“Seriously, yeah. Bowling. Her name’s Laura. If you want more details, you’re gonna have to download the video like everybody else.” Shane rolled off the couch, stood up, and padded off toward the wide stairs leading up to the second floor. “See you later, Claire.”

Eve made a frustrated sound. “Wait a minute! So what do you say? You think she’d do okay here, or what?”

Shane waved a hand. “Whatever, man. Far as I’m concerned, she’s okay.” He gave Claire one quick look and a crooked and oddly sweet smile, and bounded up the stairs. He moved like an athlete, but without the swagger she was used to. Kind of hot, actually.

“Guys,” Eve sighed. “Damn, it’d be good to have another girl in here. They’re all like, Yeah, whatever, and then when it comes to picking up the place or washing dishes, they turn into ghosts. Not that you have to, like, be a maid or anything, I mean…you just got to yell at ’em until they do their part or they walk all over you.”

Claire smiled, or tried to, but her split lip throbbed, and she felt the scab break open again. Blood dribbled down her chin, and she grabbed the napkin Eve had put on the tray and applied pressure to her lip. Eve watched in silence, frowning, and then got up from the floor, picked up the ice pack, and settled it gently against the bump on Claire’s head. “How’s that?” she asked.

“Better.” It was. The ice began to numb the ache almost immediately, and the food was setting up a nice warm fire in her stomach. “Um, I guess I should ask…about the room….”

“Well, you have to meet Michael, and he has to say yes, but Michael’s a sweetie, really. Oh, and he owns this place. His family does, anyway. I think they moved away and left him the house a couple of years ago. He’s about six months older than I am. We’re all about eighteen. Michael’s sort of the oldest.”

“He sleeps days?”

“Yeah. I mean, I like to sleep days, but he’s got a thing about it. I called him a vampire once, ’cause he really doesn’t like being up in the daytime. Like, ever. He didn’t think it was real funny.”

“You’re sure he’s not a vampire?” Claire said. “I’ve seen movies. They’re sneaky.” She was kidding. Eve didn’t smile.

“Oh, pretty sure. For one thing, he eats Shane’s chili, which, God knows, has enough garlic to explode a dozen high-quality Dracs. And I made him touch a cross once.” Eve took a big swallow of her Coke.

“You—what? Made him?”

“Well, sure, yeah. I mean, a girl can’t be too careful, especially around here.” Claire must have looked blank, because Eve did the eye-roll thing again. It was her favorite expression, Claire was sure. “In Morganville? You know?”

“What about it?”

“You mean you don’t know? How can you not know?” Eve set her can down and got up to her knees, leaning elbows on the coffee table. She looked earnest under the thick makeup. Her eyes were dark brown, edged with gold. “Morganville’s full of vampires.”

Claire laughed.

Eve didn’t. She just kept staring.

“Um…you’re kidding?”

“How many kids graduate TPU every year?”

“I don’t know…. It’s a crappy college, most everybody transfers out….”

“Everybody leaves. Or at least, they stop showing up, right? I can’t believe you don’t know this. Didn’t anybody tell you the score before you moved in? Look, the vamps run the town. They’re in charge. And either you’re in, or you’re out. If you work for them, if you pretend like they’re not here and they don’t exist, and you look the other way when things happen, then you and your family get a free pass. You get Protection. Otherwise…” Eve pulled a finger across her throat and bugged out her eyes.

Right, Claire thought, and put down her spoon. No wonder nobody rented a room with these people. They’re nuts. It was too bad. Except for the crazy part, she really liked them.

“You think I’m wacko,” Eve said, and sighed. “Yeah, I get that. I’d think I was, too, except I grew up in a Protected house. My dad works for the water company. My mom is a teacher. But we all wear these.” She extended her wrist. On it was a black leather bracelet, with a symbol on it in red, nothing Claire recognized. It looked kind of like a Chinese character. “See how mine’s red? Expired. It’s like health insurance. Kids are only covered until they’re eighteen. Mine was up six months ago.” She looked at it mournfully, then shrugged and unsnapped it to drop it on her tray. “Might as well stop wearing it, I guess. It sure wouldn’t fool anybody.”

Claire just looked at her, helpless, wondering if she was the victim of a practical joke, and if any second Eve was going to laugh and call her an idiot for buying it, and Shane would go from kind of lazy-sweet to cruel and shove her out the door, mocking all the way. Because this wasn’t the way the world worked. You didn’t like people, and then have them turn up all crazy, right? Couldn’t you tell?

The alternative—that Eve wasn’t crazy at all—just wasn’t anything Claire wanted to think about. She remembered the people on the street, walking fast, heads down. The way the mother had yanked her little girl off the street at a friendly wave.

“Fine. Go ahead, think I’m nuts,” Eve said, and sat back on her heels. “I mean, why wouldn’t I be? And I won’t try to convince you or anything. Just—don’t go out after dark unless you’re with somebody. Somebody Protected, if you can find them. Look for the bracelet.” She nudged hers with one finger. “The symbol’s white when it’s active.”

“But I—” Claire coughed, trying to find something to say. If you can’t say anything nice… “Okay. Thanks. Um, is Shane—?”

“Shane? Protected?” Eve snorted. “As if! Even if he was, which I doubt, he’d never admit it, and he doesn’t wear the bracelet or anything. Michael—Michael isn’t, either, but there’s sort of a standard Protection on houses. We’re sort of outcasts here. There’s safety in numbers, too.”

It was a very weird conversation to be having over chili and Coke, with an ice pack perched on the top of her head. Claire, without even knowing she was going to do it, yawned. Eve laughed.

“Call it a bedtime story,” she said. “Listen, let me show you the room. Worst case, you lie down for a while, let the ice pack work, then bug out. Or hey, you wake up and decide you want to talk to Michael before you leave. Your choice.”

Another cold chill swept over her, and she shivered. Probably had to do with the bang on the head, she figured, and how tired she was. She dug in her pocket, found the package of pills the doc had prescribed for her, and swallowed one with the last gulp of Coke. Then she helped Eve carry the trays into the kitchen, which was huge, with stone sinks and ancient polished counters and two modern conveniences—the stove and the refrigerator—stuck awkwardly in the corners. The chili had come from a Crock-Pot, which was still simmering away.

When the dishes had been washed, trays stacked, trash discarded, Eve retrieved Claire’s backpack from the floor and led her through the living room, up the stairs. On the third riser, Eve turned, alarmed, and said, “Hey, can you make it up the stairs? Because, you know—”

“I’m okay,” Claire lied. Her ankle hurt like hell, but she wanted to see the room. And if they were likely to throw her out later, she at least wanted to sleep one more time in a bed, however lumpy and old. There were thirteen steps to the top. She made every one of them, even though she left sweaty fingerprints on a banister Shane hadn’t even bothered to touch on his way up earlier.

Eve’s steps were muffled here by a rich old-looking rug, all swirls and colors, that ran down the center of the polished wood floor. There were six doors up here on the landing. As they passed them, Eve pointed and named. “Shane’s.” The first door. “Michael’s.” The second door. “He’s got that one, too—it’s a double-sized room.” Third door. “Main bathroom.” Fourth. “The second bathroom’s downstairs—that’s kind of the emergency backup bathroom when Shane’s in there moussing his hair for like an hour or something….”