Bite Club

TEN

He wasn't answering his cell, but it was a damn good bet that he had gone where he said he was going--to the gym.

In the end, they all went to find him, because Michael wasn't letting Claire go alone, and Eve wasn't letting Michael go without her. They took Eve's big, black hearse, which had a big enough front bench seat to hold three across. Claire ended up in the middle.

"Hey," she said as Eve navigated the giant Deathmobile down the dark streets of Morganville. "So...what is this about getting married? Did I even actually hear that? Because I'm pretty sure I would have been told about that by mybest friend. " She accompanied it with an elbow into Eve's side. Eve made a choked sound that wasn't quite a cry.

Claire was trying to keep it light, because she was feeling anxious now, not just about Shane, but about the two of them. It was tough being a vampire/human couple; there had been plenty of problems already. It would only get harder, and Eve--Eve was strong, but she was also fragile.

Michael was looking out the window at the passing houses, and he didn't turn his head. "It was kind of an impulse thing," he said. "Eve wanted to wait and have a big announcement and an engagement party. I just didn't expect her to blurt it out like that."

"Well, I had to stop Terminator Shane from punching your face off," Eve said. "I like your face. And it worked, didn't it?"

"Back on topic," Claire interrupted. "When exactly did this happen?"

"He asked me at the party. You know, Gloriana's big party." That had been one of those weird vampire welcome-to-town shindigs where they'd been basically the only people with pulses invited. Claire hadn't felt comfortable. She and Shane had ducked out as soon as they could, although later she wished she hadn't, because she'd heard that crazy things had happened, and the spectacle ofEve dancing withOliver must have been, according to all the gossip, pretty compelling. Because Oliver apparently coulddance .

That still seemed bizarre.

She hadn't known what happened after, because Eve hadn't said. Claire had assumed nothing had happened of any real notice. Obviously, she'd been way, way wrong.

"So where's the ring?" Claire asked. She was staring at Eve's left hand. Nothing shiny on the third finger.

"I didn't want to wear it until we told people," Eve said. "I guess I can now. Right?"

"Right," Michael said. He started to say something else, but fell silent.

It felt strangely awkward, suddenly. And Claire's mixed feelings got even more mixed. Shewanted to believe this was the right thing, but why wasn't Michael more excited about it? Was that a guy thing?

Or...God, was he having second thoughts?

Claire tried to fill the silence. "Any date yet or anything? And can I be a bridesmaid? Please let me be a bridesmaid! I've never been one."

"My bridesmaids are totally wearing black," Eve said. "Are you down with that? Because I'm wearing red."

"Yes!" Claire gave her an awkward, one-armed hug, and then did the same to Michael. "This is great. This is...Well, it'sgreat . Isn't it?"

"Yes," Michael said. He was smiling again, but she saw his reflection in the glass, and what struck her, in a dreadful rush, was that it wasn't the right kind of smile. It was sad and brave, not happy and proud. Like he was doing what he thought he should do, but deep down he wasn't sure.

Oh, no. No.

Claire looked down at her lap. She said, "Well, let me know, okay? When you guys are ready. Because I'll be there, you know. All the way."

"I know you will," Eve said. She wasn't just smiling; she was glowing with delight. "Thanks, sweetie."

She turned the car again and pulled it into a parking space. The neon lights of the gym were on, and a sign glowing near the door said open 24 hrs.

They sat in the car as the engine died. Michael and Eve exchanged glances over Claire's head. "So, we should do this," Eve said. "Right?"

"Right," Michael said. "We all go together. If he starts something, get out of the way, both of you. Let him take it out on me. I'm not as breakable."

Maybe not, but Shane had managed to land a punch on him, which had been unpleasantly surprising. Claire didn't want to see anybody get hit or hurt, not even a vampire who could bounce back. The sound of Miranda getting punched still haunted her, no matter how it had turned out later.

She'd always admired Shane's ability to defend himself--and her and his friends--but at the same time, she worried. Maybe therewas something to his fear. Maybe his dad's legacy of abuse was tough to shake; she knew there was a dark core of anger inside of him, and guilt.

But she also knew that Gloriana was in it somehow. She had to be. No matter how much everybody swore she couldn't be interested in Shane, there was some reason this was happening, and Claire had seen firsthand how easy it was for Gloriana to twist people around.

Like Shane was being twisted.

