Her dad had been right on the money. She intended to spend the day trying to help Shane.
First step: see the mayor of Morganville - Richard Morrell.
Claire didn't have a car, but Morganville wasn't all that big, really, and she liked walking. The weather was still good - a little cool even during the day now, but crisp instead of chilly. It was what passed for winter in west Texas, at least until the snowstorms. They'd had a few days of fall, which meant the leaves were a sickly yellow around the edges instead of dark green. She'd heard that fall was a beautiful season in other parts of the country and the world, but around here, it was more or less a half hour between blazing summer and freezing winter.
As she walked, people noticed her. She didn't like that, and she wasn't used to it; Claire had always been one of the Great Anonymous Geek Army, except when it came to a science fair or winning some kind of academic award. She'd never stood out physically - too short, too thin, too small - and it felt weird to have people focus on her and nod, or just plain stare.
Word had gotten around that she was Bishop's errand girl. He'd never made her do anything, really, but he made her carry his orders.
And bad things happened. Making her do it, while she was still wearing Amelie's bracelet, was Bishop's idea of a joke.
All the staring made the walk feel longer than it really was.
As she jogged up the steps to Richard's replacement office - the old one having been mostly trashed by a tornado at City Hall - she wondered if the town had appointed Richard as mayor just so they didn't have to change any of the signs. His father - the original Mayor Morrell, one of those Texas good ol' boys with a wide smile and small, hard eyes - had died during the storm, and now his son occupied a battered old storefront with a paper sign in the window that read, MAYOR RICHARD MORRELL, TEMPORARY OFFICES.
She would be willing to bet that he wasn't very happy in his new job. There was a lot of that going around.
A bell tinkled when Claire opened the door, and her eyes adjusted slowly to the dimness inside. She supposed he kept the lights low out of courtesy to vampire visitors - same reason he'd had the big glass windows in front blacked out. But it made the small, dingy room feel like a cave to her - a cave with bad wallpaper and cheap, thin carpeting.
Richard's assistant looked up and smiled as Claire shut the door. "Hey, Claire," she said. Nora Harris was a handsome lady of about fifty, neatly dressed in dark suits most of the time, and had a voice like warm chocolate butter sauce. "You here to see the mayor, honey?"
Claire nodded and looked around the room. She wasn't the only person who'd come by today; there were three older men seated in the waiting area, and one geeky-looking kid still working off his baby fat, wearing a T-shirt from Morganville High with their mascot on it - a snake, fangs exposed. He looked up at her, eyes wide, and pretty obviously scared, and she smiled slightly to calm him down. It felt weird, being the person other people were scared to see coming.
None of the adults looked at her directly, but she could feel them studying her out of the corners of their eyes.
"He's got a full house today, Claire," Nora continued, and nodded toward the waiting area. "I'll let him know you're here. We'll try to work you in."
"She can go ahead of me," one of the men said. The others looked at him, and he shrugged. "Don't hurt none to be nice."
But it wasn't being nice; Claire knew that. It was simple self-interest, sucking up to the girl who acted as Bishop's go-between to the human community. She was important now. She hated every minute of that.
"I won't be long," she said. He didn't meet her gaze at all.
Nora gestured her toward the closed door at the back. "I'll let him know you're coming. Mr. Golder, you'll be next as soon as she's done."
Mr. Golder, who'd given up his place for Claire, nodded back. He was a sun-weathered man, skin like old boots, with eyes the color of dirty ice. Claire didn't know him, but he smiled at her as she passed. It looked forced.
She didn't smile back. She didn't have the heart to pretend.
Claire knocked hesitantly on the closed door as she eased it open, peeking around the edge like she was afraid to catch Richard doing something . . . well, non mayorly. But he was just sitting behind his desk, reading a file folder full of papers.
"Claire." He closed the file and sat back in his old leather chair, which creaked and groaned. "How are you holding up?" He stood up to offer her his hand, which she shook, and then they both sat down. She'd gotten so used to seeing Richard in a neatly pressed police uniform that it still felt odd to see him in a suit - a nice pin-striped one today, in gray, with a blue tie. He wasn't that old - not even thirty, she'd guess - but he carried himself like somebody twice his age.
They had that in common, she guessed. She didn't feel seventeen these days, either.
"I'm okay," she said, which was a lie. "Hanging in there. I came to - "
"I know what you're going to ask," Richard said. "The answer's still no, Claire." He sounded sorry about it, but firm.
Claire swallowed hard. She hadn't expected to get a no right off the bat. Richard usually heard her out. "Five minutes," she said. "Please. Haven't I earned it?"
"Definitely. But it's not my call. If you want permission to see Shane, you have to go to Bishop." Richard's eyes were kind, but unyielding. "I'm doing all I can to keep him alive and safe. I want you to know that."
"I know you are, and I'm grateful. Really." Her heart sank. Somehow, she'd had her hopes up, even though she'd known it wouldn't work out, today of all days. She studied her hands in her lap. "How is he doing?"
"Shane?" Richard laughed softly. "How do you expect him to be? Pissed off. Angry at the world. Hating every minute of this, especially since he's stuck in there with nobody but his father for company."
"But you've seen him?"
"I've dropped in," Richard said. "Official duties. So far, Bishop hasn't seen fit to yank my chain and make me stop touring the cells, but if I try to get you in . . ."
"I understand." She did, but Claire still felt heartsick. "Does he ask - "
"Shane asks about you every day," Richard said very quietly. "Every single day. I think that boy might really love you. And I never thought I'd be saying that about Shane Collins."
Her fingers were trembling now, a fine vibration that made her clench them into fists to make it stop. "It's my birthday." She had no idea why she said that, but it seemed to make sense at the time. It seemed important. Looking up, she saw she'd surprised him with that, and he was temporarily at a loss for words.
"Offering congratulations doesn't seem too appropriate," he said. "So. You're seventeen, right? That's old enough to know when you're in over your head. Claire, just go home. Spend the day with your parents, maybe see your friends. Take care of yourself."
"No. I want to see Shane," she said.
He shook his head. "I really don't think that's a very good idea."
He meant well; she knew that. He came around the desk and put his hand on her shoulder, a kind of half hug, and guided her back out the door.
I'm not giving up. She thought it, but she didn't say it, because she knew he wouldn't approve.
"Go home," he said, and nodded to the man whose appointment Claire had taken. "Mr. Golder? Come on in. This is about your taxes, right?"
"Getting too damn expensive to live in this town," Mr. Golder growled. "I ain't got that much blood to give, you know."
Claire hoisted her backpack and went out to try something else that might get her in to see Shane.
Of course, it was something a lot more dangerous.
She tried to talk herself out of it, but in the end, Claire went to the last place she wanted to go - to Founder's Square, the vampire part of town. In broad daylight, it seemed deserted; regular people didn't venture here anymore, not even when the sun was blazing overhead, although it was a public park. There were some police patrolling on foot, and sometimes she could believe there were shapes flitting through the shadows under the trees, or in the dark spaces of the large, spacious buildings that faced the parklike square.
Those weren't people, though. Not technically.
Claire trudged down the white, smooth sidewalks, head down, feeling the sun beat on her. She watched the grimy, round tips of her red lace-up sneakers. It was almost hypnotic after a while.