only about sixteen hours a week there, but she tried to do it early mornings, because she really didn't like spending evenings there anymore. So she'd probably already been up and gone, if she was intending to work at all. Shane would be in bed. He never got up before ten unless he had to.
Sure enough, when Claire went into the bathroom, there was fog on the mirror, and still-warm drops in the shower, and Eve had left her makeup scattered all over the counter. Claire put it back in the bag and got out her own, which wasn't much beyond an eye pencil and some mascara. She showered and dressed fast, and had her mind on what she was going to say to Oliver when she opened the bathroom door, and ran straight into Michael.
He looked at her in shock--so much shock, in fact, that she checked to make sure she'd remembered to put her pants on. She had. "What?" she demanded. "Do I have something on my face?"
"What are you doing in my bathroom?" Michael asked, and took a giant step back. "How did you get here?"
Oh, crap. She'd been afraid Michael was susceptible to whatever was going on, and now here it was again. Just like Amelie. Just like Myrnin. Just like Monica, for that matter.
He didn't wait for her answer. He ran to the end of the hall, to her room, and threw open the door. "Dad . . ." He fell silent, staring at the room. "Dad?" He backed up slowly. "What the hell is going on?"
Claire sighed. It seemed like her whole life was being spent telling people the bad news. "I know you're not going to believe this, but I live here, Michael. I've been here for a while now."
He turned back on her, fists clenched. She'd never seen that look on his face--scared and desperately angry. "What did you do with my parents?"
"I promise, I didn't do anything! Look, you can ask Eve if you don't believe me, or Shane--"
"Did Monica put you up to this?" Michael asked, and pushed her. That was a shock, and the grim, furious expression he had made her feel cold inside. "Just get out. Get out of our house!"
"Wait!" It was no use; he wasn't going to believe her any more than Hannah had, or Amelie, or Myrnin. "Wait, don't--"
Michael pushed her again. With vampire strength.
Claire flew backward, fell, rolled, and almost slid down the stairs before she grabbed hold of a banister railing to pull herself to a stop. Michael stood there, looking utterly astonished; he stared at her, down at his hands, and back again.
"You're a vampire, Michael," Claire said, and scrambled up. Her head was hurting again. No surprise there. "If you don't remember anything else, remember that. You can hurt people, even if you don't mean to do it."
"Get out!" he yelled. He looked really upset, and very, very angry. Bad combo for a vampire. His eyes had taken on a wicked crimson shimmer.
Claire went down the steps, grabbed her backpack from where it was leaning against the wall, and dashed out the door. Once she was outside in the sun, she stopped and pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Shane's number. It rang and rang and rang, and finally he picked up and mumbled something that didn't really sound like a word.
"Wake up! Watch your back," she said. "Michael doesn't remember who I--"
She didn't have any time to say more, because Michael had followed her out onto the porch, and as she started to turn, she saw that he was coming after her.
In the sunlight.
"No!" Claire yelled, and dropped her phone and the backpack to the ground. Michael's skin started to sizzle and smoke instantly on contact with the sun, and he just stood there, staring down at himself, as if this was some horrible dream, and he was waiting to wake up. "Michael, get back! Get in the shade!"
"I'm not . . . I'm not a . . ." He staggered and fell to his knees. "I'm not a vampire."
"Michael! "
She didn't have a choice. She'd have to risk him turning on her, like Myrnin; she couldn't leave him out here to fry. He didn't seem to understand that he had to move--or maybe he wasn't able to. She couldn't tell.
"Shane! Shane, get your ass down here!" she screamed, loud enough that she hoped he could hear it over the still-on cell and through the windows. She couldn't wait