Fall of Night tmv-14

by Rachel Caine

  Not outdoor wear, but Eve clearly didn’t give a crap.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, stopping a couple of feet away and crossing her arms. ‘So. There’s this, then.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Claire said. ‘I just – I couldn’t—’

  ‘Couldn’t woman up and say goodbye? Jesus, Claire Bear, you didn’t even leave a note! How could you do that?’

  There was no defence to that. It was true. She’d figured that the goodnights they’d said were also goodbyes, but now … now she knew that they weren’t. Shane’s twisted anguish had told her that, and so did Eve’s tears, shining unshed in her eyes.

  Claire moved forward, and Eve uncrossed her arms just in time to receive the embrace. ‘Idiot,’ Eve said. ‘Dork. Loser. So, you’re just going to run off in the dark and … and leave us … and …’ She was crying now, and Claire felt the hot tears on her shoulder soaking through her sweater. ‘And we might never see you again, and I love you, Claire, you’re like my little sister, and—’

  ‘I’m coming back,’ Claire said. She hung on fiercely, while Eve bawled and let it all out. ‘I swear, I’m coming back. You can’t get rid of me like that.’

  ‘I don’t want to get rid of you!’ Eve’s balled-up fists hit her back, but softly, lacking any force. ‘God!’

  There was only one thing to do, and that was let her cry it out, and Claire did, fighting back a rising tide of tears herself. This was why she’d tried to sneak away … not because she didn’t love all of them, but because the goodbyes were so, so painful.

  Her parents’ minivan rolled up to the sign, pulled to the shoulder, and Claire heard the engine shut off. She patted Eve’s back a few more times until her best friend gave a shuddering nod and stepped away.

  ‘Hello, pumpkin,’ Claire’s father said, and smiled at her from the driver’s side window. He looked tired, she thought, and it shocked her how much more grey there was in his hair. He didn’t look well, though her mother had assured her he was doing much better. ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘Almost,’ she said. ‘Couple of minutes?’

  ‘Take your time.’ He looked as if he understood, but it was definitely the Dad Look that he levelled at Shane – the disapproving, not-good-enough up and down assessment.

  Shane didn’t notice, and even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have much cared at the moment. He closed the distance between them as Claire came back, and although he didn’t put his arms around her, the feeling of an embrace settled around her.

  Safe. Safe, with him.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘I don’t like knowing you can’t forgive me, Claire. Please, I said I was sorry, what do you want me to do? Beg? I will. I’ll get on my knees right here if you want, in front of your dad—’

  ‘No!’ she blurted. ‘No, it’s – I’m not angry, really, I’m not. But I need this. I need it. I don’t ask for anything for myself, but this is mine, Shane. It won’t be for long, but it gives us time to – to see if we’re really strong apart, like we are together.’

  She also needed him to understand that he’d screwed up, and she couldn’t be one of those doormat girls … ready to forgive him when he did unforgivable things. He hadn’t trusted her word. He’d believed – despite what he knew about her – that she’d been sneaking around behind his back, with Michael, which, well, never.

  And so she couldn’t fall for the fast, easy apology. Not even here, on his knees, in front of her father, which was about as extreme as it could get.

  Tears clogged her throat again, and when she saw he was serious about it, she reached out and grabbed his hands. Big hands, scarred over the knuckles from fights; gentle hands, too, when it counted. Hands she loved, especially when, like now, they rose up and touched her burning cheeks, cradled them in coolness. His thumbs traced her cheekbones softly, and he bent closer to whisper, ‘I am so sorry, Claire. Please. Please don’t go away.’

  ‘I—’ She closed her eyes because she felt dizzy, pulled by the force of his wanting, and even a deep breath didn’t set that right. ‘Shane, I have to go. I have to. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or that I won’t come back.’ She opened her eyes and met his fierce, desperate gaze. ‘I said I’d marry you someday. I still mean it, if you mean it.’

  That woke an equally fierce grin. ‘Oh, I mean it. I’d do it tomorrow if—’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I can’t. Not yet.’

