by Rachel Caine
“Nah,” I said. I didn’t feel like hitting anybody right now, not even Shiemaa, who could take it. “I’m going out to hit some bags.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, and tapped Keith. “Let’s go, big guy.”
I went outside, into the public area. Didn’t matter at this time of the night, because there were few people who ventured in, and when the vamps cleared out—which they did nightly to go hit the blood bank or date or do whatever it was—we had the place mostly to ourselves. I waded into the heavy bag.
And pretty soon, the rest of them came out to join me.
Like a pack.
I hit the bag and felt better, because finally, I knew what I was doing.
I was leading the pack.
And that was okay.
TEN
He wasn’t answering his cell, but it was a damn good bet that he had gone where he said he was going—to the gym.
In the end, they all went to find him, because Michael wasn’t letting Claire go alone, and Eve wasn’t letting Michael go without her. They took Eve’s big, black hearse, which had a big enough front bench seat to hold three across. Claire ended up in the middle.
“Hey,” she said as Eve navigated the giant Deathmobile down the dark streets of Morganville. “So…what is this about getting married? Did I even actually hear that? Because I’m pretty sure I would have been told about that by my best friend.” She accompanied it with an elbow into Eve’s side. Eve made a choked sound that wasn’t quite a cry.
Claire was trying to keep it light, because she was feeling anxious now, not just about Shane, but about the two of them. It was tough being a vampire/human couple; there had been plenty of problems already. It would only get harder, and Eve—Eve was strong, but she was also fragile.
Michael was looking out the window at the passing houses, and he didn’t turn his head. “It was kind of an impulse thing,” he said. “Eve wanted to wait and have a big announcement and an engagement party. I just didn’t expect her to blurt it out like that.”
“Well, I had to stop Terminator Shane from punching your face off,” Eve said. “I like your face. And it worked, didn’t it?”
“Back on topic,” Claire interrupted. “When exactly did this happen?”
“He asked me at the party. You know, Gloriana’s big party.” That had been one of those weird vampire welcome-to-town shindigs where they’d been basically the only people with pulses invited. Claire hadn’t felt comfortable. She and Shane had ducked out as soon as they could, although later she wished she hadn’t, because she’d heard that crazy things had happened, and the spectacle of Eve dancing with Oliver must have been, according to all the gossip, pretty compelling. Because Oliver apparently could dance.
That still seemed bizarre.
She hadn’t known what happened after, because Eve hadn’t said. Claire had assumed nothing had happened of any real notice. Obviously, she’d been way, way wrong.
“So where’s the ring?” Claire asked. She was staring at Eve’s left hand. Nothing shiny on the third finger.
“I didn’t want to wear it until we told people,” Eve said. “I guess I can now. Right?”
“Right,” Michael said. He started to say something else, but fell silent.
It felt strangely awkward, suddenly. And Claire’s mixed feelings got even more mixed. She wanted to believe this was the right thing, but why wasn’t Michael more excited about it? Was that a guy thing? Or…God, was he having second thoughts?
Claire tried to fill the silence. “Any date yet or anything? And can I be a bridesmaid? Please let me be a bridesmaid! I’ve never been one.”
“My bridesmaids are totally wearing black,” Eve said. “Are you down with that? Because I’m wearing red.”
“Yes!” Claire gave her an awkward, one-armed hug, and then did the same to Michael. “This is great. This is…Well, it’s great. Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Michael said. He was smiling again, but she saw his reflection in the glass, and what struck her, in a dreadful rush, was that it wasn’t the right kind of smile. It was sad and brave, not happy and proud. Like he was doing what he thought he should do, but deep down he wasn’t sure.
Oh, no. No.
Claire looked down at her lap. She said, “Well, let me know, okay? When you guys are ready. Because I’ll be there, you know. All the way.”
“I know you will,” Eve said. She wasn’t just smiling; she was glowing with delight. “Thanks, sweetie.”
