“I don’t think they’ll let me leave, Dad.”

Her father took her hand. His fingers were warm and strong, and she was so glad to feel that, after holding his limp, cool hand when he was lying on the floor. “I want you out of here, Claire. I want you safe. I want you to get on with your life like you’d planned, go to MIT. It’s my fault you came here at all, you know; your mother and I wanted you to stay close, and . . . this is what happened.” He took in a deep breath. “You’re meant for something better. That’s what I was trying to tell you before. It’s what I told Shane, too.”

“You mean better than him,” Claire said.

Her father looked away. “I know you think the world of him, but he’s not the kind of boy who’s right for you, sweetheart. I know he’s got a good heart; I see it every time he looks at you. But he’s going to hurt you in the end, because he’s not the kind of boy who stays. I don’t want to see that happen. And I don’t want you to stay here for him and destroy your chances.”

Claire raised her chin. “I’m not, Dad. If I stay, it’s not about Shane.” Well, it was, partly, but she wasn’t going to say that now. “I wanted to go to MIT because that was where I was going to find people who could teach me different ways to think, and would understand me, and work with me. I found that here, in Morganville. Myrnin does that. And he’s got so much more to teach me. He’s brilliant, Dad. He’s not like anybody else.”

“Claire—”

“Dad, you’re supposed to rest.” She put her head down, her chin on their clasped hands. “Please. I need you to rest, and I need you to get better. I can do this. I know what I’m doing now, and I know it’s not what other people might think is right, or popular. But it’s right for me. I can make a difference. I can’t just run away. I want you and Mom out of here, and safe, and trust me, someday I’ll do all that stuff you talked about.”

He gazed at her for a long, long moment, and then sighed. “That’s my stubborn girl,” he said. “Come see me in Dallas. Promise.”

“I promise,” she said. It felt like good-bye, and she hated it, but she knew she couldn’t leave Morganville now. Even if Amelie wigged out and let her go . . . she couldn’t just leave.

The time was up sooner than she expected, but a nurse came in and stood there, clearly waiting to hustle her out. Claire stood up and kissed her dad. “I love you, Daddy. Please—”

“I heard you, you know,” he said. “When you were talking to me, on the floor. You said, ‘Don’t leave me.’ But I am leaving you, honey.”

“No, you’ll be one phone call away,” she said. “That’s not leaving. That’s just . . . transposition.”

She kissed him again, and then the nurse’s glare sent the message that her time was definitely, completely up.

She left the room feeling lighter, somehow; he’d looked better, and he’d sounded clear.

He was going to be okay. She could feel it, deep inside.

They were all waiting for her, all her friends. Her mom went in, after a silent hug and kiss, to sit with her dad.

Shane looked at her with those warm eyes that—like her dad’s—saw maybe a little too deeply. “You okay?” he asked her quietly, as he took her hand.

“I’m okay,” she said, and took a deep, trembling breath. “My parents are going to leave Morganville. That’s what I wanted—to keep them safe.” The euphoria she’d felt on leaving her dad’s room was fading now, and she felt shaky again. “It’s funny, but I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think I’d miss them at all if they left. Is that awful? But I will. As much as I wanted them to go . . . Maybe I should ask Amelie if I can go with them.”

“You already know what she’ll say. Look, if I thought you could leave, I’d be the first one stuffing you in the car and telling you to have a nice life,” Shane said. “But I think we both know it’s not that simple anymore.”

Nothing was, Claire thought. How had the world gotten so complicated?

Eventually, they all went home. Or at least homeward . . . Shane announced that he was starving, and Eve agreed, and Michael steered his car to one of Morganville’s two all-night diners. This one was Shane’s favorite, Marjo’s, although Claire guessed that Marjo herself—the rudest waitress ever—was off duty, since a woman with the nameplate HELEN came to take their orders. She wasn’t nearly as rude as Marjo, but she wasn’t nice, either. Claire supposed that being nice was against the rules. Or maybe being on the night shift in an all-night diner in Morganville tended to make you bitter.

The food, though, was delicious. Juicy burgers, crisp fries, milk shakes to die for, although Michael skipped that and ordered something in a covered to-go cup that Claire thought was probably not ice cream. The diner was packed with late-nighters . . . college students, although they were pushing the curfew, as well as lots of quiet, pale people who sat in groups and, when they looked at the humans, had a special glitter in their eyes.

Marjo’s, like Oliver’s Common Grounds, was a place where the two halves of Morganville had a kind of unofficial truce. Besides, who didn’t like hamburgers? Vegetarians, Claire supposed. But she didn’t think there were any vegetarian vampires. That would be like an atheist priest.

Speaking of priests, Father Joe came in and looked around for a seat. Michael gestured for him to come over, and he did, stopping to say hello to people (and vamps) along the way. Father Joe wasn’t a very large man, but he was . . . well, kind of cute. Eve had once had a monster crush on him (check that—from the wide-eyed look Eve was giving him now, she still had one). She’d claimed it was the cassock. Claire thought it was more the wavy red hair and cute smile.

“How’s your father, Claire?” Father Joe asked, even before he’d sat down in the chair he’d pulled over to their table. “I was planning to stop by again tonight before I went home.”

“He’s doing better,” she said. “They’re taking him to Dallas tomorrow.”

Father Joe nodded and sat back as Helen came over to take his order. Not surprisingly, he was having a hamburger, too. Claire wondered why they bothered to even have a menu, really. He favored strawberry milk shakes, which put him in solidarity with Eve. “I’ll keep your father in my prayers,” the priest said, handing his menu back. “And your mother, of course. And you. I assume you’re staying in Morganville?”

Claire sighed. “For now, anyway.”

“I hope to see you on Sunday, then, at the evening services. Amelie comes quite often.”

Huh, Claire had never considered that Amelie might be a churchgoer. “And Oliver?”

Father Joe chuckled, then sipped on the strawberry milk shake Helen thumped down on the table before him. “Oliver has . . . theological differences with the Roman Catholic Church. He attends a more nondenominational service we hold on Saturdays. Although he usually argues with me about formats.”

She could see Amelie in church, but Oliver? Really? That was . . . new.

Father Joe must have seen the confusion in her face, because he said, “Most of them attend some sort of service. After all, in the times they were born and lived, religion was a vital part of life and society. It’s a little less so today, but for many of them, it’s hugely important to still feel they have a path to God.” He grinned. “But I’m off duty right now. Seen any good movies lately?”

“Do not ask Shane,” Eve said. “He’s got awful taste.”

“Are you kidding? That last thing I took you to was totally sick!”

“If you mean, made me throw up, then yeah. Would it kill you to watch something where heads don’t explode?”

“Probably not, unless it’s one of those movies where everybody’s wearing poofy skirts and corsets and nobody does anything. That might actually kill me.”

Eve looked at Claire. “Really? Is he running for Worst Boyfriend Ever?”