by Rachel Caine
He hooked a finger on the collar of her shirt, just about where the buttons started, and as she sat up, he said, ‘Mind if I help you with this? Because I think I need to see what you’re wearing under there.’
She smiled and moved his hand away, and unbuttoned the first button. ‘There,’ she said. ‘How’s that?’
‘I think I need at least – how many buttons do you have? Six more.’
She nipped gently at his full lower lip. ‘Only if you take off the shirt.’
He sat up as if he’d been jolted with a cattle prod, and the hoodie and T-shirt came off so fast she was afraid he’d pull a muscle. Oh God, he was lovely; even with the bruises, which made her ache inside, he was so incredibly gorgeous. It made her breath catch in her throat. So did the luminous light in his eyes as he settled back down on the pillows.
‘Your turn,’ he said, and put his hands behind his head. ‘Six buttons.’
‘Five?’
‘Only if you don’t want to keep that last one on the shirt.’
She smiled, and started unbuttoning. One at a time, slowly, watching the fire intensify in his eyes, feeling his body tensing under hers even as he tried to look utterly relaxed.
The cool air kissed her shoulders as she slipped off the blouse. ‘Pretty,’ he said. His voice sounded different now, low and rough as a cat’s tongue. ‘I guess I have to see if that bra has a matching set of panties.’
It did.
Neither of them stayed on very long, though.
Lying there, drowsy and warm in Shane’s arms, Claire couldn’t imagine how she’d walked away from him. From this. She’d had lots of frank discussions with the more worldly Eve about sex, about what could be good and bad about it. The worse, Eve had always said, was when the guy was all about getting his own thrills and treated the girl like a posable doll. Sure sign of a going-nowhere relationship.
Shane wasn’t like that, not at all. It was a collaboration, and a partnership, and he left her feeling joyous and sated and utterly, utterly calm. They had plenty to worry about, but not here. Not between them. She made a sleepy, happy sound and pressed herself closer to him; his arms were around her waist, and he made a solid, hot blanket that pressed against her back. Sometime during the afternoon they’d managed to pull the covers up over them, which was good, because their clothes were somewhere scattered on the floor in entirely random order.
Shane kissed the back of her neck, drawing a delighted shiver. ‘I missed you,’ he whispered.
She giggled a little. ‘I could tell. That first time was a little bit fast.’
He groaned. ‘You’re killing me.’
‘Only a little. The second was much better.’
He licked her ear, which made her let out a little shriek of protest, and she twisted around to face him. He propped up on one elbow, looking down at her. His hair was a mess, and she pushed it out of his eyes. ‘I love you.’
‘I know.’ He took her hand in his, and kissed the palm; his lips felt warm and damp and soft on her skin. ‘And I let you down. I know that. I’m not saying I won’t make mistakes; I will. But I promise that I won’t make that particular one again.’
‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘I make plenty of mistakes, too, you know.’
‘You mean, besides getting involved with me?’
She shook her head and kissed him. It was a drowsy, lazy kiss this time, full of honey and joy. ‘I wish it could be like this. Just … this. All the time.’
‘Life doesn’t work that way, you know that.’
‘What if it did?’
‘We’d be living in a cardboard box and starving to death?’
‘Wow, you really know how to take the sexy away, don’t you?’
‘It’s a gift.’ Shane’s fingers stroked down her back, then up, in a mesmerisingly random pattern. ‘We should probably get up and make some dinner. Plus, I guess we should wash the sheets before Pete comes back. Seems like good manners.’
‘I’m amazed you even thought of it.’
‘I’m on my best behaviour.’
‘Mmm, I could easily argue with that. Oh …’ She caught her breath, suddenly, because he tried to prove her right. He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her mouth, and then the lazy peace turned intense again, for a while. This time, though, they were truly exhausted, and it took at least another half an hour of sleepily murmuring to each other before Claire finally managed to convince him to get up, dress, and help her strip the sheets and pillowcases from the bed. Pete had one of those tiny little washer/dryer combo units tucked in the corner, and she put everything in with detergent, then showered and left her hair wet as Shane squeezed in after she stepped out. There wasn’t room for two, which was probably good, considering how sore her muscles already felt. A good kind of sore, but still.