I saw her,Claire thought.Up in his room, that first night. That was her. It had to be Gloriana.

That was when it had all started. When Shane's anger had started coming to the surface.

That bitch.

"We stay together," Claire said. "And I promise, I'll duck if anybody throws a punch."

The parking lot was--oddly, for Morganville--spacious and well lit. They didn't see anyone else on the way in. The same bouncer was at the desk. He looked the three of them over without saying anything. The lights buzzed softly, and Claire felt nerves start tingling right with them.

"We're looking for Shane Collins," Michael said. "Is he here?"

The counter guy checked a list, flipping pages. "Yeah, he signed in about half an hour ago. Hasn't left."

"We need to see him," Claire said.

"Ten bucks."

"We're not exercising," Eve said. "Really, you see these clothes? These are not made for sweating."

"Not my problem. It's ten bucks to go in that door, whether you exercise or not. Unless you want to buy a membership. Then it's five hundred."

"Are youkidding ?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"No, you look like a dick who wants thirty dollars to let us talk to our friend," Michael said, and opened up his wallet. "Here's forty. The extra ten's not a tip, so give it back."

The guy counted out ten ones--even though there was a ten-dollar bill sitting right there in the cash drawer--and slid them over. "Knock yourselves out, kids," he said.

The buzzer went off, signaling that the door was open. Michael held it for the girls; Claire went first, heading past the busy weight-and exercise-machine area. Everything was full, which was shocking, considering the time of night. The weirdest thing was that Claire didn't see a single vampire here tonight...just humans. She'd have expected just the opposite.

Shane was in the corner, near the boxing stuff. That wasn't a surprise; Claire had known in her gut that he'd be here somewhere.

He was punching a heavy bag, which swung back and forth in slow, ponderous arcs as he danced around it, hitting with vicious intensity. He'd taken off his shirt, and he was sweating so much it looked like he'd just come out of the pool, his hair lank and plastered around his face. His skin shone and dripped.

And he was covered with bruises.Covered. She was shocked; she hadn't seen him like this, not ever. Some were just red spots--fresh ones--and others were old and blue and faded around the edges. The nastiest ones looked black and green. What thehell had he been doing?

Claire started to walk over to him, but Michael stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "No," he said. "Let me, okay?"

"Okay." There was something very off about the way Shane was going after that bag, like it had personally tried to kill him. And she could tell that he'd been at it for a while now, ever since he'd walked

in, probably.

As Michael came over, Shane grabbed the swinging bag in both gloved hands and stilled it. He was panting for breath, but his wide eyes were fixed on his friend.

Not in a friendly kind of way.

"Hey," Michael said. "We got worried when you blew out of the house. We wanted to be sure you were okay."

Shane didn't say anything. He clung to the bag and panted and watched Michael with that strangely blank stare.

"So," Michael continued, still moving toward him, more slowly now. More carefully, like he'd have approached a wild animal. "What do you say we blow this off and go get a pizza or something? You must be hungry."

He must have crossed some kind of invisible line, because Shane bared his teeth, and Michael stopped in his tracks. That was one crazy look, and Claire felt sick inside; it didn't look like Shane at all. He kept on grinning--if you could call it that--and reached down for a sports bottle sitting off to the side. He guzzled most of it in broad, thirsty gulps, but he still never took his eyes off Michael. Not for a second.

"I'm not hungry," Shane finally said. "Vassily's got me on a new diet. Protein shakes."

Michael tried again. "Bro, this is some unsettling crap going on. What the hell is up with you?"

"Can't you tell?" Shane asked. His voice sounded lower than normal--deeper in his throat. "Thought you knew everything, being part of the master race and all. Thought we mere mortals could never put anything over on you."

Claire had thought it was a private conversation, but behind her, she heard laughter--laughter in name only. It was bully laughter, meant to unsettle. There was no real amusement behind it, other than the anticipation of pulling some wings off particularly interesting flies. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

Shane had workout buddies all around them. She'd ignored them at first, thinking they were just people in proximity, but now they were all stopping what they were hitting or lifting or doing, and paying attention.

Big men. Tough. Sweating. A girl, too, but even she looked solid and muscular and ready to kick ass at a second's notice.

Claire realized that she was holding Eve's hand, and holding it tightly. She glanced over and saw that Eve, too, was riveted by Shane's behavior. She looked spooked and very worried.

