Fall of Night tmv-14

by Rachel Caine

  ‘I thought you didn’t like her.’

  ‘Well … I don’t, but it’s still pretty cruel of me to run off and leave her with a giant rent payment when she’s got a stalker after her.’

  ‘Stalker?’ His voice sharpened. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘No. Because you’ll just come charging to the rescue.’

  ‘Claire—’

  ‘No. It’s fine. We can handle it.’ She managed to sound firm, and after a long silence, he sighed, and she took that as surrender. ‘Tell me about your day,’ she said. ‘Not the getting beat up part. What you did. Normal stuff. I want to know.’

  ‘I’ve got a job,’ he said. ‘I know, what are the odds, right? It’s okay. Hard work, but I’m not afraid of that. Long hours, low pay, but nobody’s coming after me with a knife or a gun or fangs so far, so it’s a step way up. Also, I don’t have to clean out sewer blockages. Remember that job? That was fun.’

  ‘You lasted thirty minutes.’

  ‘Which was twenty-nine minutes more than it deserved. So, what’s your favourite thing about Cambridge?’

  ‘The people,’ Claire said. ‘They’re quirky. I like them. MIT’s full of awesome nerdy people and I feel at home with them. It’s just … everything else. I feel like I’m some kind of fugitive here, like I’m hiding from something. Maybe myself.’

  ‘See, I thought you were going to say your favourite thing was the beans. Don’t they make baked beans in Boston? Who doesn’t like those?’

  ‘And pizza. They make good pizza.’

  ‘Now we’re talking. You know how I love a good pizza.’

  ‘You should come up here.’

  He hesitated for a long, long moment, and said, ‘Do you mean that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She curled tighter into a ball; suddenly, the room felt cold, and she pulled the covers around her. ‘If you did, I don’t know what that would mean. I couldn’t let you stay in the apartment; Liz would freak out. Again.’

  ‘This is the same Liz currently banging her professor downstairs?’

  ‘Okay, fair point. But I’d be at the lab all day, and you’d be—’

  ‘Out of place,’ he finished for her. ‘Excess. Yeah, I get it. You don’t need me hanging around and making things awkward, with my non-MIT-ness.’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Claire, it’s all right. You wanted space, I’m giving it to you. When you’re ready for me to come there, I’ll be on your doorstep faster than you can imagine. But not until you’re ready. I promised you that, and I’m keeping the promise.’

  ‘Okay.’ She took in a slow breath and let it out. ‘Is Michael looking after you? Making sure you don’t have any kind of brain haemorrhage or something?’

  ‘Oh, I have people watching me like hawks. I can’t even get up to pee without an escort. It’s super fun.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad they’re taking care of you. Please take care of yourself, too. I wish – I wish I could be there.’

  ‘Wish you could, too. Want to make it up to me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are you wearing?’

  She smiled in the darkness of her little pillow cave. ‘Footie pyjamas and a chastity belt.’

  ‘You know that’s not playing by the script, right?’

  ‘I thought you said you loved everything about me.’

  ‘Not the chastity belt. Listen, I’d better—’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, I know. Get some rest. Heal. Shane – I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he said. ‘Watch your back.’

  He hung up first, but it didn’t really matter by then; she felt he was so close to her that he might as well have been right there in the room.

  She carefully took the pillow off her head and listened.

  Blessed silence. Maybe Professor McCreepy had already departed, but if he hadn’t, at least the gymnastics were over.

  She fell asleep with the phone in her hand, held close to her heart.

  Elizabeth didn’t come out of her room the next morning when Claire knocked; she got a muffled, tearful ‘go away’ through the door, and Claire shook her head. Yeah, she’d seen that coming. Professor Douche Bag had almost certainly had his way and told Liz not to call him again; he’d have plenty of other college-age girls to charm. Claire had met a few older professors like him, and they had made her feel more than a little ill. It might not be illegal, but it felt badly wrong.

