"Do you think she has any?" Eve asked. "Because I'm betting she sleeps in the nude."
"Eve!"
"What? Come on. Can you really see her in flannel footies? Bunny slippers?"
Michael sank into the chair Amelie had vacated, and stared at the chessboard. He slowly reset it, but Claire could tell he wasn't really thinking about the game. "Shane," he said. "Go make sure we're locked up, would you?"
Shane nodded and left, heading straight for the kitchen first. Claire sat across from Michael, in the chair Oliver had occupied. "You're worried," she said.
"No," Michael said, and picked up the white knight, to turn it over and over in his pale fingers. "I'm scared. If this guy's got Amelie and Oliver nervous, we're way out of our league. Morganville is way out of its league."
He looked up at Eve, who didn't respond except to press her lips tighter together. Claire heard Shane's footsteps as he went toward the front door, checked the lock and dead bolt, and then went on to test the windows.
"We should get some rest," Michael said. "Could be a long day tomorrow."
As he got up, Eve's hand grazed his, just a very light caress, and the two of them locked stares for about a half second.
"Yeah," Eve agreed. "I should rest, too."
Claire threw a stray magazine at her. "Get a room."
"Paying for one already," Eve shot back. "And I'm going to get my money's worth, too."
She jogged up the stairs, pausing near the top to throw a glance back down toward Michael, who had the most luminous smile on his face. He shook his head, like he couldn't believe what was going through his mind, and cleared his throat when he saw Claire watching him.
"Discreet," Claire said. "You guys ought to hang a towel on the doorknob or something."
"Quiet." But Michael was smiling, and when he smiled, her heart just soared. She loved seeing him happy. He was usually so . . . focused. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."
"Yeah, you think?"
He waved and followed Eve upstairs.
Shane came back from checking all the ground-floor entry points, and dropped into the chair Michael had vacated. "Where'd they go?"
She pointed straight up.
"Oh." He knew, all too well. "So. Want to play a game?"
"I want to call my parents," Claire said. "Do you seriously think Amelie let Mr. Bishop stay in their house?"
"I don't know," he said. "Call if you think it'll help."
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed information; her parents had a new listing, since they'd just arrived in Morganville. While she waited for an answer, Shane reached across the table and took her free hand in his, and the warm touch of his skin made her feel a little less nervous.
Until her mom answered the phone, at least. "Claire! I didn't expect you to call so soon. Are you ready to come home?"
She froze for a second, then said, as calmly as possible, "No, Mom. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Everything all right?"
"Of course everything's all right. Why wouldn't it be?"
Claire squeezed her eyes shut. "No reason," she said. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were settling in. How's the house?"
"Well, it's a fixer-upper, you know. Needs some wiring, and an absolute mountain of decorating, but I'm looking forward to that."
"That's great. And - so, you don't have any guests or anything?"
"Guests?" Her mother laughed. "Claire, honey, we barely have sheets on our mattress right now. I'm not ready for guests!"
That, at least, was a relief. "Great. Well - Mom, I have to go. Good night."
"Good night, sweetheart. I'm looking forward to having you home."
Claire hung up, and Shane slipped an arm around her waist. "Hey," he said. "They're okay?"
"For now. But he could get to them, right? Anytime he wants."
"Maybe. But he could get to us just as easily. Look, you can't help them right now, but he's got no good reason to hurt them. It'll be okay."
Shane was the optimist. That was how you knew things were really bad. . . . Claire forced a smile, opened her eyes, and tried to be a brave little toaster. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it'll be fine. No problem."
His dark eyes searched hers, and she knew that he could see she was lying. But he didn't call her on it, probably all too familiar with the concept of denial. "So," he said. "Care for a nice, civilized game of chess?"
A thump, and the unmistakable sound of a muffled giggle, drifted through the ceiling from the second floor. Approximately where Eve's room would be.
"Hey!" Shane yelled up. "Turn down the p**n soundtrack! Trying to concentrate here!"
More laughter, quickly stifled. Shane focused back on Claire, and Claire felt her lips curling into a more genuine kind of smile.
"Chess," she said. "Your move, tough guy."
Another thump from upstairs. Shane shook his head and tipped over his king. "What the hell. I surrender. Let's hook up a video game and kill some zombies."
Chapter Three
In the morning, it was ... the morning. For a precious few seconds when Claire woke up, nothing was wrong, nothing at all. Her body hummed with energy, and the birds were singing outside, and the sun burned in warm stripes across her bed.
She squinted at the alarm clock. Seven thirty. Time to get up if she intended to make it to her first class and still have any margin for coffee.
It wasn't until she was in the shower, and the hot water was pounding sense back into her head, that she realized that all was not well. Her parents were in town. Her parents were on the radar screen of the monsters.