Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(17)
And then Shane was there, staring first at her, then around at the shadows. “What the hell, Claire?”
She pulled in a deep breath, and wished she hadn’t. Alleys. Disgusting. She thought of Myrnin’s bare feet, and shuddered. “Let’s get out of here.”
A phone call to Michael sorted out her vampire escort problem for her upcoming audience with Morganville’s Founder; he was willing—in fact, eager—to talk to Amelie along with her. Claire was especially grateful, since if she hadn’t been able to land his support, Shane would have insisted on going with her, and she could foresee how that would turn out. She didn’t need to be a psychic to know Shane’s mouth would get them both in trouble, especially with Amelie’s own attitude these days.
Michael brought his car and picked Claire up on the street in front of the Glass House. It was a standard-issue vampire sedan; having fangs in Morganville came with wheels, for free, as well as a membership on the withdrawal side of the town’s blood bank. The downside of riding in Michael’s car was that Claire couldn’t see anything out the windows, since it was vampire custom-tinted.
“So,” she said after they’d driven a couple of blocks in silence, “are you guys okay? Eve seemed…”
“She’s okay,” he said in a tone that meant he wasn’t going to go over the details with her. “She’s not happy with me for not telling you guys about the cards, but having a heads-up wouldn’t have done anything but given you room to complain more. I was trying to keep the peace as long as I could.” He shot her a look, eyebrows up. “Was I wrong?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. Everything’s so weird these days, maybe you were right. At least we got to have some nice argument-free evenings out of it.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But those days are over.”
Claire thought he was probably right.
Hannah might have called ahead, but that didn’t mean word had gotten down to the level of the guards on duty near Founder’s Square—two vampires, both wearing police uniforms, only this time they were female…a tall one and a short one. The taller one wore her white-blond hair in a thick braid down her back. The shorter one wore hers cropped close to the skull.
ID cards were the first thing they asked to see. Michael silently produced his gold card, but the two cops hardly even glanced at it. They wanted Claire’s.
The taller one smiled as she looked it over. “Good blood type,” she said, and handed it to her partner, who admired it in turn. “You take care of yourself. Wouldn’t want to see it wasted.”
Claire felt particularly weird about that. It was like being exposed, as if she’d had some kind of privacy taken away. Michael must have felt it, too, because he said, in a dangerously soft voice, “You’ve checked her out. Knock it off.”
“You’re no fun,” the shorter one said, and winked at him. “Just like your grandfather. And look where that got him.”
“Dead,” the taller cop agreed. “All for trying to treat humans like equals. Seems like the Glass family members just never learn their lessons.”
Michael’s eyes flickered a sudden, bright crimson, and he said, “I’ll take any comparison to my grandfather as a compliment. And you really need to stop screwing with us now.”
“Or?”
“Viv, dial it down,” the other cop said, and handed Claire’s ID back to her. “We’re done. They’re cleared for the Founder’s office.”
“I’m sure we’ll see you again,” Viv said, and grinned, showing fangs. “Both of you. Hunting season starts soon.”
Michael rolled up the window and put the car in gear. Claire let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and finally said, “That was completely creepy.”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “I’m sorry. It was.” He seemed to be almost apologizing for the two women, or maybe for vampires in general. “This might not have been such a great idea, coming out here. It’s not like it was before.”
“I have to try.”
“Keep this short, then. I don’t want you out here once the sun sets. Not even if I’m with you.”
That was very unusual to hear from him, and unsettling, too. Claire looked straight ahead—at nothing, because the view was pretty much pitch-darkness. Michael’s pale face and golden hair were tinged a little with blue from the dashboard light, and he glowed like a ghost in the corner of her eye. “What’s happening to us?” she asked. She didn’t mean to; it just came out, and it revealed way too much of the growing dread she was feeling. “They looked at me like meat in a supermarket. I know there have always been a few vampires like that, but…they were police. That means they’re supposed to be the best at holding back their instincts.”
Michael didn’t answer her. Maybe he didn’t know how. The dig they’d thrown about Sam Glass, his grandfather, had hit home, and she knew it. Michael’s grandfather had physically looked about like Michael did now, only with more reddish hair. He’d been a sweet man, probably the most human of all of the vamps Claire had ever met. Sam had been a force for good in Morganville, and he’d paid for it with his life. Michael hadn’t forgotten that. Claire wondered whether he thought about what might happen to his own life, if he kept trying to stay in the middle, squarely between humans and vampires, and whether he thought about being killed.