Claire pulled her fingers free and walked over to stand next to Michael. "Shane, what are you doing here? Let's just go home, okay?"

Shane focused on her, but that didn't make it better. If anything, it made it worse, because there was none of the love and gentleness in him that she expected to see--that she'd seen only an hour ago. He stared at her, then at Michael.

She reached for Michael's arm for support. Something flared hot in Shane's eyes. "That how it is? You and Claire?" Shane asked. "Not surprised, man. Every girl I ever knew ended up liking you better than me. It's almost like you set out to make it happen."

"That'sso not true!" Claire said, shocked--shocked he would eventhink it, much lesssay it--and stepped away from Michael. "You think--You think me and Michael...?"

"Why not? He's cooler, right? He's rocking that whole guitar hero thing. Oh, and he's a vampire--I know how much all you chicks dig that. He could snap his fingers and pull any girl he wanted. Including you. Don't kid yourself thinking you've got achoice. "

He didn't even say her name. Somehow, that hurt worse than anything else--and it made her angrier, too, which probably wasn't right, but she couldn't help it. "No, he couldn't get me, because I don't love him. I loveyou , Shane."

He gave her a cynical smile. "You don't have to love somebody to screw them."

"Shane!" Now she was embarrassed and horrified and sick, and she wished he would justshut up.

"I saw how he looked at you. C'mon, Michael, tell her. Tell her I'm wrong. Tell her you never think about it."

Michael didn't say anything. There was an odd light in his eyes, one Claire couldn't remember seeing before. She punched him in the arm. "Well?" she demanded. "Tell him!"

"Won't do any good," Michael said. "He's not listening to anything I have to say. Or you, for that matter. Come on, Claire. We should go."

"No! I'm not leaving him here like this, thinking that I'm--"

Shane lunged forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and put his face very close to hers. Close enough to kiss, but that didn't seem to be on his mind at all. It was Shane, but...not. Not the Shane she'd always known. Even when he'd lost his memory, there'd been this core of gentleness, of control...and now that was gone.

It was like part of him had died. The best part.

"Let me make itreal clear," he said. "I don't date fang-bangers. If it's not him, then it's that crazy-ass, bloodsucking boss of yours. So, go on. Do what you know you want to do. None of my business anymore. We're done."

And he pushed her away, hard. She banged against a steel post, which knocked the breath out of her and brought tears to her eyes from the instant, white-hot pain of bone ringing on metal.

Through the tears, she saw Michael grab Shane's arm and yank him away from her, unbelievably fast and strong. But Shane had strength and quickness of his own, more than he should have, more than she'd ever seen any human have, and he swung around inside Michael's defenses and slammed a fist into his stomach, then his chin, snapping Michael's head back. Then again and again and again, so fast it was a blur.

And Michael went down flat on his back. He rolled over, blinking, and got back to his feet, but his

mouth was bleeding, and Eve was yelling and trying to get between him and Shane, and it was all just insane how this was happening. How could it possibly be--

Claire caught sight of a figure standing at a metal railing upstairs, looking down at them. A petite woman, masses of honey-colored wavy hair, a sweet face.

Gloriana. The vampire.

She was smiling--not an evil smile, which Claire could have understood, but a smile of childlike delight. A smile that should have been reserved for puppies and rainbows and true love.

Not for seeing Shane kick Michael in the side with enough force to shatter bone.

The onlookers watched with a kind of strange, hungry approval, and nobody moved in to stop it until a tattooed, muscled guy--Rad, from the car and motorcycle shops--grabbed Shane from behind, winding his arms through and locking his fingers together behind Shane's neck in a unbreakable restraining hold. He kicked the joints of Shane's legs and got him down on his knees.

Eve was down next to Michael, helping him sit up, wiping the slightly too-pale blood from his face with a lacy black handkerchief. "My God," she was saying numbly. "My God, my God...Oh, sweetie..."

Shane was trying to throw off Rad's hold, but his buddies were moving in now. As if he realized it was useless to try to break Rad's hold on him, Shane went still.

Eve must have decided Michael was okay, because she looked at Claire and asked her if she was hurt, at increasingly worried volumes. Claire shook off her daze and said, "No, I'm fine. Michael?"

He didn't answer. He was sitting up and all his attention was on Shane. Just Shane. "Let him go, Rad," he said.

