Feast of Fools (15 page)

But Eve looked better, and that was what mattered. ‘‘Let's go have a burger,'' she said.

As ideas went, that one was popular, and Claire's spirits lifted as they walked out of the church and into the shaded parking structure, heading for Michael's car.

They were intercepted.

Michael sensed it first—he stopped dead in his tracks, turning in a circle as if trying to pinpoint a sound the rest of them couldn't hear.

A lithe shadow leaped down from the concrete rafters above, landed in a crouch, and grinned.

Ysandre. She rose with effortless grace and strolled toward the four of them.

‘‘Get in the car,'' Michael said. ‘‘Go.''

‘‘Not leaving you,'' Shane said. He didn't take his eyes off Ysandre.

‘‘Don't be an idiot. She's not after me.''

Shane's eyes flicked to Michael's face.

‘‘Go.''

Claire tugged on Shane's arm. He let himself be guided to the car. Michael tossed the keys.

Ysandre flashed across the open space and plucked them out of the air. She tossed them carelessly up and down in her palm, and the cool, metallic jingle was the only sound in the garage.

‘‘Don't get all paranoid,'' she said. ‘‘I just stopped by to say hello. It's a free country.''

‘‘It's car theft if you keep my keys,'' Michael said. He held up his hand, and she shrugged and pitched them back. ‘‘What do you want?''

‘‘Just wanted to make sure Mr. Shane got my invitation, '' she said. ‘‘Did you, honey?''

Shane didn't move. Didn't speak. As far as Claire could tell, he wasn't even breathing.

‘‘From the fast little beat of that heart, I guess you did,'' Ysandre said, and smiled. ‘‘See you on Saturday, then. You-all have a good rest of the week.''

She walked away, high-heeled boots tapping on the pavement, and vanished into shadow.

Shane let out a slow breath.

None of them knew exactly what to say. Michael unlocked the car, and the quiet ruled for at least five minutes, until he stopped at Denny's.

‘‘We still eating?'' he asked.

‘‘I guess,'' Shane said. ‘‘I'm not letting her ruin my appetite.''

There was a shade awning stretching from the covered parking to the front door, which Claire had never thought about before—apparently, the local Denny's catered to vampires as much as humans even in the daytime. There were local flyers taped to the glass front doors, and Claire glanced at them on the way inside. She stopped so suddenly Shane ran into her.

‘‘Hey! Walking here!''

‘‘Look.'' Claire pointed at the paper.

It said
ONE NIGHT ONLY!
and there was a black-and -white photograph of a young man with blond hair cradling a guitar.

Underneath it said
Michael Glass returns to Common Grounds,
and the date on it was . . . tonight.

Shane ripped it off the door, grabbed Michael's shoulder, and held it up. ‘‘Hey,'' he said. ‘‘Ring any bells? When were you going to tell us?''

Michael looked surprised, then embarrassed. ‘‘I— wasn't going to. Look, it's just a tryout, okay? I wanted to see if I could still—I don't want you guys to come. It's nothing.''

Eve grabbed the flyer and stared at it. ‘‘Nothing? Michael! You're
playing
!
In public!
''

‘‘That's new?'' Claire whispered to Shane.

‘‘He hasn't played anywhere but our living room since—'' Teeth-in-neck mime. ‘‘You know. Oliver.''

‘‘Oh.''

Michael's face was turning pink. ‘‘Just put it back, okay? It's not a big deal!''

Eve kissed him. ‘‘Yes, it is,'' she said. ‘‘And I hate you for not telling me. Were you just going to sneak off or something?''

‘‘Absolutely,'' Michael sighed. ‘‘Because if I suck, I don't want any of you hearing it firsthand.''

Claire taped the flyer carefully back to the door. ‘‘You're not going to suck.''

‘‘Not at the guitar, anyway,'' Shane said, deadpan. Claire punched him in the arm. ‘‘Ow.''

7

Michael spent two hours tuning his guitar, which was annoying, and he left early. Eve went with him, despite his protests that it really wasn't a big thing. That left Claire and Shane to decide on their own what to do.

