She shook her head and hugged the blanket closer, miserable both ways - her face burning hot, her body shaking with cold.
"Try to eat something," Eve said, and loaded tacos on her plate. "How about something hot to drink?"
Claire nodded. The chill seemed to be sinking in deeper, drilling toward her bones. She had no idea what would happen when it got there, but it didn't seem good. Not good at all.
She kept the blanket tight with her right hand and reached out for a taco with the left, hoping her shaking hand wouldn't scatter the contents all over the table . . . and Shane grabbed her arm. "Look," he said, before she could protest. "Look at the bracelet."
It was Amelie's bracelet, the one she wore clasped around her left wrist, the one she couldn't remove, that reminded people who it was Claire worked for (and reminded Claire, every second).
It was supposed to be gold, but its center was now pale white, as if it had turned to crystal.
Or ice.
It was smoking in the air, so cold it was giving off its own mist.
"We need to get it off," Shane said, and turned her wrist over, looking for a clasp. Claire tried to tell him there wasn't one, but he wasn't listening. "Michael, it's cold, man. It's really cold. Something's really wrong."
They were all out of their chairs now, gathered around her. Michael touched the bracelet, drew back, and locked gazes with Shane. "It doesn't come off," Michael said.
"I don't give a crap if it's not supposed to come off!" Shane snapped. "Help me!"
"It won't do any good. It's a Founder's bracelet." Michael grabbed Shane's arm when Shane tried to yank on the bracelet. "Dude, listen! You can't get it off! All we can do is get to Amelie. She can take it off."
"Amelie," Claire repeated, and tried to control her violent shaking so she could get the words out. The whole world seemed to be turning to ice, cold and toxic. "Something - wrong - with - Amelie - "
Shane glared at Michael. "Let go." When Michael did, he kept on glaring. "Shouldn't you know if something was wrong with Amelie, you being her demonic spawn and everything?"
"It's not like that," Michael said, although anger was starting to build in his blue eyes and in the set of his face. "I'm not her spawn."
"Not arguing the demonic part? Whatever you call it. She made you a vampire. Can't you tell if she's in trouble?"
"You're confusing vampires with Spider-Man," Michael shot back, but he'd already left the fight and was pulling out his cell phone. A one-button press, and he was talking, but not to Shane. "Oliver. Are you with Amelie? No? Where is she?"
Whatever the answer, he snapped the phone shut without answering, locked eyes with Shane, and said, "Let's go."
"W-w-wait," Claire managed to say, and grabbed for Shane's arm. "Wh-wh-where - "
"My question, too. Where are you going? Because I'm going with," Eve said, and jumped up to grab her patent leather skull purse.
"No, you're not. Someone needs to stay with Claire."
"Then she's going with. Womenfolk don't stay behind anymore, Mikey; it's so last century," Eve said, and Claire nodded. She thought she did, anyway; it was hard to tell, with all the shaking. "Right. Up you go, kiddo."
3
The ride in Michael's car felt like a nightmare. Eve had brought loads of blankets, and Claire was almost smothering under them, but she was still cold, and getting colder, as if her thermostat had gone drastically wrong. Her skin was turning white, her fingernails and lips blue.
She was starting to look . . . dead.
Even if she'd been trying to look where they were going, it wouldn't have done any good; Michael's car was vampire-standard, with ultratint on the windows. Human eyes couldn't get anything but murky hints of lights through it, so she just kept her attention on taking another breath, and another.
"Hey, Michael?" she heard Eve say. "Like, soon, okay?"
"I'm already breaking the speed limit."
"Go faster."
A surge of acceleration pressed Claire back in her seat. Shane was holding her, but she couldn't feel it. She'd stopped shivering now, which felt better, but she was also very, very tired, barely able to stay awake. At least the shaking had been something she could hold on to, but now there was nothing but cold, and silence. Everything seemed to be moving away from her, leaving her behind.
"Hey!" She felt something, a flash of heat against her skin, and opened her eyes to see Shane's face inches away. He looked scared. His hands were on her cheeks, trying to force heat into her. "Claire! Don't close your eyes. Stay with me. Okay?"
"Okay," she whispered. "Tired."
"I see that. But don't you go away from me, you hear me? Don't you even think about it." He stroked her skin, her hair, with hands that shook almost as much as she had before. "Claire?"
"Here."
"I love you." He said it quietly, almost a whisper, a secret between the two of them, and she felt a burst of what was almost warmth travel through her chest. "You hear me?"
She managed a nod, and thought she smiled.
Michael brought the car to a quick, sliding stop, and was out of the car before Claire could register that they'd arrived at their destination. "Hey!" Eve protested, and scrambled out after him. Shane opened the back and lifted Claire out in his arms - or rather, lifted the bundle of laundry that Claire felt like, wrapped in half a dozen blankets.
Moonlight fell blue-white over grass, trees, and headstones.
They were at Morganville's official cemetery - Restland. "Crap," Shane breathed. "Not my idea of a great night out, you know? Claire? Still with us?"