Shane looked at Claire.Ĭlaire followed Myrnin. Instead, there was a swirl of black coat and stained white balloon pants tucked into black boots then Myrnin leaned over the railing to say, "Upstairs, all of you. Michael ascended the stairs without a sound, and disappeared. Eve opened a drawer in the end table and took out three sharpened stakes she tossed one to Shane, one to Claire, and kept one in a whiteknuckled grip. Michael pointed to himself and the stairs, and they all nodded. They looked up, and then at each other, in silence. Coming to a head."Ĭlaire had just taken a plate of warm pasta when they all heard the thump of footsteps overhead. With the rest of her followers, the vampires, anyway." "Maybe Amelie's kicking his ass out there in the shadows somewhere." Shane shoveled in more spaghetti. "Why hasn't Bishop taken over? What's he doing out there? Why aren't we seeing the fight?" What's going on here-" Michael checked the locks on the window, but as a kind of automatic motion, as though his mind wasn't really on it.
You all right? Because you never turn down food." He propped it on his lap and forked spaghetti into his mouth. "More for me," Shane said, and grabbed the plate. "Nothing," he said, and gave her a quick, strained smile as he waved away the food. She'd heated up leftover spaghetti out of the refrigerator, and tried to hand Michael a plate first. Michael took his guitar out of its case and tuned it, but he kept getting up to stare out the windows, restless and worried. Shane fired up the video game, apparently back in the mood to kill zombies. Claire grabbed a trash bag and began clearing away paper plates, old Styrofoam cups half full of stale coffee, crumpled wrappers, and papers. The refugees were all out now, leaving a house that badly needed picking up and cleaning- not that anybody had gone out of their way to trash the place, but with that many people coming and going, things happened.
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