Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,47

was a weedy kid about Shane’s age, very self-assured and hipster-chic with his tight, too-small buttoned sweater, jeans with the hems turned up, and pork-pie hat he’d probably stolen from the character on Breaking Bad. ‘So you should blow off dinner and come with.’ He had his arm around a plump blonde girl who had pink streaks in her hair and matching cat-eye glasses, and a retro cotton-candy-pink dress. ‘Right, Sarah?’

‘Right!’ she agreed, and grinned. ‘We might get tattoos, too. I was thinking about a dragon.’

‘Tattoos,’ Claire said, and pretended to think it over. ‘Well … that sounds fun, but honest, I have to stay home. You guys have a good time. And Nick—’ Never going to happen, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t, in front of his friends. Which was probably why he’d brought them, to be honest. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘One more time: study, books, party, tattoos. Sold?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘But thanks. Have a good time.’

‘Oh, we will,’ the other boy said, and kissed Sarah, who giggled. ‘Your loss, Tex – what’s her name again?’

‘Claire,’ Nick said, still watching her. ‘Her name is Claire.’

‘Right. Well, mine’s Robert, but everybody calls me Drag. Don’t ask.’

‘I won’t,’ she said, and stepped back over the threshold. ‘Good night. Be safe, you guys.’

‘You too!’ It was a chorus, and the group wandered off with their backpacks and enthusiasm, and for a moment, she badly wanted to change her mind and join them. Just be part of something again, and not stuck here in the dark.

But she closed and locked the door, and went back upstairs instead.

No Liz. Claire did her e-mail, called her parents, and finally changed into her pyjamas. She was worried enough by that time to call Liz’s cell, and got an answer, finally.

Liz was drunk. Epically. From the sound of it, she was either at a bar, or a very noisy party. Claire couldn’t get much out of her except that she wasn’t planning on coming home soon, and yes, she’d take a cab.

‘Everybody’s having fun but me,’ Claire muttered, and threw her cell onto the nightstand in annoyance as she wrapped the covers tight. She turned the lights off, and tossed and turned, unable to sleep for the unfamiliar creaks and pops of the old house.

She slid out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen without turning on the lights, opened the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk to pour herself a glass. She’d just put the milk back and shut the door when she heard the sound of the front door opening, and almost said, How drunk are you, anyway, but something stopped her.

Something subliminal that she didn’t realise until a full ten seconds later: she hadn’t heard a car, or Liz stumbling up the steps, which she assumed Liz would be doing.

This was utterly quiet.

Claire grabbed her milk glass and backed away into the narrow pantry closet, where she crouched down, bathed in the aroma of old spices; there were some big packs of toilet paper and paper towels in here, bought from some big-box outlet store, and she quickly moved them in front of her, just in case. She hadn’t shut the pantry door completely, so she knew she’d see when the lights came on …

But the lights didn’t come on. Instead, she saw the glow of a flashlight sweep across the kitchen, and then the pantry door whipped open and the flashlight bored straight in. She ducked behind the wall of paper towels, and after a heart-stopping second, the flashlight moved away, and the pantry door swung shut.

It was all done so quietly.

Claire waited until she heard the stairs creaking, and then moved the paper wall out of the way to move to the doorway. She couldn’t see much, but she thought the kitchen was empty. Whoever it was had gone upstairs; she heard footsteps overhead, so they’d gone into Liz’s room.

Derrick?

The thought made her heart race, and she slid a butcher knife out of the block, just in case. Shane had taught her the right way to knife fight, but that didn’t mean the idea didn’t terrify her; if Derrick got his hands on her, she was done. He was too big, and too crazy.

Stay away, Liz. Just stay where you are.

Claire picked up the kitchen phone and got a blessedly clear dial tone. She dialled 911 with shaking fingers, and whispered the information to the operator that she was hiding in the kitchen with