“Um…thanks. Bye.’” Which sounded like a dumbass thing to say to someone a billion years old, who controlled the town and everything in it, but Amelie seemed to accept it fine. Claire grabbed her backpack and hurried through the polished wood door…
…into a bathroom. With lots of floral wallpaper and really yak-worthy frilly doll-skirt toilet paper covers.
Reality whiplash.
Claire dropped her backpack and yanked open the door again.
It was the hallway. She looked right, then left. The room even smelled different—talcum powder and old-lady perfume. No trace of Amelie, her silent servants, or the room where they’d been.
“Science fiction,’” Claire said, deeply unhappy, and—feeling strangely guilty—flushed the toilet before trudging back the way she’d come. The house was warm, but the heat outside was like a slap from a microwaved towel.
Oh, she was so going to figure that trick out. She couldn’t stand the idea of it being, well, magic. Sure, vampires she could accept…grudgingly…and the whole mind-control thing. But not instantaneous transportation. Nope.
Lisa was sitting next to Gramma on the porch swing now, sipping lemonade. There was an extra one gathering beads of sweat on the small table next to her, and she nodded Claire to it without speaking.
“Thanks,’” Claire said, and took a deep, thirsty gulp. It was good—maybe too sweet, but refreshing. She drained it fast and held on to the cool glass, wondering if it was bad manners to crunch the ice cubes. “How long have you lived here?’”
“Gramma’s been in this house all her life,’” Lisa said, and gently rubbed her grandmother’s back. “Right, Gramma?’”
“Born here,’” the old woman said proudly. “Gonna die here, too, when I’m good and ready.’”
“That’s the spirit.’” Lisa poured Claire another glass of lemonade from a half-empty pitcher. “I find anything missing in Gramma’s house, college girl, and you can’t hide from me in Morganville. You feel me?’”
“Lisa!’” Gramma scolded. “I’m so sorry, honey. My granddaughter never learned proper manners.’” She smacked Lisa on the hand and gave her the parental glare. “This nice girl here, she never would steal from an old lady. Now, would you, honey?’”
“No, ma’am,’” Claire said, and drank half of the second serving of lemonade. It tasted as tart and sweet and wonderful as the first. “I was just wondering, about the symbol next to your door…’”
Lisa and Gramma both looked at her sharply. Neither one of them replied. They were both wearing bracelets, she noticed, plain silver with the Founder’s symbol on a metal plaque, like those Medic Alert bracelets. Finally, Lisa said, softly, “You need to leave now.’”
“But—’”
“Go!’” Lisa yelled it, grabbed the glass out of Claire’s hand, and thumped it down on the table. “Don’t you make me throw you down the stairs in front of my gramma!’”
“Hush, Lisa,’” Gramma said, and leaned forward with a creaking sound, from either the wooden porch swing or her old bones. “Girl’s got no better sense than God gave a sheep, but that’s all right. It’s the Founder’s symbol, child, and this is the Founder’s house, and we’re the Founder’s people. Just like you.’”
Lisa looked at her, openmouthed. “What?’” she finally said when she got control of her voice.
“Can’t you see it?’” Gramma waved her hand in front of Claire. “She shines, baby. They see it, I guarantee you they do. They won’t touch her, mark or no mark. Worth their lives if they do.’”
“But—’” Lisa looked as frustrated and helpless as Claire felt. “Gramma, you’re seeing things again.’”
“I do not see things, missy, and you better remember just who in this family stayed alive when everybody else fell.’” Gramma’s faded eyes fixed on Claire, who shivered despite the oppressive, still heat. “Don’t know why she marked you, child, but she did. Now you just got to live with it. Go on, now. Go home. You got what you came for.’”
“She did?’” Lisa scowled fiercely. “Swear to God, if you lifted anything from our house—’”
“Hush. She didn’t steal. But she got what she needed, didn’t you, girl?’”
Claire nodded and nervously ran a hand through her hair. She was sweating buckets; her hair felt sticky and wet. Home suddenly sounded like a real good idea.
“Thank you, ma’am,’” she said, and extended her hand. Gramma looked at it for a few seconds, then took it in a birdlike grip and shook. “Can I come back and see you sometime?’”
“Long as you bring me some chocolate,’” Gramma said, and smiled. “I’m partial to chocolate.’”
“Gramma, you’re diabetic.’”
“I’m old, girl. Gonna die of something. Might as well be chocolate.’”
They were still arguing as Claire retreated down the steps, through the neatly kept front garden, and out through the gate in the white picket fence. She looked at that alley, the one she’d almost taken, and this time she felt a shiver of warning. Trapdoor spiders. No, she no longer had any desire to take shortcuts. And she’d learned about as much as she could stomach about Jason Rosser. At least she knew now who to watch out for, if he started following her around again.
Claire hitched her backpack to a more comfortable position, and began walking.
7
There was no sign of Shane’s dad or the bikers. In fact, it was very quiet in Morganville, despite Claire’s fears. Travis Lowe and Joe Hess dropped by early the next morning to deliver the no-news-is-good-news party line to Eve and the house in general; they were polite and kind, and generally seemed like okay guys for cops, but they made Claire feel scared and paranoid. She supposed all cops were like that, when they were on Official Business. It didn’t seem to bother Eve at all; she was up, bleary-eyed and yawning, fresh out of the shower and still wrapped in a Hello Kitty bathrobe, free of the Goth mask. Shane was, predictably, asleep, and who knew where Michael was? Watching, Claire thought. Always watching. She supposed that should have been creepy, except that in Michael’s case, it was just…comforting.
“Hey, guys,’” Eve said after wandering down the stairs into the living room. She plopped on the couch, bounced, and yawned again. “Coffee. Need coffee.’”
“I made some,’” Claire said, and went into the kitchen to get it. Travis Lowe followed her silently and carried the cups back out. He and his partner drank it black; Claire could barely stand it even with more milk and sugar than actual coffee. Eve was cream only, no sugar, and she sucked it down like Gatorade after a hard work-out, then collapsed against the couch cushions and sighed happily.
“Morning, Officers,’” she said, and closed her eyes. “It’s too early for this.’”
“Heard you got a job on campus,’” Hess said. “Congratulations, Eve.’”
“Yea, me.’” She made a lazy woo-hoo gesture. “You come all this way to say that?’”
“Not a long way in Morganville.’” Hess shrugged. “But no. Like I told Claire, there’s no sign of your intruders. So I think you’re in the clear on that. Hope that makes your day better.’”
Eve shot Claire a fast, tentative look. “Sure,’” she said. “Um…about…the other thing…?’”
“You want to talk in private?’” Claire asked, and stood up with her coffee cup in hand. “’Cause I can go on to school…’”
“Sit,’” Hess said. “You’re not going anywhere yet. And you’re not going anywhere by yourself.’”
“I’m…what?’”
“We’re giving you girls a ride to school,’” Lowe said, and sipped his coffee. “And a ride home when you’re done. Consider us your Thin Blue Line Taxi Service.’”
“No!’” Claire blurted, appalled. “I mean, you can’t—you shouldn’t—why?’”
“Eve knows why,’” Hess said. “Don’t you, Eve?’”
Eve put her coffee cup on the side table and crossed her arms against her chest. She looked very young in pink and white, and very scared. “Jason.’”