It was, Claire realized, a really good strategy. The guy didnt seem like the type to come and pick a fight over something that small, especially with a girl of Jennifers size (and reputation). So he finally shrugged and stood there awkwardly, resigned to his fate.
Jennifer jammed the chair in between Monica and Claire and sat down. Monica and Gina clapped, and Jennifer, finally, stopped glaring and grinned, proud to have earned their approval.
It was just . . . sad.
Claire shook her head. She still wanted to sit down and rest, but it really wasnt worth the small victory to be part of this. She stood up, grabbed her chair, and towed it across the crowded room to slide it next to the guy Jennifer had stolen the chair from, who was still standing. Here, she said. Im leaving anyway.
Now he really looked confused. So did Monica and her Monickettes, as if the concept of givebacks had never crossed their path before. Claire sighed, shifted the weight of her backpack, and prepared to leave, mocha in hand.
Hey! Monicas grip on her elbow dragged her to a stop. What the hell? I want you to stay!
Why? Claire asked, and jerked her arm free. So you can needle me for an hour? Are you really that bored?
Monica looked even more confused. Nobody ever turned down being part of the queen bees inner circle. After that second of vulnerability, though, her face hardened. Dont diss me, Danvers. Im warning you.
Im not dissing you. Claire sighed. Im ignoring you. Theres a difference. Dissing you implies I think youre actually important.
As she walked out, she heard someone behind her laugh and clap. They were quickly hushed, but it still warmed her just a little. She didnt often get up in Monicas grille that directly, but she was sick of the games. Monica just needed to move on and find somebody else to poke her pins into.
The mocha was still delicious. Maybe even just a little bit more delicious for being outside in the open air, come to think of it. Claire nodded to a few people she knew on the street, all of them permanent residents, and strolled down the block. She wasnt in the mood to shop for clothes, but the little faded bookstore farther down beckoned her.
Book Mad was a dusty hole-in-the-wall, crammed floor to ceiling with stacks of volumes inas far as Claire had ever been able to tellonly a vague sense of order. Generally, nonfiction was at the front and fiction at the back, but you really could never tell. The stacks never seemed to get any smaller, nor was the dust ever disturbed, but she was always finding new stuff she hadnt seen before.
That was weirdly entertaining.
Hi, Claire, said the proprietor, Dan, a tall guy about her fathers age. He was thin and a little nerdy, but that might just have been the glasses, which were either wickedly retro or seriously lame; Claire could never decide. He had on a funny T-shirt, as usual. Todays featured a cartoon figure running from a giant T. rex, and it read EXERCISE: SOME MOTIVATION REQUIRED. She tried not to smile, but lost the battle. It really was funny. Got some physics stuff that just came in. Its over there. He gestured vaguely off into the distance. Claire nodded.
Hey, she said. Where do you get the books? I mean, theyre old. Some of them are really kind of ancient.
He shrugged and looked down at the antique register on the counter, and brushed some dust off the keys. Oh, you know. Around.
From a storage room in the library? Maybe on the fourth floor? She had him. He looked up at her, eyes narrowing. Ive been in there. I was wondering what they were going to do with all that stuff once they were done with it. So, who gives you the books?
I dont know what youre talking about, Dan said, and all the warmth was gone suddenly. He looked uncomfortable and suspicious, and the funny T-shirt suddenly didnt fit his mood at all. Let me know if you find anything you want.
The fourth floor of the schools library had been a locked maze of boxes of old books, gathered from who-knew-where by the vampires. At the time Claire had visitedwell, broken invampires (no doubt reporting to Amelie, the towns Founder) had been combing through looking for one particular book. Shed wondered what theyd planned to do with all the rest once their quest was finished.
Naturally, it turned out Amelie was making money off of the extra books. Vampires were nothing if not practical.
As Claire was thumbing through the dusty stacks, squinting to read faded titles, occasionally sneezing from the smell of old paper, she found a slim, leather-bound volume that was still in pretty good condition. No title on the spine, so she pulled it out and looked at the front. Nothing on the front, either.
