The Morganville Vampires Collection (The Morganville Vampires #1-4) by Rachel Caine
Authors: Rachel Caine
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just painful.
Shane and Eve had both said that Michael slept days. They were both night owls; they were sound asleep right now, and wouldn’t be up for hours yet. Michael could have…disappeared…daily like this with nobody paying attention.
Until she came along, and got nosy.
Don’t tell them . Why not? What was so secret?
She was crazy. That was the only rational explanation. But if she was crazy, she wasn’t rational…
Claire curled up on the sofa, shivering, and felt cold air brush over her again. Ice-cold. She sat up. ‘Michael?’ she blurted, and sat very still. The chill went away, then brushed over her again. ‘I – I think I can feel you. Are you still here?’ Another second or two without the icy draft, and then it drifted across her skin. ‘So – you can see us?’ Yes, she figured, since the warm-cold cycle repeated. ‘You don’t go away during the day? Oh – um, stay where you are if it’s no, OK?’ The chill stayed steady. ‘Wow. That’s – harsh.’ A yes, and weirdly, she felt a little cheered. OK, she was having a conversation with a breeze , but at least she didn’t feel alone. ‘You don’t want me to tell Shane and Eve?’ Clearly, a no. If anything, it got colder. ‘Is there anything – anything I can do?’ Also a no. ‘Michael –will you come back?’ Yes. ‘Tonight?’ Yes, again. ‘We are so going to talk.’
The chill withdrew completely. Yes .
She collapsed back on the sofa, feeling giddy and strange and exhausted. There was a ratty old blanket piled near the guitar case; she carefully moved the instrument over to the table (and imagined an invisible Michael following her anxiously the whole way), then wrapped herself in the blanket and let herself drift off into sleep, with the ticking of the grandfather clock and memories of Michael’s guitar as a soundtrack.
That day, Claire went to class. Eve argued with her; Shane didn’t. Nothing much happened, although Claire spotted Monica twice on campus. Monica was surrounded by admirers, both male and female, and didn’t have time for grudges. Claire kept her head down and stayed out of any deserted areas. It was an early afternoon for her – no labs – and although she wanted to get home and wait around for Michael to show up (and boy, she wanted to see how that happened!) she knew she’d drive herself crazy, and make Shane suspicious.
As she walked in that general direction, she spotted the small coffee shop, wedged in between the skateboard shop and a used-book store. Common Grounds. That was where Eve worked, and she’d saidto stop by…
The bell rang with a silvery tinkle as Claire pushed open the door, and it was like walking into the living room of the Glass House, only a little more Gothic. Black leather sofas and chairs, thick colourful rugs, accent walls in beige and blood red, lots of nooks and crannies. There were five or six students scattered at café tables and built-in desks. None looked up from their books or computers. The whole place smelt like coffee, a constant simmering warmth.
Claire stood for a second, indecisive, and then walked over to an empty desk and dumped her backpack before going to the counter. There were two people behind the waist-high barrier. One was Eve, of course, looking perky and doll-like with her dye-dark hair in two pigtails, eyes rimmed with liner, and lipstick a dramatic Goth black. She was wearing a black mesh shirt over a red camisole, and she grinned when she spotted Claire.
The other was an older man, tall, thin, with greying curly hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. He had a nice, square face, wide dark eyes, and a ruby earring in his left ear. Hippie to the core, Claire guessed. He smiled, too.
‘Hey, it’s Claire!’ Eve said, and hurried around the counter to slip her arm around Claire’s shoulders.
‘Claire, this is Oliver. My boss.’
Claire nodded hesitantly. He looked nice, but hey, a boss. Bosses made her nervous, like parents.
Shane and Eve had both said that Michael slept days. They were both night owls; they were sound asleep right now, and wouldn’t be up for hours yet. Michael could have…disappeared…daily like this with nobody paying attention.
Until she came along, and got nosy.
Don’t tell them . Why not? What was so secret?
She was crazy. That was the only rational explanation. But if she was crazy, she wasn’t rational…
Claire curled up on the sofa, shivering, and felt cold air brush over her again. Ice-cold. She sat up. ‘Michael?’ she blurted, and sat very still. The chill went away, then brushed over her again. ‘I – I think I can feel you. Are you still here?’ Another second or two without the icy draft, and then it drifted across her skin. ‘So – you can see us?’ Yes, she figured, since the warm-cold cycle repeated. ‘You don’t go away during the day? Oh – um, stay where you are if it’s no, OK?’ The chill stayed steady. ‘Wow. That’s – harsh.’ A yes, and weirdly, she felt a little cheered. OK, she was having a conversation with a breeze , but at least she didn’t feel alone. ‘You don’t want me to tell Shane and Eve?’ Clearly, a no. If anything, it got colder. ‘Is there anything – anything I can do?’ Also a no. ‘Michael –will you come back?’ Yes. ‘Tonight?’ Yes, again. ‘We are so going to talk.’
The chill withdrew completely. Yes .
She collapsed back on the sofa, feeling giddy and strange and exhausted. There was a ratty old blanket piled near the guitar case; she carefully moved the instrument over to the table (and imagined an invisible Michael following her anxiously the whole way), then wrapped herself in the blanket and let herself drift off into sleep, with the ticking of the grandfather clock and memories of Michael’s guitar as a soundtrack.
That day, Claire went to class. Eve argued with her; Shane didn’t. Nothing much happened, although Claire spotted Monica twice on campus. Monica was surrounded by admirers, both male and female, and didn’t have time for grudges. Claire kept her head down and stayed out of any deserted areas. It was an early afternoon for her – no labs – and although she wanted to get home and wait around for Michael to show up (and boy, she wanted to see how that happened!) she knew she’d drive herself crazy, and make Shane suspicious.
As she walked in that general direction, she spotted the small coffee shop, wedged in between the skateboard shop and a used-book store. Common Grounds. That was where Eve worked, and she’d saidto stop by…
The bell rang with a silvery tinkle as Claire pushed open the door, and it was like walking into the living room of the Glass House, only a little more Gothic. Black leather sofas and chairs, thick colourful rugs, accent walls in beige and blood red, lots of nooks and crannies. There were five or six students scattered at café tables and built-in desks. None looked up from their books or computers. The whole place smelt like coffee, a constant simmering warmth.
Claire stood for a second, indecisive, and then walked over to an empty desk and dumped her backpack before going to the counter. There were two people behind the waist-high barrier. One was Eve, of course, looking perky and doll-like with her dye-dark hair in two pigtails, eyes rimmed with liner, and lipstick a dramatic Goth black. She was wearing a black mesh shirt over a red camisole, and she grinned when she spotted Claire.
The other was an older man, tall, thin, with greying curly hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. He had a nice, square face, wide dark eyes, and a ruby earring in his left ear. Hippie to the core, Claire guessed. He smiled, too.
‘Hey, it’s Claire!’ Eve said, and hurried around the counter to slip her arm around Claire’s shoulders.
‘Claire, this is Oliver. My boss.’
Claire nodded hesitantly. He looked nice, but hey, a boss. Bosses made her nervous, like parents.
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