"Dude," Rad said. "Don't think that's too good an idea. He ain't givin' up. He's just waiting. I can feel it."

"I said let him go."

"Your funeral." Rad released Shane, who turned and shoved him back. Rad held up his hands, signaling surrender.

And Shane turned back toward Michael, who wasn't showing anything like that. In fact, he was on his feet again, moving Eve--gently--and facing Shane squarely.

"This isn't you, man. What is causing this?" Michael asked.

"It's her," Claire said, and looked up at the railing above them. "She's screwing with him."

Only Gloriana was gone. No sign she'd ever been there. Claire looked around, but there were no vampires in view. Not one.

Just Michael.

Shane turned a scorching look on her. "Herwho?"

"Gloriana," Claire said. "She's doing this to you."

He laughed. "I don't do vamps. You ought to remember that."

"It's a glamour."

"No, it's not," Michael said, very quietly. "Not exactly. Or not completely. Right, Shane? This is something else."

"Yeah," Shane said. "It's something else. Because there's a lot of us who are sick as hell of getting our asses kicked by vampires, sick of being your cheap wine bottles with legs, sick of letting you rule this town like lords. It's not going to happen anymore. Right, guys?"

The gym guys--and girl, too--had gathered around in a circle, and the rest had the same predatory glitter in their eyes, the same barely under-the-surface violence. Rad seemed to be the only muscled-up dude who was in the wrong place and had the wrong motives, and he was looking around now, frowning uneasily.

"Look, maybe you should go," he said to Michael, and then glanced at Eve and Claire. "All of you. Work this out later."

Her impulse was to say that she was staying, that no power on earth could make her leave Shane when he was like this, but if she did that, she knew that Michael and Eve would stick it out, too. And that would be bad. Shane seemed especially angry about Michael being here--and, from the look he gave her now, Eve, too.

A big, overmuscled guy dressed in microfiber sweats and gold chains, like some cheesy reality-show reject, gave Eve areally nasty grin. It was mostly a snarl. "You always ran around town, dressing like a wannabe bloodsucker, and now you're banging one," he said. Well, he didn't actually saybanging , but Claire's brain refused to completely translate it. It was too shocking when it was said with that much venom. "I hate fang-bangers worse than the vamps. At least the vamps are just doing what comes natural.Your kind, you're perverts."

Eve flinched a little, but then she lifted her chin. "Really? Considering what I hear from the girls you date, Sandro, maybe you ought to think twice about throwing that word around. 'Cause I had to look up half the things you wanted them to do on Urban Dictionary, and it was disgusting."

She was wearing the choker again, having tied it back on before they'd left the house, but now Sandro--like Shane had before--reached out and yanked on it. He didn't manage to pull it off, but he pulled it down far enough that Eve's fang marks were clearly visible. "Look at that. Walking blood bank. I heard you're a walking ATM, too. That stands for Any Time Michael wants it--"

Michael stepped in front of Eve, facing Sandro, and said, "You want to say it to me?"

Sandro laughed. "You didn't learn your lesson from your little friend there? Sure. 'Cause you ain't got no backup, Glass. Your whole family's been vamp pets from the Dark Ages, but we ain't having any more of that better-than-you crap. Not here. Here, you're all on your own, bitch."

Shane had gone very quiet behind them. Claire looked at him, at his set, unsmiling face, and felt panic ignite. This was real, and it was dangerous. Rad and the few others who didn't seem angry were backing

off, edging out of the crowd. Maybe they'd send for some help, or maybe not. She certainly didn't trust that the dude taking their money at the door would bother to come charging to the rescue.

Michael was a vampire, but he was young, and he couldn't fight this crowd on his own. Plus, he'd be trying to protect Eve, and her, too.

And Shane didn't have his back. Or any of their backs. It was obvious and painful, and Eve gave him the worst, most heartbroken and betrayed look Claire could imagine. "You'd just stand there," she said. "You'd stand there and let this happen to us.To us . To your own girlfriend."

Shane turned away to start slugging the heavy bag again.

"Shane," Claire whispered. "Please. Please."

He faltered, and one of his punches landed light. He grabbed the bag and stopped its swing, and looked over his shoulder at her. For a long, awful second, she thought he'd just go back to what he was doing, but then he nodded sharply at Sandro. "Let them go," he said.

Sandro cracked his knuckles. "Gimme a reason."