Inside, on the first page under a sheet of old onionskin, was a black-and-white photograph of Amelie. Claire blinked and took her time looking; yes, it really was her. The Founder of Morganville looked young and fragile, with her white-gold hair piled up in a complicated style on top of her head that showed off her very long, elegant neck. She wore a black dress, something from the 1800s, Claire guessed, with lots of sleeve and tons of skirts and petticoats. There was something about her eyesthe photograph had made them even lighter than the icy gray they usually were.
It was deeply spooky.
Claire flipped a page and read the title:
A HISTORY OF MORGANVILLE
Its Important Citizens and Events
A Chronicle of Our Times
She blinked. Surely they hadnt meant for this to end up in the used bookstore, where anybody could pick it up and find it. Shed never seen anything like it before.
And, of course, she had to have it. Shed been burning up with curiosity about Amelie ever since shed met her; the Founder seemed to have so many secrets that it was hard to know where they started and stopped. Even though Amelie had, from time to time, helped her out, and had given her Protection that had saved her life at one time, Claire really didnt know that much about her, except that she was old, regal, and scary.
The penciled price on the inside of the cover was only five dollars. She quickly found a few more obscure science titles, buried the history in the stack, and hauled the books up to the front.
Dan snorted. Youre never going to cram all that in your backpack.
Yeah, probably not, she agreed. Could I have a sack?
What do I look like, Piggly Wiggly? Hang on. He rooted around behind the counter, sending up choking clouds of dust that made even him cough, and finally handed over a battered old canvas bag. She started counting out money, and he quickly flipped open the books and added up the totals. He wasnt paying attention, which was good; he just added it up and said, Twenty-seven fifty.
That was an awful lot, pretty much all she had at the moment, but she kept smiling and handed it over. As soon as the cash had left her palm, she grabbed the bag and started stuffing things inside.
Whats your hurry? he asked, counting out the fives and ones. Its not close to sundown.
Class, she said. Thanks.
He nodded, opened the register, and put the cash inside. She felt him watching her all the way to the door. It occurred to her that she didnt know which vampire owned this business, or how he or she might feel about the sale of the book . . . but she couldnt worry about that now.
She really did have class.
TWO
It didnt take long at all to read the book. She stopped in a park on the way home and sat in a sun-faded rubber swing seat and rocked slowly back and forth as she flipped pages.
It was about people shed never heard of . . . and people she knew. Amelie, for one. Amelies disputes with various vampires. Amelies decisions to sentence this person for his crimes, spare that one. There were other vampires profiled, too. Some shed never heard of; she supposed that theyd died, or left, or maybe they were just reclusive. Oliver wasnt in the book, because he was a latecomer to town. Neither, curiously, was Myrnin. She supposed Myrnin had been a closely guarded town secret from the very beginning.
It was weirdly interesting, but overall, she didnt know what good it was going to do her to know that Amelie had once filed a complaint against a man who owned a dry-goods store (what was a dry-goods store?) for cheating the human customers. And that the complaint had gotten his store taken away from him, and hed opened the towns first movie theater.
Boring.
In the end, Claire dropped the book into her backpack and thought about mailing it anonymously to the library. Maybe that was where it really belonged, anyway. She thought about it on the way home, but she ended up worrying about whether vampires could somehow sense shed handled it. CSI: Vampire. Not a comforting thought.
Youre late, Michael remarked, as she walked into the Glass House through the kitchen door. He was standing at the sink washing dishes; there was nothing odder to her than seeing her housemate, who was all kinds of smoking-hot, not to mention all kinds of vampire, up to his elbows in suds at the sink. Did rock stars really do their own housework? Also, its not my day to do the kitchen. Its yours.
Is that your passive-aggressive way of trying to get me to pick up your laundry duty?
I dont know. Is it working?
Maybe. She put her bags down on the table and went to join him at the sink. He washed plates and handed them over, and she rinsed and dried. Very domestic. I was reading. I forgot what time it was.
