with heat. Not a lot of pedestrians, but then, there rarely were. Shane walked with a long, loping stride, hands in his pockets; she had to hurry to keep up. She kept waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. After a while, she just started talking. “Did you have a lot of friends, growing up here?”
“Friends? Yeah, I guess. A few. Michael. I kind of knew Eve back then, but we hung with different crowds. Couple of other kids.”
“What—what happened to them?”
“Nothing,” Shane said. “They grew up, got jobs, claimed Protection, kept right on going. That’s how it works in Morganville. You either stay in, or you run.”
“Do you ever see them?” Because she’d been amazed how much she’d missed her friends back home, especially Elizabeth. She’d always thought she was a loner, but…maybe she wasn’t. Maybe nobody really was.
“No,” he said. “Nothing in common these days. They don’t want to hang with somebody like me.”
“Somebody who doesn’t want to fit in.” Shane glanced at her and nodded. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Nobody’s fault. So what about you? Any friends back home?”
“Yeah. Elizabeth, she’s my best friend. We talked all the time, you know? But…when she found out I was going away to school, she just…” Claire decided a shrug was about the best opinion she could offer about it.
“Ever call her?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But it’s like we don’t know each other anymore. You know? We have to think about what to say. It’s weird.”
“God, I know what you mean.” Shane suddenly stopped and took his hands out of his pockets. They were in the middle of the block, in between two stores, and at first she thought he was going to look in a window, but then he said tensely, “Turn around and walk away. Just go into the first store you see, and hide.”
“But—”
“Do it, Claire. Now.”
She backed away and turned, walked as fast as she dared to the store they’d already passed. It was a skanky-looking used-clothing store, nowhere she’d willingly shop, but she pushed open the door and looked back over her shoulder as she did.
A cop car was gliding to the curb next to Shane. He was standing there, hands at his sides, looking bland and respectful, and the cop who was driving leaned out of the window to say something to him.
Claire nearly fell forward as the door was jerked open, and stumbled over the threshold into a darkened, musty-smelling interior.
“Hey there,” the uniformed cop who’d opened the door said to her. He was an older man, blond, with thinning hair and a thick mustache. Cold blue eyes and crooked teeth. “Claire, right?”
“I—” She couldn’t think what to say to that. All her life she’d been told not to lie to the police, but…“Yes, sir.” She could tell he already knew, anyway.
“My name’s Gerald. Gerald Bradfield. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. She swallowed hard, wiped her sweaty palm, and shook. She half expected that he’d click handcuffs around her wrists, but he just half crushed her hand as he pumped it twice, up and down, and let go. “People been looking for you, you know.”
“I—didn’t know that, sir.”
“Didn’t you?” Cold, cold eyes, no matter what the smile said. “Can’t imagine that, little girl. Fact is, the mayor’s daughter was worried about where you might have got off to. Asked us to find you. Make sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine, sir.” She could barely talk. Her mouth had gone dry. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
He laughed. “Why would you be in trouble, Claire? No, you don’t have to worry about that. Fact is, we already know where you are. And who you’re running with. You should be more careful, honey. You’re brand-new here, but you already know a hell of a lot more than you ought. And your friends aren’t exactly the kind that guarantee a peaceful life in this town. Troublemakers. You don’t look like a troublemaker to me. Tell you what, you move back into the dorm, be a good girl, go to classes, I’ll personally make sure nothing happens to you.”
Claire wanted to nod, wanted to agree, wanted to do
“You don’t think I can do it,” he said. “I can. Count on it.”
She looked back at him, and his eyes had gone white, with little dots of pupils in the middle. When he smiled, she saw a flash of fangs.
She gasped, backed away, and grabbed for the door handle. She lunged out into the street, running, and saw Shane standing right where he’d been, watching the police car pull away from the curb. He turned and grabbed her as she practically crashed into him. “Vampire!” she gasped. “V-vampire cop. In the store!”
“Must have been Bradfield,” Shane said. “Tall guy? Kind of bald, with a mustache?”
She nodded, shaking all over. Shane didn’t even look surprised, much less alarmed. “Bradfield’s okay,” he said. “Not the worst guy in town, that’s for sure. He hurt you?”
“He—he just shook my hand. But he said he knew! He knew where I was living!”
Again, Shane didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, well, that was just a matter of time. They pulled over to ask me your full name. They added it to inventory.”
“That’s what they call it. It’s like a census. They always know how many are living in a place. Look, just walk, okay? And don’t look so scared. They aren’t going to jump us in broad daylight.”
Shane had a lot more confidence in that than she did, but she got control of her shaking and nodded, and followed him up another block to a thrift shop that looked brighter, friendlier, and less likely to have vampires lurking inside. “This is Mrs. Lawson’s place. She used to be a friend of my mom’s. It’s okay.” Shane held open the door for her, like a gentleman. She supposed his mom had taught him that. Inside, the place smelled nice—incense, Claire thought—and there were lots of lights burning. No dark corners here, and a bell rang with a pleasant little tinkling sound when Shane let the door shut behind them.
“Shane!” A large woman in a brightly colored tie-dyed shirt and big, swirly skirt hustled over from behind the counter at the back, gathered Shane up in a hug, and beamed at him when she stepped back. “Boy, what the hell are you doing back here? Up to no good?”
“Up to no good, ma’am. Just like always.”
“Thought so. Good for you.” The woman’s dark eyes landed on Claire. “Who’s your little friend?”
“This is Claire. Claire Danvers. She’s—she’s a student at the college.”
“Nice to meet you, Claire. Now. I’ll bet you didn’t come in here just to say ‘hey,’ boy, so what can I do for you?”
“Clothes,” Claire said. “I’m looking for some clothes.”
“Those we got. You’re about a size four, right? Come with me, honey. I’ve got some really nice things just your size. Shane, you look like you could use some new clothes, too. Those jeans are raggedy.”
“Supposed to be.”
“Lord. Fashion. I just don’t understand it anymore.”
Maybe she didn’t, but Mrs. Lawson had all kinds of cute tops and jeans and things, and cheap, too. Claire picked an armload and followed her to the counter, where she counted out a grand total of twenty-two dollars, including tax. As Mrs. Lawson was ringing it up, Claire looked behind her to the things on the wall. There was some kind of official-looking certificate hanging there, framed, with an embossed seal…. No, that wasn’t a seal. That was a symbol. The same symbol as the one on the bracelet Mrs. Lawson wore.
“You take care,” Mrs. Lawson said as she handed over the bag with the clothes. “Both of you. Tell Shane he needs to get himself right, and he needs to do it quick. They’ve been cutting him some slack, given what he went through, but that won’t last. He needs to be thinking about his future.”
Claire looked over her shoulder to where Shane was staring out the window, looking bored. Eyes half- closed.
“I’ll tell him,” she said doubtfully.
She couldn’t imagine Shane was thinking about anything else.
Days slipped away, and Claire just let them go. She was worried about class, but she was tired and her bruises had turned Technicolor, and the last thing she wanted to do was be the center of attention. It was better
