One of them was Oliver, looking bored. Of course— Eve’s family had been under Brandon’s Protection, and when Brandon had died, they’d come under his superior’s authority. Oliver’s appearance here had less to do with genuine feeling than public relations.
Father Joe stepped to the pulpit and began eulogizing a man Claire had never met, and one she doubted Eve recognized; except for the facts and figures of his life, his character seemed way better than anything his daughter had ever mentioned. From the way Mrs. Rosser nodded and cried, she was buying into the fiction wholesale.
“What a load of crap,” Shane whispered to Claire. “Her dad hit her, you know. Eve.”
Claire sent him a startled look.
“Just keep that in mind,” he finished. “And don’t shed any tears. Not for this.”
Shane could, Claire thought, be one of the hardest people she’d ever met. Not that he was wrong. Just— hard.
But it helped. The emotion swirling through, amped higher by Eve’s mother, washed over her and away without doing more than making her eyes sting. When Father Joe finished his eulogy, the organ started, and Mrs. Rosser was the first to the casket.
“Oh, God,” Eve sighed under her breath as her mother draped herself dramatically over the wood and screamed. Bloodcurdling, theatrical screams. “I guess I’d better—”
Michael went with her, and whether it was his male presence or his angelic face or his vampire blood, he was able to pry Mrs. Rosser away and lead her back to the pew, where she sat in a complete collapse, blubbering.
Eve stood there at the casket for a few seconds, back straight, head inclined, and then walked away.
Tears dripped from under her veil and pattered on her black dress, but she didn’t make a sound.
Claire filed by, but gave Eve’s dad only a quick glance; he looked—unnatural. Not disgusting, but clearly not alive. She shivered and took Shane’s arm, and followed Eve as she passed her mother without a word and headed for the exit.
Eve almost ran into her brother.
Jason had slipped in the back. As far as Claire could tell, the kid hadn’t changed his clothes at all—ever— and the unwashed smell of him was evident from three feet away.
He looked high, too. “Nice disguise, Sis,” he smirked.
Eve stopped, staring at him, and scraped the veil back from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Mourning.” He laughed under his breath. “Whatev.”
Eve deliberately looked to the side, where Detectives Hess and Lowe were sitting. “I think you’d better go.” They hadn’t noticed him yet, but they would. All it would take would be a raised voice, or Eve snapping her fingers.
“He’s my dad, too.”
“Then show him some respect,” she said. “Leave.”
She went around him. The rest of them followed, though Shane slowed down, and Claire had to tug at his arm to keep him moving.
Jason made a bring it motion. Shane shook his head. “Really not worth the trouble,” he said.
And then they were out in the vestibule, away from the choking smell of flowers and the subtle smell of death, and all Claire could think was, How is that closure?
But Eve looked better, and that was what mattered. “Let’s go have a burger,” she said.
As ideas went, that one was popular, and Claire’s spirits lifted as they walked out of the church and into the shaded parking structure, heading for Michael’s car.
They were intercepted.
Michael sensed it first—he stopped dead in his tracks, turning in a circle as if trying to pinpoint a sound the rest of them couldn’t hear.
A lithe shadow leaped down from the concrete rafters above, landed in a crouch, and grinned.
Ysandre. She rose with effortless grace and strolled toward the four of them.
“Get in the car,” Michael said. “Go.”
“Not leaving you,” Shane said. He didn’t take his eyes off Ysandre.
“Don’t be an idiot. She’s not after me.”
Shane’s eyes flicked to Michael’s face.
“Go.”
Claire tugged on Shane’s arm. He let himself be guided to the car. Michael tossed the keys.
Ysandre flashed across the open space and plucked them out of the air. She tossed them carelessly up and down in her palm, and the cool, metallic jingle was the only sound in the garage.
“Don’t get all paranoid,” she said. “I just stopped by to say hello. It’s a free country.”
“It’s car theft if you keep my keys,” Michael said. He held up his hand, and she shrugged and pitched them back. “What do you want?”
“Just wanted to make sure Mr. Shane got my invitation, ” she said. “Did you, honey?”
Shane didn’t move. Didn’t speak. As far as Claire could tell, he wasn’t even breathing.
“From the fast little beat of that heart, I guess you did,” Ysandre said, and smiled. “See you on Saturday, then. You-all have a good rest of the week.”
She walked away, high-heeled boots tapping on the pavement, and vanished into shadow.
Shane let out a slow breath.
None of them knew exactly what to say. Michael unlocked the car, and the quiet ruled for at least five minutes, until he stopped at Denny’s.
“We still eating?” he asked.
“I guess,” Shane said. “I’m not letting her ruin my appetite.”
There was a shade awning stretching from the covered parking to the front door, which Claire had never thought about before—apparently, the local Denny’s catered to vampires as much as humans even in the daytime. There were local flyers taped to the glass front doors, and Claire glanced at them on the way inside. She stopped so suddenly Shane ran into her.
“Hey! Walking here!”
“Look.” Claire pointed at the paper.
It said ONE NIGHT ONLY! and there was a black-and -white photograph of a young man with blond hair cradling a guitar.
Underneath it said Michael Glass returns to Common Grounds, and the date on it was . . . tonight.
Shane ripped it off the door, grabbed Michael’s shoulder, and held it up. “Hey,” he said. “Ring any bells? When were you going to tell us?”
Michael looked surprised, then embarrassed. “I— wasn’t going to. Look, it’s just a tryout, okay? I wanted to see if I could still—I don’t want you guys to come. It’s nothing.”
Eve grabbed the flyer and stared at it. “Nothing? Michael! You’re playing! In public!”
“That’s new?” Claire whispered to Shane.
“He hasn’t played anywhere but our living room since—” Teeth-in-neck mime. “You know. Oliver.”
“Oh.”
Michael’s face was turning pink. “Just put it back, okay? It’s not a big deal!”
Eve kissed him. “Yes, it is,” she said. “And I hate you for not telling me. Were you just going to sneak off or something?”
“Absolutely,” Michael sighed. “Because if I suck, I don’t want any of you hearing it firsthand.”
Claire taped the flyer carefully back to the door. “You’re not going to suck.”
“Not at the guitar, anyway,” Shane said, deadpan. Claire punched him in the arm. “Ow.”
Chapter 7
Michael spent two hours tuning his guitar, which was annoying, and he left early. Eve went with him, despite his protests that it really wasn’t a big thing. That left Claire and Shane to decide on their own what to do.
She made chili dogs and was putting the shredded cheese on top when Shane, fresh from video-game