  And it might have been nothing but coincidence, how he’d landed on the subject of vampires, but it still creeped her out.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Claire asked. ‘Liz, are you going to be okay?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Liz said, and burst into more wet tears. So, the only injury was probably to her heart, and her ego. ‘I’m sorry. I should have known better, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Everybody makes mistakes,’ Claire said. ‘You won’t make that one again.’

  ‘No.’ Liz made a strangled gulping sound and blew her nose. ‘I’m never looking at another man again. Ugh. They’re all evil. Evil!’

  Claire knew some who weren’t, but this wasn’t the moment to disagree. It was the required Friend Solidarity moment. ‘All evil,’ she agreed. ‘Can’t trust them. Look, are you sure you’re okay? You’re sure he didn’t hurt you or anything?’

  ‘He ripped my heart out!’ Liz cried, and more blubbering ensued, and Claire assumed that meant a no, at least in the physical assault sense. ‘You go on. I’ll be fine.’

  Liz said that last in a theatrical, heroic whisper. Claire rolled her eyes, because she knew that her role was to insist on staying, make her some breakfast, dry her tears, listen to the story of the Great Failed Romance over and over again, get her chocolate, and not say anything that wasn’t total agreement. She’d done it with Liz before, in high school, and she just couldn’t face it. Not today. Not missing Shane the way she did.

  So she took Liz at her word and said, ‘Okay, then, I’ll see you tonight! Are you going to class?’

  ‘No!’ Liz wailed.

  Claire escaped while she could.

  She was halfway toward campus when her cell phone gave a chime, and she checked the message. It simply said, DON’T COME IN 2DAY. Not Professor Anderson’s phone, weirdly enough; it was some unknown and blocked number. Probably, Claire realised, Jesse’s … which maybe wouldn’t be associated with Professor Anderson, and therefore not monitored. More intrigue. It made her head hurt.

  Well, on the plus side, she had a free day, since Anderson had demanded she devote all her credit hours to independent study. Not a bad thing, really. But no way was she going to stay penned up in the house with Liz, either. She knew how that day would go, and she really wasn’t up for rewatching The Notebook and getting sugar-blitzed on ice cream.

  Instead, she spent a completely stress-free afternoon of wandering the campus, buying coffee, hanging out at the cafeteria and surfing the ’net … and running into Nick.

  He was sitting by himself, studying, and as she walked past him with her mocha she didn’t think he’d seen her … until he looked up and smiled.

  She stopped. It wasn’t a decision, exactly, more of an instinct she couldn’t control. He had a very sweet, and slightly unhinged, smile. Like Myrnin’s actually. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘The opposite of down is the dumbest possible answer I can come up with,’ Nick said. ‘Or, you know, nothing. Which would also be true.’ He kicked out the chair across from him. ‘Need a seat?’

  She hesitated, as if she was committing to something, even if it was just sharing a table. ‘Sure,’ she finally said, and settled. She didn’t relax, though. Nick nodded, and kept his expression completely neutral – she supposed he was afraid he might scare her off. Which was true. If he’d done anything else, she might have just picked up her mocha and bolted. ‘Are you studying?’

  ‘Trying,’ he said. ‘But funnily enough, all I can think about is pizza. You ever have days like that? Pizza days?’
<
br />   ‘Pizza days, ice cream days, hamburger days … why don’t we ever crave things that are good for us?’

  ‘Nobody sane has broccoli days. That’s crazy talk.’

  They chatted for a while, awkwardly but calmly, and then a third person arrived to break the tension, and her friendly banter made things seem okay. Before too long, two more people arrived, and it was a group, and the group was just … fun.

  Before she realised it, they’d ordered pizza (for Pizza Day) and had debated the merits of nerd favourite films, and discussed what kind of roof and tunnel hacks were being planned for the semester in their various dorms, and a ton of other things that just made her feel … at home.

  Until the phone rang.

  She didn’t even really pay attention to the caller ID, she just answered it, still laughing over something that the black-haired girl Jacqui had said, and then had to block her ear from Simon laughing about it to say, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Claire?’ It was Eve, and she sounded stressed. ‘Hey, uh, sorry to bother you, but I’m just giving you a quick heads-up …’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Um, things are kind of a little bit crazy here right now. So, apparently Myrnin sort of disappeared? And he might possibly be heading toward you. Just so you know.’

