I know, Claire said, and swallowed. Shanes arm pressed against hers, a deliberate kind of thing, and she knew if his hands werent full, hed have put his arms around her. Michael wont let them hurt us.
Werent you listening? Eve joined them at the stove, whispering fiercely. She scowled at the frying bacon. He cant stop them. Best he can do is get himself really hurt in the process. So maybe you ought to call Amelie again and tell her to get her all-powerful ass over here now.
Yeah, good idea, piss off the only vampire who can help. Look, if they were going to kill us, I dont think theyd ask for eggs first, Shane said. Not to mention biscuits. If you ask for biscuits, clearly, you think youre some kind of a guest.
He had a point. It didnt really stop the trembling in Claires hands, though.
Claire, honey? Her moms voice, again. Claire jumped and nearly flipped a spatula full of eggs out onto the stove top. Those people. What are they really doing here?
Mr. Bishophes, uh, waiting for his daughter to come pick him up. That wasnt a lie. Not at all.
Claires father got up from the table and went to the coffeepot, which had wheezed itself full; he poured two mugs and took them back to the table. Have some coffee, Kathy. You look tired, he said, and there was a gentle note in his voice that made Claire look at him sharply. Her dad wasnt the most emotional of guys, but he looked worried now, almost as worried as Mom.
Dad drained his coffee like it was water after a hot afternoon of lawn mowing. Mom listlessly creamed and sugared, then sipped. Neither of them spoke again.
Michael slipped out the kitchen door, taking mugs of coffee out to the others. When he came back, he closed the door and leaned against it for a minute. He looked bone white, strained, worse than he had in the months since hed been transformed fully into a vampire. Claire tried to imagine what theyd said to him to make him look like that, and couldnt even begin to guess. Something bad. No, something horrible.
Michael, Eve said tensely. She nodded toward Claires parents. More coffee?
He nodded and moved away from the door to pick up the coffeepot, but he never made it to the breakfast table. The kitchen door opened again, and Mr. Bishop and his entourage entered the room.
Tall and haughty as nineteenth-century royalty, the three vampires surveyed the kitchen. The other two vampires were pretty, young, and frightening, but Mr. Bishop was the one in charge; there was no mistaking it. When his gaze fell on her, Claire flinched and turned back to the sizzling eggs.
The female vampire strolled over and dipped her finger in the gravy Shane was stirring, then lifted the finger slowly to her lips to suck it clean. She stared at Shane the whole time. And Shane, Claire realized with a helpless, unpleasant shock, stared right back.
Well sit for the meal now, Bishop said to Michael. You will have the pleasure of serving us, Michael. And if your little friends decide to try to poison me, Ill have your guts out, and believe me, a vampire can suffer a very, very long time when I want him to.
Michael swallowed and nodded once. Claire sent an involuntary look toward her folks, who could not possibly have missed that.