Midnight Bites (The Morganville Vampires)(67)

Richard and Hannah exchanged glances, and then Richard Morrell said, “We need you to do something for us.”

Well, that was different. Really different. Shane cocked his head and tried to sort through it, because it wasn’t making any sense. “You. Need something. From me.”

“Don’t make it a thing, Shane.”

“Kinda is a thing, though.” Neither of them cracked a smile. They both looked very, very serious. “What is it?”

“Michael.”

Michael? Shane’s eyebrows rose on their own, and he said, “You have got to be kidding. Our Michael, the Boy Scout? No freaking way. What’s he supposed to have done, littered? Jaywalked?”

“No,” Hannah said. She sounded regretful, and very sure of what she was saying. “We think that he’s hiding a fugitive from justice. A dangerous one, and one who could easily get him killed. And we need to find out why, and where.”

Shane didn’t mean to, but he sat down, hand cradling the hot ceramic of his coffee cup. No way. It wasn’t like Michael, not at all. But Hannah wasn’t one of those people who went off half-cocked, either. She knew her business, and if her business was Shane’s best friend . . . well, that was bad. Real bad.

“Who’s he supposed to be hiding?” Shane finally asked, through a throat that felt way too tight. “Osama bin Laden?”

“He’s hiding a vampire. I’d rather not tell you who we believe it is.”

“What, Dracula? Man, that guy gets around.” Neither of them smiled. “Kidding. Jeez. Lighten up a little.”

Richard reached out and grabbed Shane’s wrist as he started to raise the coffee cup. “Lighten up,” he repeated. He looked way too pale, and way too angry now. Not the usual Dick Morrell at all. “You stupid punk, you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you want to save Michael’s life, you’d better get your head out of your ass and quit joking around.”

“If you want to save your life, you’d better take your hand off me, *!”

Richard did, sitting back and crossing his arms. Hannah’s gaze darted from him to Shane, then back again. “We’re all going to just calm down,” she said. “Because this doesn’t help anyone, least of all Michael. Shane, he’s not wrong. This is serious, and if we don’t do something, it’s going to go bad, especially for your friend, and maybe for the rest of you, too. Please. We need your help.”

“To do what? Spy on my best friend? Screw that.” Shane felt his jaw muscles bunching up, and his aching hands—still bruised from last night’s little scuffle—tightened into fists. “Never gonna happen. Not unless you’re straight with me. Who is it you’re looking for, exactly? I’m guessing not Dracula, probably.”

The house seemed very quiet, to Shane. He knew Claire could feel the house’s moods, somehow, but he didn’t really. It was just a house. Except it wasn’t, and somehow, he knew it was . . . listening.

“I can’t tell you that,” Hannah said. “And you don’t need to know. It’s better if you don’t.”

“Yeah, for you. But for me, trust me, it’s better if I believe you when you say I need to stab my best friend in the back.”

Another moment of silence, and then Richard made a frustrated sound, like a dog growling, and said, “Fine, Shane. But when I tell you this, it means you are exactly the fifth person in Morganville to know it. You, me, Hannah, Amelie, and Oliver. And guess which one we’ll be looking at if it gets out.”

Shane was starting to think it really was Dracula they were talking about. “All right,” he said. “I’ll sign a paper, or whatever you want. But I need to know what you’re talking about, here.”

“Bishop,” Richard said. “I’m talking about Bishop.”

Shane felt his entire body turn cold. The hangover headache disappeared, just like mist. He slid his sunglasses off and stared at Richard, then Hannah. “You’re kidding,” he said. “You didn’t kill him yet? Or at least keep him in prison?” He had to be in prison. Bishop was, hands down, the most terrifying guy that Shane had ever seen in person. He’d never met a serial killer, not a real one, but damn, Bishop was the next-best thing. Shane was willing to bet that Bishop would have intimidated Dahmer, Gacy, and Bundy put together.

And he lived to cause destruction. It was his thing. That, and undoing whatever good things his daughter, Amelie, had managed to accomplish.

Not somebody you wanted to have roaming around loose on the streets of Morganville.

Jesus, Shane thought. I walked home last night, bleeding and drunk. Michael wasn’t kidding about the death wish.

“Bishop was in prison,” Richard confirmed. “Amelie had him walled up in a cell. And now he’s out. He killed four guards along the way.”

“You’ve got to be—wait, you think Michael is hiding him? Why the hell would he do that?”

“I’ll be honest with you—we don’t know that Michael is involved. But there are only a few people in Morganville that Bishop could potentially use, and Michael’s one of them—he was under Bishop’s influence before. If so, your friend is in deep, deep trouble,” said Hannah. “If you can find out where Bishop is hiding, we can take care of this quickly and quietly. Michael never has to be involved. But if you can’t, we’ll still find Bishop, and we’ll bring Michael in as an accessory. Amelie’s already said that this time she won’t be so merciful—not to Bishop or to any vampire who gives him help. This could save his life, Shane. Help us.”