  Claire sat up straight, then picked up her backpack and took the phone away from the still-laughing table full of people to a quieter corner. ‘What happened?’

  ‘All I know is that Myrnin got pissed off and left, and Amelie’s not in a real good mood. She’s scary when she’s angry. So, she wants Michael to go after and make sure Myrnin comes home fast, and safe. And of course be sure that he doesn’t do something crazy enough to make the wrong people pay attention. And I guess I’m going with Michael? Because why not. You have any guest beds?’

  ‘I’ve got floor space,’ Claire said. She felt a completely conflicting mixture of elation and terror … Myrnin, on his own, wandering in the world? And why was he heading toward her? But it meant she’d see Michael and Eve again, and that could only be a good thing. ‘When are you coming?’

  ‘Uh, we’re actually in the car right now. It’s a road trip, because, y’know, vampires don’t do really well with the flying, surprisingly. I guess it’s the fear of people opening up the window shades and all the frying and screaming. Plus, it seems like a lot of them have a fear of heights.’ Claire heard Michael’s indistinct voice in the background, and Eve added, ‘Not him, though. He says.’

  ‘Tell him I said hi.’

  ‘He’s blowing you a kiss. Okay, actually, he isn’t, but he ought to, so I’m saying he did. But the point is, we’ll be there in a couple of days, since Michael says he doesn’t plan to sleep. If Myrnin pokes his crazy head up before then, call me and try to keep him, you know, stable.’

  ‘Is he unstable?’

  ‘I don’t know, how can I tell? You’re the crazy whisperer!’

  She had a point. Claire couldn’t help but smile about that. ‘So, Shane’s coming with you?’

  There was a long moment of silence on the other end. Too long. And then Eve said, ‘He – he’s working, sweetie. I’m sorry, it’s just going to be us … Um, Michael, honey, is that a cop car? … Oh shit. Okay, gotta go, love you, ’bye!’

  Before Claire could say anything else, Eve was gone into the wireless void.

  Working? Shane was working, and he wasn’t coming with them? That didn’t make any sense. He’d have blown off any job to get a ride out of town with his two best friends. Especially if they were heading toward her.

  It was upsetting. And worrying.

  Claire put her phone away and hitched her backpack to her shoulder. She cast a wistful look back over at the table. They were all talking animatedly, unaware she’d even stepped away. It had been kind of a false friendship, she thought; she’d felt like she was one of them, but really, she wasn’t. They wouldn’t miss her.

  Nick did. He was watching her, and he raised his eyebrows and mouthed, you okay?

  She nodded and pointed a thumb toward the exit. Gotta go.

  He looked as if he might get up, but then Jacqui said something to him, and he answered her, still watching Claire, and settled back down in his chair.

  She walked away. That was a good thing, she was thinking; it was a good thing that he didn’t feel like he had to follow her. She wasn’t interested.

  Dammit, she missed Shane. Why wasn’t he coming?

  What was it they weren’t telling her?

  The next couple of days passed in a blur, because Claire kept trying to get Michael or Eve or Shane on the phone, and none of them answered. It was like they were ducking her. She didn’t even have work to keep her occupied; Dr Anderson called her to tell her, in a calm but firm way, that she needed some time alone to complete a special project, so she’d assigned Claire some online reading to catch up on. It was complicated stuff, and it was the only thing Claire could really be grateful for; she’d rarely been challenged before by a professor, but this was definitely next difficulty level. Dr Anderson was not underestimating her.

  Liz finally emerged from her room, and – of course – demanded a girls’ night in with pizza and a romantic movie. Claire countered by suggesting Kill Bill, because that probably would make her feel better in the end. Liz agreed. She wasn’t tearful any more; she’d gone past shock to anger, and anger was a good thing, in Claire’s opinion. Liz being angry meant she wasn’t going to make a similar mistake anytime soon. It also, oddly, made her more likeable. And more like the girl Claire remembered from school.

