Rachel Caine: Carpe Corpus

“Several things. First, Eve called me and demanded my help.” Amelie nodded to Eve, who managed to look simultaneously smug and embarrassed as she leaned against the wall. “Although Eve presumed a great deal about my willingness to help, I decided to speak with Ada.” Claire bet that had been an interesting, scary conversation. “She admitted that she knew where you were. From there, it was a simple enough matter to open a portal to you and bring you help.”

“Who was it?” she asked. Her eyelids felt heavy. “Shane?”

“In fact, no,” Oliver said, from the darkest corner of the room. “I carried you. Don’t get sentimental; the doctors saved you, not me. I simply moved you from one place to another.” He sounded as if he deeply wished to be out of the round of thanks at all costs. Claire was happy to oblige him.

“The blood bank came in handy,” Dr. Mills said cheerfully, leaning over her to check her tubes and wires. “About time it did humans some good, too.” He didn’t seem shy about saying it in front of Amelie and Oliver, either. “You owe us about four pints, kiddo. But later, I promise. No rush at all.”

“Thanks,” she said, and gave him a drowsy thumbs-up.

“Just doing my job,” he said. “Of course, some days it’s a pleasure. Rest. You’re going to be here for a few days. Oh, and I hope you enjoy off-brand flavors of Jell-O.”

She thought he was kidding about that last part, but she absolutely couldn’t be sure. Before she could ask, he scribbled something on her chart and hurried off to the next patient. Jell-O victim.

Amelie’s cool fingers adjusted the covers minutely—for Amelie, that was positively fussy. “I am pleased you’ll be working with us a while longer, Claire,” she said. “Sleep now.”

Claire badly wanted to, but she had another question. “Did you get him?” Claire asked, and opened her eyes again. “Did you find Dean?”

“Yes,” Amelie said. Her expression was absolutely unreadable. “We found Dean.” She rose, nodded to her bodyguards, and left without an explanation or a backward glance. Oliver pushed off and followed, but he made it look like it was his own idea.

Oh, that was going to be trouble, if Oliver kept up with the attitude. But it was trouble that Claire didn’t have to worry about. The only thing she had to worry about, in fact, was choking down horrible, weird flavors of gelatin.

About a minute after the departure of the vampires, the door opened again, and Shane came in juggling a handful of drinks. Coffee, it smelled like. The sight of him made Claire feel like a sun had exploded inside her—so much happiness she was surprised it wasn’t leaking out of her skin, like light.

His smile was amazing.

“Hope you brought some for me,” Claire said, as he handed Eve and Michael their cups. There was one left over.

“You’re kidding, right?” Shane asked. “You don’t need caffeine. You need sleep.” He held out the last cup, and Claire realized she’d been wrong; there was someone else in the shadows. Deeper in the shadows even than Oliver had been.

Myrnin.

He looked completely different to her now, and not just because he wasn’t crazy anymore. He’d remembered how to dress himself, for one thing; gone were the costume coats and Mardi Gras beads and flip-flops. He had on a gray knit shirt, black pants, and a jacket that looked a bit out of period, but not as much as before.

All clean. He even had shoes on.

“Yes, you must sleep,” he agreed, as he accepted the cup and tried the coffee. “I’ve gone to far too much trouble to train up another apprentice at this late date. We have work to do, Claire. Good, hard work. Some of it may even earn you accolades, once you leave Morganville.”

She smiled slowly. “You’ll never let me leave.”

Myrnin’s dark eyes fixed on hers. “Maybe I will,” he said. “But you must give me at least a few more years, my friend. I have a great deal to learn from you, and I am a very slow learner.”

Claire laughed at that, because it was just silly. At least, she thought she did. She felt pleasantly floaty, and so very tired.

Her parents dropped in and evicted everyone, for a while. Even Myrnin. She supposed that was all right, in her dreamy haze. It was nice, being loved like that.

When she opened her eyes again, it was night. Her parents were gone, and Eve was asleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, curled up with her head on her arms and a hospital blanket covering up her pink Goth bowling shirt. Michael had his guitar, and he was playing very quietly—something slow and sweet and peaceful. When he saw Claire’s eyes flutter open, he stopped, looking guilty.

“No, go on,” she murmured. “It’s really beautiful.”

“I’m supposed to play at Common Grounds later,” he said. “I can blow it off if you need me to stay, though.”

“No, you go. Don’t rob Morganville of the amazing Michael Glass comeback tour.”

“Yeah, like anybody will care,” Michael said, but he smiled in that way that meant he was kind of embarrassed about it. And delighted. “I wouldn’t leave, but it looks like you’ve got a permanent bodyguard already.”

Shane was asleep, too, head down on the edge of her bed. She longed to run her fingers through his hair, but she didn’t want to wake him up.

She didn’t have to. Shane’s breathing changed, and he sat up, blinking, as if he’d gotten some invisible signal. He focused on her instantly. “Hey,” he said, and she saw him relax as relief rolled through him. “Sleepyhead.” He reached out and took her hand in his, then leaned forward and kissed her. It felt warm and drowsy and sweet, like a promise. “Welcome back.”

She felt like she’d never take her life for granted again. “Did you talk to my parents?”

“I did. Man, my ears are still burning. It’s all my fault, apparently.” Shane smiled, but she could see he really did feel that way, about his guilt. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there for you, Claire. I can’t believe I couldn’t get to you—”

She put a finger on his lips. “You’ve always been there when I needed you,” she said. “You’re here now, right?”

“You know what I mean.”

She thought about telling him about Frank, about how he’d saved her. But she wasn’t sure, really sure, that she hadn’t just imagined it.

And if Frank Collins was around, he could show up and tell his son himself.

“I know,” she said. Something Monica said back at Common Grounds haunted her, especially in this weakened state: You know it’s not going to last, right? Things changed. People changed. Even Morganville changed. “Don’t go.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Needy much, Claire?

Shane took her hand and raised it to his lips in an old-fashioned kiss worthy of Myrnin at his best. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not even to take a shower. And you’re really going to regret that, by the way.”

“Dude,” Michael said. “I already regret it.”

“Shut up, man.”

Michael threw a box of tissues at him. Shane fielded it and fired it back, which wasn’t much of a challenge to Michael’s vampire reflexes.

Eve woke up, wiped drool from her chin, and yawned. “You jerks want to take the Super Bowl outside? Some of us need our beauty rest— don’t say it, Collins. ”

Shane caught the tissue box. “Say what?” he asked, and tossed the box underhanded in Eve’s direction. “Fetch!”

She came out of the chair, picked up the tissue box, and whacked him over the head with it. Several times.

Claire couldn’t stop laughing. Tears burned in her eyes, and she loved them so much.

She loved them all so much.