He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and walked past them to the counter, and then, without a word, went back outside, where he walked around the corner and vanished.
Claire turned to watch him go.
“Hey,” Eve said. “Are you with me? Because I’m kind of in the middle of a crisis, here.” She sounded annoyed, and Claire didn’t blame her. She had no idea why she’d been so distracted. There wasn’t any reason, none at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—thought I knew him, I guess.” That wasn’t it, but he’d felt somehow wrong. As if he didn’t belong here.
“Who?” Eve twisted around. “I didn’t see anybody.”
Claire looked out into the parking lot. Nothing stood out there—no out-of-state plates on the cars, for certain. “Nobody, I guess. Maybe he’s just passing through,” she said.
“Wish I was,” Eve sighed. “Anywhere else is better right now, including lava pits. Are you ready to go?”
“I—Yeah, I guess so.” Claire dug cash from her pocket and paid for both of them, over Eve’s half hearted protests; Claire got a paycheck (allowance?) from the Founder’s Office for her work with Myrnin, and her bank account had grown to impressive four-digit numbers recently. She didn’t quite know what to do with all the money, but spending it on a heartsick best friend seemed like a good option. “Home?”
“Is there a second choice?”
“Well, we could go work on your shopping list?”
“That seems pretty dumb, considering.”
Claire had to agree with that.
As they walked out of the diner, she glanced back, and saw the anonymous man was now back in the diner. He was sitting at a table, hands folded, and he was watching them as they walked to Eve’s big black hearse.
The feeling of misty chill came over her again, and Claire shivered.
Shane was standing outside, in the yard, leaning against the single, ragged, winter-stripped tree, when Eve pulled up at the curb. He had his hands in his jeans pockets, and his brown hair ruffled in the breeze as if invisible hands combed through it. He was staring at the front door, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d ignite it into flames by the sheer focused power of that stare.
Claire jumped out and ran to him, already anxious, with Eve right behind. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
Shane jerked his chin at the house. “He’s in there,” he said. “With her.”
“Who?” Eve asked, but it sounded as if she already knew.
“Did you tell her?” Shane asked Claire. She nodded. “The blonde. Naomi. She showed up; he told me to leave. I left.”
Eve took a deep breath and walked up the steps—not running, not crying. She looked very calm and self-possessed.
Claire and Shane exchanged a look, and Shane said, “This can’t be good,” and they ran after her, into the house.
They found her almost immediately, standing in the front parlor of the house, the one none of them ever used; it was a stuffy sort of room, with furniture left over from the days of black-and-white television, if not older. But that was where Michael was, sitting on the stiff sofa, with a china cup of something that probably wasn’t tea sitting in front of him.
And there was Naomi, sitting on the couch beside him, with her own matching cup.
The girl-vamp sat at a ladylike angle, knees together, as if she wore a dress instead of cute skinny jeans and a figure-hugging top that Claire regretfully kind of liked. Naomi’s chin was up, and her gaze was level on Eve. She didn’t look guilty. She looked a little defiant.
Michael, on the other hand, looked deeply uncomfortable. “Eve,” he was saying, “it’s not—”
“Like it looks?” she finished for him, very calmly. “Oh, I’m sure.” Eve stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Naomi’s eyebrows moved up, just a little, but she rose gracefully and shook Eve’s hand, making it look as if she were a foreign dignitary performing some alien custom for the sake of diplomacy. “I am Naomi de la Tour. You must be Eve Rosser. Of course, I have seen you about town.”
Eve stared straight into her face. “Sorry I can’t say the same. I don’t know you, and I don’t appreciate your being here.”
Naomi actually blushed, or at least, there was a hint of color in her cheeks. “I am still becoming used to human company,” she said. “And I do apologize if I seemed rude toward you. I don’t intend to be.”
“Eve—,” Michael said. She shot him a glare, and he settled back on the sofa. Busted.
“Maybe we ought to talk about what you do intend,” Eve said, and pulled over a straight-backed chair, which she straddled, putting as strong a difference between herself and Naomi’s oh-so-ladylike presence as possible. She looked over her shoulder at Shane and Claire. “Out. This could get messy.”
“You’re sure you don’t want backup?” Shane asked.
Michael frowned. “Against what exactly? Me? C’mon, man.”
“On second thought,” Eve said, “maybe they should stay. Any reason they shouldn’t, Michael?”
“Eve, don’t do this.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy kind of expression. “How long has this been going on?”
Michael said nothing. Naomi, on the other hand, leaned forward and said, very earnestly, “I’ve been coming here for almost two months.”
“Really.”
Michael shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, as if he had a monster headache. “Eve, you don’t—”
“Understand? I’m sure I don’t. Why don’t you tell me? Because finding you all cozied up with a blood-drinking hottie on the couch two days before our engagement party doesn’t send the wrong message at all.”
“I’m not cozied up with her!”
Naomi laughed, just a little. “Indeed, he isn’t,” she said. “If I may explain . . . ?”
“Take your best shot,” Eve said. The muscles in her jaws were tight, and she gripped the back of the chair she was straddling so hard that Claire thought she might snap it off—and then stake somebody with it.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s discontent among some of the vampires with the idea that you and Michael should marry,” Naomi said. “There is reason for this.”
Eve stared at her in utter silence. Naomi waited for comment, but got nothing.
“Not only that,” the girl continued, “I know that human society is not the same as it was when we were . . . among their numbers, but by our immortal standards a marriage is an alliance, and you, dear Eve, are allying yourself to the descendant of an ancient and important bloodline. There are many who believe that by marrying you, Michael confers upon you a great deal of . . . power. Implied power, if not actual. Giving this to a human is . . . controversial.”
“Oh, so you’re just giving us advice. I got it. Nice of you two to involve me in the discussion so thoroughly . . . Oh, wait.”
“You think I am lying about my presence here?” Naomi’s perfect eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Do not think it; I beg you. In fact, I have been acting as Michael’s advocate. Your advocate,” Naomi said. “I have standing in the vampire community, and I have been acting as peacemaker, if you will, to allow your marriage to go forward, should you still wish it. I came to tell Michael that I believe my blood-sister Amelie has been persuaded to give her blessing to the union.”
Claire cleared her throat. “Oliver just told us there was no way it was going to be allowed to happen.”
“Oliver is my most difficult opponent,” Naomi said. “And he is persuasive, I must admit. I have spent a great many hours trying to convince him of the rightness of my cause, to no good effect. I finally decided to go directly to my blood-sister and hope for the best.”