He caught her in midair, out of self-defense.
"You're out!" she cried, and gave him an extra-hard squeeze before jumping back to the top of the steps and doing a victory dance that was a cross between something found in an end zone and a chorus line. "I knew you'd beat the rap, Collins! I just knew it! High five . . . "
She held up her hand for him to smack, but he just looked at her. Eve's smile and upraised palm faltered, and she looked quickly at Claire, then Michael.
"Oh God," she said, and lowered her hand. "What is it? What happened?"
"Not out here. Let's get inside," Michael said. "Now."
Shane didn't make it very far. In fact, five steps down the hallway, he gave up and just . . . stopped. He put his back to the wall, slid down to a sitting position, and sat there, staring down at his hands.
Claire didn't know what she ought to do, other than stay with him. Before she could sit down next to him, though, Eve grabbed her by the elbow and shook her hard. "Hey! What happened? You called the house but you got cut off. I've been out looking for you ever since, calling everybody I could think of. Hannah's out looking for you, too. What is it?"
"It's Shane's dad," Claire said. Eve let go and covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide. She already had a sense of what was coming. "Bishop . . . he . . . he turned him into a vampire. Right in front of us." Claire looked down at Shane. "Right in front of him."
Eve didn't know what to say. She just looked at them, and finally at Michael. "You couldn't do anything about it?"
He kept his head down. "No."
"Nothing? Nothing at all?"
Michael turned and slammed his fist into the wall with so much violence the whole house seemed to shake. Eve yelped and jumped back, and almost tripped over Shane in her stacked heels.
"No," Michael said, with a kind of forced calm that made Claire ache inside. "Nothing at all. If I had, Bishop would have known he didn't have me anymore, and that was what he was waiting for. This wasn't about Shane and Claire, or about Shane's dad. This was more about finding out if I was still his bitch."
Shane slowly raised his head, and the two boys stared at each other for a long, quiet moment.
Michael crouched down. "I'd have killed him if I could have," he said. "I'm not strong enough, and he knows it. That's why he likes to keep me right there, because he knows that deep down I want to rip his head off. It's fun for him."
"So my dad was just your object lesson," Shane said. "Is that it?"
Michael reached out and put his hand on Shane's knee. He'd split the skin over his knuckles, and there was plaster dust all over his skin.
It wasn't bleeding.
"We're going to get him, Shane. We will."
"Who's we?" Shane asked wearily, and let his head fall back against the wall as he shut his eyes. "Just leave me alone, man. I'm tired. I just can't . . . I'm tired."
Eve put her hand on Michael's shoulder. "Come on," she said. "Leave him alone. He needs time."
Shane laughed dryly. It was a rattle in his throat, like the sound the grackles were making outside. "Yeah. Time. That's what I need." He didn't sound like himself. Not at all.
Michael didn't want to go, but Eve insisted, tugging on his hand until he stood up and followed her out into the living room.
Leaving Shane sitting alone on the floor.
"Hey," Claire said, and sat down beside him, arms wrapped around her knees. "You going to sit here all night?"
"Maybe."
"I just thought - "
"What? I'd snap out of it and go play some video games? Eat a taco? It's not that easy, Claire. He's my - " Shane's voice broke, then got stronger. "He was my dad. There was one thing in the world he was afraid of, and I just watched it happen to him. I can't even think about this right now."
"I know," she said, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
They sat there together for a long time. Eve and Michael looked in on them from time to time. After a while, they quit looking, and Claire saw them head upstairs.