from her. “He doesn’t like me. I understand that.”
“No, it’s not you.” She caught my skeptical look. “Seriously. He just doesn’t like me having friends. God, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? Sometimes I hear myself saying things like that, and they make perfect sense to me, but then I think of how they must sound to others—” She stopped. “So tell me about this case.”
“Ouch. You have to work on your ‘steering clear of personal issues’ segues.”
She laughed. “That obvious, eh?”
“As for Clay not wanting you to have friends, I know he’s like that, and I know why, so you don’t need to worry about it. I’m not going to mail you brochures for women’s shelters. I’ll admit, at one time, I was a little concerned. Not that I thought he was abusive or anything, but he’s, uh, extremely committed—”
“Obsessive.”
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
She laughed and shifted to recline on the sofa, feet on the coffee table. “Don’t worry, I say it all the time. Usually to him. Sometimes shouted. Occasionally accompanied by a flying object. We’re working on it, though. He’s learning to give me some space, and I’m learning that he’s never going to be happy about it. Oh, I told him about that idea we had, for the ski trip this winter? He flipped. Then I said it’d be the four of us, not just you and me, and he simmered down, actually said that sounded okay. That’s the trick, I think. Suggest something he’ll hate, then offer a less painful alternative.”
“If that doesn’t work, next time you argue about me, remind him you could befriend Cassandra instead.”
Elena whooped a laugh. “Oh, that’d put the fear into him…though he probably wouldn’t believe it. Speaking of believing, would you believe she’s still calling me?”
“Are you serious?”
“She somehow got my cell phone number.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t, that’s why I didn’t ask. Problem is, now I have to talk to her, at least long enough to say I don’t want to talk to her. When she called the house line, Jeremy would say I wasn’t home, and Clay—well, Clay never let her get past hello.” Elena swung her legs down and twisted around to sit at the opposite end of the sofa, facing me. “I hate to admit this, but I’m spooked. I mean, she can’t want us to be buddies, not after what she did, so what does she really want?”
“Honestly? She probably doesn’t have an ulterior motive. I think she really wants to get to know you better, and she doesn’t see any conflict between that and trying to steal your lover or convince the council to leave you for dead.” I shrugged. “She’s a vampire. They’re different. What can I say?”
“Two words. Serious psychotherapy.”
I grinned. “We’ll go halfsies and get her a gift certificate for Christmas.”
Elena was about to reply when the door opened. Savannah walked in, carrying my key card in one hand and a steaming coffee cup in the other. I was sure that whatever was in that cup, it wasn’t hot chocolate, and probably wasn’t even decaf, but I said nothing. I doubted Clay realized she was too young for coffee. I only hoped Elena would step in when the wine and whiskey came out.
Savannah held the door open for Clay, who walked through carrying a cardboard cup holder with three cups.
“That was fast,” Elena said. “Too fast. What’d you do? Run all the way there? Or drive?”
“It was only half a block.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s right,” Savannah said. “It was closer than Paige thought, but we’re just dropping off your drinks, then we’re going to check out the marina while you guys talk.”
Elena glanced at Clay, tensed, as if waiting for him to refute this. When his mouth opened, her fingers tightened on the sofa cushion.
“First, we’re taking your suitcase down to the car,” he said to Savannah. He turned to Elena and handed her a coffee cup. “When you’re done here, just come and get us.”
She smiled up at him. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”
He nodded and passed me a cup.
“Tea,” he said, then glanced at Savannah. “Right?”
“Chai,” she said.
I took the cup with thanks, then laid it down and helped Savannah get ready.
A Fortuitous Collision of Circumstances
SAVANNAH WAS, AS SHE’D SAID, ALREADY PACKED, BUT I wasn’t letting her go without an armful of instructions, most of which were some variation on “be good” or “be careful.”
Handing Savannah over to anyone, even to people I knew would protect her with their lives, wasn’t