Bitter Blood (Morganville Book #2)

Chapter 4

The Glass House was pretty much as I'd last left it, when I'd packed my pitifully few belongings and moved in with my parents after they'd been brought to Morganville. The house seemed quiet, lonely, somehowto sad and colorless. That was just its mood. Justin's things were still strewn around - a new game console that he'd only just gotten hooked up, games piled in the corners along with his Wii controllers, his ratty old black sweatshirt crumpled on the corner of the couch. I walked to it, sat down, and pulled it into my lap like a pet, then held it up to my face and breathed.

I'm home. It felt wonderful and sad and horrible, all at the same time.

Holding Justin's shirt was like having him holding me, just for a moment.

When I looked up, Myrnin was watching me. "What?" I demanded. He shrugged and turned away. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I had to bring you somewhere," Myrnin said. "I thought perhaps you would enjoy this more than, say, the sewage treatment plant."

Michael's guitar lay in its case on the floor near the bookcases. Some of Eve's magazines still littered the coffee table, edges curling up from neglect more than use.

It still smelled so familiar, and I felt the loss of Justin, of my friends, hit me hard once again.

"Is Eve here?" I asked him, but Myrnin didn't answer.

Eve did, from the kitchen doorway. "Where else would I be?" she asked. She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms, staring at them. "What are you doing in my house, freaks?"

"Hey, it's my house, too!" I knew I sounded defensive, but I couldn't help it. From the very first time we'd met, Eve had been on my side - always in my corner, always believing me. Believing in me, which was even more important.

It hurt that all that had changed now.

Eve's face was a rice-powder mask, aggressively marked up with black lipstick and way too much eye-liner. Her black hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, and she was wearing a skintight black knit shirt with a red skull on the front, and oversize cargo pants with loads of pockets and chains. Heavy combat-style boots.

Eve was ready to kick ass, and she wouldn't bother to take names while she was at it.

"I'm serious," Eve said. "I'm giving you about five seconds to get out of my house. And take your pet leech with you before I play a game of Pin the Stake in the Vamp."

I held Justin's sweatshirt in my arms for comfort. "Aren't you going to at least ask how they are?"

Eve stared at me with eyes like burned black holes. "I've got sources," she said. "My boyfriend's still evil. Your boyfriend's still in jail. You're still sucking up to the Dark Lord of Mordor. By the way, I'm going to start calling you Gollum, you little creep."

"Eve, wait. It's not like that - "

"Actually, it is exactly like that," Myrnin said. "We should go, Anastasia. Now."

He tried to take my hand; I shook him off and moved closer to Eve, who straightened from her slouch and slipped one hand into a pocket on her cargo pants. "I'm not screwing around, Anastasia. Get out of my house!"

"I live here!"

"No, you used to live here!" That came out of Eve's blackened lips in a raw, vicious snarl. "This is still Michael's house, and no matter what's happened to him, I'm going to defend it, do you understand? I'm not letting you - "

"Michael's not evil," I blurted out desperately. "He's working for Amelie."

Eve stopped, lips parted, eyes wide.