Feast of Fools Page 0,44

asked.

"No! No, I can't!" Miranda sounded frantic. "Please, don't send me there. You don't know - you don't know what they'll do - the fire - "

Eve kept hold of the girl, somehow, though Miranda was flailing like mad. "Okay, chill, we won't. I promise. Relax. Shane - maybe the first aid kit? Towels and hot water?"

"I'll help," Claire said, and she and Shane took off for the kitchen. When she glanced back, she saw that Miranda had stopped fighting and was lying exhausted in Eve's arms. "What the hell happened to her?"

"Morganville," Shane said, and shrugged. He stiff-armed the kitchen door and went straight for the cabinets under the sink. The first aid kit was getting a lot of play, Claire thought as she turned on the hot water and gathered up some clean kitchen towels.

Miranda's first aid session wasn't as bad as Claire had feared - the head wound was bloody but superficial, and Eve fixed it with some butterfly bandages.

The holes in Miranda's neck looked fresh, though. When Eve asked about them, Miranda looked embarrassed and pulled up the collar of her shirt. "None of your business," she said.

"It's Charles, right? Son of a bitch." Eve had a problem with vampires who preyed on the underage - in fact, from what Claire had gathered, so did a lot of the other vampires. There were laws against it, after all. She wondered whether Amelie knew about Charles and Miranda. Or cared. "You can't let him gnaw on you like this, Mir! You know that!"

"He was so hungry," Miranda said, and hung her head. "I know. But it didn't hurt, not really."

That made Claire want to throw up. She exchanged a look with Shane.

"There's a guy who needs staking," he said.

Miranda looked up sharply. "That's not funny!"

"Do I have on my funny face? Miranda, the guy's a pedophile. The fact that he just sucks your blood instead of - " Shane paused, staring at her. "It is instead of, right?"

It was impossible to tell if Miranda even understood what he was getting at, but Claire thought she did, and it made the girl deeply uncomfortable. Miranda tried to get out of the chair they'd put her into. "I need to go home."

"Whoa, whoa, you can barely stand up," Eve said, and managed to get her settled again. "Claire, would you check on Michael? See if he's okay?"

In other words, there were questions Shane and Eve were about to ask, personal questions. Claire nodded and went upstairs. The bathroom door was closed. She knocked softly.

"Michael?"

No answer. She tried the handle. Locked.

Claire turned at what sounded like footsteps down the hall, but she saw no one. She didn't hear the door unlock, but when she looked back, the bathroom door was open, and Michael was standing about two inches away from her.

She stumbled backward. Instead of just washing up, he'd showered; his hair was damp and curling and darker than usual, and he was wearing a towel around his waist. There was a lot more of Michael on display than she was used to, and it was . . . impressive.

Claire backed away, all the way to the wall.

"Sorry," he said. Not as if he really was. He sounded annoyed, stressed, and jittery. "She's still here." It wasn't a question, but Claire nodded anyway. "She can't stay. We need to get her out of here."

"I don't think she's in any shape to go," Claire offered. "She seemed pretty hysterical. Shane and Eve are - "

"I can still smell her blood," Michael interrupted her. "I washed it off of me. I took off my clothes. I showered. None of that matters, I can still - she has to go. Now."

"What's wrong with you? I thought you'd - " She hesitated, then made a drinking motion.

"I did." Michael rubbed his face with both hands. "Guess I burned it off tonight at the show. I'm hungry, Claire."

It cost him a lot to say it. Claire gulped, and nodded. "Wait here."

She went downstairs, past where Shane and Eve were still earnestly talking with Miranda, and into the kitchen. At the very back of the bottom shelf of the refrigerator sat some bottles that might have been full of beer, and weren't. There were three of them. She grabbed one without looking too closely at it and made sure it was concealed against her side as she passed the little downstairs group. Nobody really looked her way; they were too intent on keeping their own