“Okay,” he whispered back, and kissed her neck, just where it made her shiver. He knew it was her favorite spot, and it made her weak in the knees. “I’ll be good. Oh, wait, I’m always good….”

“Stop it.” Her voice didn’t sound so sure now. “I need to rest.”

He let go of her and stepped back, hands up. “Cool,” he said. “Go.”

She did, reluctantly—and when she looked back, Shane was picking up shards of broken controller from the carpet, and Michael was watching him with a small frown still grooved between his eyebrows, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what he was seeing.

Michael looked up at her as she paused on the steps. “Good night,” he said.

She waved. “No fighting between the two of you,” she said. “Promise?”

He crossed his heart and pretended to drive a stake into it, which made her smile and wince at the same time. “We’ll be okay,” he said. “Right, Shane?”

Shane looked up. “Right,” he said. But there was something odd in his face when he looked at Michael, a kind of wariness that reminded Claire of the old days, when Michael had first turned vamp. Shane hadn’t trusted him then, not at all.

And she wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly decide not to trust Michael again…but she was almost sure that’s what she was seeing.

It was all very confusing, and she was too tired to process it. But once she got in bed, with the moonlight falling cool over the sheets, she couldn’t sleep after all. She tossed and turned, watching the black branches scratch at the windows like skeletal hands, and wondered what Shane was doing. She’d half expected him to come knock on her door, but he hadn’t.

Finally, she started getting drowsy, and was almost asleep when she had the unmistakable impression that someone was in the room with her, right there, standing beside the bed.

She turned over, heart pounding. The moonlight didn’t reach that side of the bed, and the room was dark, but she could make out something…a shadow…

And then the shadow stepped forward, into the light, and it was Myrnin. Not Shane.

He looked…dangerous. His dark hair curled black around his pale face, and his eyes were very wide, very dark. Claire opened her mouth to demand to know what the hell he was doing here, in her bedroom, but she didn’t get the chance. His hand flashed out and covered her mouth with cold flesh.

She tried to scream, but it came out a muffled buzz, not nearly loud enough to alert anybody. Myrnin held a long, slender finger to his lips and bent close.

“So sorry to do this,” he whispered. “I realize it’s not appropriate. That’s right, isn’t it? Coming to a lady’s boudoir without an invitation is still inappropriate, even in these lax social circles?”

She nodded emphatically. He didn’t let go, probably because he could tell she was going to yell the house down if he did.

“Well, so sorry, but this is a bit of an emergency. Get dressed. Amelie wants to see us.”

Oh. Well, vampires didn’t keep regular people hours, but still. Not cool.

“Please don’t scream,” he said. “It would look so very bad for me, all things considered.”

That, more than anything, made her nod. Myrnin’s cold hand moved away, and she pulled in a deep, convulsive breath…but didn’t yell. She did scoot all the way over in the bed, preparing to eject at a second’s notice.

“You could have called,” Claire said. Her voice sounded a little higher than usual. “I have a phone.”

“I lost mine,” he said. Claire could so believe that. “Stupid things. So small. So easy to put in a pocket and forget them when you wash your clothes…Well. It just seemed easier to come over. Are you dressed?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me that. Standing in my bedroom in the middle of the night. Don’t you think that’s a little creepy? Maybe even perverted?”

“Ah, excellent point. I’ll just…wait outside. But hurry. And tell no one.”

Claire expected Myrnin to head for the bedroom door, but no, of course, that was too normal, wasn’t it? Instead, he opened the window, the one that overlooked the backyard, and climbed through. He dropped down with all the ease of someone stepping off a curb, only it was twenty feet down, if not more.

Claire didn’t even bother to look. Of course he was okay, and she didn’t care if he wasn’t. How could he just show up like this while she was sleeping……

She was fumbling in the dresser for clean underwear when there was a soft knock at the door. “Claire? You awake?”

Shane. She froze and held her breath. She wanted to open it, fall into his arms, and forget all about Myrnin and his weird behavior, but the truth was that Myrnin didn’t show up for nothing. Something was wrong, and he’d said, Tell no one. That included Shane, unfortunately. She watched the doorknob, but it didn’t turn, and after another quiet knock, she heard his footsteps moving away, toward his room.

Claire let out her breath, shook her head, and muttered, “And again, I hate you, Myrnin.”

Dressed, if not exactly stylish, Claire stuck her head out of her bedroom window. As expected, Myrnin was pacing there, hands behind his back, head down. He was wearing some kind of neon-bright shirt that was probably a holdover from the eighties, and was back to his shorts and comfortable sandals. These were leather, at least, and looked kind of like something a guy would wear. If pushed.

Not exactly vampire chic, as pop culture defined it, but Myrnin wasn’t one for fitting in. Ever.

He looked up at her, black hair falling back from his moon-pale face, and said, “Well? Jump!”

It was one thing for a vampire. Quite another for a breakable, not-too-athletic human. Claire shook her head. Myrnin sighed, tugged at his hair with both hands as if wanting to pull out his brain by the roots, and then seemed to have a bright idea. He dashed off into the darkness.

A moment later, he was back, carrying a ladder—and not their ladder. He’d ripped it off from a neighbor, Claire guessed. Well, it was better than jumping.

The climb down was chilly and scary, because Myrnin didn’t think about bracing the ladder, which bounced and shifted uneasily with every step she took. Claire jumped the last couple of rungs, landing flat-footed, and whispered, “Where did this thing come from?”

“Oh, out there,” Myrnin said, and waved vaguely at the darkness. “We don’t have time for niceties. Keep up, please.”

Oh, right. Myrnin didn’t drive, so there was no car; that meant walking. In the dark. In Vampire City. Well, at least she had an escort, although he had longer legs and didn’t bother to slow down for her, so she had to almost jog to stay with him.

“What’s going on?” she asked, by the time they’d reached the corner of Lot Street. The streetlight was out. Most of the streetlights in Morganville stayed off when you needed them most. “What’s the emergency?”

“I found out who killed your friend.”

“Oh.” She sucked in a deep breath as they crossed the street and took a right, heading for Founder’s Square in the center of town. “Who?”

It was a simple question, but she didn’t expect a simple answer. Myrnin was always being vague when she most needed clarity.

So it surprised her when he said, “Do you actually want to know?”

“Of course I do!”

“Think carefully before you answer. Do you want to know, Claire?”

That sounded…ominous. And Myrnin sounded very, very serious and in control, which was odd, to say the least.

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?” she asked. He glanced over at her, and she was unsettled again by the concern in his expression.

“Yes,” he said. “Several that I can think of.”

“Then why drag me out of bed about it?”

“Not my choice. Amelie’s orders. Trust me, I objected. I was overruled.”

Claire concentrated on walking for a few moments, until the pale glow of the lights from Founder’s Square warmed the night ahead of them. The houses they passed were silent and dark. Apart from a few barking dogs, nobody seemed to notice them.