Feast of Fools Read Online Free PDF Page B

kit?’’
    â€˜â€˜Upstairs,’’ Claire said. ‘‘In the bathroom.’’
    â€˜â€˜Nope, it’s down here,’’ Shane said. ‘‘I moved it.’’
    â€˜â€˜You did? When?’’
    â€˜â€˜Couple of days ago,’’ he said. ‘‘Figured it would be better where I could get to it, since I’m the one who’s usually getting bandaged. Look under the sink.’’
    Eve did, and hauled out a big white metal box marked with a red cross. She opened it up and pulled out supplies. ‘‘Shirt off.’’
    â€˜â€˜You only love me for my abs.’’
    â€˜â€˜Shut up, loser. Shirt off.’’
    With a glance toward Claire, Shane pulled it over his head and tossed it on the breakfast table next to him. Claire took the shirt to the sink, where she rinsed it in cold water, watching as Shane’s blood tinted the water light pink. She didn’t like to watch what Eve was doing; seeing the damage that Shane put himself through made her feel sick and frail, because he’d done it—as always—for other people. For her, and Eve.
    â€˜â€˜Done,’’ Eve pronounced a few minutes later. ‘‘You’d better not bleed all over my nice clean bandages, or I’ll stick a sale price on you and put you on the corner for the next neck-muncher.’’
    â€˜â€˜You’re such a bitch,’’ Shane said. ‘‘Thanks.’’
    She gave him an air kiss and a wink. ‘‘Like most girls wouldn’t line up to play nurse with you. Right.’’
    Claire felt an unwelcome, completely surprising surge of jealousy. Eve? No, it was just Eve’s usual teasing. Nothing else, right? She wasn’t—she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t.
    Claire wrung out the shirt until her hands ached, then pressed it between two towels to try to get it as dry as possible. She handed it to Shane while Eve was busy putting the unused supplies back in the box, and helped him drag the damp fabric over his head and down his chest. She couldn’t help but let her fingers brush down his skin, and to be honest, she didn’t really try. In fact, she might have moved a little more slowly than she should have.
    â€˜â€˜Feels good,’’ Shane said, very quietly, in her ear. ‘‘You okay?’’
    Claire nodded. He touched her lightly under the chin to lift it, and studied her face closely.
    â€˜â€˜Yeah,’’ he said. ‘‘You’re okay.’’ He brushed her lips with his and looked past her at the kitchen door as it opened.
    Michael, with Claire’s parents in tow. The knot in Claire’s chest, the one tied tight around her heart, eased a couple of precious notches.
    Her parents looked . . . blank. Frowning, as if they’d forgotten something important. When her mother’s eyes focused on her, Claire dredged up a smile.
    â€˜â€˜Weren’t we going to have dinner?’’ her mother asked. ‘‘It’s getting very late, isn’t it? Were you going to cook, or—’’
    â€˜â€˜No,’’ Michael said. ‘‘We’ll go out.’’ He grabbed his car keys from the hook next to the door. ‘‘All of us.’’

2
    There weren’t a lot of choices for late-night dining in Morganville for those who weren’t of the fanged persuasion, but there were a few places near the campus, most notably a twenty-four-hour diner. They ended up in an uncomfortable bunch around a table, the four of them plus Claire’s parents, after an even more uncomfortably close ride in Michael’s big vampire-tinted car.
    The hamburgers were good, but Claire couldn’t concentrate on the taste. She was too busy watching the people outside the diner. Some were college students, laughing in groups in the parking lot, ignoring the occasional pale-looking strangers walking