“Mourning.” He laughed under his breath. “Whatev.”

Eve deliberately looked to the side, where Detectives Hess and Lowe were sitting. “I think you’d better go.” They hadn’t noticed him yet, but they would. All it would take would be a raised voice, or Eve snapping her fingers.

“He’s my dad, too.”

“Then show him some respect,” she said. “Leave.”

She went around him. The rest of them followed, though Shane slowed down, and Claire had to tug at his arm to keep him moving.

Jason made a bring it motion. Shane shook his head. “Really not worth the trouble,” he said.

And then they were out in the vestibule, away from the choking smell of flowers and the subtle smell of death, and all Claire could think was, How is that closure?

But Eve looked better, and that was what mattered. “Let’s go have a burger,” she said.

As ideas went, that one was popular, and Claire’s spirits lifted as they walked out of the church and into the shaded parking structure, heading for Michael’s car.

They were intercepted.

Michael sensed it first—he stopped dead in his tracks, turning in a circle as if trying to pinpoint a sound the rest of them couldn’t hear.

A lithe shadow leaped down from the concrete rafters above, landed in a crouch, and grinned.

Ysandre. She rose with effortless grace and strolled toward the four of them.

“Get in the car,” Michael said. “Go.”

“Not leaving you,” Shane said. He didn’t take his eyes off Ysandre.

“Don’t be an idiot. She’s not after me.”

Shane’s eyes flicked to Michael’s face.

“Go.”

Claire tugged on Shane’s arm. He let himself be guided to the car. Michael tossed the keys.

Ysandre flashed across the open space and plucked them out of the air. She tossed them carelessly up and down in her palm, and the cool, metallic jingle was the only sound in the garage.

“Don’t get all paranoid,” she said. “I just stopped by to say hello. It’s a free country.”

“It’s car theft if you keep my keys,” Michael said. He held up his hand, and she shrugged and pitched them back. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to make sure Mr. Shane got my invitation, ” she said. “Did you, honey?”

Shane didn’t move. Didn’t speak. As far as Claire could tell, he wasn’t even breathing.

“From the fast little beat of that heart, I guess you did,” Ysandre said, and smiled. “See you on Saturday, then. You-all have a good rest of the week.”

She walked away, high-heeled boots tapping on the pavement, and vanished into shadow.

Shane let out a slow breath.

None of them knew exactly what to say. Michael unlocked the car, and the quiet ruled for at least five minutes, until he stopped at Denny’s.

“We still eating?” he asked.

“I guess,” Shane said. “I’m not letting her ruin my appetite.”

There was a shade awning stretching from the covered parking to the front door, which Claire had never thought about before—apparently, the local Denny’s catered to vampires as much as humans even in the daytime. There were local flyers taped to the glass front doors, and Claire glanced at them on the way inside. She stopped so suddenly Shane ran into her.

“Hey! Walking here!”

“Look.” Claire pointed at the paper.

It said ONE NIGHT ONLY! and there was a black-and -white photograph of a young man with blond hair cradling a guitar.

Underneath it said Michael Glass returns to Common Grounds, and the date on it was . . . tonight.

Shane ripped it off the door, grabbed Michael’s shoulder, and held it up. “Hey,” he said. “Ring any bells? When were you going to tell us?”

Michael looked surprised, then embarrassed. “I— wasn’t going to. Look, it’s just a tryout, okay? I wanted to see if I could still—I don’t want you guys to come. It’s nothing.”

Eve grabbed the flyer and stared at it. “Nothing? Michael! You’re playing! In public!”

“That’s new?” Claire whispered to Shane.

“He hasn’t played anywhere but our living room since—” Teeth-in-neck mime. “You know. Oliver.”

“Oh.”

Michael’s face was turning pink. “Just put it back, okay? It’s not a big deal!”

Eve kissed him. “Yes, it is,” she said. “And I hate you for not telling me. Were you just going to sneak off or something?”

“Absolutely,” Michael sighed. “Because if I suck, I don’t want any of you hearing it firsthand.”

Claire taped the flyer carefully back to the door. “You’re not going to suck.”

“Not at the guitar, anyway,” Shane said, deadpan. Claire punched him in the arm. “Ow.”

Michael spent two hours tuning his guitar, which was annoying, and he left early. Eve went with him, despite his protests that it really wasn’t a big thing. That left Claire and Shane to decide on their own what to do.

She made chili dogs and was putting the shredded cheese on top when Shane, fresh from video-game triumph, came into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said. “Nice. Thanks.” He shoved part of the chili dog in his mouth, standing at the kitchen counter.

“You could at least sit down,” she sighed. “We do have tables. They even have chairs.”

“You want to go?” he mumbled. “To the thing?”

Did she? Claire ate a bite of her own hot dog, hardly even aware that she was breaking her own eating-while-standing rules, and thought about it. On the one hand, it meant going out at night, and going out to Common Grounds for recreational purposes, which was sort of not done around their house these days.

But—Michael. Out in public. Playing.

“Yeah,” she said. “I would, if you don’t mind. I know you don’t like the place, but—”

“I like it better than Eve does, trust me. Besides, I don’t want her down there alone. She needs somebody watching her back while he’s neck-deep in groupies or whatever.”

She laughed.

“Oh, you think that’s funny? Should have seen him in high school. Guy could draw the hotties every time he picked up that guitar.”

“He still can, I’ll bet.”

“Exactly my point. Eat up. They usually start music sets around seven.”

Claire wolfed down her meal and ran upstairs for a quick shower and change of clothes. After some debate, she went with the short skirt and tights she’d last worn to crash Monica Morrell’s disastrous house party, and a plain black top tight enough to match but loose enough that she wouldn’t die if her parents saw her.

Shane blinked in surprise when she came downstairs. He’d thrown on different clothes, too, but they were still slacker-casual. The only sign that he was trying to make an impression was that she suspected he might have combed his hair. A little.

“You look great,” he said, and smiled. She stopped on the last step from the bottom, which put them on about equal levels, and he kissed her. Long and slow. He tasted of toothpaste, at first, but then he just tasted like Shane, and that was so, so delicious that she found herself rising on her tiptoes to get even closer. “Hold up, girl. I thought we were going out. Kissing like that, you’re making me think about staying in.”

Claire had to admit, it made her think of it, too. Especially since the house was empty, and they were all alone.

She saw it cross Shane’s mind, too, and for a second his eyes widened, and so did his pupils.

Oh, the possibilities.

“Better go if we’re going,” Claire said regretfully. “Only—how are we getting there?”

Shane offered her his arm. “Nice night for a walk, I hear.”

“Are you sure?”

He tapped her gold bracelet, then his own white hospital-issue one. “This may be the only night we get to do it in this town,” he said. “Let’s live dangerously. ”

It was nice, strolling arm in arm with Shane and not worrying (well, not worrying too much) about which danger was about to sweep in on them from the dark.

Tonight, at least, the dangers kept their distance. It was a short walk to Common Grounds, but a lonely one; Claire felt a little unreal, moving slowly in the dark past shut houses with lit-up windows. People didn’t venture out much after sunset, and if they did, they went in groups, and in cars.