Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(53)

“No!” he shouted, and flashed at vampire-speed out of the room.

“The hell?” Shane blurted, and rushed after him, followed by Eve and Claire. “What—”

Claire pushed past him as he stopped, and she sucked in a deep, startled breath.

Because Miranda was outside. On the porch. And Michael was standing there, holding on to her arm as she fought to pull free. He was holding on to the doorframe, stretched fully out, and Miranda must have had a tiger’s strength in that small body, because he was clearly having trouble keeping his grip. “Stop!” he yelled at her. “Miranda, I’m not letting you do this!”

“You can’t stop me!” she screamed back, and there were tears streaking her face now in uneven trains of running eyeliner. She looked horrified and tragic and very, very upset. “Let go!”

“Come back inside. We can talk about it!”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t want me here, so I just need to go!”

“You can’t go—you’ll die!” Claire blurted. She pushed past Michael and out onto the porch and grabbed Miranda in a bear hug. She could feel the girl’s not-quite-real heart pounding against her forearm, out of terror, anger, or sheer adrenaline. “Miranda, think. Come back inside and we’ll talk it over, all right? None of us wants you to die out here!”

“I’m dying in there, if you all leave! This way you can stay; you can be happy again—”

“It’s not you; I never meant that!” Michael was afraid, Claire thought, really and starkly afraid that this was all his fault. “You can’t do this. We’ll work it out.”

Miranda went very still for a second, though her heart continued to race uncontrollably fast, and she let out a deep, surrendering sigh. “All right,” she said. “You can let go.”

Michael said, “If you come inside, sure.”

“I will.”

Claire loosened her grip, just a little.

And it was just enough for Miranda to twist like a wild thing, ponytails whipping in Claire’s face, and when Michael yelled and tried to pull her in, Miranda grabbed hold of his arm and bit him, hard enough to make him let go.

And then she stumbled backward, free, down the steps, and sprawled on the ground in the yard.

They all froze—Miranda, Claire, Michael, Eve, and Shane who had lunged out as well. The only thing moving was a single fluttering moth circling the yellow glow of the porch light.

Miranda slowly got up.

“Um…,” Shane said, when no one spoke. “Shouldn’t she be, I don’t know, dissolving?”

Michael took a step down toward her, and Miranda skipped backward. He held out his hand, palm out, as if she were a lost child who might bolt out into traffic. “Mir, wait. Wait. Look at yourself. Shane’s right. You’re not—going away.”

“I’m still on the property.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said. “I couldn’t leave the doorway, let alone get down into the yard. Claire?” He looked at her as she stepped down next to him, because she’d had a brief period trapped in a ghostly state, too. She nodded.

“I couldn’t leave, either,” she said. “Miranda, how are you doing this?”

“I’m not!” She took another step backward down the sidewalk, toward the fence. “I’m just trying to—to get out of your hair, okay? If you’ll just let me go!”

It seemed so quiet out tonight. The houses of Lot Street were sketched out in broad strokes of grays; the sky overhead had turned the color of lapis, and the stars were bright and cold. There were no clouds. The temperature had already fallen at least ten degrees, as was typical for the desert; it’d dip down almost to freezing before dawn.

“How did it feel? Going outside?” Michael asked.

Miranda gave a little shudder. “Like…pushing through some kind of plastic wrap, I guess. It felt cold, but it’s colder out here. Much colder. Like I’m moving away from a fire.”

“But you feel okay? Not coming to pieces?” Eve said. She was watching with wide, scared eyes. “Miranda, please, don’t go any farther, okay? Just stay where you are. Let’s—think about this. If you don’t want us to go, we’ll stay, okay? We’ll all stay in the house. We’ll all be friends and be a family for you. I promise. We won’t let you down.”

“It’s better if I go.” Miranda shuddered again. She looked pale now, but not exactly ghostly. Just cold. Claire wondered if she should get her a coat, but that was stupid; the idea was to get her back in, not help her stay out.

That plan didn’t seem to be working so well, because as Claire tried to take a step closer, Miranda opened the front gate in the leaning picket fence, which was badly in need of paint.

“No!” the four of them said, in chorus, and Michael took a chance, a big one. He rushed the girl, at vampire-speed, hoping to get hold and pull her back inside before she stepped out onto the public sidewalk, off Glass House property altogether.

But he didn’t make it.

Miranda ducked and ran all the way to the street.

To the middle of the street, where she stopped, shuddering almost constantly now, and looked up at the wide Texas sky, the moon, the stars.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m going to be okay. See? I don’t have to be inside all the time. I can go out. I’m fine….”