Midnight Bites (The Morganville Vampires)(53)

“Let me go,” I said as calmly as I could. “Now, please.”

He raised pale eyebrows, staring right into my eyes. His were dark, like puddles of oil, full of shine, but nothing else. It looked like he was searching for something to say. What he came up with was, “Do you want to become a vampire?”

“Do I—what? No! Hell no!” I yanked, but I couldn’t break his grip. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t be you doing it, Mr. Creepy!”

“Then do you wish Protection?” he asked, and reached into his jacket. He took out a bracelet, standard Morganville issue—a plain silver thing with a symbol engraved on the front of it. Mr. Ransom’s symbol, I guessed, which would mark me as his property. If I took the bracelet, I’d be free from casual fanging by all the other bloodsuckers, but not from him, if he took a notion.

I made a throwing-up sound. “No. Let go, you ice-cold moron freak!”

He did let go. It surprised me so much that I scrambled backward, tottering on my high heels, and bounced into the wall behind me. Great, I thought. The one time I don’t wear vampire-killing accessories. Maybe I could use the shoes? No, wait, that would mean bending over in the catsuit. Really not possible. I settled for sliding against the wall, heading for the safety of the crowds.

Ransom slowly sank down to a crouch, his back to the wall, and put his head in his hands. It was so surprising that I stopped moving away and just stared at him. He looked . . . sad. And dejected.

“Ah—” I wet my lips. “Are you okay?” What a stupid question! And why did I even care? I didn’t. I couldn’t care less about his bruised feelings.

But I wasn’t leaving, either.

“Yes,” he said. His voice was soft and muffled. “I apologize. This is . . . difficult. Moving among humans in this way. I thought you wished to be turned.”

“Why?”

He raised his head and mutely indicated his face, then mine, which was made up very pale under my Catwoman mask. “You seem to be playing at being one of us.”

“Okay, first, I’m Goth, not a vampire wannabe. Second, it’s a fashion thing, okay? So, no. I don’t. Ewwww.” My pulse was slowing down some as I realized that maybe I’d read the situation all wrong after all. Mr. Ransom was a refreshing change from the vampires that tried to eat me first, talk later. “Why offer me Protection?” That was the equivalent of becoming part of a vampire’s household. He would have to provide certain things, such as food and shelter, and in return, the human paid part of her income to him, like a tax. Also, at the blood bank, her donations would be earmarked for him.

In short: ugh. Not for me.

“You don’t have a bracelet,” he said. “I thought perhaps your Protector had died in the late unpleasantness. I was being polite. In my day—”

“Well, it isn’t your day,” I snapped. “And I’m not shopping for a vamp daddy, so just . . . leave me alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. He still looked dejected, like some shabby street person whose bottle of booze had run out.

I thought of something less uncomfortable to ask. At least, I thought it was. “You said Michael had been delayed,” I said. “Where? At the blood bank?”

“Near there,” Ransom said. “He was taken away.”

I forgot all about Ransom and his weirdness. “Taken away where? How? Who took him?” I advanced on the vampire, and all of a sudden the leather catsuit didn’t seem ridiculous at all. I was practically channeling the soul of a supervillain. “Hey! Answer me!”

Ransom looked up. “Five young men,” he said. “Wearing the jackets with the snake.”

Five guys wearing Morganville High letter jackets. Jocks, probably. “Did he want to go?” I asked. Michael had never been part of the jock crowd, even in high school. This was just odd.

“At first, they wanted me to go,” Ransom said. “I didn’t understand why. Michael told them he would go with them instead, and told me to tell you that he would be delayed.” Ransom gave a heavy sigh. “That I have done.” In about half a heartbeat, he went from a sad little man crouched against the wall to a tall, dangerous vampire standing up and facing me. Never underestimate a vampire’s ability to change moods. “Now I will leave.”

I worked it out a second too late to stop him from going. I guess five jocks had been hassling this sad, weird vampire, and he hadn’t even realized what they were doing because, like he said, he wasn’t out in the human world that much. He hadn’t realized the danger he was in—he literally hadn’t.

Michael definitely had. That was why he’d stepped in, sent Ransom to find me, and gone off without a fight.

Saving somebody, as usual. Although I wondered why he hadn’t just flattened the creeps outright. He could have. Any vampire could.

“Wait, can you tell me where exactly—” But I was talking to the empty hall because Ransom had already beat it. Anyway, my words were just about lost in the thunder of a new tune spinning at the rave on the other side of the bricks.

I hurried out of the hallway, back to the rave, and found Shane and Claire still so into each other they might as well have been dancing at home. I dragged them out of the building, past impassive vampire bouncers, into the cool night air.

“Hey!” Shane protested, and settled his bathrobe more comfortably with a shake. “If you want to leave, all you have to do is say so! Respect the threads. Vintage.”