Bitter Blood

“No,” she said, and her voice sounded shaky. “No, I just—I had a dream. A bad one.” Liar.

He gave her a grin that made the shame bite deeper, then sank down on the bed next to her. “Shouldn’t have come up here and gone to sleep, then. Come on, sleepyhead. It’s too early for you to crash out.”

He kissed her, and he felt warm and sweet and strong and most of all, alive…and she fell into it eagerly, almost desperately. The kiss went on, and on, damp and slow, like something perfect in a dream, and she pressed close and into his arms, and all the storm inside her turned into peace, a peace so strong she could feel it glowing in her blood. She sighed onto his lips, into his mouth, and he was smiling, his hair brushing gently over her face like a ghost’s caress.

“You make me happy,” she whispered. She meant it literally—he’d just led her out of a strange, dark place and into sunlight, and the relief was so great that she felt tears in her eyes. “So happy.”

Shane pulled back and looked at her with an expression of absolute focus. His smile was blinding. “I was about to tell you the same thing,” he said, and brushed his fingers over her face. “Cheater.”

For an awful second she thought he knew about Myrnin, standing here in her room, but then with a wave of icy relief she realized he was talking about her beating him to the punch. She gave him a shaky smile. “Got to be quick.”

“Oh,” he said, and kissed her very lightly, moving his lips down her throat, “I really don’t think I do.”

She laughed, because the joy just became a pinpoint of light inside her, bright and searing, and she rolled him over and sprawled on top of him and kissed him again, and again, and again, until everything was a burst of brightness, everywhere in the world.

And when it faded, when it was dark and quiet again, she listened to the strong, fast beat of his heart with her head on his chest, and thought, I’m sorry. She wasn’t even sure what she was apologizing for, or even to whom it was directed. Myrnin? Herself? Shane? Maybe she’d let them all down, somehow.

But not again.

Never again.

Shane fell asleep next to her, out like a light, but Claire found herself humming with energy and too restless to try to close her eyes. She went out into the quiet hallway, closed the door, and sank down against the wall, turning her phone over and over in her hands. Might as well, she thought. It was late, but her parents were used to that, and they were always going on about how she didn’t call enough.

Claire dialed before she could think better of it. Her mom answered on the second ring, her tone anxious. “Claire? Are you all right, honey?”

“Fine,” Claire said. She felt a deep surge of guilt, because what did it say about her that her mom assumed she was in deep trouble every time she bothered to call? “Sorry I haven’t been to see you lately. How’s Dad? Is he doing all right?”

“Your dad’s fine,” her mom said firmly. “Except he worries about you, and so do I. He was hoping you could come home and visit soon. Any chance of that? If you want to bring your boyfriend, I suppose that’s okay.” She didn’t sound so very enthused about that. It wasn’t that she and Dad disapproved of Shane, exactly, but they were…cautious. Very cautious.

“I might do that,” Claire said. “So, are you still doing that book club thing?”

“Oh yes; I just read the best mystery novel, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Maybe you’ve heard of it…?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ve heard of it. And there are movies.”

“I didn’t think there were any theaters in Morganville.”

“There are a couple,” Claire said. “But I watched it as a rental. You should do that.”

“Oh, I have to do it over the Internet now; it seems so complicated.”

“It’s not. I could show you—”

“You know me and technology, sweetie. So, how’s school?”

“Fine,” Claire said. She knew she ought to say something more, something important, but she couldn’t seem to come up with anything much. My vampire boss, who would like to maybe be my boyfriend, just dropped in to tell me he was running away because Morganville’s too dangerous. That was a lot to dump on an unsuspecting parent, on so many levels. “Thanks for the lovely birthday gift.” It had really been lovely —Claire had been expecting an out-of-fashion dress or a gift card or something, but instead she’d gotten a hand- bound book that had pictures of her from babyhood on, with space to add more. She’d already put in some photos of her and her friends, and her and Shane. Suddenly it reminded her that she’d never taken a picture of Myrnin…and now maybe she never would.

“That’s a relief. You know, I think you work too hard at those classes. We’d be so happy to see you, honey. Do you think you might be able to come out this weekend?” Claire’s parents lived only a few towns away, in a house that they wouldn’t have been able to afford except that Morganville’s Founder had bought it for them, in a fit of conscience over their daughter’s contributions to vampire survival. Her parents had also once understood about the vampires, but not anymore. Those memories had faded almost to nothing—a deliberate action by the vamps, or by Amelie in particular. And that was okay. Claire preferred it that way—she liked them thinking she was in a safe place, with people who loved her. It was half true, anyway—the second half.

“Maybe I can try,” she said. If Myrnin was right, she might not have much choice in getting out of town soon. “Mom—I know you were disappointed at me about not going to MIT when they called me, but…”

“I trust you, sweetie. I was just afraid you’d made that decision because of—well, because of Shane. If you really made it because you weren’t ready to go, then that’s all right. I want you to do things the way that’s most comfortable for you. Your dad agrees.” There was an indistinct mumble in the background that might have been her dad agreeing, but more likely it was just the opposite, and Claire smiled.

“Shane’s not in charge of what I do,” she said. “But I won’t lie. I didn’t want to leave him here, either. So maybe there’s a little bit of that in there.”

“I—honey, I know you don’t want to hear this again, but are you sure you’re not plunging into something too quickly with him?”

It was a familiar subject, and Claire felt a white-hot stab of annoyance. Never thought of that, Mom. Wow, what insight! She wouldn’t say it…. She’d rarely been sarcastic to her parents, but that didn’t stop her from thinking it. Older people so often thought they’d been through everything, experienced everything…but it wasn’t true. Few of them had ever lived in Morganville, for instance. Or apprenticed to a vampire with poor impulse control.

“I’m not,” Claire said. She’d learned that short answers worked best; they made her sound adult and certain. Overexplaining only opened the door for more lectures. “I know you’re concerned, Mom, but Shane’s a really good guy.”

“I know you wouldn’t stay with him if he wasn’t—you’re a very smart girl. But it does concern me, Claire. And your father. You’re just eighteen. You’re too young to be thinking about spending a lifetime with someone. You’ve hardly even dated anyone else.”

Claire was just about fed up with the You’re too young litany. She’d heard it from the time she was old enough to understand the words. The format might change, but the song remained the same: too young to do whatever it was she most wanted to do. And she couldn’t resist saying, “If you hadn’t said I was too young to go to MIT at sixteen, I would never have come to Morganville.”

It was true, but it was a little cruel, and her mother fell silent in a way that told Claire she’d scored. It’s not a game, she reminded herself, but she couldn’t help a little surge of satisfaction, anyway.

When her mom restarted the conversation, it was about her new hobby, which had something to do with remodeling the house. Claire listened with half an ear as she flipped pages in her textbook that she’d opened on her lap. She still had another twenty pages of material to digest, and calling home was having the desired effect: it was making her forget all about Myrnin, and what he’d said, and focus back on her studies.

The door to her room opened unexpectedly, and Shane was standing there, bed-headed and yawning. He waved at her. She pointed to the phone and mouthed Mom. He nodded, stepped over her,