She turned the car again and pulled it into a parking space. The neon lights of the gym were on, and a sign glowing near the door said open 24 hrs.
They sat in the car as the engine died. Michael and Eve exchanged glances over Claire’s head. “So, we should do this,” Eve said. “Right?”
“Right,” Michael said. “We all go together. If he starts something, get out of the way, both of you. Let him take it out on me. I’m not as breakable.”
Maybe not, but Shane had managed to land a punch on him, which had been unpleasantly surprising. Claire didn’t want to see anybody get hit or hurt, not even a vampire who could bounce back. The sound of Miranda getting punched still haunted her, no matter how it had turned out later.
She’d always admired Shane’s ability to defend himself—and her and his friends—but at the same time, she worried. Maybe there was something to his fear. Maybe his dad’s legacy of abuse was tough to shake; she knew there was a dark core of anger inside of him, and guilt.
But she also knew that Gloriana was in it somehow. She had to be. No matter how much everybody swore she couldn’t be interested in Shane, there was some reason this was happening, and Claire had seen firsthand how easy it was for Gloriana to twist people around.
Like Shane was being twisted.
I saw her, Claire thought. Up in his room, that first night. That was her. It had to be Gloriana.
That was when it had all started. When Shane’s anger had started coming to the surface.
That bitch.
“We stay together,” Claire said. “And I promise, I’ll duck if anybody throws a punch.”
The parking lot was—oddly, for Morganville—spacious and well lit. They didn’t see anyone else on the way in. The same bouncer was at the desk. He looked the three of them over without saying anything. The lights buzzed softly, and Claire felt nerves start tingling right with them.
“We’re looking for Shane Collins,” Michael said. “Is he here?”
The counter guy checked a list, flipping pages. “Yeah, he signed in about half an hour ago. Hasn’t left.”
“We need to see him,” Claire said.
“Ten bucks.”
“We’re not exercising,” Eve said. “Really, you see these clothes? These are not made for sweating.”
“Not my problem. It’s ten bucks to go in that door, whether you exercise or not. Unless you want to buy a membership. Then it’s five hundred.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“No, you look like a dick who wants thirty dollars to let us talk to our friend,” Michael said, and opened up his wallet. “Here’s forty. The extra ten’s not a tip, so give it back.”
The guy counted out ten ones—even though there was a ten-dollar bill sitting right there in the cash drawer—and slid them over. “Knock yourselves out, kids,” he said.
The buzzer went off, signaling that the door was open. Michael held it for the girls; Claire went first, heading past the busy weight-and exercise-machine area. Everything was full, which was shocking, considering the time of night. The weirdest thing was that Claire didn’t see a single vampire here tonight…just humans. She’d have expected just the opposite.
Shane was in the corner, near the boxing stuff. That wasn’t a surprise; Claire had known in her gut that he’d be here somewhere.
He was punching a heavy bag, which swung back and forth in slow, ponderous arcs as he danced around it, hitting with vicious intensity. He’d taken off his
shirt, and he was sweating so much it looked like he’d just come out of the pool, his hair lank and plastered around his face. His skin shone and dripped.
And he was covered with bruises. Covered. She was shocked; she hadn’t seen him like this, not ever. Some were just red spots—fresh ones—and others were old and blue and faded around the edges. The nastiest ones looked black and green. What the hell had he been doing?
Claire started to walk over to him, but Michael stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “No,” he said. “Let me, okay?”
“Okay.” There was something very off about the way Shane was going after that bag, like it had personally tried to kill him. And she could tell that he’d been at it for a while now, ever since he’d walked in, probably.
As Michael came over, Shane grabbed the swinging bag in both gloved hands and stilled it. He was panting for breath, but his wide eyes were fixed on his friend.
Not in a friendly kind of way.
“Hey,” Michael said. “We got worried when you blew out of the house. We wanted to be sure you were okay.”
Shane didn’t say anything. He clung to the bag and panted and watched Michael with that strangely blank stare.