  He let go of her, but he didn’t step back; he took her hands and raised them to his lips to kiss them, one at a time. She shivered at the heat of his lips, and the longing on his face that he didn’t give a voice.

  ‘If you need me …’ he said, and then stopped himself with a bitter little smile. ‘But you probably won’t.’

  She silently held up her cell phone. ‘Speed dial.’

  ‘Call me today,’ he said. ‘Call me every day.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Shane—’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Look, I hate goodbyes, too. But sometimes, we need them just to survive.’

  He meant that, and it left her wordless and stunned, and all she could think to do was kiss him one more time, gently. It was a promise, and she meant it with everything in her heart and soul.

  And then she walked over to where her suitcases lay, and helped her dad load them into the back of the minivan. Shane moved to help but she discouraged that with a shake of her head; she needed to do this herself. She was afraid she’d break down and run back home to Morganville, to the house they all shared, if she didn’t go now, on her own.

  It didn’t take long to change her life. Ten minutes, maybe. With the morning sun washing golden over the billboard, over Shane standing with his arm around Eve next to the hearse, with Michael safely behind tinting in the back, she tossed her backpack in, closed the door, and waved. They waved back.

  And then somehow she was in the passenger seat, buckled in, though she didn’t remember doing it, and the minivan was accelerating north, away from Morganville.

  Away from everything she’d left behind.

  She twisted in the seat to watch Shane and Eve disappear into the distance. Once she couldn’t even see the billboard any more, she turned face front and took in a deep, trembling breath. I will not cry, she told herself. I will not.

  It finally occurred to her to ask the obvious question of her father. ‘Where’s Mom?’

  ‘She said she’ll meet us at the airport. You okay, kiddo?’ her dad asked. He kept his eyes on the road, and his voice was neutral, but he held out his right hand, and she took it. ‘That’s my girl. You’re okay. I remember driving you here, you know, to school. You seemed so much smaller then, honey, and so much more vulnerable. Look at you now – you’re a lovely, confident young woman. I’m very proud of you. And I know that was hard for you.’

  She didn’t feel lovely, or confident, or a woman. The only thing she felt was young, and right now, very raw with loss. But she smiled anyway, and gulped back the tears, and when her voice was steady she asked him how his job was going, and what the doctor was saying about his heart condition, and a thousand little things that made up love.

  They talked all the way to Midland.

  It wasn’t just Mom waiting at the airport, to Claire’s astonishment. It was a party. When she came inside with Dad, wheeling her two suitcases, she immediately saw a giant bright pink banner that said CONGRATULATIONS!, with giant clusters of balloons lifting either end. And a crowd. A cheering crowd.

  She didn’t know what she was seeing, honestly … and then faces started to come into focus. Her teachers from high school – Mrs Street, Mrs East, Mr Popp, Mr Shelton … her favourites. And then classmates, at least ten of them. Some had been friends, but casual friends; most of them would have just graduated from high school, she guessed, since they were all about her age. She’d been two or three years ahead of them, thanks to testing out of most core subjects.

  She hadn’t missed them, but it was nice to see them, anyway – and strange, too, like having
a dream where everything from the past was suddenly in the present, throwing everything out of whack. It was weird and funny and wonderful, and as she got hugs and backslaps, passed in a dizzying dance from person to person, she felt as if everybody in the airport was staring at her and wondering what the hell was going on.

  When she caught her breath, she felt a sudden, acute sense of those who were missing: Shane. Eve. Michael. Myrnin. Maybe even Amelie and Oliver and a half-dozen others she knew – however unexpectedly – she would regret not being here to see this. Myrnin would have been delighted. He’d have been grabbing a pile of cupcakes from the tray, and punch from the cooler, and remarking on how the red colour of the sugary liquid looked remarkably like diluted blood … and Shane would have wearily threatened to stake him. Eve would have voted in favour. Michael would have laughed.

  It suddenly all seemed both too much, and too little.