She made chili dogs and was putting the shredded cheese on top when Shane, fresh from video-game triumph, came into the kitchen. ‘‘Hey,'' he said. ‘‘Nice. Thanks.'' He shoved part of the chili dog in his mouth, standing at the kitchen counter.

‘‘You could at least sit down,'' she sighed. ‘‘We do have tables. They even have chairs.''

‘‘You want to go?'' he mumbled. ‘‘To the thing?''

Did she? Claire ate a bite of her own hot dog, hardly even aware that she was breaking her own eating-while-standing rules, and thought about it. On the one hand, it meant going out at night, and going out to Common Grounds for recreational purposes, which was sort of not done around their house these days.

But—Michael. Out in public. Playing.

‘‘Yeah,'' she said. ‘‘I would, if you don't mind. I know you don't like the place, but—''

‘‘I like it better than Eve does, trust me. Besides, I don't want her down there alone. She needs somebody watching her back while he's neck-deep in groupies or whatever.''

She laughed.

‘‘Oh, you think that's funny? Should have seen him in high school. Guy could draw the hotties every time he picked up that guitar.''

‘‘He still can, I'll bet.''

‘‘Exactly my point. Eat up. They usually start music sets around seven.''

Claire wolfed down her meal and ran upstairs for a quick shower and change of clothes. After some debate, she went with the short skirt and tights she'd last worn to crash Monica Morrell's disastrous house party, and a plain black top tight enough to match but loose enough that she wouldn't die if her parents saw her.

Shane blinked in surprise when she came downstairs. He'd thrown on different clothes, too, but they were still slacker-casual. The only sign that he was trying to make an impression was that she suspected he might have combed his hair. A little.

‘‘You look great,'' he said, and smiled. She stopped on the last step from the bottom, which put them on about equal levels, and he kissed her. Long and slow. He tasted of toothpaste, at first, but then he just tasted like Shane, and that was so, so delicious that she found herself rising on her tiptoes to get even closer. ‘‘Hold up, girl. I thought we were going out. Kissing like that, you're making me think about staying in.''

Claire had to admit, it made her think of it, too. Especially since the house was empty, and they were all alone.

She saw it cross Shane's mind, too, and for a second his eyes widened, and so did his pupils.

Oh, the possibilities.

‘‘Better go if we're going,'' Claire said regretfully. ‘‘Only—how are we getting there?''

Shane offered her his arm. ‘‘Nice night for a walk, I hear.''

‘‘Are you sure?''

He tapped her gold bracelet, then his own white hospital-issue one. ‘‘This may be the only night we get to do it in this town,'' he said. ‘‘Let's live dangerously. ''

It was nice, strolling arm in arm with Shane and not worrying (well, not worrying too much) about which danger was about to sweep in on them from the dark.

Tonight, at least, the dangers kept their distance. It was a short walk to Common Grounds, but a lonely one; Claire felt a little unreal, moving slowly in the dark past shut houses with lit-up windows. People didn't venture out much after sunset, and if they did, they went in groups, and in cars.

Two people out in the night like this . . . seemed wrong, and when they were about halfway to the coffee shop, Claire saw someone pull a car into a driveway ahead of them and jump out. The look on the woman's face was starkly panicked as she looked toward them, and Claire realized that she'd thought they were—

Vampires. Which was both funny and sad.

The woman grabbed her groceries and hurried into her house, shutting the door with a bang and locking it with a harsh rasp of metal.

Claire didn't say anything to Shane, and he didn't venture a comment, but she had no doubt he felt the same unsettling guilt. But what could they have said?
It's okay, lady, we're not here to eat you
?

Claire was glad when the hot golden spill of light from Common Grounds' front window came into view. It was obviously doing good business—cars lined the streets on both sides, and more parked as she and Shane approached the entrance. ‘‘Going to be nuts,'' Shane said, but he didn't sound displeased. ‘‘Next time I'll take you someplace nice and quiet.''

