Part 25 (1/2)

”Hey,” she said. ”Maybe you could come over tonight, to the Gla.s.s House? Have dinner with us? I'm sure Shane would love to see you. It'd be a great surprise.”

”It would,” Dean said, and gave her a matching grin. ”Yeah, okay. Seven o'clock?”

”Fine,” she said. ”Listen, I have to get to work. See you then!”

He hastily stood up and shoveled his books and papers into his backpack. ”I'm going too,” he said. ”Just a sec.”

Is he hitting on me? Claire wondered. She knew what Eve would say, but she couldn't quite believe it. Dean seemed like a nice guy-but there was a glint in his eye when he looked at her.

She wondered if she should just take off, but that seemed rude.

Oliver was watching her from his place at the bar. She nodded to him, and he gave her a cool look that told her just what he thought of her. No, they were never going to be friends. And that was fine with Claire. She still thought he was a creep.

Dean stumbled over his own feet getting up, jostled the arm of a jock at the next table, and had to apologize his way out of trouble, backing into Claire as he did so. She sighed, grabbed his backpack, and towed him toward the door.

She was surprised he didn't fall over the cracks in the sidewalk, but once he was out of public view, he seemed to straighten up and be a little more coordinated. Huh. He was taller than she'd thought. Broader, too. Not Shane-broad, but solid, after all. It was the hair that fooled her-emo hair always made guys look kind of wimpy.

”Where are you heading?” she asked Dean. He adjusted the weight of his backpack on his shoulder.

”Oh, you know,” he said vaguely, and pointed down the street. She was starting to think that he really was trying to hit on her. The going-my-way routine must have been old when Rome was still building roads. ”You all done with cla.s.ses and stuff?” ”Mostly. I have a couple of labs still to finish out, extra credit stuff, really. You looked like you were studying hard.”

”Not really,” Dean said. ”I mostly carry the books around just to make stupid girls like you think I'm safe to be around.”

She blinked, not sure she'd heard that right. He'd said it exactly the same way he'd said everything else. Like a nice, normal guy.

They were just pa.s.sing an alley between the buildings. n.o.body in sight.

”What-”

She turned her head toward him, and the last thing she saw was his backpack, full of books, heading at full speed toward her head.

Claire woke up not really sure she was waking up at all-everything seemed weird, smeared, dreamlike. She couldn't move, and her head hurt so bad she started to cry.

She heard voices.

”. . . can't believe you brought her here,” one said-she knew the voice, but she couldn't place it; the headache was too huge to think around. ”Are you mental? That's not just anybody. She's going to be missed, Dean!”

”That's the point.” Dean. That was Dean's voice. ”I want them to miss her. I want them to look all over. They won't find her until I want them to. Come on, Jason. Man up, already.”

”Dude, I knew you were crazy. I didn't know you were stupid, too. We have to let her go.”

Sound of scuffling. Feet on wood. Grunts. Two men fighting.

One went down.

”Shut up,” Dean snapped. ”You're always whining. All you ever had to do was carry the bodies. I'm not even asking you to get your hands dirty.”

”No! Look, I know her. You can't-”

”That's why she's perfect. Everybody knows her. C'mon, man, get it together. She's just a girl. Worse, she's a vamp lover. We're making the world a better place, and having fun while we do it.” Dean laughed. It was the worst sound she'd ever heard from a human-and a good match for the worst sound she'd ever heard, period.

Jason must be Jason Rosser, Eve's brother. The one Dean said he barely knew. Maybe this was some horrible dream. It made sense that she'd put Jason's brother in a dream about being abducted and tied up, right? Because Jason had been accused of those murders . . .

Claire opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of what looked like an old, abandoned house. s.p.a.ckle was peeling off in sad sheets, hanging down, waving in a slight breeze through a broken window.

Jason had been accused of those murders. But he'd told Amelie, straight up, that he hadn't killed anybody.

He'd just seen it happen. He'd never said who was behind it. Dean.

Claire felt short of breath. This is bad; this is really, really bad. . . . Her head felt like it had been smashed with a brick. She felt sick enough to barf, and when she tried to move, the pain got worse. She couldn't do much, anyway. She was tied up, ankles and wrists.

There was sunlight coming in the window, but it was at a low angle. She'd been out for hours, and there was a bitter, nasty taste in her mouth. They'd given her something, on top of knocking her in the head. Maybe chloroform.

By twisting her wrist, she could see her watch.

Five o'clock.

The sun would be down soon. n.o.body would have missed her yet; it wasn't dinnertime, and she'd been casually intending to drop in at Myrnin's lab to see how far he'd gotten with setting it back up. But he hadn't been expecting her.

n.o.body had been expecting her. Shane had gone to work, and wouldn't be home until dark.

Phone.

It wasn't in her pocket. They'd taken it.

She blinked, and she must have lost time, because when she opened her eyes again, Dean Simms was sitting next to her, staring down. In the doorway of the decaying room stood Jason Rosser, looking sick and ill at ease.

Dean was smiling like he owned the world.

”Hey,” he said. ”So, you're up and around, right? Good. I thought you'd be tougher. I mean, they all talk about you like you're something special, but you went down just like the others. No problem at all.”

”I . . . ” Nausea boiled up inside when she tried to talk, and she stopped and swallowed helplessly until she could talk again. ”My friends will look for me.”

”Yeah, that's what I figured. So when they find you drained like some sad little vamp quickie outside of Oliver's back door . . .

well. They won't be real happy, will they?” Dean's eyes practically glowed. ”Man, you were so easy. Frank thought you had backbone. Guess not.”

”Why?” she whispered. ”Why are you doing this?” She really wanted to know. Somehow, if she had to die, she felt like she wanted to understand. She wanted it to make sense.

”Look, it's not personal.” Dean dragged a fingernail down her cheek, scratching her. ”Well, maybe a little personal, because, you know, fun. But this is about setting this town free. Fighting evil. It's what Frank Collins wanted. It's what I want. It's what you want, right, Claire? I know it's what Shane wants, too. So you're doing everybody a favor by dying.” Dean hadn't come to Morganville just to have Shane's back; he'd come to have his fun. If he even knew Frank Collins at all, he'd just been using Frank. Once he'd come to Morganville, he'd realized it was open season, and he could do whatever he wanted.

Still could, Claire realized sickly. n.o.body suspected him at all.

She certainly hadn't.

”What?” he asked her. ”You're not going to tell me I'm making a mistake? Beg me not to do it?”

”Why bother?” she whispered. ”You'll do what you want, right?”

”Always do.” Dean leaned back. ”Jase. Hold her feet. I don't want her kicking me.”