Still.
Kim.
Probably nothing at all.
“Where is my Stella?” the director bellowed suddenly, and the sound bounced around the stage and also out of Heather’s earpiece. She winced and turned down the volume. “Stella!” He drew it out, Brando-style.
And in the wings of the stage, Eve stepped out from behind the curtains, tightly holding Michael’s hand. She was dressed in tight black jeans, a black baby-doll shirt with a pentagram on it, and lots of chains and spikes as accessories.
From the director’s sudden silence, and Heather’s intake of breath, Claire figured that wasn’t what Eve was supposed to be wearing. “Oh no,” Heather whispered. “This isn’t happening.”
“What?”
“He insists on rehearsal in costume. Something about getting inside the characters. She’s supposed to be in her slip.”
The director stomped to Eve, stopping inches away from her. He looked her up and down, and said coldly, “What do you think you are doing?”
“I have to go,” she said. Her knuckles were white where she gripped Michael’s hand, but she stared the director right in the eyes. “I’m sorry, but I have to.”
“No one leaves my rehearsals except in a body bag,” he said. “Is that how you’d prefer it?”
“Is that really how youwant this to go?” Michael asked quietly. “Because somebody could leave in a body bag, but it won’t be her.”
The director showed teeth in a grimace—it actually looked painful for him to smile. “Are you threatening me, boy?”
“Yes,” Michael said, completely still. “I know I’m new at this. I know I’m not a thousand years old with a pile of bodies behind me. But I’m telling you that she has to go, and you’re going to let her.”
“Or?”
Michael’s eyes took on a shine—not red, but almost white. It was eerie. “Let’s not find out. You can spare her for the day.”
The director hissed, very softly, and held the stare for so long, Claire thought things were about to go very, very wrong . . . and then a mild-looking man in a retro bowling shirt stepped up and said, “Is there a problem? Because I am responsible for these two in Amelie’s absence.”
And Claire blinked, and realized it was Oliver. Not really Oliver, because he looked . . . different—not just the clothes, but his whole body language. She’d seen him do that before, but not quite this dramatically. His accent was different, too—more of a flat Midwest kind of sound, nothing exotic about it at all.
The director threw him a look, then blinked and seemed to reconsider his position. “I suppose not,” he finally said. “I can’t have this kind of disruption, you know. This is serious business.”
“I know,” Oliver said. “But a day won’t matter. Let the girl go.”
“We’re going to find Kim,” Eve said. “So really, we’re still on company business, right?”
The director’s face tensed again, on the verge of an outburst, but he swallowed his words and finally said, “You may tell Miss Magness that she may have onerehearsal as a grace period. If she is late one second to any other time I call, she will be mine.” He didn’t mean fired. He meant lunch.
Claire swallowed. Heather didn’t seem surprised. She made a note on her clipboard, shook her head, and then cocked her head again as a burst of words came out of her headphone. “Dammit,” she sighed. “Are you kidding me? Great. No, I don’t care how you do it; just make it happen.” She clicked off and looked at Claire. “Wish me luck.”
“Um, luck?”
Heather mounted the stairs to the stage and approached the director to whisper something to him. He shouted in fury and stomped away, waving his arms.
Michael and Eve took the chance to escape down to where Claire waited.
Oliver followed them.
“Nice shirt,” Claire said, straight-faced.
He glanced down at it, dismissed it, and said, “Now tell me what’s going on. Immediately.”
“Kim’s missing,” Eve said. “I tried to find her before the rehearsal; we were supposed to get together—anyway, she didn’t show. I was really worried. I was almost late, and I couldn’t find her. She’s not answering her phone, either.”
“Kim,” Oliver said. “Valerie owns her contract. Her unreliability is very much Valerie’s problem.” He didn’t sound overly bothered about it. Claire guessed Kim hadn’t made friends there, either.
“We need you to call the police. Tell them to look for her.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Kim has a Protector, who is responsible for her,” he repeated. “I will not order town resources to be spent chasing down someone who is, in all likelihood, a victim of her own folly in one way or another.”
“Wait a minute. According to the Morganville rules, she’s got rights,” Claire said. “Whether she’s got a vampire Protector or not, she’s still a resident. You can’t just abandon her!”
“In fact, I can,” Oliver said. “I am neither required to help nor harm. Kim Magness is no concern of mine, or any other vampire except Valerie, whom I will inform in due course. If you wish to call Chief Moses and explain the situation, you are free to do so. She and the mayor have jurisdiction over the humans. But I sincerely doubt that a human well known to be unstable, who’s been missing only a few hours, will be a top priority.” He dismissed the whole thing, and walked away, back up the steps. By the time he’d reached the stage, he was back in his meek, mild persona.
That was just weird.
“Son of a bitch,” Eve hissed through clenched teeth.
“Come on, we don’t need him,” Michael said. “Where first?”
Eve took a deep breath. “I guess her apartment.” She cast an almost apologetic look at Claire. “I’m sorry. I know you guys don’t exactly, ah, click, but—”
“I’ll help,” Claire said. Not because she cared so much about Kim, but because she cared about Eve. Eve gave her a quick hug. “Want me to call Shane?”
“Would you?” Eve was making puppy-dog eyes now, really pitiful. “Any help we can get—I’m really worried, Claire. This isn’t like Kim. It really isn’t.”
Claire nodded, took out her phone, and dialed Shane’s number. He didn’t seem to need a lot of encouragement to yell to his boss that he had to go, family emergency. Claire told him they’d swing by to pick him up.
By the time the call was over, they were heading down into the darkened parking garage again. “I can’t believe I did that,” Eve said. “I just totally blew my shot at the play, forever. He’s going to replace me. I’ll never get a part in anything, ever again. My life is over.”
“Blame Kim,” Claire said. “You’re a good friend.”
Eve looked miserable anyway. “Not good enough, or she’d be here, right?”
“So not your fault.”
Eve raised her eyebrows. “What if it were me missing? Wouldn’t you guys feel guilty, somehow?”
That shut Claire up, because she would, and she knew it. Even if she’d had nothing to do with it, she’d feel she should have done something.
She was still thinking that over when she felt the tingle of a portal opening nearby. Claire felt a spike of alarm drive deep, and grabbed her phone to look at the tracking app she’d loaded on it.
Yes.
An unplanned portal was getting forced open, right here, in the shadows about a dozen feet away.
“Get to the car!” she yelled, and sprinted for it. Eve didn’t ask why, thankfully; she just tore off in pursuit, and Michael bounded ahead to jump in the driver’s side.
A flood of spiders poured out, skittering across the concrete floor—bouncing, as if they were being poured out of a giant bucket.
Thousands of Bobs, only larger, the size of small Chi huahuas. Eve shrieked and threw herself into the backseat, slamming the door as one launched itself toward them; it hit the glass and bounced off. Claire kicked one away as she jumped in the passenger seat, and Michael locked the doors. “What the hell?” Eve yelled. “Oh my God, it’s like Attack of the Giant CGI!”