“We need to get it off,” Shane said, and turned her wrist over, looking for a clasp. Claire tried to tell him there wasn’t one, but he wasn’t listening. “Michael, it’s cold, man. It’s really cold. Something’s really wrong.”

They were all out of their chairs now, gathered around her. Michael touched the bracelet, drew back, and locked gazes with Shane. “It doesn’t come off,” Michael said.

“I don’t give a crap if it’s not supposed to come off!” Shane snapped. “Help me!”

“It won’t do any good. It’s a Founder’s bracelet.” Michael grabbed Shane’s arm when Shane tried to yank on the bracelet. “Dude, listen! You can’t get it off! All we can do is get to Amelie. She can take it off.”

“Amelie,” Claire repeated, and tried to control her violent shaking so she could get the words out. The whole world seemed to be turning to ice, cold and toxic. “Something—wrong—with—Amelie—”

Shane glared at Michael. “Let go.” When Michael did, he kept on glaring. “Shouldn’t you know if something was wrong with Amelie, you being her demonic spawn and everything?”

“It’s not like that,” Michael said, although anger was starting to build in his blue eyes and in the set of his face. “I’m not her spawn.”

“Not arguing the demonic part? Whatever you call it. She made you a vampire. Can’t you tell if she’s in trouble?”

“You’re confusing vampires with Spider-Man,” Michael shot back, but he’d already left the fight and was pulling out his cell phone. A one-button press, and he was talking, but not to Shane. “Oliver. Are you with Amelie? No? Where is she?”

Whatever the answer, he snapped the phone shut without answering, locked eyes with Shane, and said, “Let’s go.”

“W-w-wait,” Claire managed to say, and grabbed for Shane’s arm. “Wh-wh-where—”

“My question, too. Where are you going? Because I’m going with,” Eve said, and jumped up to grab her patent leather skull purse.

“No, you’re not. Someone needs to stay with Claire.”

“Then she’s going with. Womenfolk don’t stay behind anymore, Mikey; it’s so last century,” Eve said, and Claire nodded. She thought she did, anyway; it was hard to tell, with all the shaking. “Right. Up you go, kiddo.”

Chapter 3

3

The ride in Michael’s car felt like a nightmare. Eve had brought loads of blankets, and Claire was almost smothering under them, but she was still cold, and getting colder, as if her thermostat had gone drastically wrong. Her skin was turning white, her fingernails and lips blue.

She was starting to look . . . dead.