"It's war," he yelled back. "I had to bring out the heavy artillery. Next up, Barry Manilow!" Claire hit the POWER button on the stereo, leaving Korn thundering victoriously through the house. After a second or two, Eve turned it down. "See how easy that was?" Claire said. "What, giving up? Giving up is always easy. It's the peace that follows that sucks." Shane slithered off the bed and followed her as she headed for her room. "How was it?"
"What?"
"Everything."
"You know." She shrugged. "Normal." Yeah. She'd manipulated the second most powerful vampire in town into taking her side against a psycho bitch-queen sorority girl. She'd talked rationally about putting people's brains into computers. This was a normal day. No wonder she was screwed up. "How was yours?"
"Brisket. Chopping block. Cleaver. It's all good. You packed yet?"
"Did you just see me walk in?"
"Oh. Yeah. Guess not, then." He parked himself on her bed, flopped out again as she opened up her one battered suitcase and began filling it. That wasn't tough; unlike Eve, she wasn't a clothes fanatic. She had a couple of decent shirts, a bunch of not-so-great ones, and some jeans. She put in her one skirt, along with the shoes that matched it, and the fishnet tights. Shane watched, hands laced behind his head. "You're not going to try to tell me what to take?" she asked. "Because I figured that was why you followed me."
"Do I look crazy? I followed you because your bed is more comfortable." His smile widened. "Wanna see?"
"Not right now."
"Last chance before we hit the road."
"Stop it!"
"Stop what?"
"Looking so ..." She couldn't think of a word. He looked just as ridiculously hot to her now as he had this morning, when it had been so tough to leave. And that was a good thing. "I've got to get stuff out of the bathroom."
"Good luck. I think Eve took everything already except the aftershave." Actually, Eve hadn't; it was just that Claire didn't have a whole lot. Shampoo and conditioner, all in one bottle. A little makeup bag. A razor. She didn't really need a blow-dryer, but if she did, Eve would have packed one--or two. From the size of the suitcase, Eve was planning to take everything she'd ever owned. Back in the bedroom, Claire almost shut her suitcase, then stopped and frowned. "What did you take?" she asked. "For, you know, protection?" Shane lifted himself up on his elbows. "What, like, uh, protection?"
"No!" She felt her face flush, which was pretty ridiculous, considering what they'd done this morning. "I mean, against any vampire things that might happen. You know."
"Stakes in the bottom of the duffel bag," he said. "Brought some extra silver nitrate in bottles, too. We should be okay. It's not as if there's a big vampire problem where we're going." Maybe not, but living in Morganville had made it a reflex. Claire couldn't honestly imagine not planning for it, and she hadn't been raised here, in the hothouse. She was surprised Shane seemed so ... calm. But then, Shane had been outside of Morganville, for two years. And they hadn't been a good two years, either, but at least he knew something about what it was going to be like; more than Michael and Eve, anyway. Claire dug in her underwear drawer, came up with four silver-coated stakes, and dumped them in on top of her clothes. Just in case. Shane gave her a thumbs-up in approval. She slammed the bag shut and locked it, then wrestled it off the bed. It was heavier than she'd expected, and it wasn't one with wheels and a handle. Shane, unasked, slid off the bed and took it from her. He lifted it as if it were the weight of a bag of feathers, went into his room, grabbed his duffel, and headed toward the stairs. As he passed Eve's room he looked in, shook his head, and yelled, "You are totally on your own for that one!" Claire saw why, as she looked in. Eve had closed the suitcase and somehow gotten it to the floor, but it was the size of a trunk. At least it had wheels. Michael was downstairs when Shane and Claire came down; Shane thumped their bags down and said, "You'd better wrangle your girlfriend's bag, man. I would, but I don't want to spend the entire trip in traction." Michael grinned and zoomed upstairs. He came down carrying the suitcase as if it were nothing. Claire noticed it was new and shiny, and had hand-applied death's-head stickers and biohazard marks. Yeah, that was definitely Eve's. Oh, and it was black. Of course. "Snacks!" Eve yelped, and dashed into the kitchen. She came back with a bag full of things. "Road food. Trust me. Totally necessary. Oh, and drinks--we need drinks." She caught sight of the cooler. "Okay, not you, Michael. The rest of us." They were loading the second cooler with non-blood-related drink items when the doorbell rang. Claire opened it to find Oliver standing on the doorstep. The sun was still up, but he was wearing a hat and a long black coat, which didn't in any way make him less sinister. His hair was tied back and must have been tucked up under his hat. She wondered if it was flammable, like the rest of him. Age had made him flame-retardant, but he'd still suffer out in the sun, and eventually burst into flames, if he couldn't get out of it. He came in without waiting for an invitation. "Yeah, welcome." Claire sighed and shut the door. "We're getting stuff together. Uh, is that all you brought?" It was one bag, smaller even than Michael's or Shane's. Oliver didn't bother to answer her. He walked past, into the living room, and straight for Michael. Eve and Shane, who were bickering over the placement of the Cokes versus the bottled iced coffees, fell silent, and Claire joined them. "You're surely not taking all this," Oliver said, looking at the pile of stuff on the floor. It was, Claire had to admit, a lot--mainly because Eve's suitcase was the size of Rhode Island, but they'd all contributed. "Is there room?"