They were both dressed, if just barely, when the door rattled, the lock turned, and Pete stepped inside. He flipped the deadbolt behind him, and stopped dead at the end of the hall. Claire and Shane were sitting innocently on the couch; she was reading one of Pete’s books, a science fiction classic by Isaac Asimov she’d been meaning to find, and Shane was flipping channels on the TV.
Pete said, ‘Why are the sheets off my bed?’
‘Just trying to help you out, do a little housework,’ Shane said blandly. ‘Hey, man. Thanks for letting us stay for a while.’
‘If by a while you mean until dawn, then yeah, cheers,’ Pete said. ‘You’ve got serious heat on you, man. I’m not just talking about the cops. Scary suit-wearing types, you know the ones, Claire. You’ve seen them before. They were looking for you, and they came looking for Shane, too. Whatever you’re in, you’re in deep. About my bed, did you two—?’
‘Look at it this way, we did laundry,’ Shane said. ‘If it was the couch …’
‘This is why I hate house guests,’ Pete said. ‘So. Pizza okay?’
They both nodded. Claire said, ‘I’m sorry about the bed, Pete. Thanks.’
‘I’m just messing with you. Hell, that’s the most fun that bed’s had in ages. If you’re about to ask if I’ve heard from Jesse, no, I haven’t. She never showed for her shift, which bugged the crap out of Mick, believe me; he was already stressed enough about you and your big bag of fun illegal weapons you were keeping on his property, Shane. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about that?’
‘What would you have done?’
‘Told Mick.’
‘That’s why I didn’t tell you. Look, man, it’s not that I’m some nutcase with a gun collection; everything I have in there goes toward keeping me and Claire safe from what you already know is out there.’
Pete wasn’t stupid, and his eyes narrowed and turned flinty-dark as he reached for the telephone. ‘Jesse’s not the problem here.’
‘Jesse’s a vampire. Whether or not she’s trouble, she’s proof that there could be others out here who aren’t so well behaved. You hang out with her … you know how dangerous she can be. Right?’
‘She’s one of the least dangerous people I know, because she does exactly what she means to do, every time. She’s never lost control of herself, not even once. Can’t say that for a lot of humans.’ He held up a finger to pause the conversation, and ordered a pizza delivery. He didn’t ask what they wanted, which Claire thought was probably fair enough; they’d abused his hospitality a bit, though he probably hadn’t expected anything else. Once he’d hung up, he went right back to the subject at hand. ‘I swear to God, if your troubles drag her out into any kind of real trouble, the ass-kicking you got last night will be a love tap, and I will use your skull for a hockey puck.’
Shane considered that for a second in silence. Claire could tell he took Pete seriously, despite the differences in their height. Whatever fighting skills Pete had, clearly Shane had seen them and respected them. ‘Understood,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think any of it’s Claire’s fault. It seems like Jesse’s in deep with this Dr Anderson, and the government piece is coming from there. Cops, I’ve got
no idea. I didn’t break any laws.’
‘She did,’ Pete said, and nodded toward Claire. ‘They’re saying you might have killed your roommate. And that Shane helped you. And by the way, your weapons stash doesn’t make you look any less guilty of that.’
‘I didn’t kill anybody,’ Claire said. ‘Liz was abducted. Shane saw them. And Jesse’s trying to trace the van. Look, Shane’s got pictures.’
Shane pulled them up on the phone and held them out, and Pete looked them over. He seemed accepting of that, at least; he handed it back without comment except a nod. Then he went into the kitchenette and got out paper plates. ‘Beer?’ he asked them. ‘I’m not going to card you. That’s the day job.’
