Ghost Town

“What else? You’ve cleaned me out. I don’t have dessert,” he murmured. The words were coming from somewhere deep in his throat, a kind of growling purr that made her feel nuclear hot inside. “Unless you were thinking—”

“I don’t know; what am I thinking?” She smiled slowly at the look in his eyes, and felt absolutely wicked. “Any guesses?”

“I think I just became psychic,” he said. “Holy crap.”

“Romantic.”

“You want romantic? Date—”

She put two fingers on his lips, hushed him, and then kissed him, long and warm, with tongue. When she was finished, she let him breathe. “You were saying?”

“Not a damn thing,” he said, and used both hands to hold her hair back from her face. “How’d you get to be so good at this?”

“I had a good teacher.”

“Better not have been Myrnin or I’ll have to kick his predatory ass.”

“I mean you, dummy.”

“Oh.” He kissed her back, and somehow they rolled over again, and this time she was on the bottom. It could have felt like suffocation, but he was good at this. It just felt . . . sexy. “How am I doing now?”

“I’m learning all the time.”

“Well, you’re a scholar.” He trailed a finger down her neck, into the open part of her shirt, to where the first button held it closed. It felt like every nerve in her body paid attention to that, to the pressure, the slow speed at which his finger moved, the tug of fabric where he stopped. “Oh, damn, sorry.” The button slipped out of the hole. “You’re undone.”

She looked down. The top of her cream-colored bra was showing, but only the top. It wasn’t X-rated yet. It wasn’t even PG, except that they were outside, and anybody could walk by and see them. Somehow it didn’t feel like that, though. Here, with him, she felt like there was nothing else in the whole world except the two of them.

“Um, Claire?” Shane said. His finger had moved down to touch the skin right at the top of her bra. “Maybe we should finish our tacos inside.”

“What about—”

“Eve and Michael are at work. I go in at two.”

Oh. “That might be a good idea, then.”

He stood up and helped her rise, and they gathered up the plate and Cokes and went inside.

Best. Lunch. Ever.

Claire spent the rest of the afternoon humming around, ridiculously happy; when Eve came home and saw her, she put down her coffin-shaped purse and said, “You look mussed. If I wasn’t a total lady, I’d guess that you and Shane—”

“Excuse me? You’re a lady?”

“I bought a title on the Internet. I own one square inch of Scotland, you know. And you’re changing the subject.” Eve gave her a sharp grin and grabbed her hand. “Give, already. Deets.”

“I’m not telling you details.”

“Sure you are. We’re girls. It’s what we do!”

“If we were guys, that would be gross.”

“Wait, checking . . .” Eve held an invisible phone to her ear. “Nope. We’re still girls, and the referee says that makes it okay. So give it up, Danvers. You look starry-eyed. It must have been fantastic.”

Claire might have actually told her, at least up to the parts that made her blush, but just then, Michael came in the front door toting his guitar, tossed his keys into the tray on the hall table, and yelled, “Eve’s got dinner duty!”

“Hey!” Eve yelled back, and stomped her foot. “Your timing sucks, Michael!”

“Why, was there hot wild-girl action—”

“Shut up, you perv.”

“Can’t catch a break,” he said, and flopped down in the chair. “I was just speaking for Shane, since he’s off heroically chopping barbecue for money. Hey, you guys notice anything weird happening the last couple of days?”

Claire forgot all about the fun she’d just been having, and focused in on him with laser intensity. “Other than the vampire going nuts at the diner, you mean?”

“Yeah, I see your point, but I mean . . . more people acting weird. More than usual. Two of my guitar students didn’t show up. When I called one of them, he said he didn’t know what I was talking about, and he wasn’t learning the guitar. Which is definitely strange, because he’s already paid me for the whole month.”

Michael had noticed it. It wasn’t all in her head. Claire swallowed and glanced at Eve, who was frowning, too. “I guess,” Eve said slowly, and crossed her arms over her black and pink striped rugby shirt, with a skull where the logo should have been. “When I got to the coffee bar on campus, there was this girl wandering around, asking everybody if they’d seen her roommate. Trouble is, she doesn’t have a roommate. She hasn’t for, like, years. But she was describing her like she actually existed.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Michael nodded. “Weird shit. I met at least two other people today who thought it was a couple of years ago. What the hell, right?”

“Right,” Claire said softly. Her good feelings, intense though they’d been, were officially gone now. Whatever was happening in Morganville, it wasn’t in her head, and it was spreading.

She was going to have to go to Amelie if Myrnin didn’t want to believe it. They had to take the system offline, run a full diagnostic. There was just nothing else to do.

Amelie wouldn’t like it. Oliver really wouldn’t like it.

“It’s probably nothing big,” Eve said, and both Michael and Claire looked at her like they’d never seen her before. “I mean, it’s Morganville. Not like anybody here is ever far from the borders of Psychoville. I mean, I want to go nuts about twelve times a day.”

Michael stood up, facing Claire. “You know something about what’s going on, don’t you?” he asked, and she saw a flicker of vampire red in his blue eyes—just a spark, but enough to let her know he was serious. “Is it what you and Myrnin were working on? Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”

She just had no idea how to do that without Myrnin’s help.

When she got up, Claire checked the calendar and saw that there was another Elders’ Council meeting scheduled for noon. That was the best time, she thought; she could probably get in, and once she laid it all out, Richard would be on her side, and Hannah. Hannah probably had more info about the weirdness than anybody else. Amelie and Oliver would have to act.

Going to the Elders’ Council wasn’t something Claire took lightly. She took a shower, fixed her hair carefully, dressed in her best black shirt and pants, and added the delicate cross necklace that Shane had given her, back when they’d first started all this. She had his mother’s claddagh ring on, too. It made her feel stronger.

Downstairs, she turned on the TV while she ate her breakfast—eggs wrapped in a flour tortilla, with salsa. She tuned to the local Morganville station. Usually it was full of town propaganda about how great everything was, but not today; today, somebody had decided to put on some actual breaking news.

FAMILY OF FOUR KILLED IN MURDER/SUICIDE

Claire choked on her breakfast burrito. She didn’t know the names that flashed on the screen, but it was awful enough, anyway; the kids were fourteen and twelve. The dad had freaked out yesterday, gotten hospitalized in the crazy ward overnight, then been sent home.

That had been a mistake, and now there were dead people. Dead kids.

Claire called up the Morganville Police Department and asked to be put through to Chief Moses. Hannah wasn’t in the office, but the switchboard put the call through to her in her patrol car. She sounded stressed. “What is it, Claire? It’s a busy day.”

“I understand, but I need to get into the Elders’ Council today. Can I go with you?”

“Why would you want to do that?”