"I owe her that much," Shane said. "Let them leave." He punched the bag again with stunning force. "But take my advice,friends . Don't come looking for me again. Any of you."

There was some grumbling, but the circle slowly parted. Eve grabbed Michael's hand and towed him off, heading for the exit. Claire hesitated, staring at Shane's back as he bobbed, weaved, and punched.

"Shane," she said. "I still love you."

He didn't answer. Sandro shoved her after her friends.

"You heard him," Sandro said. "Get the hell out and stay out. He ain't interested."

She looked back just once. There was pain--real pain--on Shane's face as he fought the training bag, and their eyes locked just for a second before he looked away.

His were red. It wasn't possible to tell tears from sweat, but she thought--no, she knew--how devastated he felt.

Because she felt exactly the same.

Tears welled up and spilled over, and she sucked in a trembling breath that smelled like sweat and metal and despair.

Eve took her hand. "Come on," she said. "Nothing you can do here."

That was true, and it hurt so, so badly.

SHANE

I wish I could say I don't know why I did it. That would make me feel better, cleaner, about what I said to her. But I knew. It was just like Claire figured: Glory had glamoured me. But I didn't care, because

under the glamour there was a real bad streak of...me. I felt right. More than that, I felt righteous, like a knight in the old stories riding off to some God-justified war. I felt like I had when I'd had a purpose and my dad had been alive to tell me what it was.

I punched the heavy bag until my arms trembled and my legs felt like lead, and then collapsed on a metal bench. Somebody brought me another protein shake, and I downed the bottle in thick, thirsty gulps. My head was hurting, and I was having trouble catching my breath.

"Hey, man, you all right?" That was Sandro. I hated Sandro, I hated his greasy smile and his gold chains and his fake New Jersey cred. He was from Morganville, like the rest of us. Hell, his dad was a baker. You can't be a badass when your dad makes cakes.

Sandro squeezed my shoulder, tightly enough to bend tendons. I knocked his hand away. "Fine," I said. "Get lost."

"Good job dumping that little Renfield. I don't know what you ever saw in her, anyway. She looks like half a boy. Me, I like my women with curves and bounce, if you know what I mean."

I drained the last of the shake and felt a fresh burst of anger and hunger. "Maybe you need to look up whatget lostmeans." Michael wasn't here to take it out on, but Sandro would do just as well.

"Don't get attitude with me, Collins. You ain't that tough."

I knew better. Sandro was schoolyard tough. I was fight-for-your-life tough. But I wasn't going to teach him the difference, because for all his faults, for all he was a prime, grade-A jackass, he was breathing and his heart was beating, and that's all it took to put him on my side. Two kinds of fighters: us and them.

None ofthemwere here right now. Glory and Vassily had separated us into humans and vamps, and it had worked. Now every time I saw a vamp it made me want to rip into it.

Including Michael.

That made me feel weird inside, but not weird enough to want to change it. This was where I belonged. This was what I was meant to do. Born and bred to it, honestly. My dad had taught me well.

In here, I didn't have to be Shane Collins, eternal slacker, orphan, lost boy. In here, with these guys, I was part of something. Part of the war.

Even if, right now, that war was fought one on one, in the ring, with people cheering.

Someday, it would be fought in the streets, and people would cheer there, too.

Even Claire.

Soon.

"It's Gloriana," Claire said once they were safely in the car. "I saw her, Michael. I saw her watching you and Shane fight. She wassmiling. "

"I don't know how she could do it without affecting me or you or Eve," he said. "Glamour isn't that specific."

"Hers is," Eve said. He gave her an odd look as he drove down the street, heading for home. "What, you didn't know that? She can grab one guy out of a room if she wants to. I've seen her do it. I've seen her do it toyou ."

Claire had seen it, too, at her welcome party--Gloriana had lured Michael away with just a smile and a wink, right out of Eve's arms. She hadn't been serious about it--at least, Claire didn'tthink she'd been serious--and Eve had gotten him back fast, but she'd felt Glory's influence now, and the worst thing about it was that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Frank had even warned her, and she still hadn't believed that there was anything wrong with what she was feeling or doing.

That was what had happened to Shane.

"Sure, she can draw men to like her," Michael said. "It's not that hard. But changing them, the way Shane's changed? That's a whole different kind of thing. I don't think even Glory can do that."