‘I’ll have one,’ Shane said, just as Claire said no; it wasn’t that she was some kind of anti-alcohol crusader, she just didn’t like beer, overall. Pete brought her a Coke instead, and then he settled in the small armchair off to the side of the couch. They all watched the TV flicker on in silence, a cold substitute for a fire, and finally Shane said, ‘So, I guess you two already know each other, but Pete, this is Claire, my—’
‘Fiancée,’ Claire said. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to say it now, of all times and places, but she was. Shane turned his head and stared at her, and the surprise (and pleasure) in his face made her smile. ‘Hey, you asked me, remember? And I said yes? Months ago. I just thought it might be time to get on with saying it.’
‘Fiancée,’ Shane repeated. ‘As in, I’m going to marry her.’
‘Yeah?’ Pete asked. ‘Congrats. When?’
‘We haven’t talked about that yet,’ Claire said. ‘Soon?’
‘Soon,’ Shane agreed. Their fingers twined together, and he moved closer to her on the couch. ‘Of course, it could be a jailhouse romance if we’re not careful. And that would suck. We already did that a whole bunch, early on. Me in a cell, you outside …’
‘Well, for variety, maybe it’d be me in the cell this time, and you out there figuring out how to get me free. Although I’m just afraid that you might do something crazy to make that happen.’
‘It might involve illegal activity, yeah,’ Shane said. ‘I wouldn’t even mind ending up in jail with you, but they’d probably separate us. And that wouldn’t be what I had in mind. I guess our only option is to stay out of the cage, then.’
‘I think it’s a goal,’ she agreed. ‘Did you hear anything at all from Jesse, Pete?’
‘I got a text, she said she was following a lead. That was it. I’m hoping she’ll end up here soon … she usually just drops in without notice. Vampires aren’t real respecters of personal privacy, seems like.’
The washer dinged to let them know the cycle was done, and Claire quickly rose and took care of loading the wet sheets into the dryer. It seemed like the least she could do. Pete and Shane didn’t chat. It wasn’t like Shane and Michael, who had an easy, almost unconscious connection that neither of them really had to think about much; Shane had to read Pete, try to figure out what he really meant and felt. Maybe that connection would develop, over time, but for now, Pete just seemed a little guarded, a little wary.
Maybe that was just his default setting.
There was a knock on the front door, and Pete headed for it. Shane got up, too, frowning. ‘That was too quick for pizza,’ he said. Pete nodded without pausing; he had a baseball bat hidden in the shadows near the doorway, and he grabbed the length of wood on his way. Then he checked the peephole.
‘Is it the police?’ Claire asked. She felt a little short of breath, suddenly, because if it was, there didn’t seem to be an easy way out of this place. Defensible, but limited retreat. And they couldn’t fight their way out, not against regular human police. It would be wrong on every level, even if they weren’t guilty.
‘No,’ Pete said. There was an odd tension in his voice, and he stepped back from the door, opened it, and said, ‘Get in, quick.’
It happened fast – one second he was standing alone on the doorstep, and the next … the next, there were three people crowding the hallway with him. Two supporting a limp, maybe unconscious third.
As Pete slammed and locked the door, Claire bolted forward. So did Shane.
And Eve let out a strangled little sound that was half glad cry, half sob.
She and Jesse were supporting the dead weight of a very pale, very still Michael Glass.
With a wooden stake in his heart.
‘Christ, is that guy dead?’ Pete blurted out, when he saw the stake. Shane ignored him, grabbed Michael’s weight by the shoulders, and helped Jesse carry him over to the couch. Eve followed, and Claire hugged her hard when she paused to try to catch her breath. She was shaking all over.
‘He’s okay,’ Claire said, and rubbed her back. ‘Eve, it’s okay, it’ll be okay …’
‘Pull it out,’ Shane snapped at Jesse, who had crouched down beside the couch to stare at the stake in Michael’s chest. ‘Hurry up, he’s too young, it could really hurt him.’
‘Stop! Don’t touch it. It’s spring-loaded,’ Jesse said, and pointed to a symbol burnt into the side of the wood. ‘I know this mark. It’s a Daylight Foundation inventory sign. It’s got a silver payload built in. If you try to remove it, it’ll flood his heart with silver. It’ll kill him.’
