Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,66
with you?’
There was a long moment of silence on the other end. Too long. And then Eve said, ‘He – he’s working, sweetie. I’m sorry, it’s just going to be us … Um, Michael, honey, is that a cop car? … Oh shit. Okay, gotta go, love you, ’bye!’
Before Claire could say anything else, Eve was gone into the wireless void.
Working? Shane was working, and he wasn’t coming with them? That didn’t make any sense. He’d have blown off any job to get a ride out of town with his two best friends. Especially if they were heading toward her.
It was upsetting. And worrying.
Claire put her phone away and hitched her backpack to her shoulder. She cast a wistful look back over at the table. They were all talking animatedly, unaware she’d even stepped away. It had been kind of a false friendship, she thought; she’d felt like she was one of them, but really, she wasn’t. They wouldn’t miss her.
Nick did. He was watching her, and he raised his eyebrows and mouthed, you okay?
She nodded and pointed a thumb toward the exit. Gotta go.
He looked as if he might get up, but then Jacqui said something to him, and he answered her, still watching Claire, and settled back down in his chair.
She walked away. That was a good thing, she was thinking; it was a good thing that he didn’t feel like he had to follow her. She wasn’t interested.
Dammit, she missed Shane. Why wasn’t he coming?
What was it they weren’t telling her?
The next couple of days passed in a blur, because Claire kept trying to get Michael or Eve or Shane on the phone, and none of them answered. It was like they were ducking her. She didn’t even have work to keep her occupied; Dr Anderson called her to tell her, in a calm but firm way, that she needed some time alone to complete a special project, so she’d assigned Claire some online reading to catch up on. It was complicated stuff, and it was the only thing Claire could really be grateful for; she’d rarely been challenged before by a professor, but this was definitely next difficulty level. Dr Anderson was not underestimating her.
Liz finally emerged from her room, and – of course – demanded a girls’ night in with pizza and a romantic movie. Claire countered by suggesting Kill Bill, because that probably would make her feel better in the end. Liz agreed. She wasn’t tearful any more; she’d gone past shock to anger, and anger was a good thing, in Claire’s opinion. Liz being angry meant she wasn’t going to make a similar mistake anytime soon. It also, oddly, made her more likeable. And more like the girl Claire remembered from school.
Claire went out for the pizza. Boston was ripe with excellent pizza choices, and there was one only a couple of blocks from the house; she reflexively looked around for Derrick, and spotted him in his usual spot across the street. He was sitting down on a bus stop bench, reading a book. Or pretending to. When he saw Claire, he waved.
She flipped him off. It seemed to amuse him, which was too bad; she’d been hoping to really make him angry enough to do something he could get arrested for.
She picked up the hot pie and was walking back with it when she spotted the creepy Professor Davis sitting at an outdoor café, enjoying a coffee with a girl young enough – again – to be his daughter. She looked captivated, too. Starry-eyed and naïve, and willing to believe that Professor Davis was that missing daddy figure in her life that would solve all her problems.
Claire couldn’t resist.
She changed course.
Dr Davis and his new conquest were so into each other – or at least, she was breathlessly into him, and he was enjoying it – that it took at least a full minute for either of them to notice Claire when she paused at their table. Dr Davis even pushed his coffee cup toward her, as if she was the waiter, before looking up in annoyance, then confusion, and then – gratifyingly – worry. He straightened up in his chair, and she smiled at him.
What would Eve do?
It was easy enough to channel her best friend’s talent for snarky destruction.
‘You’re not returning my calls, Patrick,’ Claire said, in her best injured, pouting voice. ‘I thought you were going to come by to talk about our problems.’