Feast of Fools by Rachel Caine

anything?’’
    â€˜â€˜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.’’
    â€˜â€˜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?’’
    â€˜â€˜For now. But he could get to them, right? Anytime he wants.’’
    â€˜â€˜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.
    â€˜â€˜Hey!’’ Shane yelled up. ‘‘Turn down the porn 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.
    â€˜â€˜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.’’

3
    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.
    And her parents wanted her to move back in with them.
    That put an end to her good mood, and by the time she padded down the steps, dragging her textbook-loaded backpack and carrying her shoes, she was frowning. The house was a mess. Nobody had done the chores, including her. The kitchen was still a wreck, with breakfast congealing in the pans. She muttered to herself as the coffee brewed, dumped filthy dishes and pans in the sink to soak in hot water, and left a snarky note for her housemates. Especially Shane, who’d slacked even more than was normal.
    Then she put on her shoes and walked to school.
    Morganville looked just like any other dusty, sleepy town in the daylight: people out driving to work, jogging, pushing strollers, walking dogs. College students with backpacks as she got closer to the campus. The casual visitor never knew, at least during the daytime, that this place was so vastly screwed up.
    Claire supposed that was the point.
    She spotted some trucks delivering to local businesses; did those drivers know? Did they just come and go without incident? Was there some off-limits rule for the vamps about whom they could hunt and whom they couldn’t? There would have to be. Having the state police descend on Morganville wouldn’t be helpful for the vamps. . . .
    â€˜â€˜Hey.’’
    Claire blinked. A car was idling next