Shane had reached out for the stake, but now he pulled back, eyes narrowed and simmering with fury. ‘Who the fuck is the Daylight Foundation?’
‘Trust me, nobody you need to screw around with,’ Jesse said. ‘There’s a method for disarming this thing, but we need to be very careful. I’ve got some experience. Let me handle it.’
‘What the hell happened out there?’ Shane demanded. No one answered him, not even Eve; she was staring down at Michael, her face ashen. Claire held on to her, because it seemed that, after having made the single-minded effort to get Michael to safety, Eve had completely lost all strength to keep herself upright. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t doing anything, except … waiting, with a kind of fatal, desperate patience. The ruby wedding ring flashed and trembled on her clenched left hand. ‘Claire. Claire. Go check the door, make sure nobody’s coming after them.’
She didn’t want to leave Eve, but he was right; it was important. Pete seemed rooted to the spot, staring at the completely unexpected second vampire in his living room; he seemed to be rethinking his whole life strategy, in that single moment.
‘Go,’ Eve whispered. ‘I’m okay.’ She stood on her own, somehow, and Claire squeezed her arm and rushed to the door to look through the peephole.
There was a streetlight conveniently situated outside that cast a harsh glow over the sidewalk, which seemed deserted except for Jesse’s car, parked across the street. The peephole didn’t offer much of a glimpse off to the sides, but Claire was pretty certain that everything was clear. She turned back and gave a thumbs-up sign to Shane, who nodded and looked down at Michael again with tense, desperately still silence.
Then the door behind Claire’s back vibrated under a sudden, very strong volley of knocking. Too strong. Claire yelped and whipped around to stare out the peephole again, and saw a pallid face under a shock of wildly windblown black hair. No human being was naturally that pale.
She unlocked it and said, ‘Get in, quick!’ because it was Myrnin … and behind him, Oliver.
The two vampires entered in a rush of displaced air, and Oliver quickly shut and locked the door again. He leant against it, seeming tired – weirdly – and Claire had a chance to think, Why is Oliver here? Because even though he’d been exiled from Morganville by Amelie, she didn’t think he had any reason to be poking around this part of the country. Oliver looked ragged, too – and dressed down, in worn blue jeans grimy with oil, a faded, loose T-shirt with some kind of wolf design on it, and his long, salt-and-pepper curly hair worn in a loose, sloppy ponytail in back. It didn’t seem to have had a wash recently. Neither did he.
And Myrnin … well, at least he wasn’t dressed any worse than he usually was, but he seemed
very pale, and not any cleaner than Oliver. They’d both been travelling hard, she guessed, although vampires didn’t really smell bad, unless they came in contact with things that did. From the general miasma around the two of them, they’d been around rotting garbage for a while.
Myrnin stared at her for a long few seconds, then scraped his disorderly hair back from his face, and said, ‘They don’t have you, then. But do they have it?’
‘It? What does that mean?’ Claire asked. He didn’t answer her. He just hugged her, suddenly and violently, and before she could even make a surprised sound he was gone. It was like being hugged by a snowman, only less … moist. And more unpleasantly fragrant.
Oliver said, ‘We went to see Irene Anderson. Myrnin has a good relationship with her, even now. However, she was … unhelpful. She had no idea where you had gone, only that you had taken the device with you from her laboratory.’
‘I – wait, what? I didn’t take anything!’
‘Oh,’ Myrnin said, and turned back toward her from where he stood next to Eve. ‘Oh, that is such very, very bad news. Because if you didn’t, someone did. Someone with laboratory access, since I personally reviewed the records.’
Myrnin sounded … sane. Despite the tangled hair, the dirty homeless-style clothes, the smell of garbage and the whiff of things much worse. He looked taut, worried and paranoid, but not crazy.
So, things were very, very bad, then. Claire sometimes thought of him as only recreationally crazy; when things were life and death, her boss (and friend) seemed to make a concerted effort to view things with icy precision. He paid for it later, but she’d never been less than grateful to him for making the effort.
‘You’re saying someone broke into Dr Anderson’s lab and took VLAD.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘VLAD?’
