the rounds, checked all the windows, and finally ended up in her top-floor room with the door shut and all the lights burning brightly. She made an effort to unpack a few more boxes (she was rapidly running out of space for what she’d brought) and finally called it quits, fired up her laptop, and tried to reach Shane on Skype. No answer. After she’d tried his phone and gotten the same nonresponse, she instead tried Eve.
And Eve answered so quickly it was as if she’d been sitting there waiting. Her image came on the screen, face turned pale blue by the computer’s reflected glow, and the sight of her was enough to make Claire feel a rush of tears. ‘Hey,’ Claire managed to choke out. ‘Thought I’d check in and see how it was going.’
‘Claire Bear!’ Eve bounced up and down in her chair, twisted around, and yelled, ‘Michael! Get your undead ass in here, guess who’s calling?’
‘I don’t have to guess, and you don’t have to yell,’ Michael said. Claire hadn’t seen him approach, but all of a sudden he was there, leaning over Eve’s shoulder to give her a light, sweet kiss. ‘Hey, Claire, how’s your new place? Are you settling in?’
‘Not so much, and it’s—’ She couldn’t think how to describe it, so she picked up the computer and panned it around. ‘It’s like that.’
‘Yow,’ Eve said. ‘Who picked that paint, a drunk colour-blind frat boy? Because a drunk colour-blind sorority girl would have better sense.’