Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(15)

“Permits?” Monica had recovered her composure, at least a little. Angel had stopped kissing her fingers, but he hadn’t let her hand go, and Claire thought her voice sounded a little higher than usual. She was also a little more blushy than normal. “Permits for what? Are you moving your business here?”

Angel laughed, low in his throat—a sexy laugh, of course. “Alas, no, my lovely. Our studio is out of Atlanta. But we are interested in filming some local sights here. Perhaps conducting a nighttime investigation of your graveyard, for instance. We always pay a visit to the local offices for our filming permits. It avoids so many problems.”

Claire could not even count how many ways this was a bad idea…. Television people. In Morganville. Filming at night. She was mesmerized by the flood of horrible possibilities that ran through her brain.

Luckily, Monica wasn’t one for deep thought. “Oh,” she said, and smiled so warmly that Claire was almost fooled. “I see. Well, I wouldn’t waste my time. Morganville doesn’t have anything special for you. Not even a decent ghost to hunt. We’re just really…boring.”

“But it’s so scenic!” Angel protested. “Look at this courthouse. Pure Texas Gothic Renaissance. We passed a cemetery that was perfect—elaborate tombstones, wrought iron, and that big dead white tree—such a striking color, very photogenic. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Shane muttered to Claire, “If they hang around there at night, they definitely will, but I don’t think it’s what they’re hoping for.”

“Ssssshhh!”

He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Monica’s right—it’s very boring.” He sounded like he was still struggling not to laugh. “Unless you want the world’s least interesting reality show. The weirdest thing that happens around here is old Mr. Evans running around naked at midnight and howling, and he only does that on special occasions.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Jenna said. “It does seem perfect.”

“Well, it won’t hurt to get the permits. At least we’ll contribute to your local economy, yes?” Angel said, and flashed them all an impartial movie-star smile. “Adios. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He gave Monica’s hand another brief kiss, and then he and Jenna were striding up the walk toward City Hall, with Tyler scrambling in their wake while carrying a small camcorder—though what kind of filmable drama there’d be in applying for a permit, Claire couldn’t imagine.

“Crap,” Shane said. He still sounded way too amused. “So. Any bets on how long they last before the vamps make them go away?”

“No bet,” Monica said. “They won’t last long.” Looking dreamy-eyed, she sighed and cradled her hand. “Too bad. So pretty. And totally manscaped under that shirt, I’ll bet.”

Shane sent her a revolted look, then put his arm around Claire. “And on that note, we’re out.”

“Really?” Claire said, and couldn’t help but smile. “That’s what creeps you out. Waxing. You can take on vampires and draug and killers, but you’re afraid of a little chest-hair pulling?”

“Yes,” he said, “because I am sane.”

They walked on a bit, and it took a few minutes for Claire to realize that although they’d left behind the ghost hunters, they still had an unwanted visitor: Monica. She was keeping pace with them. Uninvited. “Yes?” Claire asked her, pointedly. “Something we can help you with?”

“Maybe,” Monica said. “Look, I know I’ve been historically kind of a bitch to you, but I was wondering…”

“Spit it out, Monica,” Shane said.

“Teach me how to do that stuff you do.”

“What, be awesome? Can’t do it.”

“Shut up, Collins. I mean…” She hesitated, then lowered her voice as she brushed her hair back from her face. She slowed down and stopped on the sidewalk, and Claire stopped, facing her. Shane tried to keep going, but eventually he looped back, defeated. “I mean that I want to learn how to fight. In case I need to do that. I always sort of thought—my father always said we didn’t need to worry about the vampires, because we worked for them. But Richard never trusted that. And now I know I shouldn’t, either. So I want to learn how to make weapons. Fight. That kind of thing.”

“Oh hell no,” Shane said. “And we’re walking.”

He started to, but Claire stayed put. She was studying Monica with a frown, feeling conflicted but oddly compelled, too. Monica looked serious. Not defiant, or arrogant, or any of her usual poses. Her brother had told Claire before he’d died that he thought Monica could change—and had to change.

Maybe she was starting to understand that.

“How do we know you won’t sell us out at the first possible opportunity?” she asked.

Monica smiled. “Shortcake, I probably would if it got me anywhere, but these days, it wouldn’t do squat. The vampires aren’t looking at us like collaborators and enemies anymore. We’re all just…snack foods. So. I understand what a stake is for, but you guys seem to have all the killer toys. What do you say we work out a sharing arrangement?”

“We’ll take it under advisement,” Shane said, and grabbed Claire’s elbow. “We’re going. Now.”