“So,” Michael continued, still moving toward him, more slowly now. More carefully, like he’d have approached a wild animal. “What do you say we blow this off and go get a pizza or something? You must be hungry.”
He must have crossed some kind of invisible line, because Shane bared his teeth, and Michael stopped in his tracks. That was one crazy look, and Claire felt sick inside; it didn’t look like Shane at all. He kept on grinning—if you could call it that—and reached down for a sports bottle sitting off to the side. He guzzled most of it in broad, thirsty gulps, but he still never took his eyes off Michael. Not for a second.
“I’m not hungry,” Shane finally said. “Vassily’s got me on a new diet. Protein shakes.”
Michael tried again. “Bro, this is some unsettling crap going on. What the hell is up with you?”
“Can’t you tell?” Shane asked. His voice sounded lower than normal—deeper in his throat. “Thought you knew everything, being part of the master race and all. Thought we mere mortals could never put anything over on you.”
Claire had thought it was a private conversation, but behind her, she heard laughter—laughter in name only. It was bully laughter, meant to unsettle. There was no real amusement behind it, other than the anticipation of pulling some wings off particularly interesting flies. She risked a glance over her shoulder.
Shane had workout buddies all around them. She’d ignored them at first, thinking they were just people in proximity, but now they were all stopping what they were hitting or lifting or doing, and paying attention.
Big men. Tough. Sweating. A girl, too, but even she looked solid and muscular and ready to kick ass at a second’s notice.
Claire realized that she was holding Eve’s hand, and holding it tightly. She glanced over and saw that Eve, too, was riveted by Shane’s behavior. She looked spooked and very worried.
Claire pulled her fingers free and walked over to stand next to Michael. “Shane, what are you doing here? Let’s just go home, okay?”
Shane focused on her, but that didn’t make it better. If anything, it made it worse, because there was none of the love and gentleness in him that she expected to see—that she’d seen only an hour ago. He stared at her, then at Michael.
She reached for Michael’s arm for support. Something flared hot in Shane’s eyes. “That how it is? You and Claire?” Shane asked. “Not surprised, man. Every girl I ever knew ended up liking you better than me. It’s almost like you set out to make it happen.”
“That’s so not true!” Claire said, shocked—shocked he would even think it, much less say it—and stepped away from Michael. “You think—You think me and Michael…?”
“Why not? He’s cooler, right? He’s rocking that whole guitar hero thing. Oh, and he’s a vampire—I know how much all you chicks dig that. He could snap his fingers and pull any girl he wanted. Including you. Don’t kid yourself thinking you’ve got a choice.”
He didn’t even say her name. Somehow, that hurt worse than anything else—and it made her angrier, too, which probably wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help it. “No, he couldn’t get me, because I don’t love him. I love you, Shane.”
He gave her a cynical smile. “You don’t have to love somebody to screw them.”
“Shane!” Now she was embarrassed and horrified and sick, and she wished he would just shut up.
“I saw how he looked at you. C’mon, Michael, tell her. Tell her I’m wrong. Tell her you never think about it.”
Michael didn’t say anything. There was an odd light in his eyes, one Claire couldn’t remember seeing before. She punched him in the arm. “Well?” she demanded. “Tell him!”
“Won’t do any good,” Michael said. “He’s not listening to anything I have to say. Or you, for that matter. Come on, Claire. We should go.”
“No! I’m not leaving him here like this, thinking that I’m—”
Shane lunged forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and put his face very close to hers. Close enough to kiss, but that didn’t seem to be on his mind at all. It was Shane, but…not. Not the Shane she’d always known. Even when he’d lost his memory, there’d been this core of gentleness, of control…and now that was gone.
It was like part of him had died. The best part.
“Let me make it real clear,” he said. “I don’t date fang-bangers. If it’s not him, then it’s that crazy-ass, bloodsucking boss of yours. So, go on. Do what you know you want to do. None of my business anymore. We’re done.”
