“We’re getting married!”
Shane froze in place and his arm sagged. His fist opened and dropped to his side. He just stared at her for a couple of heartbeats, and then shook his head so violently, his shaggy dark hair lashed his face. “You’re what?”
“We’re getting married. And if I want to let him bite me, it’s none of your damn business. And, anyway, you don’t know what happened or why, so just shut your mouth, Shane.” Her voice was trembling now, but she was trying to look sure of herself. “No, never mind. Open it and congratulate us. You owe us that.”
“No.”
“Why not? Because you don’t approve? You asshole!” Eve shoved him, and Shane let her push him back, off Michael. He sat on the floor, suddenly limp, staring down at his open hands. His knuckles were bruised—they’d been bruised a lot lately, and cut and swollen. Claire had assumed at first that it had been martial arts practice, but now she was thinking…it was fights. Real fights.
Like this one.
Michael sat up, putting his arm around Eve. She touched his face where he’d been hit and said, “Does it hurt? Are you okay?”
“It stings,” he said. “Shane packs a hell of a punch these days.” He looked into her eyes for a long few seconds. “I didn’t think you wanted to tell anybody yet.”
“I didn’t,” Eve said. “But it just—it just kind of came out. Sorry. I wanted to have a big party for the announcement, you know, but…I had to say something to make him stop.”
“He wasn’t going to hurt me. Not much, anyway.”
“Maybe not, but you were going to have to hurt him if he didn’t back off. And I didn’t want that.”
Claire didn’t know how she felt about all this. Sure, she loved Michael and Eve, and she knew they were together, but this…this seemed fast and final and odd. Like they were rushing into something.
She felt anxious about it, and she had no idea why.
Michael pulled Eve close again and kissed her with authority. Eve sighed and snuggled against his chest, and both of them looked at Shane and Claire, who was kneeling beside him. She wanted to ask Shane if he was all right, but it would sound stupid under the circumstances. Of course he wasn’t all right. This was so not all right.
None of it was right.
She reached out, placed her fingers under his chin, and tipped his face up. His eyes were shimmering with tears, and he looked young and terribly frightened.
Lost.
“What’s happening to me?” he asked. “God, Claire, why did I do that? I don’t do that. I don’t get angry for—for nothing. I didn’t used to, anyway.” He swallowed. “Do you think…? Is it…? Maybe it’s because…my dad…He wasn’t always an abusive asshole, you know; he just got that way. He’d get in these moods and he’d…he’d…” He gulped for air, as if he was drowning, and the misery and pain in his voice made her ache inside. She didn’t think; she just put her arms around him and held him, fiercely loving him, afraid for him, afraid for all of them. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. I don’t want to be like him. I don’t. I can’t. Please help me.”
“You’re not,” she whispered, lips close to his ear. “I swear you’re not.”
“Then why did I do that? I wanted to kill him, and it’s like I couldn’t stop myself.”
She didn’t know, either. She held him and they talked in soft, almost wordless murmurs, and his arms around her were strong but shaking, and she pretended not to feel it when his tears soaked through her shirt.
Michael and Eve left sometime during all that. The food sat cold on the table when Claire raised her head to check. Shane’s skin felt cold and damp to the touch. “You should eat,” she said. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”
He laughed wretchedly. “You think if I eat I’ll stop being a complete dick?”
“You’re not.”
“Only because I’m not good at anything. Including that.”
God, he was just falling apart, and she didn’t know what to say. Claire got him to stand up and then sit down at the table. She carried the food back into the kitchen to warm it in the microwave and found that Eve and Michael were in there, engaged in a quiet, intense discussion themselves. They stopped when they saw her.
“We should eat,” she said, and pushed microwave buttons.
“Something’s wrong with him,” Eve said. “You saw. You know.”
“Let’s eat,” Claire said. “We’re all tired and hungry and nervous.”
“Claire—”
“Please.” Her voice broke when she said it, and she had to wipe her eyes to keep tears from falling. “Just sit down and eat!”
But when she carried the food out, Shane’s seat at the table was empty. She checked his room, but he wasn’t there, either.
He was gone.
And she didn’t know where.
SHANE
I sat there alone at the table, looking at the house that had meant so much to me. My home. And it didn’t feel like home anymore. Nothing felt right—least of all me. I didn’t fit here anymore. I was dangerous. Something was wrong with me, and I couldn’t take the risk I’d hurt Claire. I couldn’t stop thinking about Eve’s face as I’d been about to punch her, about the shocked, furious, haunted look she’d given me.
About how I’d seen my dad’s face in that reflection.
I hated Michael now, hated him, and I didn’t want to. He was my best friend, my buddy, my rock, but that didn’t matter inside me now. He was just one of them.
It hurt. Bad.
Hearing Eve say she was marrying him…It tore everything apart. I hated him, and I couldn’t hate him. I loved her, and I couldn’t not hate her, too, because she’d made that choice. None of it made any sense anymore. I hated the people I was supposed to love. Not Claire—that was pure; it was perfect. I couldn’t hate her.
Not until I thought about Myrnin. Not until I remembered what Jester had said… She’s marked. I can smell the bite on her. Not her fault, but I hated that Myrnin had that claim on her. That I couldn’t make it go away, no matter how much I tried.
Vassily had promised me money, and he’d delivered. He’d also promised me and Claire a way out.
And I had to take it soon, because there wasn’t going to be anything left to save.
Claire was in the kitchen, talking to Michael and Eve, and a sensation swept over me…paranoia, probably. I just knew that she was trying to make it all okay, that we would all have to sit together and pretend, just pretend that the cracks weren’t big enough to fall through.
And I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.
I got up and left, closing the door quietly behind me.
Out in the dark, no Protection, no vampires who would snap their fingers and make sure I could walk around in safety—not that it worked that way, no matter what they promised. I had gotten a letter in today’s mail; I was overdrawn at the blood bank again, and if I didn’t show up to pay my taxes soon, the Bloodmobile would come calling. They weren’t gentle when that happened. They came in, grabbed you, strapped you down, and stuck a needle in your vein, whether you liked it or not.
Sometimes they forgot to take it out when you filled up your pint. Or two. Or three.
Sometimes people just didn’t come out again.
No way I was going to do that anymore. I wasn’t part of this. I was going to get out and take Claire with me.
I walked to the gym. If there were vampires out there in the dark, stalking me, they’d be sorry, and they must have sensed it, because I made it there without anybody touching me. I was sweating, even in the cold wind; there was steam coming off my skin. I felt shaky, though. Empty again. Not hungry, but thirsty.