Bookworm. He flicked suds at her. Michael was in a really good mood, no question about that; he had been for the last couple of months. Getting out of Morganville and recording his music with a real, genuine recording company had been good for him. Coming back had been hard, but hed finally settled into the routine. They all had. It had been a crazy, weird vacation, almost like something theyd dreamed, Claire decided.
But damn, it had felt good to be out there with her friends, on the road, without the shadow of Morganville hanging over them.
Michael abruptly stopped laughing, and just looked at her with those big blue eyes. That made her go momentarily dizzy, and she felt a blush coming on. Not that he was flirting with hernot more than normalbut he was looking at her a lot more deeply than usual, and he didnt blink.
Finally he did, turning his attention back to the sink, and washed another plate before he said, Youre nervous about something. Your heartbeats faster than normal.
You can hearOh. Of course you can. He hadnt been staring at her so much as the blood moving through her veins, she thought. And that was kind of creepy, except it was Michael. He made creepy adorable, most of the time. I ran part of the way home; thats probably it.
Hey, if you dont want to tell me, dont. But I can tell when you lie.
Okay, that was supercreepy. You can?
He smiled grimly down at the dirty dishwater. Nope. But see? You fell for it anyway. Careful, or Ill read your mind with my incredible vampire superpowers.
She sighed and wiped her hands as he pulled the plug on the dishwater and let it swirl away into the dark. The kitchen looked like someone actually cared. She really did owe him laundry, probably.
Claire tossed him the dish towel. That was a mean trick.
Yeah, still a vampire. Spill it.
As he wiped his hands and arms free of suds, she opened up the bag on the table, rooted around to find the slim volume, and handed it over. He sank into a chair. As he looked it over, his eyebrows went up and up. Whered you get this?
The used bookstore, she said. I dont think Danyou know, the guy who runs itknew it was there. Or if he did, maybe itsI dont knowfull of lies? But thats a picture of Amelie, right?
I didnt know there were any, but thats definitely one. Michael closed the book and handed it back. Maybe its Morganville propaganda. Seems like Amelies done that from time to time, in which case, no big deal. But if its not
If its the real history of Morganville, then I should take it to Amelie before I get in trouble. Yeah, thanks, Dad. Already figured that one out.
He leaned forward on his elbows and grinned. You are a difficult kid. But a smart one.
Not a kid, she said, and shot him the finger, just like Eve or Shane would have done. Hey, whos on dinner patro
Before she could finish the last word, the front door banged open, and Eves cheery voice echoed down the hall. Hellooooo, creatures of the night! Put your pants back on! Foods here, and I dont mean me!
Michael pointed mutely in that direction.
Tell me shes not bringing leftover sandwiches from the University Center, Claire moaned as Eve burst into the kitchen door with a white paper bag in hand.
I heard that, Eve said, and opened the refrigerator to dump the bag inside. I got you the bacteria special; I know how much you like that. The UC kitchen staff sends their love. Whassup, dead guy?
Not dead yet, Michael said, and rose to kiss her. Except for the cool bluish tone to his skin, he looked like any other boy of nineteen; the sharp, pointy teeth were folded up, like a snakes, and when he was like this Claire actually kind of forgot he was a vamp at all. Although he was wearing a faded T-shirt that had a happy face on it, with vampire fangs. Eve had probably bought it for him.
Eve herself had to stand just a bit on tiptoe for the kiss, which went on about five seconds too long for it to be just hi-honey-welcome-home, and when they parted, Eves cheeks were flushed even under the white Goth makeup. After a hard day of pulling shots at the TPU coffee shopshe alternated now between there and Common Groundsshe still looked cheerful and alert. Maybe it was all that caffeine. It just soaked right into her body without her even having to drink it. She was wearing black tights with orange pumpkins on themleft over from Halloween, Claire assumed, but Halloween was a year-round holiday for Evea tight black skirt, and three layers of thin shirts, each a different color. The one on top was sheer black, with a sad-eyed pirate skull printed on it.
I like the new earrings, Claire said. They were silver skulls, and the little eye sockets lit up red whenever Eve turned her head. Theyre you.