"Well, who'd know?" Claire asked. "Amelie?"

"Maybe. Or Oliver; he seems to know her better."

Claire remembered Oliver sitting with Gloriana at Common Grounds. Yeah, they had seemed cozy. Which made her stomach twist a little, because the last thing she wanted to think about was Oliver having any kind of love life, ever, with anyone. That was just disgusting. "Frank said something about--" She shut her mouth, suddenly flooded with alarm and adrenaline, with a snap, because she hadnot meant to mention Frank. Ever. "I mean, before he, you know--"

"Died?" Eve supplied. "Went to that big motorcycle rally in the sky? Took a dirt nap?" She sent Michael a warning glare as he winced. "What?Yes, I'm being insensitive, but Shane's not here, and besides, I am pissed off right now. Frank Collins was never Mr. Congeniality when he was alive, you know. I don't know why I have to give him any extra postlife respect."

That nicely distracted everybody from Claire's mistake, and she took the precious time to work out what she'd meant to say, leaving out Frank completely. "We need to find out what she's doing here," Claire said. "Something's turning the humans at that gym into a mob, and we all know that's what Amelie is most afraid of. Human mobs can take down vampires individually. She'll do anything to prevent that from starting. If it's Gloriana, then we need to prove it."

"What if it's Bishop?" Michael asked. Eve made a choked sound. "It's just the kind of thing Bishop would want--humans turning against vampires, creating chaos and death. He doesn't care who gets hurt."

"Nasty," Eve agreed. "If he's got Gloriana working for him..."

"Then this could be a whole lot bigger than anybody expected," Michael finished. He paused for a moment, and said, "I can find out."

"How?" Eve's voice had an edge, and Claire glanced over at her. She seemed tense, hands clenched where they rested on her thighs.

"By talking to Glory," he said. "Look, she likes me. She'll tell me things."

"Yeah, that in no way makes me want to barf acid," Eve said. "You getting cozy withher ."

"Eve--"

"We agreed. You stay away from her."

"This is different. This isn't just--Look, it could be Shane's life we're talking about. And a lot of other people's. Innocent people. I can handle Glory."

"Can you?" Eve asked. "Because I notice you never call her Gloriana. JustGlory. "

He shut up.Which is probably about the only smart thing he can do, Claire thought. Eve had a genuine point. There was something alarming about how fast Michael had jumped on the whole "let me talk to her" thing.

It was an uneasy silence all the way back home. As Michael parked the car and killed the engine, Claire said, "Do you think he'll come home?"

"You mean tonight? No," Michael said. "If you mean ever, I don't know. That wasn't Shane back there. I think you know that."

She did. It hurt like a huge ball of spikes inside her stomach, and she couldn't keep her eyes from clouding with tears every time she thought about him. It hurt--oh, God, it hurt. "Then I have to get him back," she said. "We just do. Whatever it takes."

Her cell phone rang, and she looked down at the screen, hoping wildly that it was Shane--but no. It had no picture and no number showing. Just blankness. She flipped it open and said, "Hello?"

"I didn't know your boyfriend was sohot ," a girl's voice said. "So much hotter than you, you know. You're dating so far outside your league, you're making us all embarrassed." Giggles, and the voice took on a nasty edge. "He's a rock star now, and he doesn't need some flat-chested kid anymore. He's going to dump you faster than last week's Chinese food and date a real girl. A porn star."

"What--Who are you?"

"The future Mrs. Shane Collins." More giggles from other girls who must have been listening. "I'm watching it again. God, he issmokin' hot!"

A click, and Claire was left with nothing. Not even--when she checked--a call history. It was a blank number.

"What?" Eve asked, frowning. Claire shook her head.

"I have no idea," she said. "But...it probably isn't good."

"Well, there's a stunning surprise," Eve said. "Didn't see that coming. Was it Monica?"

It should have been, by all logic that Claire knew, but...it hadn't been Monica or Jennifer or any voice she knew. She'd made enemies in town, but not so many that she didn't know how to identify them.

So why was some random weird girl calling her aboutShane ?

What had she said...? "I'm watching it again," Claire said out loud. Eve looked at her with a frown.

"Watching what?" Michael asked.

"Exactly," Claire said, and felt like she was falling off a cliff into the dark. "Exactly. Something's really, really wrong, Michael. I just know it!"

"Let's get inside," he said. "And we'll figure this out."