She didn’t seem convinced that was a good idea, but she stepped back and said, “Please come in, both of you.” He rushed in, bring- ing Claire with him, and Jenna swung the door shut behind them.
Claire had just begun to catch her breath when suddenly Mi- randa appeared out of thin air, rushing at her, and her solid body crashed against Claire’s as she wrapped her arms around her. “You made it!” she said. “I didn’t know if you could. I’m so sorry we left you there. I’m so sorry, but I was scared to leave Jenna for long . . .”
“It’s okay,” Claire said. She was still gasping for air, and she felt sweaty and horrible, but there was something good about seeing Miranda. The girl backed away, and Jenna put her arm around her; that, too, was good, the motherly vibe from the psychic for the ghost girl. Jenna had, from the beginning, felt protective of Mi- randa, and it looked as if that relationship had gotten closer— something Miranda desperately needed, because she’d been basically abandoned by her own family. Something good had hap- pened in Morganville for a change, after all: two sad people had found each other, and made each other better.
Shane was standing in the doorway, patiently waiting for her to notice him. She knew that expression— or lack of one— on his face. It was specific to situations where Myrnin was involved, and Shane was trying very hard not to let his jealousy show. He had nothing to be jealous about, and he knew it, but seeing her clutching Myrnin’s hand probably hadn’t been his most favorite moment ever.
That, and Shane’s anti- vampire instincts were probably churn- ing, being so close to one of them now.
“Hey,” Shane said, and raised his chin. His most neutral greet- ing. She came to him and hugged him, then kissed him. That broke through the wall he’d put up between them, and his arms went around her to hold her tight. “I didn’t know what else to do.
I couldn’t let them keep you there. You’re not exactly built for jail.”
“Well, you have to admit, it was probably my turn to get hand- cuffed and thrown in the hole,” she said. Her smile didn’t have much strength, though, and faded quickly. “The man in the basement— he was killed with one of our knives, Shane.” She managed not to quite make it a question.
He got the message anyway, though, and responded with a frown. “Well, it wasn’t me. Wasn’t Eve, I guarantee you. She’d at least have moved the body someplace else. She’s no dummy.”
“Where is Eve, exactly?”
“Out,” Jenna said. She sounded very blunt, and very disapprov- ing. “I warned her, but she said she couldn’t stay. She went back to try to see Fallon.”
“I thought she went to see him when she left our house!”
“They wouldn’t let her in. She came back to find me, and we both saw you get taken to jail. Not sure which one of us held the other back, actually, but maybe your good sense is starting to rub off on us. We didn’t jump in and get ourselves arrested, at least,”
Shane said. Claire swung around to stare at him, wide- eyed; so many questions ran through her mind that she couldn’t pick a sin- gle one out of the blur.
“But—” Claire couldn’t express how much she didn’t like the idea of Eve— angry and frustrated even more than she had been— heading at Fallon like a guided missile. It was pretty obvious, though, that there wasn’t much either one of them could do about it at this point.
“Look, it makes sense. It’s pretty clear he’s running the show here; if she can get in to see him— and I really don’t see anybody stopping her— then nobody’s going to storm Fallon’s office to march her out in cuffs. And if she can really intimidate him into letting her see Michael, maybe she can give him a chance to get away, or bust Amelie out. She’s the only one who’s got a shot at being our inside man. Woman. Whatever. Let’s face it— none of us is exactly in a mastermind position right now.”
“Does she know even about the dead guy?”
“Oh, she knows,” Jenna said. “Eve thinks the guard was killed at the prison and moved to your house, and she thinks she might be able to find out who did it, and why. I think her exact phrase was, I’m going to Nancy Drew this crap. ”
“Bet she didn’t say crap,” Shane said.
“I’m paraphrasing.”
Eve’s plan was dangerous, and Claire immediately felt a rush of adrenaline, thinking of her trapped alone without anybody to trust. Michael, sure, but Michael couldn’t help— not unless some- thing changed drastically.
Myrnin had been uncharacteristically quiet since they’d ar- rived, and she glanced over to see him frowning down at his flip- flops. He probably missed his vampire bunny slippers.
“Do the guards at the mall know you’re out?” she asked Myrnin. He didn’t look up.
“That’s very doubtful,” he said. “I did kill the guard who spot- ted me, after all.”
They all stopped what they were doing, and there was a second or two of silence.
Shane’s head suddenly snapped around, and he turned his whole body after it, facing Myrnin.
And took a step toward him. He said, in a voice tight with fury, “Would that be the dead guard in our damn basement?”
“Well, of course, how many dead guards could there be? Why, did you kill one, too? Wasteful.”
Shane snarled. It came from somewhere deep in his chest, a wet animal sound that Claire had never heard before, and hoped she’d never hear again. He took another step toward Myrnin, and Myrnin’s eyes flared an immediate, alarmed crimson. “Claire,” he called sharply. “Mind your young man. Do you really want me to have to kill him?”
It was the offhanded way he said it that terrified Claire. She forgot sometimes, despite her best efforts, that Myrnin was only mostly sane, and only mostly human.