Footsteps pounded down the hall. Claire swallowed, feeling suddenly even more alone and vulnerable. Do you think his dad will come? she whispered. Eve didnt answer.
Swear to God, you come near us and Like this? The biker sidestepped a slash from the hockey stick, grabbed it on the way, and yanked it out of Eves hands. He tossed it over his shoulder to land on the floor with a clatter. This near enough? Whatcha gonna do, doll girl? Cry all over me?
Claire hid her eyes as the biker reached out for Eve with one tattooed hand.
No, Eve said breathlessly. Im going to let my boyfriend beat the crap out of you.
There was a dull thunk of wood meeting flesh, and a howl. Then another, harder thunk, and a crash as a body hit the floor.
The biker was down. Claire stared at him in disbelief, then looked past him, to the figure standing there with the field hockey stick in both hands.
Michael Glass. Back from the dead, again, a gorgeous blond avenging angel, breathing hard. Flushed with anger, blue eyes flashing. He glanced at the two girls, making sure they were okay, and then put the blade of the hockey stick on the bikers throat. The bikers eyes fluttered and tried to open, but didnt make it. He relaxed into unconsciousness.
Eve flew toward Michael, leaped over the bikers body, and fastened herself around Michael like she was trying to be sure he was all there. He must have been; he winced from the force of the impact, then kissed her on the top of her head without looking away from the man lying limp at their feet.
Eve, he said, and then glanced at her and gentled his tone. Eve, honey, go open the door.
She nodded, stepped away, and followed instructions. Michael handed her the hockey stick, grabbed the biker by the shoulders, and towed him quickly out into the hallway. He closed the door again, locked it, and said, Right, heres the storyEve, you knocked him out with the hockey stick and
He didnt finish, because Eve grabbed him and pushed him back against the door, wrapping herself around him like a Goth-girl coat. She was crying again, but silently; Claire could see her shoulders shaking. Michael sighed, put his arms around her, and bent his blond head to rest against her dark one.
Its okay, he murmured. Youre okay, Eve. Were all okay.
You were dead! she wailed, muffled by the fact that her face was still pressed against his chest. Damn you, Michael, you were dead, I saw them kill you, andthey
Yeah, it wasnt too pleasant. Something passed fast and hot across Michaels eyes, the reflection of a horror that Claire thought he didnt want to remember or share. But Im not a vampire, and they cant kill me like a vampire. Not while the house owns my soul. They can do pretty much anything to my body, but it justgets fixed.
The prospects of that made Claire sick, like standing on the edge of a huge and unexpected drop. She stared at Michael, wide-eyed, and saw he understood the same things she did: that if Shanes father and his merry band of thugs found out, they might decide to test that out. Just for fun.