“Thanks,” I said to her, and I meant it. “Both of you.”
Richard nodded. Monica frowned, as if she’d never had anyone thank her before and didn’t know exactly how to handle it. That seemed likely.
Claire shoved past me, jumped in, and headed straight for Shane. He put his arms around her when she hugged him, but there was something odd in his face, something … tentative. As if he wasn’t sure all this was real. If she was real.
No time to sort it out. I slammed the back door and jumped in the front with Eve and Hannah, and we got the hell out.
Fast.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CLAIRE
The entire ride back to Founder’s Square, Claire kept telling herself that Shane was all right. His skin was slick with blood from the bites, and he was pale and weak, but he was alive. And anything else could be fixed. Had to be fixed.
It had been only twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five, that he’d been in the draug’s power. Michael had survived a whole lot longer than that, and he was just fine.
He’s going to be all right.
But the way he was holding her felt … strange. Tentative. It was more than the weakness.
“Hey,” she said to him, resting her head against his chest. His heart was beating fast, but it sounded strong and regular. “What happened in there?”
“Where?” he asked. He was with her, but he sounded … empty. Or at least, very far away.
“Where you were.” Still are.
“I’m fine,” he said, which didn’t answer her question at all. “You smell like gunpowder.”
“New perfume,” she said, straight-faced. “Do you like it?”
“Edgy,” he said, which was almost his old self, but phoned in, again, from a long way off.
“Shane—”
“I can’t,” he said, very softly. “I can’t talk about it right now, okay? Just—leave it.”
She didn’t want to, because the look in his eyes, the way he was holding her … It made her anxious all over again. It felt, somehow, as if they hadn’t found him, or at least not in time. As if part of him was still trapped.
She just curled closer to him, willing him to be all right, and said nothing else all the way back. His body was there, solid and living, but there was something else that just wasn’t there, and when she looked up into his eyes, she didn’t see … didn’t see Shane. Not completely.
“He okay?” Of all things, it was Monica asking that question, crouched awkwardly on her broken heels with her brother standing silently behind her. She looked as if she was actually, momentarily, interested. “I mean, Jesus, that’s a lot of blood.”
“He’s okay,” Claire answered, when Shane didn’t. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t unconscious; he was holding on to her tightly and shivering. “Just—he needs to heal, that’s all.” Her voice shook when she said it, and Monica shot her a swift, mercilessly piercing look. There was blood in her hair, Shane’s blood, drying in a stiffened patch.
“News flash, preschool, nobody’s okay right now, and most of us didn’t have that happen.” She stood up suddenly, her expression hardening, and tugged at her dress. “I came back here to get help, not to get dragged off to rescue your lame, limp ass, Collins. So you could be a little grateful.”
Shane slowly raised one hand, and … flipped her off. It was weak, but it was so very him that Claire almost cried.
Monica almost smiled. Almost. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I thought. Truce over, asshole. Next time I see you bleeding on the side of the road, I back up and run you over again.”
“Monica,” Richard said, in a tone that said he’d had enough. More than enough. She shut up and pressed herself against the wall of the armored truck as it bumped and shuddered along. “Claire, is he still bleeding?”
“Some,” she said. She could feel the slow trickle of it soaking through her clothes. “But not as bad.” That might have been wishful thinking, which was the only kind of thinking she could do right now. “Thank you. If you hadn’t come with us …” I’d be dead. And Eve. And Shane. Maybe Michael, too, because he’d have tried to get us all back.
Richard nodded, not refusing the thanks but not making a big deal out of it, either; he just let it roll off him without really registering. “He’s strong, Claire,” he said. “He held on. That means a lot.”
“I never should have left him,” she said. “Oh God, this is my fault, my fault.” She started crying, heavy, aching tears that pushed up from the core of her body. They tasted as salty as Shane’s blood when she kissed his cheek and buried her face in the hollow of his neck.
She felt Richard’s gentle touch on her back. “Sometimes things just happen,” he said. “It’s not right. It’s not fair. But it’s nobody’s fault, Claire. So don’t do that. Don’t take it all on yourself. I promise you, it’s the last thing he wants you to do.”
She nodded, but she didn’t really feel it.
“About my sister,” he said. “She was a sweet kid, you know. When she was little. Used to come home crying every day in first grade. Everybody hated her, because her dad was the mayor. So by second grade, she gave it right back. She started fighting back when nobody was coming at her.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He shrugged. “I thought you should know she wasn’t always … what she is. She was made that way. Not born. She can change. I’m hoping she will.”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Me too.”
Richard patted her on the shoulder again, and withdrew over to the wall of the truck.
Shane held on to her with desperate strength, all the way to Founder’s Square.
Shane needed a transfusion.
When Theo told her, Claire burst into tears again, frantic ones. Eve hugged her from one side, Michael from the other, until she calmed down enough to listen to what Dr. Goldman had to say.
“He did lose a lot of blood,” Theo said very gently, and captured her bloodstained right hand in both of his as he stood in front of her. She, Eve, and Michael were sitting in some antique white chairs in the anteroom of what had become Theo’s makeshift hospital; as waiting rooms went, it was fancy, but cold. “The transfusion will help replace that volume quickly, and it will take about four hours; I doubt there will be any ill effects, though he may continue to have some weakness as his body recovers. I tested him, since the draug carry diseases at times, but it appears he is clear of that, which is a lucky thing. All he needs is blood for now, and rest. He should be better very soon, I promise you.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Has anyone told you how much of a miracle that is? That he, a human, survived?”
“He’s strong,” Claire whispered. She’d been saying it from the beginning, and had been confident, so blindly confident. But seeing him so pale and weak and shaking … that had terrified her.
“Yes, strong indeed,” Theo said, and patted her hand before he let it go. “A fighter, as he always has been. Today that served him very well, but you must understand that he will require more than physical strength. Michael can tell you that, to a point, but there may be … other factors, for Shane. What little we know of draug encounters with humans tells us the humans are forced into a dream world … or nightmares. I do not know which Shane experienced. So be patient with him, and watch for signs of any … odd behavior. All of you.”
They all nodded. Eve’s grip on Claire’s hand was almost painfully tight, but she took a deep breath and eased up as Theo rose and walked away. “That’s good news,” she said, with forced cheer. “See? Transfusion fixes him right up. He’s going to be fine, CB. Honestly.”
Eve was saying that as much to cheer herself up as to hearten Claire. Claire looked, instead, toward Michael. “How bad is it?” she asked. “Really.”