  The Midland airport was not exactly used to celebrations, but it seemed to put smiles on the faces of the security people, and even the jaded, weary business travellers with their battered, sturdy suitcases. Claire’s were new, and polka-dotted, lime green and purple. She wasn’t sure if they were too weird or not, but at least she wouldn’t lose them.

  The party was short – fifteen minutes, and then Claire’s dad began to cheerfully remind people that she had a plane to catch. Her mom hugged her tight as the first of the visitors began to leave, and said, ‘It’s so good to see you, sweetie. Even just for this.’ She pushed Claire back to arm’s length and gave her the mom inspection, up and down. ‘You look a little thin, sweetie. Are you eating?’

  ‘Yes, Mom, I’m eating. Don’t worry. Once I get to Boston, it’s all the snacks and cafeteria food and pizza, so I’ll probably gain ten pounds the first week.’

  ‘Well, you could do with another ten pounds, anyway.’ She nervously brushed at Claire’s hair, rearranging it around her face. ‘Oh, dear, you could use a haircut too. Well. Promise me – do you think you’ve got everything you’ll need? Do you need sheets, or towels, or—’

  ‘I’ll be okay, Mom,’ Claire said, and caught her mother’s hands in her own. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Mom took a deep, convulsive breath and let it out before she nodded. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You probably need clothes, though. You always do.’

  It was an old refrain. Mom had her hair fixed nicely, and she had make-up on, and the sweater and pants she was wearing fit her well. Her mother had always had much more fashion sense than Claire possessed, and it had always been something Mom had seen as a social shortcoming. Claire didn’t. She figured when she was ready to care about those things, she would. But right now, the comfortable geek-girl tee, loose jacket and jeans were all she really needed.

  ‘I’ve got enough clothes,’ Claire said. Half of them had been given to her by Eve, who’d rolled her eyes at the destitute nature of Claire’s closet and donated things that were – by Eve’s standards, anyway – conservative enough.

  ‘And money? You’ve got enough money?’

  ‘Yes.’ She did. She’d gotten a salary from Morganville as Myrnin’s assistant, and she even had a credit card, one that Amelie had assured her would be accepted anywhere in the world. It was very shiny. ‘Honest, Mom, I’m fine.’

  ‘I know you are, you always are.’ Her mother sighed, and folded her in a suddenly fierce embrace that smelt of powder and perfume. ‘Are you looking forward to seeing Elizabeth again?’

  Claire’s friend Elizabeth from high school had moved to Cambridge as well, though she was attending a different school from MIT. But honestly, beyond exchanging e-mails and phone calls, and the flurry of sudden plans in the past few days, she didn’t really know Elizabeth any more. Two years apart was a lifetime these days.

  She still remembered the rush of excitement and consternation she’d felt opening the first e-mail. Your parents told me you were moving to town, Elizabeth had written. You CANNOT live in a dorm!!!! I’m renting a place. Share? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE? That was Elizabeth, all right; she probably had been bouncing up and down, unable to stand still while she wrote the pleases. And there was no reason not to accept.

  Except now, Claire felt a little sick to her stomach. Maybe I should have just stayed in the dorm. But she hadn’t had such good luck with that before at Texas Prairie University.

  Mom noticed her silence. ‘Oh, sweetie. I hate you going so far away, but I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished. I know it’s just the beginning of such great things for you.’

  That was a very odd thought, suddenly. She’d done so much these past few years in Morganville that the idea there was more … well. It just seemed strange.

  Like the thought that she was about to get on a plane and fly to Dallas, and then on another flight off to Boston. She’d been in Dallas only once before … with Michael and Eve. With Shane. And she remembered every second of that sweet, beautiful, wild weekend, where the two of them had just begun to discover each other in new and personal ways. It was … it was magical, in her memory.

  Going back to Dallas without him seemed just the opposite of magical. It seemed like the ominous sign of a curse.

