He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Monica's right-it's very boring." He sounded like he was still struggling not to laugh. "Unless you want the world's least interesting reality show. The weirdest thing that happens around here is old Mr. Evans running around naked at midnight and howling, and he only does that on special occasions."
"That's unfortunate," Jenna said. "It does seem perfect."
"Wel , it won't hurt to get the permits. At least we'l contribute to your local economy, yes?" Angel said, and flashed them allan impartial movie-star smile. "Adios. I'm sure we'l meet again." He gave Monica's hand another brief kiss, and then he and Jenna were striding up the walk toward City Hal , with Tyler scrambling in their wake while carrying a smal camcorder-though what kind of filmable drama there'd be in applying for a permit, Claire couldn't imagine.
"Crap," Shane said. He still sounded way too amused. "So. Any bets on how long they last before the vamps make them go away?"
"No bet," Monica said. "They won't last long." Looking dreamy-eyed, she sighed and cradled her hand. "Too bad. So pretty. And totally manscaped under that shirt, I'll bet."
Shane sent her a revolted look, then put his arm around Claire. "And on that note, we're out."
"Really?" Claire said, and couldn't help but smile. "That's what creeps you out. Waxing. You can take on vampires and draug and kil ers, but you're afraid of a little chest-hair pul ing?"
"Yes," he said, "because I am sane."
They walked on a bit, and it took a few minutes for Claire to realize that although they'd left behind the ghost hunters, they still had an unwanted visitor: Monica. She was keeping pace with them. Uninvited. "Yes?" Claire asked her, pointedly. "Something we can help you with?"
"Maybe," Monica said. "Look, I know I've been historically kind of a bitch to you, but I was wondering..."
"Spit it out, Monica," Shane said.
"Teach me how to do that stuff you do."
"What, be awesome? Can't do it."
"Shut up, Col ins. I mean..." She hesitated, then lowered her voice as she brushed her hair back from her face. She slowed down and stopped on the sidewalk, and Claire stopped, facing her. Shane tried to keep going, but eventually he looped back, defeated. "I mean that I want to learn how to fight. In case I need to do that. I always sort of thought-my father always said we didn't need to worry about the vampires, because we worked for them. But Richard never trusted that. And now I know I shouldn't, either. So I want to learn how to make weapons. Fight. That kind of thing."
"Oh hell no," Shane said. "And we're walking."
He started to, but Claire stayed put. She was studying Monica with a frown, feeling conflicted but oddly compel ed, too. Monica looked serious. Not defiant, or arrogant, or any of her usual poses. Her brother had told Claire before he'd died that he thought Monica could change-and had to change.
Maybe she was starting to understand that.
"How do we know you won't sel us out at the first possible opportunity?" she asked.
Monica smiled. "Shortcake, I probably would if it got me anywhere, but these days, it wouldn't do squat. The vampires aren't looking at us like col aborators and enemies anymore. We're alljust...snack foods. So. I understand what a stake is for, but you guys seem to have allthe kil er toys.
What do you say we work out a sharing arrangement?"
"We'l take it under advisement," Shane said, and grabbed Claire's elbow. "We're going. Now."
They left her, and when Claire looked back, she thought Monica had really never looked lonelier. The other girl finally walked to her red convertible, got in, and drove away.
"We are not getting cozy with her," Shane said. "She's got vamp problems? Boo hoo. She spent her whole life siccing them on anybody who pissed her off. Smel s like justice to me."
"Shane."
"C'mon, this is a girl who tormented me most of my life. Who beat you up and tormented you. She's a bully. Screw her."
Claire gave him a long look. "You're the one who was nice to her when Richard died. And she saved your life."
"Yeah, don't remind me," he said, but after a moment or two, he sighed. "Fine. She'l always be an ass, but I guess it doesn't hurt to teach her to use a stake or something. Basic self-defense."
"That's my guy." She squeezed his arm. "Besides, if you teach her self-defense, you get to smash her into the floor when you tackle her."
"Suddenly, I am allabout this plan."
They got about half a block before Shane stopped in front of the used-parts store to talk to the guy who ran it-something about needing a new hose for Eve's always-being-rebuilt hearse. Claire lost interest after the conversation began sounding like a foreign language, and she ended up staring into a store two windows down. It was a junk store, really, ful of discarded stuff (some of it actually good), and she got on the creepy track of wondering if people had actually brought it here to resel , or if it had been scavenged from abandoned houses after the owners' disappearances.