Rachel Caine - Feast of Fools

To the Time Turners, who keep me moving forward . . .And to P. N. Elrod, who knows why.

Couldnt have happened without Sondra Lehman, Josefine Corsten, Sharon Sams, and my friends at LSG Sky Chefs.

Thanks also to Lucienne Diver and Anne Bohner, without whom . . . well, you know!

Claire Danvers was going to Caltech. Or maybe MIT. She had her pick of great schools ... but her parents were a little worried about sending a wide-eyed sixteen-year -old into such a high-pressure world. So they compromised and sent her to a safe place for a yearTexasPrairieUniversity, a small school located in Morganville, Texas, just an hour or so from their home.

One problem: Morganville isnt what it seems. Its the last safe place for vampires, and that makes it not very safe at all for the humans who venture in for work or school. The vampires rule the town . . . and everyone who lives in it.

Claires second problem is that shes gathered enemies, major ones, human and vampire. Now she lives with housemates Michael Glass (newly made a vampire), Eve Rosser (always been Goth), and Shane Collins (whose absentee dad is a vampire killer). Claires the normal one . . . or she would be, except that shes deep into the secrets of Morganville. Shes become an employee of the Founder, Amelie, and befriended one of the most dangerous, yet most vulnerable, vampires of them all, Myrnin.

And just when she thinks things cant get any worse . . . they have.

Amelies vampire father has come to town, and hes not happy.

When Daddys not happy . . . nobodys happy.

It was hard to imagine how Claires dayeven by Morganville standardscould get any worse ... and then the vampires holding her hostage wanted breakfast.

Breakfast? Claire repeated blankly. She took a look at the living room window, just to prove to herself that, yes, it was still dark outside. Getting darker all the time.

The three vampires all looked at her. It was bad enough having that kind of attention from the two she hadnt properly met yetman and woman, eerily prettybut when the cold, old Mr. Bishops eyes focused her way, it made her want to curl up in a corner and hide.

She held his stare for a full five seconds, then looked down. She could almost feel him smiling.

Breakfast, he said softly, is something to be eaten in the mornings. Mornings for vampires are not controlled by sunrise. And I like eggs.

Scrambled or over easy? Claire asked, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. Dont say over easy. I dont know how to make eggs over easy. I dont even know why I mentioned it. Dont say over easy. . . .

Scrambled, he said, and Claires breath rushed out in relief. Mr. Bishop was sitting in the comfortable chair in the living room that her housemate Michael normally occupied while he was playing his guitar. Unlike Michael, Mr. Bishop made it look like a throne. Part of it was that everybody else stayed standing Claire, with her boyfriend, Shane, hovering protectively by her side; Eve and Michael a little distance away, holding hands. Claire risked a glance at Michael. He looked . . . contained. Angry, sure, but under control, at least.

Claire was more scared about Shane. He had a pretty well-documented history of acting before thinking, at least when it came to the personal safety of those he cared about. She took his hand, and he sent her a quick, dark, unreadable glance.

No, she wasnt sure about him at all.

Mr. Bishops voice pulled her attention back to him with a cold snap. Have you told Amelie that Ive arrived, girl?

That had been Bishops first commandto let his daughter know hed come to town. His daughter? Ameliethe head vampire of Morganvilledidnt seem human enough to have family, not even family as scary as Mr. Bishop. Ice and crystal, that was Amelie.

He was waiting for an answer, and Claire hastily got one together. I called. I got her voice mail, Claire said. She tried not to sound defensive. Bishops eyebrows drew together in a scowl.

I suppose that means you left some sort of a message. She nodded mutely. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair. Very well. Well eat while we wait. Eggs, scrambled, as I said. We shall also have bacon, coffee

Biscuits, drawled the woman leaning on the arm of his chair. I love biscuits. And honey. The vampire had a molasses-slow accent, something that wasnt quite Southern and wasnt quite not, either. Mr. Bishop gave her a tolerant look, the kind a human would give a favorite pet. She had the icy glitter in her eyes, and moved so smoothly and quietly that there was no way she was regular-flavored human. Not hiding it, either, the way some of the vampires of Morganville tried to do.

The woman kept smiling, dark eyes fixed on Shane. Claire didnt like the way she was looking at him. It lookedgreedy.

Biscuits, Mr. Bishop agreed, with a quirk of a smile. And Ill indulge you further by agreeing to gravy, child. The smile vanished when he turned back to the four standing in front of him. Go about your business, then. Now.

Shane grabbed Claires hand and practically dragged her toward the kitchen. However fast he was moving, Michael was there first, pushing Eve through the door. Hey! Eve protested. Im walking here!

And the faster, the better, Michael said. His normally angelic face looked stark, all sharp edges, and he closed the kitchen door once they were safely inside. Right. We dont have a lot of choices. Lets do exactly what he says and hope Amelie can sort all this out when she gets here.

I thought you were all Big Bad Bloodsucker these days, Shane said. Its your house. How come you cant just throw them out? That was a reasonable question, and Shane managed to say it without making it seem like a challenge. Well, much of one. The kitchen felt cold, Claire noticedas if the temperature of the whole house was steadily dropping. She shivered.

Its complicated, Michael said. He yanked open cabinets and began assembling the makings of fresh coffee. Yeah, its our houseemphasis, Claire noted, on the ourbut if I revoke Bishops invitation, he will still kick our asses, I guarantee you.

Shane leaned his butt against the stove and crossed his arms. I just thought you were supposed to be stronger than them on home ground

Supposed to be. Im not. Michael spooned coffee into the filter. Dont be an asshole right nowwe dont have time for it.

Dude, I wasnt trying to be. And Claire could tell he actually meant it this time. Michael seemed to hear it, too, and sent Shane an apologetic glance. Im trying to figure out how big a pile of crap were in. Not blaming you, man. He hesitated a second, then continued. How do you know? Whether or not you have a chance?

Any other vampire I meet, I know where I stand with them. Whos stronger, whos weaker, whether or not I could take them in a straight-up fight if it came to that. Michael poured water into the machine and switched it on to brew. These guys, I know I havent got a chance in hell. Not against one of them, much less all three, not even with the house itself backing me up. Theyre badass, man. Truly black hat. Its going to take Amelie or Oliver to handle this.

So, Shane said, landfill-sized pile of crap. Good to know.

Eve pushed him out of the way and began getting pots and pans out of the cabinets, clattering everything noisily. Since were not fighting, wed better get breakfast ready, she said. Claire, you get the eggs, since you volunteered us for short-order cooks.

Better than volunteering us for breakfast, Shane pointed out, and Eve snorted.

You, she said, and pressed a finger into the center of his well-worn T-shirt. You, mister. Youre making gravy.