"But it's something," Claire nodded. "Congratulations, Eve. You deserve it. You're really good at this. I'll bet you could run the whole thing if you wanted."

"Me? Manager?" Eve laughed so hard she snorted. "Yeah, like I'd be able to order people around and have anybody listen to me. Get serious."

"No, I mean it. You're nice, people like you, you know what you're doing. You could."

Eve shot her a sideways look that was almost a frown. "You're serious."

"Yep."

"I don't know if I'm ready for management. Don't you have to wear a tie for that?"

"You've got one," Claire said solemnly.

"Only one with the Grim Reaper on it. Hey, wait. That could be my management style! Screw up and I'll kill you." Eve grinned. "They ought to teach that in business school."

"They probably do here," Claire sighed.

"What's up with you, CB?" CB stood for Claire Bear, which was Eve's funny nickname for her. Claire didn't think she much resembled a bear, not even the stuffed Gund variety. "You seem really, I don't know, thoughtful."

"Yeah, well — " She couldn't talk to Eve about Myrnin. "Homework and stuff." Yeah, it was just that she'd never had quite this kind of pass/fail pressure before. She'd flipped through the book on Egyptian inscriptions. That was pretty straightforward, though she wasn't sure how actually Egyptian it all was. Interesting, though. The other one, Last Will and Testament, was lots tougher. Tons of symbols in some weird notation she didn't understand. She'd be up all night trying to make sure she remembered even the basics. "Eve ... has anybody ever broken their contract in Morganville? I mean, and lived?"

"Contract?" Eve shot her yet another look, this one definitely coming with a side order of frowning. "You're talking about a vamp contract? Sure. People have tried everything, one time or another. But not very successfully."

"What happened?"

"Back in the old days, they got hanged. These days, I think they just throw 'em in jail until they rot, if the vampires don't eat 'em, but hey. Not like you and me have to worry about it, right? Live free or die!" Eve held up her hand. "High five!"

Claire slapped it, without much enthusiasm. She was thinking about the way the pen had felt in her hand, moving across that stiff paper. Signing her life away. And she felt ashamed.

"Why?" Eve asked.

"Huh?"

"Why are you asking?" Eve made the turn onto Lot Street, and the glow of the windows of the Glass House — home — spilled out into the street. "C'mon, Claire. Someone you know thinking about it?"

"Um ... there's this guy at school. I just heard him say — I wondered, that's all."

"Well, quit wondering. His problem, not yours. Ready for the fire drill? Quick like a bunny. Go!" Eve braked the black Caddy hard, Claire threw open her passenger-side door and jogged around the back of the car, banged open the white picket gate, and raced up the walk to the steps with her house keys in her hand. She heard the engine die, and the noisy clatter of Eve's shoes behind her.

Eve's steps stopped. Stopped dead. Claire whirled, scared and expecting to see a vampire on the prowl, but Eve was just checking the mailbox, grabbing a small handful of stuff and then hurrying up the steps as she sorted through it. Claire stepped over the threshold, and Eve followed, hip-bumping the door shut behind them and shooting the bolt with her elbow, a feat Claire would never have tried — or been able to accomplish with half that grace.

"Electric bill, water bill — internet bill. Oh, and something for you." Eve pulled out a small bubble-padded mailer from the pile and handed it over. "No return address."

Who'd be sending her anything? Well, Mom and Dad, sure, and the occasional card from another relative. Her former BFF Elizabeth had sent a postcard from Texas A&M, but only the one. Claire didn't recognize the neat handwriting on the outside of the envelope. Eve left her to it and walked down the hallway, yelling to let Shane and Michael know they were back, to which Michael yelled back for her to get in here and make me some dinner, now, woman.

"News flash, boy, you're supposed to be evil, not redneck!"

Claire ripped open the package and upended it, and small jewelry box slid out into her hand. A nice one — red velvet, with some kind of gold crest embossed on it. She felt the skin tighten up on the back of her neck. Oh no.

Suspicions confirmed as she flipped up the lid and saw the gold bracelet nestled on blood-red velvet. It was pretty, and it wasn't too big; delicate enough to circle one of her small wrists.

The Founder's Symbol was embossed discreetly in a small gold cartouche.

Oh, no.

Claire bit her lip and stared at the bracelet for a long time, then snapped the lid shut, put it back in the envelope, and went to join Eve and Michael in the kitchen.

"So?" Eve was getting down pots, and Michael was rummaging in the refrigerator. "Spaghetti okay with you?"

"Fine," Claire said. She wondered if she looked spooked. She hoped not, but even if she did Eve was looking at Michael, and he was looking back, and she was safe from any kind of major inspection while they were making eyes at each other.

Until she turned, and ran into Shane, who'd come in the kitchen door behind her. The package felt hot and heavy in her right hand, and she took an involuntary step back.

Which hurt him. She saw the flash of it in his eyes. "Hey," he said. "You all right?"

She nodded, unable to speak, because if she said anything it would have to be a lie, and she didn't want to lie to him. Shane stepped closer and put a warm hand on her face, and it felt good, so very good that she leaned into it, then further, into his arms. He made her feel small and loved, and for just a second, what was in the package in her hand didn't matter.

"You're working too hard," he said. "You look pale. School okay?"

"School's fine," she said. That wasn't a lie, school was definitely not what scared her anymore. "I guess I need more sleep."

"Just a few more days until the weekend." He kissed the top of her head, bent closer, and whispered, "My room. I need to talk to you."

She blinked, but he was already stepping back and heading out the door. She looked over her shoulder at Eve and Michael, but they were happily talking as Eve adjusted the flame under the pots, and they hadn't noticed anything.

Claire shoved the package into her backpack, zipped it up, and followed Shane upstairs.

Shane's room was very utilitarian — his bed was never made, though he made an attempt as she came in to straighten out the sheets and toss the blanket over it. Couple of posters on the wall, nothing special. No photos, no mementos. He didn't spend a lot of time here, except to sleep.

Claire leaned her backpack against the wall and sat down next to him on the bed. "What?" she asked. If she'd expected a wild pre-dinner make-out session, she was disappointed. He didn't even put his arm around her.

"I'm thinking of leaving," he said.

"Leaving? But Eve's making dinner — "

He turned and made eye contact. "Leaving Morganville."

She felt a surge of utter panic. "No. You can't!"

"Done it before. Look, this place, it's — I didn't come back here because I missed it. I came back because my Dad sent me, and now that he's been and gone and I'm not doing his dirty work anymore — " Shane's eyes were begging her to understand. "I want a life, Claire. And you don't belong here. You can't stay. They'll kill you. No, worse. They'll make you into one of them, one of the walking dead. I'm not talking about the vampires, either. Nobody who lives here has a pulse, not really."