Claire searched her memory. So much had happened since she'd met Shane, but she was almost sure that this constituted their first real, actual date on their own. Which was startling, and sweet, and precious to her in ways she suspected Shane would never imagine. She savored the warmth of his hand in hers, smiled at him, and entered Common Grounds while he held the door for her.

The noise level was amazing. The coffee shop was normally quiet, although never boring, but as the sun went down, the excitement level rose, and tonight it was blowing through the roof. Every table was already crowded with people—humans, mostly, but toward the corners of the room Claire saw a few vampire faces she recognized, including Sam's. Michael's only family in town had come to support him. Sam sent her a smile and a wave, which Claire returned.

Michael himself was standing in the clear area behind the coffee bar, looking tense and a little bit blank. He was dressed in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans, and he had his acoustic guitar slung around his body. Claire thought the puka shell necklace he was wearing looked new—a gift from Eve? A good-luck charm?

Eve was standing next to him, and although she couldn't see clearly, Claire thought they were holding hands.

Claire and Shane pushed through the crowd to the bar. Shane nodded to Michael, who nodded back—all very manly—and then Shane went to place some drink orders, leaving Claire to fumble for words.

‘‘You're going to do great,'' she finally said. Michael's blue eyes blinked and focused in the here and now.

‘‘Man, I don't know,'' he said. ‘‘It was supposed to be casual—I show up and play a couple of songs. Just to get used to it again. But this—''

Somebody out in the corner of the room started clapping, and suddenly everybody was doing it, a wave of rhythmic noise.

Michael couldn't possibly get any more pale, but Claire saw the outright doubt in his eyes. Eve did, too, and gave him a quick kiss.

‘‘You can do this, Michael,'' she said. ‘‘Come on. Get out there. It's what you do.''

Claire nodded and smiled her support. Michael lifted the hinged section of the bar and stepped out, to a thunderous wave of applause. There was a small stage set up at the far end of the room, near the closed door that said OFFICE, and as Michael moved up on it, the stage lights caught and glittered in his golden hair, sparked an unearthly blue in his eyes.

Wow,
Claire thought. That wasn't Michael anymore. That was . . . something else.

Eve ducked under the bar and came to lean next to Claire, her arms folded. She had a wistful smile on her Evil Queen-red lips. ‘‘He's beautiful,'' she said. ‘‘Right? He is.''

Claire could only agree with that.

Michael adjusted the microphone, tested it, played a couple of fast finger exercises she knew he used to calm himself, and then smiled out at the crowd. It was a different smile than she'd ever seen from him before—
more
, somehow. More intense, more joyous, more personal. She felt a hot flutter somewhere deep inside as his gaze brushed over her, and immediately felt embarrassed about it.

But man, he was hot. She understood now what Shane was talking about, and she wasn't immune.

Shane touched her shoulder and handed her a drink just as Michael said, ‘‘I guess you all know who I am, right?''

And about eighty percent of the room cheered like thunder. The others—college students, who'd either wandered in or come because they were bored— looked lost.

Michael gave the mike stand one last, precise adjustment. His hands were sure now, moving with confidence. ‘‘My name is Michael Glass, and I'm from Morganville. ''

More cheers. Before they died away, Michael started to play, a fast and complicated song that Claire had heard him fooling around with at the house—but this wasn't fooling around; this was serious talent. He glittered like white gold, and music flowed out of his hands like streams of light. It wrapped around Claire like a shining net, and she didn't dare breathe, didn't move, as Michael played like she'd never heard anyone play before, ever.

She managed to glance aside at Shane, whose eyes were wide and fixed on Michael, as well. She nudged him. He gave her a dumbfounded shake of his head.

Eve was smiling, as if she'd known it all along.

Michael brought the song to a liquid, blazing finish, and as the guitar strings rang in the silence, the crowd was utterly still. Michael waited, just as motionless, and then the room spontaneously erupted in applause and cheers.

Claire thought that the smile that spread across Michael's face was worth everything about Morganville, right at that moment.