Daylighters (The Morganville Vampires #15)(102)

An old, weirdly shaped vase in a particularly unpleasant shade of brown flew off a shelf and smashed into bits against his head.

And then he was down, sagging down the wall. Groaning.

The house seemed satisfied with that—Claire felt the surge of triumph and knew it hadn’t come from her or Miranda. She scrambled up, moved the coffee table out of the way (it was heavier than she remembered), and kicked the sharp pieces of the vase aside as she picked up the riot baton.

The construction worker looked up at her woozily through bloodshot eyes. She stuck the bulldozer keys in her pants pocket and said, “Are you okay?”

He mumbled something that sounded rude, so she just assumed he was, and looked outside. Jenna’s car was screeching to a crooked halt at the curb ahead of their police cruiser; she must have sensed the house’s distress, or Miranda’s. The fight on the lawn was still going, but it was just about over, and as Jenna got out of her car and strode over to help Shane to his feet, the remaining construction worker raised his hands to signal surrender. “Okay, okay,” he yelled, as Michael and Eve paused, fists raised. “Enough already. They don’t pay us enough for this!”

“Surprise,” Jenna said crisply. “They aren’t paying you at all for this. If you think the Daylight Foundation is writing you a check, you’re in for a surprise. They just shut their doors for good.”

He must have been the foreman, Claire thought, because he just looked disgusted. “Well, crap,” he said. “I ain’t paying for that broken fence, lady. I had my orders.”

“Let’s call it even,” Eve said. “I never did like that fence, anyway. What do you think, Michael? Something Gothic, like wrought iron? With spikes?”

“Spikes are good,” he said, and grabbed her to look her over. He ran a thumb over her chin. “You’re going to have a bruise.”

“Jeez, I hope so. Didn’t do my part if I don’t.”

He kissed her, looped an arm around her shoulders, and walked her toward the house.

Shane was limping, but when he got to the door with Jenna, he gave Claire a reassuring grin. “It’s a bruise; I’ll shake it off,” he said. “You might have to kiss it better later.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dream on,” she said, but she reached up to push back the sweaty, thick hair from his face. “Look at that. Still handsome.”

“Damn straight.” Shane nudged the bulldozer guy with his foot. “Hey. Want to get the hell out of our house, fool? Don’t make me tell you that you’re not welcome. Bad things happen.”

No kidding, Claire thought. The house was practically vibrating, it was so upset. She shook her head, helped the guy up (seemed like the least she could do, really), and pushed him out the door into his foreman’s arms. “I think you’d better call it a day,” she told him.

He nodded. “You got it, kid. It’s beer o’clock.”

Claire dug the keys out of her pocket and tossed them to him. “Then get that thing off our lawn.” She hesitated, holding his stare. “You understand that if you even think about putting it in gear the wrong direction . . .”

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “Trust me. Far as I’m concerned, this damn house can stay standing until the whole town falls down around it.”

That seemed like an acceptable way to look at it, but Claire checked her friends to be sure. Miranda nodded gravely, and hugged Jenna tight. Michael raised his eyebrows at Eve, who polled Shane, and then spoke for all of them when she said, “Sounds good. Oh, and I’d get your friends checked out at the hospital just in case.”

“Them? What about me?” He rubbed his jaw. “You kick like a mule, Mrs. Glass.”

He retreated with his two weaving, staggering buddies.

Eve smiled and relaxed against Michael, who wrapped his arms around her. “We’re home. I like the sound of that,” she said, and looked up at him. “Wait, weren’t we talking about a wedding before all this?”

“We were,” he said. “Let’s go discuss it. In private.” He grabbed Eve’s hand and towed her off down the hall. Eve waved back toward the rest of them, and all the Goth makeup in the world couldn’t have concealed the blush in her cheeks.

“We should go,” Miranda said to Jenna, in a very businesslike tone. “Because they get weird about me being here when they’re, you know.”

“I’ve been thinking that maybe we should make you a bedroom at my house,” Jenna said. “I’ve got a spare room. You’ll have to visit here to keep your connection, but you’re welcome anytime.”

Miranda’s eyes widened, and she looked so bright and hopeful that it almost hurt Claire to look at her. After all the kid’s misery, maybe things were starting to finally, finally look up. “Yeah, that sounds okay,” she finally said, and managed to make it sound teen-indifferent, even though she definitely wasn’t. “Can I bring my posters?”

“Of course. I love posters.” Jenna smiled at her with genuine warmth and walked her toward the door. “You going to be okay until we get home? Not feeling too weak?”

“No,” Miranda’s voice drifted back, as they picked their way across the destroyed lawn. “The house is happy. I feel strong.”

Shane put his arms around Claire from behind, and kissed her in a place just behind her ear, a place he knew made her shiver. “Hmmm, so there’s going to be a wedding. What do you think?” he asked her.