Feast of Fools Page 0,10

know all of us, especially me."

"What the hell are you doing?" Claire whispered fiercely. She didn't care that Dad could probably hear, and Michael certainly could. "I don't want to go anywhere!"

"Claire, he's right. You'd be safer there. Our house isn't exactly a fortress, in case what happened today didn't sink in yet," Shane replied. "Hell, between strangers cruising in and out, my dad's threat to come back and finish what he started - "

Claire threw down her fork. "Wait just a minute. You're telling me it's for my own good, is that it?"

"Yes."

"Michael? Jump in anytime!"

Michael held up his hands in surrender. He'd had enough, and Claire couldn't really blame him.

Eve, though, cleared her throat and waded right into the conversational swamp. "Mr. Danvers, honest, Claire's perfectly fine with us. We all look after her, and Shane's not the kind of guy who'd take advantage - "

"Wouldn't say that," Shane said, way too mildly. "I'm exactly that kind of guy, really."

Eve sent him a dirty look. " - and besides, he knows we'd both kill him if he tried. But he wouldn't do it. Claire's fine where she is. And she's happy, too."

"Yes," Claire agreed. "I'm happy, Dad."

Michael still hadn't spoken. He was, instead, watching Claire's father with a strange kind of intensity; at first she thought, He's trying to put some kind of vampire whammy on him, but then she changed her mind. It was more like Michael was honestly puzzled, and trying to figure out what to say next.

Her father hadn't heard a word that anyone had said. "I want you to move home, Claire, and that's that. I don't want you staying in that house anymore. End of discussion."

Her mother wasn't talking, which was unusual, too; she just stirred her coffee slowly and tried to look interested in the food on the plate in front of her.

Claire opened her mouth to shoot back a heated, not very respectful reply, but Michael shook his head and put his hand over hers. "Don't waste your breath," he said. "This isn't their idea. Bishop planted the suggestion."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"No idea. Maybe he wants us separated. Maybe he just likes messing with people. Maybe he wants to piss off Amelie. But the important thing is, I don't think you ought to let this get to you - "

"Not get to me? Michael, my father is saying I have to move!"

"You don't," Michael said. "Not if you don't want to."

Claire's father, who'd been frowning, turned a dark, unhealthy color of red in the face. "You damn well do," he snapped. "You're my daughter, Claire, and until you turn eighteen, you'll do what I tell you. And you - " He leveled a finger at Michael. "If I have to bring charges against you - "

"For what?" Michael asked mildly.

"For - look, don't think I don't know what's going on here. If I find out that my daughter's been - been . . ." Dad didn't seem to be able to work up the words. Michael continued to watch him steadily, with no sign of comprehension.

Claire cleared her throat.

"Dad," she said. She felt color blazing in her cheeks, and her voice was barely steady. "If you're asking if I'm still a virgin, I am."

"Claire!" Her mom's voice cracked sharply across the last of her sentence. "That's enough."

Total silence at the table. Not even Michael seemed to know where to take the conversation from there. Eve looked like she was having a hard time deciding whether to laugh or wince, and finally dug into her chocolate sundae as the best possible response.

Michael's cell phone rang. He opened it, spoke softly, listened, and closed it without replying. He signaled the waitress. "We have to go," he said.

"Where?"

"Back to the house. Amelie wants to see us."

"You're coming home with us," Dad said to Claire, who shook her head. "Don't argue with me - "

"I'm sorry, sir, but she has to come with us right now," Michael said. "If Amelie says it's the right thing to do, I'll bring her to your house myself. But we'll drop you off on the way, and I'll let you know as soon as possible." It was said respectfully, but without any room for argument, and there was something about Michael in that moment that just couldn't be pushed.

Dad's face set, still red, and very hard. "This isn't over, Michael."

"Yes sir," he said. "That much I know. We haven't even started yet."

The drive back was even