  Dad helped her check her suitcases through to Boston, and she got through the nervous excitement of showing her ID for the tickets, and then it was – all of a sudden – time for goodbyes again. Hard ones. She threw her arms around her dad’s neck and hugged him breathless, and kissed him on both cheeks, which made him surprised and happy; she was usually more reserved than that. Her mom got the same, and they both pretended not to notice how unsteady each other’s voices were as they said all the usual things, all the loving things.

  And then she was in the security line, and leaving her past behind her with a finality that was more than a little terrifying. I’m alone. Funny. She’d faced so much these past few years – life and death and all the stages in between. Loss and love. Heartache and joy. Most of all, danger, constant and unremitting danger …

  … Yet, she was shaking all over as she handed the TSA agent her ID card and her ticket, and frantically wondering if she’d scrubbed her backpack clean of all the usual Morganville survival aids – silver nitrate, stakes, blades, the works. What if she’d overlooked something? What if …

  ‘Miss? What’s this supposed to be?’ The uniformed officer frowned at her and held out her ID card.

  Oh. Her Morganville ID card. She’d grabbed the wrong one, and quickly blushed and fished out the Texas driver’s licence instead. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Uh – library card.’

  He hadn’t read the text, luckily, and he just shrugged, scrutinised her face long enough to make her even more nervous, then waved her through.

  Shoes were hard to get off – she hadn’t planned for that – and her hoodie had to come off, too. Her backpack passed through scanners without trouble, thankfully, and then she was clutching all her stuff, breathless with relief, on the other side of the barriers. Claire walked barefoot to some seats, donned her hoodie and her Skechers, put her ID back in her wallet (moving the Morganville ID safely to the back to avoid confusion with legit state-issued stuff) and then, finally, took a moment to let the enormity of it hit her.

  She was committed. Checked in. Bags headed for the plane. Her dad was shipping the rest of the boxes to her directly to her new apartment.

  She was on her own. Completely, utterly, totally on her own, going into a new world without Shane, without parents. Without enemies, even.

  Nobody cared. People walked past her, and ignored her existence.

  Claire sat for a moment in silence, taking that in and adjusting herself to the reality that outside of Morganville, she was just some mildly pretty eighteen-year-old girl headed up to college, like ten thousand other girls she’d see along the way. Not someone special at all.

  It was, she thought as she picked up her backpack and headed toward her departure gate, the scariest thing she’d ever done, and the most freedom she’d ever had.

  Ironic.

  CHAPTE
R TWO

  Elizabeth Porter met Claire at the baggage claim, holding a giant sign that said BEST FRIENDS 4EVA and waving excitedly, which was good, because otherwise Claire probably wouldn’t have recognised her. The chubby, shy Elizabeth from school was gone, replaced by a sleek, tall girl with short platinum-blonde hair. Her fashion sense had changed, too, from geeky to sexy … she had on a button-down shirt, pleated schoolgirl miniskirt, knee socks, loafers, even the required Smart Librarian glasses. Guys watched as she jumped up and down, squealed, and threw her arms around Claire with the enthusiasm of a cheerleader at a championship game. A winning team cheerleader, at that.

  ‘You’re here, oh my God, I’m so excited! Claire!’ Elizabeth suddenly pushed her out to arm’s length and stared at her. She’d gotten taller, and now topped Claire by at least three inches. ‘You look … different.’

  ‘You don’t?’ Claire said, and laughed. Elizabeth joined in, and it was like they’d never spent a moment apart … but only for that second, because then Elizabeth stopped laughing, and something strange flashed over her face. Two years ago, Claire wouldn’t have recognised it, but now she knew fear when she saw it. Well, that’s weird.

  It was only a flash, and Elizabeth pasted on the bright smile again. ‘I just wanted a change,’ she said. ‘You know, leaving Texas, becoming a new person – you want that, too, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Claire said. Her heart wasn’t in it; she didn’t want to change any more, really, but she wanted to be more of what she already had become – more Claire. Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed to have bent herself to becoming someone completely different, from the outside in. It hadn’t stifled that spark Claire had always liked about her, though. It still showed in the bouncy way Elizabeth helped her drag her luggage off the carousel, and chattered all the way out to the parking lot.