"I just thought since the two of us are more or less stuck with each other, we might as well try to be friendly, that's all. You didn't have to act as if I stole your boyfriend or something." Monica smiled slowly and pulled her sunglasses down to stare over the top. Her big, lovely blue eyes were full of shallow glee. "Speaking of that, how is Shane? Getting bored with the after-school special yet?"
"Wow, that's one of your better insults. You're almost up to junior high level. Keep working on it," Claire said. "Ask Shane yourself if you want to know how he's doing. I'm sure he'd be glad to tell you." Colorfully. "What do you want?"
"Who says I want something?"
"Because you're like a lion. You don't bother to get up unless you're getting something out of it." Monica smiled even wider. "Hmmm, harsh, but accurate. Why work harder than you have to? Anyway, I hear you and your friends made a deal that's getting you into trouble. Something with that skanky homeless Brit vamp--what's his name? Mordred?"
"Mordred is from the King Arthur stories. It's Morley."
"Whatever. I just wanted to tell you that I can take care of it for you." Her smile revealed teeth, even and white. "For a price."
"Yeah, I didn't see that coming," Claire said with a sigh. "How are you going to take care of it, exactly?"
"I can get him the passes out of town he wants. From my brother." Claire rolled her eyes and adjusted her book bag a little more comfortably on her shoulder. "Meaning what? You're going to forge his signature on a bunch of photocopies that will get everybody thrown in jail except you? No thanks. Not interested." Claire had no doubt that whatever Monica was offering, it wasn't real; she'd already talked to Monica's brother, Mayor Richard Morrell, several times about this and gotten nowhere. But Monica liked to pretend she had "access"--with full air quotes. "If that's all, I've got class."
"Not quite," Monica said, and the smile vanished. "I want the answers to the final exam in Lit 220. Get them."
"You're kidding."
"Do I look like I'm kidding? Get them, or--well, you know what kind of or there is, right?" Monica pushed the sunglasses back up. "Get them to me by Friday or you're fried, special needs." Claire shook her head and took the last two steps, walked to her class, dumped her bag at her lecture hall seat, and sat down to think things over. By the time class began, she had a plan--a warm, fuzzy plan. Some days, it was absolutely worth getting out of bed.
Chapter Four
When Claire got home, the sun was slipping fast toward the horizon. It was too early for most vampires to be out--not that they burst into flames that easily; most of the older ones were sort of flame-retardant-but she kept a sharp lookout, anyway. Instead of going straight to the Glass House, she turned at the cross street and went a few more blocks. It was like d?j? vu because her parents' house looked almost exactly like the Glass House; a little less faded, maybe. The trim had been painted a nice dark green, and there were fewer bushes around the windows, different porch furniture, and a couple of wind chimes; Claire's mom loved wind chimes, especially the big, long ones that rang those deep bell sounds. As Claire climbed the steps to the porch, a gust blew by her, sounding the bells in a chorus. She glanced up at the sky and saw clouds scudding by fast. The weather was changing. Rain, maybe. It already felt cooler. She didn't knock, just used her key and went right in, dumping her backpack in the entry hall. "Hey, I'm home!" she yelled, and locked the door behind her. "Mom?"
"Kitchen," came the faint yell back. Claire went down the hall--same as in the Glass House, but Mom had covered this version with photos, framed ones of their family. Claire winced at her junior high and high school photos; they were unspeakably geeky, but she couldn't convince Mom to take them down. Someday, you'll be glad I have them, Mom always said. Claire couldn't imagine that would ever be true. The living room was, again, disorientingly familiar; instead of the mismatched, comfortable furniture of the Glass House, the stuff from Claire's childhood occupied the same space, from the old sofa to her dad's favorite leather chair. The smells coming from the kitchen were familiar, too: Mom was making stuffed bell peppers. Claire fortified herself, because she couldn't stand stuffed bell peppers, but she almost always ate the filling out of them, just to be nice. "Why couldn't it be tacos?" She sighed, just to herself, and then pushed open the door to the kitchen. "Hi, Mom, I'm--" She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide, because Myrnin was sitting at her mother's kitchen table. Myrnin the vampire. Myrnin her boss. Crazy mad scientist Myrnin. He had a mug of something that had better not be blood in front of him, and he was almost dressed like a sane person--he had on frayed blue jeans, a blue silk shirt, and some kind of elaborate tapestry vest over it. He wore flip-flops for shoes, of course, because he seemed to really love those. His hair was long around his shoulders, black and glossy and full of waves, and his big, dark eyes followed Claire's mother as she busied herself at the stove. Mom was dressed the way Mom usually dressed, which was way more formal than people Claire's era would ever think was appropriate for lounging around the house. A nice pair of dress pants, a boring shirt, mid-heeled shoes. She was even wearing jewelry--bracelet and earrings, at least. "Good evening, Claire," Myrnin said, and transferred his attention over to her. "Your mother's been very kind to me while I waited for you to get home." Mom turned, and there was a false brightness to her smile. Myrnin made her nervous, although Myrnin was obviously making a real effort to be normal. "Honey, how was school?" She kissed Claire on the cheek, and Claire tried not to squirm as her mom rubbed at the lipstick mark left on her skin. At least she didn't use spit. "School was great," Claire said, which completed the obligatory school conversation. She got a Coke from the fridge, popped the top, and settled in across the table from Myrnin, who calmly sipped from his coffee cup. "What are you doing here?"