Disclaimer; I own Faylinn Lorien. All other characters and places belong to Rachel Caine.
Michael, Eve and I were now cooped up in the Glass House, silent. Thinking. Alright, so Sam was alive and in Francois' body-Amelie hadn't mentioned this. And Fay-I sighed internally. Were we really on a first name basis?-and Miss Lorien had hinted that Claire was still alive. Then again, Amelie had clearly said she was dead. But Miss Lorien told us we were being falsely informed. I'd have immediately believed Amelie-thought she was telling the truth and Lorien was the liar, but Lorien had spoken with perfect honesty in her voice. Yet, Amelie had had that same tone of honesty as well. How could two people that were contradicting each other both be right? Unless...
...it was all about point of view?
I sighed to myself, again. Contradict each other; they did. Both cold and emotionless in manner, though one dark and the other light, one young, one old. One was dead and the other was...dead. This thought began to nag at me. Perhaps the death of Claire Amelie had been reffering to was of Claire becoming a vampire, I thought with hope. But...Amelie had told us of the tragic things Bishop had put Claire through. After that, she couldn't have survived to have gone on. Yet, Lorien had hinted...
How to know who was lying?
I was desperate for the answer.
Eve and I sat on the couch, watching t.v; trying to relax after thinking for hours on end. Michael walked into the room, pale as...well-himself, eyes large, mouth slightly agape. He was looking past us, towards where the portal was. Eve and I immediately turned our full attention in that direction.
I will never forget what I saw.
There, in the deepest corner of the room, getting up from the ground with a book in her hands, was Claire Danvers. Same short, golden hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin as six years ago. She paid us no mind, just walked forward, focused on the content she was reading. She continued moving, passing us and stopping at the dining room table, picking up something black, setting the book down and grabbing a screw driver with her now-empty hand. She looked at the book as she drove the tool into the object, seeming to follow instructions.
"Claire?" I called, softly. She did not answer, only continued to work. "Claire?" I called louder this time. My voice still did not disrupt her, her concentration never broke. At last, there was a gasp from Michael.
"Wait a minute..." He mumbled to himself. He started to move toward her, carefully. She did not notice this either. When he stopped infront of her, he hesitated before slowly extending his hand toward her. He placed it on her arm and gasped. I couldn't tell why from where Eve and I sat. Then, suddenly, he pushed his hand forward...and it went right through her. She...wasn't real. How was this possible? Was she only partially dead, the way Michael had been? No, we'd been able to communicate with him, even in his ghost form. Besides, in his ghost form, he'd become invisible-she was most obviously not.
"How?" Eve asked, astounded. I shrugged.
"That seems to be the main question here in Morganville."
"That it does," Michael muttered observing his hand and looking at the still unnoticeabely-ghostly Claire.
We were all braught out of our refferies by the quick opening and slamming of a window in the direction of the portal. To my immense disgust, Miss Lorien was in a crouch, carefully peeking over the edge of the windowsill out at something in the night air. I huffed. She immediately broke her gaze from outside, to stare at me.
"Lorien." I snarled, angry. Whe was she to trespass on our house? Her eyes narrowed.
"Collins." She snapped, glancing once more out the window before she flitted to the rest of us. Michael still stared at 'Claire'. As Lorien and I had a silent glaring contest, I noticed that I had been wrong yesterday; her eyes weren't black, they were a deep red-the color of blood. Lorien looked up and noticed the two blondes. An uneasy breath left her lips. Michael looked to her in a flash, his shocked state being replaced by an angry one.
"What do you think you're doing here?" He demanded.
"Honestly, we had enough of you today." Eve chimed in, clearly annoyed. Lorien looked to Michael in surprise.
"Does it mean nothing to you that your un-deceased grandfather trust me? You will not put faith in me as well?" Was her answer. This caught Michael off gaurd, as he searched for an answer. She wasn't waiting for an answer, though, as she looked at Claire, again. "Claire?" She called. Before I could tell her not waste her breathe, Claire turned her head and looked right at Lorien.
"Yes?" Her voice chimed with a smile.
"What are you doing?" Lorien asked.
"I'm trying to finish this watch for Sam," she said matter-of-factly.
"So he can tell time?" Lorien questioned. Claire laughed, her beautiful voice ringing through the house. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"You know that's not why." She stated. Claire turned and continued to work.
"This," she gestured to Claire. "-is what we call a Memory." Lorien shrugged and sat in an armchair. "It's obviously showing you the past-the House, that is-of Danvers. Not all are able to communicate with them. But, as I'm sure you were informed, Bishop made me special." I had been nodding, taking it all in, but this caught my attention.
"So you admit that Amelie was telling the truth?" I demanded. She only looked at me.
"So you admit that Amelie is still alive?" She asked. I huffed and looked away, dissapointed in myself. Eve spoke up now.
"No. You already knew that." Eve accused with a questioning smile, some doubt in her eyes. Lorien smiled back.
"I did."
"Then why didn't you tell Bishop?" Eve asked, truly curious. Lorien hung her shaking head.
"You really think I'd be friends with Sam if I were working for Bishop?" A small smile graced her lips. Michael kneeled in front of Lorien.
"So, you do work for Amelie?" He asked. Lorien nodded. "But it doesn't make any sense. She told us you were dangerous, could walk in the sun and to stay away from you." He pointed out, confused. Lorien seemed to grow uncomfortable.
"The first two are true. And as for the third," she drew out. "-she didn't want you giving away her spy to Bishop; people slip." She looked down. "There's no doubt he'd kill me if he found out I was working for Amelie, whether he thought she was dead or not."
