Free Feast of Fools by Rachel Caine Page A

Michael,’’ she said. ‘‘But that’s not news.’’
    â€˜â€˜I heard there were strangers.’’
    Claire shrugged. ‘‘Guess you heard wrong.’’
    She left before she had to lie any more. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at him. He nodded and smiled a good-bye.
    She felt bad, but there was only so much truth she was prepared to give, even to somebody who came recommended by Amelie.
    â€˜â€˜Did you bring the hamburger?’’
    Claire didn’t even have time to drop her backpack on the hallway floor at home before Eve had buzzed in on her like a dark, caffeine-fueled Tinkerbell, brandishing a wooden spoon.
    â€˜â€˜Uh—what?’’
    â€˜â€˜Hamburger. I sent you a text.’’
    Oops. Claire dug her phone out and saw that, sure enough, there was a flashing message icon. ‘‘I didn’t get it. Sorry.’’
    â€˜â€˜Crap.’’ Eve turned away and marched back down the hall, Doc Martens boots clomping with fine disregard for the safety of the wood floor. ‘‘Michael! Guess what? You’re running errands!’’
    Michael was playing guitar—something fast and complicated. He stopped periodically, which was unusual for him, and he ignored Eve, which wasn’t normal, either. As Claire rounded the corner, she saw him standing up at the dinner table, leaning over to jot down music on a lined page.
    Turned out that he wasn’t ignoring Eve so much as not obeying. ‘‘I’m busy,’’ he said, frowned at the paper, and played the same phrase again, then again. Shook his head in frustration and erased notes on the paper. ‘‘You and Shane go.’’
    â€˜â€˜I’m cooking!’’ Eve rolled her eyes. ‘‘Creative people. They think the world stops when they think.’’
    â€˜â€˜I’ll go,’’ Claire said. The chance to be alone with Shane, even on something as boring as a trip to the all-night grocery, was too good to miss. ‘‘Better if I do, anyway. I’ve got the free pass.’’ She held up the bracelet.
    Michael pulled himself away from the music in his head long enough to give her a look. He tapped his pencil in a fast, complicated rhythm on the table. ‘‘Thirty minutes,’’ he said. ‘‘There and back. No excuses. If you guys are late, I’m coming after you, and I’m going to be pissed off.’’
    â€˜â€˜Thanks, Dad .’’ She wished she hadn’t said it—not so much because of the grimace on Michael’s face, but because it made her think of her actual dad. And that the clock was running on how long he’d allow her to continue her current living arrangements.
    Shane came out of the kitchen sucking on his fingertip. ‘‘What’s going on?’’
    â€˜â€˜You have not been sticking your dirty fingers in my sauce,’’ Eve said, and pointed her wooden spoon at him.
    He quickly took the finger out of his mouth. ‘‘First off, they’re not dirty. I licked them first. And second— did I hear something about the store? Claire?’’
    â€˜â€˜Yeah, I’m ready.’’
    He grabbed Eve’s keys from the hall table. ‘‘Then let’s roll."
    Shane was a good driver, and he knew Morganville like the back of his hand—of course, Morganville was just about that big, too, and there was only one all-night grocery store, the Food King, locally owned and operated. The parking lot was lit up like a football stadium. There were fifteen or so cars already there, evenly split between human vehicles and vamp-mobiles. Shane parked directly under a blazing set of lights and turned off the car.
    â€˜â€˜Wait,’’ he said as Claire reached for the door handle. ‘‘It takes us about five minutes to get here, five minutes to get the stuff, five minutes