  Claire went out for the pizza. Boston was ripe with excellent pizza choices, and there was one only a couple of blocks from the house; she reflexively looked around for Derrick, and spotted him in his usual spot across the street. He was sitting down on a bus stop bench, reading a book. Or pretending to. When he saw Claire, he waved.

  She flipped him off. It seemed to amuse him, which was too bad; she’d been hoping to really make him angry enough to do something he could get arrested for.

  She picked up the hot pie and was walking back with it when she spotted the creepy Professor Davis sitting at an outdoor café, enjoying a coffee with a girl young enough – again – to be his daughter. She looked captivated, too. Starry-eyed and naïve, and willing to believe that Professor Davis was that missing daddy figure in her life that would solve all her problems.

  Claire couldn’t resist.

  She changed course.

  Dr Davis and his new conquest were so into each other – or at least, she was breathlessly into him, and he was enjoying it – that it took at least a full minute for either of them to notice Claire when she paused at their table. Dr Davis even pushed his coffee cup toward her, as if she was the waiter, before looking up in annoyance, then confusion, and then – gratifyingly – worry. He straightened up in his chair, and she smiled at him.

  What would Eve do?

  It was easy enough to channel her best friend’s talent for snarky destruction.

  ‘You’re not returning my calls, Patrick,’ Claire said, in her best injured, pouting voice. ‘I thought you were going to come by to talk about our problems.’

  ‘Claire,’ he said, which was an obvious and rookie mistake; it meant he knew who she was, and she saw the chagrin settle over his face as he realised it. He turned toward the girl he was with, no doubt to protest his innocence.

  Claire didn’t give him the chance. ‘I ran into your wife at the mall and she says she is not going to give you a divorce, so what am I supposed to do about the babies? Just you wait. I’m going to make sure you step up and be a good father to our twins! You promised!’

  She didn’t wait to see the results of the bomb she’d thrown; she just held her head high and walked on with the pizza and didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. The scrape of the girl’s wrought-iron chair legs on pavement, and Patrick’s injured, wounded protests were as good as any picture. It might not matter, and probably wouldn’t; she’d torpedoed one date, bu
t he’d have another one tomorrow, or the next day.

  Still. It felt good to have a little payback for Liz.

  Claire was humming under her breath as she jogged up the steps, reaching for her keys … but she stopped dead when she saw that the door was already open. Not just open … left open by inches, and swinging gently in the breeze.

  ‘Liz?’ Claire stepped inside, heart pounding, and dumped the pizza box on the floor as she turned on the overhead light in the entry hall. The cheap yellow bulb flooded it with harsh light, but what it told Claire was that nobody had broken in here … instead, all the locks had been neatly clicked back, including the deadbolt. Liz had opened the door. ‘Liz!’

  She burst into the kitchen, but there was nothing strange there. Liz must have washed the dishes, because they were sitting neatly in the drain board, and the counters had been cleaned.

  Claire ran up the steps, but she slowed as she approached the landing to Liz’s room. The bedroom door was open, and the square of darkness seemed oppressive and scary to her. She reached around the facing of the door, found the light switch, and flipped it on.

  Liz’s unmade bed. Clothes strewn on the chair in the corner. Make-up toppled randomly on top of the dressing table. An electric candle burning on the nightstand.

  And on the floor a foot inside the door, blood, still fresh. It wasn’t just a drop. It was splashes and smears, indistinct shapes printed into the stains. Blood on the wall next to the light switch, too.

  Claire stepped over it carefully and checked under the bed, then the closet. There was no sign of her friend. She backed out onto the landing, took her cell phone out with shaking hands, and forced herself to look around with fresh eyes. There were smears of blood out here, too – not as many, but now that she was looking for them, she saw where Liz had been taken out of the room. They disappeared in a few feet, as if she’d been wrapped in something, or picked up and carried.

  Claire raced upstairs and checked her own room, just to be sure, but it seemed undisturbed. While she was doing that, she dialled the number that had sent her the text message earlier in the day.