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moonlight into the convertible.
    Claire's knuckles turned white on the
steering wheel at the mention of the Coatyl. I toed my boots off
and twisted around until I was leaning back in the passenger seat
with my legs crossed at the ankle and resting against the dash.
    "I'm sorry, but in my mind those damn things
will forever be linked with vampires."
    I turned by head in time to catch the
shudder that went through her. Honey colored hair swished against
her shoulders and back when she shook her head.
    "Vampires?" I frowned for a second before
remembering some of the old legends Claire had shared with me. "Oh.
Right."
    "I know they don't really
look like vampires, or what vampires would look like if they were
real, I mean, but still–that chalky white skin and those teeth and
nails." She broke off and absently rubbed at her right
shoulder.
    "Does it still pain you?"
    "Huh?" Her eyes cut over to mine before
going to her shoulder. She let her hand drop and quickly refocused
her attention on the road ahead, as if she hadn't been aware of
touching the old injury. "Sometimes." She finally shrugged. "It's
not too bad. I get a little sore now and then but truthfully I
hardly notice it anymore."
    "It's healed up nicely." I agreed. "By this
time next year you won't even know anything happened."
    "Except for the scar." she snorted. “I think
I would have rather had the T-shirt.”
    "It's not so bad." I assured her. That was
the truth. Even now, the four jagged claw marks on her right
shoulder were significantly faded. The marking had lost its red,
puffy vividness weeks ago.
    "Maybe. Mark says that before long it'll
just be thin silvery lines that will hardly be visible at all."
    "He's right."
    At that Claire gave a short laugh. "Would
you listen to me...carrying on about a few scars. Forgive me?" She
flashed a quick grin in my direction and steered the car around a
curve.
    We had just turned off onto the rambling
mile-long drive that would take us straight to Bob and Marta's–and
now Claire and Mark's–home and tension suddenly knotted my shoulder
blades, even though I wasn't in any danger of running into Mike
tonight.
    "Hmm." I shifted in the seat and idly
twisted a section of ink colored hair through my fingers, held it
up to the moonlight, and made an effort to relax and breathe
normally as we approached the house. "Tell you what, Claire–I'll
put up with your scars if you'll put up with mine."
    "It's a deal." A light breeze kicked the
hair back from her shoulders and she laughed as we coasted to a
stop in front of the towering white structure.
    To call it a house was probably a flagrant
understatement. My people didn't even typically live in houses. At
least, not your average square shaped structure with four walls and
a roof, so I'm sure the white elephant of a house in front of us
looked even bigger to me than it would to other people.
    Hell, on more than one occasion Claire had
even confessed to being a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of
her new home and I knew she had grown up in a house that nobody
would have ever called small, in some city called Edmond.
    I'd grown up in the heart of the forest,
mostly under the protection of the dome, like all the other nymphs.
I hadn't lived there for over a year now; instead I'd opted for my
own small cabin at the edge of the woods.
    It wasn't in the protected zone, which I
didn't like, but it was perfect for me and a stone's throw away
from the Grandview safe zone. Literally, it was two feet from the
sparkly fence that guarded the city. In an emergency I could
probably take a flying leap out my living room window and land
right on the fence, and possibly even over it on the town's
soil.
    It was a great little cottage, though it was
certainly nothing like Claire's digs, I conceded, unfolding my long
legs from the dash and climbing gracefully out of the convertible.
Claire vaulted easily over the door and then leaned back in to
retrieve her purse and the prized seashells and rock it