And he pushed her away, hard. She banged against a steel post, which knocked the breath out of her and brought tears to her eyes from the instant, white-hot pain of bone ringing on metal.
Through the tears, she saw Michael grab Shane’s arm and yank him away from her, unbelievably fast and strong. But Shane had strength and quickness of his own, more than he should have, more than she’d ever seen any human have, and he swung around inside Michael’s defenses and slammed a fist into his stomach, then his chin, snapping Michael’s head back. Then again and again and again, so fast it was a blur.
And Michael went down flat on his back. He rolled over, blinking, and got back to his feet, but his mouth was bleeding, and Eve was yelling and trying to get between him and Shane, and it was all just insane how this was happening. How could it possibly be—
Claire caught sight of a figure standing at a metal railing upstairs, looking down at them. A petite woman, masses of honey-colored wavy hair, a sweet face.
Gloriana. The vampire.
She was smiling—not an evil smile, which Claire could have understood, but a smile of childlike delight. A smile that should have been reserved for puppies and rainbows and true love.
Not for seeing Shane kick Michael in the side with enough force to shatter bone.
The onlookers watched with a kind of strange, hungry approval, and nobody moved in to stop it until a tattooed, muscled guy—Rad, from the car and motorcycle shops—grabbed Shane from behind, winding his arms through and locking his fingers together behind Shane’s neck in a unbreakable restraining hold. He kicked the joints of Shane’s legs and got him down on his knees.
Eve was down next to Michael, helping him sit up, wiping the slightly too-pale blood from his face with a lacy black handkerchief. “My God,” she was saying numbly. “My God, my God…Oh, sweetie…”
Shane was trying to throw off Rad’s hold, but his buddies were moving in now. As if he realized it was useless to try to break Rad’s hold on him, Shane went still.
Eve must have decided Michael was okay, because she looked at Claire and asked her if she was hurt, at increasingly worried volumes. Claire shook off her daze and said, “No, I’m fine. Michael?”
He didn’t answer. He was sitting up and all his attention was on Shane. Just Shane. “Let him go, Rad,�
� he said.
“Dude,” Rad said. “Don’t think that’s too good an idea. He ain’t givin’ up. He’s just waiting. I can feel it.”
“I said let him go.”
“Your funeral.” Rad released Shane, who turned and shoved him back. Rad held up his hands, signaling surrender.
And Shane turned back toward Michael, who wasn’t showing anything like that. In fact, he was on his feet again, moving Eve—gently—and facing Shane squarely.
“This isn’t you, man. What is causing this?” Michael asked.
“It’s her,” Claire said, and looked up at the railing above them. “She’s screwing with him.”
Only Gloriana was gone. No sign she’d ever been there. Claire looked around, but there were no vampires in view. Not one.
Just Michael.
Shane turned a scorching look on her. “Her who?”
“Gloriana,” Claire said. “She’s doing this to you.”
He laughed. “I don’t do vamps. You ought to remember that.”
“It’s a glamour.”
“No, it’s not,” Michael said, very quietly. “Not exactly. Or not completely. Right, Shane? This is something else.”
“Yeah,” Shane said. “It’s something else. Because there’s a lot of us who are sick as hell of getting our asses kicked by vampires, sick of being your cheap wine bottles with legs, sick of letting you rule this town like lords. It’s not going to happen anymore. Right, guys?”
The gym guys—and girl, too—had gathered around in a circle, and the rest had the same predatory glitter in their eyes, the same barely under-the-surface violence. Rad seemed to be the only muscled-up dude who was in the wrong place and had the wrong motives, and he was looking around now, frowning uneasily.
“Look, maybe you should go,” he said to Michael, and then glanced at Eve and Claire. “All of you. Work this out later.”
Her impulse was to say that she was staying, that no power on earth could make her leave Shane when he was like this, but if she did that, she knew that Michael and Eve would stick it out, too. And that would be bad. Shane seemed especially angry about Michael being here—and, from the look he gave her now, Eve, too.
