Midnight Bites (The Morganville Vampires)(28)

“Get out of the way,” Michael said, coming up behind her. She moved, but he wasn’t talking to her. “Let us out. Now.”

“Sorry,” the vamp said. “Can’t do that. You have a few too many questions to—”

The door behind him suddenly opened, and the vamp almost toppled backward, which would have been funny as hell, but he caught himself and whirled around to face the newcomer—a man dressed in a smothering trench coat, hat, gloves, and sunglasses.

“Sorry,” said Michael’s grandfather, Sam Glass, in the mildest possible tone. “Am I interrupting something? I came to get my grandson.”

Sam Glass was a vampire—a young one, hence all the layers. Without them, he was eerily like Michael in a lot of ways—curling hair that he wore a little shaggy and long, a strong and gorgeous face, the same ocean blue eyes. His hair was more red than blond, and he looked physically to be maybe late twenties . . . but damn, if it wasn’t clear they were related. Brothers, maybe.

But Sam Glass had died long ago, and it was all a weirdly complicated family situation at Glass Christmas dinners.

Sam was the youngest vamp of Morganville by a long stretch, but rumors were he was also a favorite of Amelie’s, and nobody messed with what the Founder liked without risking a painful lesson.

So the Asian guy in charge of the Bloodmobile faked a smile, bowed slightly, and moved out of the way. His eyes tracked Sam as he entered and gestured to Michael. “Come on, kid,” Sam said. “Time to go.”

“Not without Eve,” Michael said. “Sam, I can’t leave her.”

Eve couldn’t read Sam’s expression, and his eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, so she just didn’t know what he was thinking about that. She hoped she didn’t look as terrified as she felt, because if Sam decided Eve didn’t much matter, well . . . she expected this to be her last ride before a well-padded coffin.

“Sure,” Sam said. “You were coming to dinner tonight, weren’t you, Eve? I’ll give you a ride home so you can get ready.”

“Thanks, sir,” she whispered. Her mouth was very dry, and her hands were shaking.

Michael put his arm around her and guided her to the exit. Sam gave her a hand down the stairs, and the warm leather of his gloves felt almost like human skin. That gave her another instinctual shiver. She decided she liked the heat of Michael’s touch much better.

Sam folded up the stairs to the Bloodmobile’s door and shut it, and they all watched as it glided away, sleek as a barracuda. Then Michael’s grandfather hustled them into the shade, stripped off his hat and glasses, and said, “Are you both insane, or just stupid? Why would you go in there if you didn’t have to?”

“Good question,” Eve said, and laughed. It was hysterical laughter, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to try to shut it off. The giggles kept escaping, and she had to blink hard to keep tears from leaking, too. “Seemed like a good idea at the time . . . ?”

“We wanted to know why Monica was strong-arming our classmates for blood donations,” Michael said. “Do you know?” That was . . . blunt. Edging in on aggressive, Eve thought.

Sam gave his grandson a steady look, then changed the subject. “Leave the mayor’s daughter alone, Michael. She’s not worth your time. People like that self-destruct, or they change, but it’s up to her, not you.”

“She’s done a lot of damage,” Michael said. “What about what she did to Shane and his family?”

“I’m sorry about your friend, but he and his parents are gone now. They’re out of Morganville. Stop thinking about revenge and start thinking about your future, kids.”

“Oh, I have,” Michael shot back. “I’m getting the hell out of this place as soon as I can. I already talked to Mom and Dad about it. They’re planning to move—didn’t you know? They’ve already applied and gotten exit papers to go to the East Coast so Mom can get her surgery next year. And once I’m eighteen, I’m gone.”

“I know about your parents,” Sam said. “I support their decision. Yours, I’m not so sure. Morganville is all you know, Michael. You have no idea how hard the world outside can be for a kid on his own.”

“I’m not a kid,” Michael said. “Stop calling me one, Grandpa.”

He pushed off and walked away into the school, leaving Sam standing there. Eve felt weirdly awkward, and she reached out to pat the man’s arm just a little. “Sorry,” she said. “He, ah, probably didn’t mean that. He’s just upset.”

“I know,” Sam said. “It’s not easy for him, with a sick mom; losing his best friend only makes it that much worse. I’m glad he still has you.”

“Has me? Uh . . . I’m just . . .” Eve scrambled for some kind of definition for what she was. “A friend.”

“He needs friends,” Sam said. There was a distant, sad look in those blue eyes now, but he still smiled at her. “We all do. What I said to him goes for you, too, Eve. Leave Monica Morrell alone.”

“The question is, how do I get her to leave me alone?”

He shook his head, put on his hat and sunglasses, and went out into the sun, walking fast.

Eve winced at the bright stab of sunlight, and went into the school. Michael was nowhere to be found . . . but later, she found a note stuffed into her locker. She opened it carefully; Monica and her buds were always writing hate mail. But this just read simply THANKS, and had a little guitar drawn at the bottom . . . and she knew it was from him.