"Wow. We really are stealthy now," Claire said, and shut her computer. "Can we store stuff in the back?"
"Sure, my locker has an actual lock."
Claire raised her eyebrows and tugged the cord of the black hoodie. "And you keep this in it?"
"I didn't say that the locks couldn't be picked. But actually my good buddy Edie never locks hers, anyway. Come on, let's get the storage taken care of."
In the end, they left Michael's guitar, Claire's backpack (with laptop), and pretty much everything else behind, as Eve set up the lunch break sign on the counter and locked up the register. In a surprisingly short time, they were headed out again. Michael had brought a leather hat, which looked kind of sloppy-cool and shaded his face and neck. He kept his hands in his pockets.
"You're not as sensitive anymore," Claire said. "To the sun, I mean." Because when Michael had first been venturing out, he'd had to drape himself in a blanket to keep from burning.
"Well, it's cloudy," he pointed out. It was; there were ominous dark masses in the sky, and the sun had disappeared behind the curtain. "And I've got on two layers. But, yeah, it's better now than it was." He said it as if he wasn't sure how he felt about it, which was strange. Claire supposed that becoming more stable meant he also felt more like a vampire. "I'll be okay unless the sun comes out full strength again."
Which, Claire could tell, it wouldn't. Rain was coming, the kind of torrential desert rain that would drown the streets and create flash floods out in the arroyos outside of town, and would be completely gone tomorrow. There were already flashes of hidden lightning inside the clouds.
Luckily, they weren't far from Stinky Doug's dorm. It housed both male and female students, which was lucky, because it meant the three of them were even less noticeable, and there weren't any sign-ins required. Once they'd made it to the stairwell, Michael took off the hat, stuffed it in his jacket, and ran up the steps with so much ease that Claire, puffing a little in his wake, wondered if maybe this vampire thing might not be okay after all. Eight flights of stairs wasn't her thing.
At the top, she and Eve caught their breath and joined up with Michael as he stepped out to check the hallway. He motioned for them to follow, so it must have been clear. Claire was surprised to see that this dorm hall was pretty much like her old one, the one she'd first lived in when she'd moved to Morganville--dingy, battered, smelling like old beer and desperation. Doors were closed all along the hall, except for a couple at the end that blasted music she didn't recognize at top volume in some kind of stereo war.
Stinky Doug's room was the third on the left. Michael paused in front of it, leaned forward and listened, then nodded. He jiggled the knob. Locked.
That was why it was good to have a vampire along, because a simple twist of his wrist, and that lock problem? Solved. Michael pushed open the door and disappeared inside, and Eve and Claire followed, shutting the door behind them.
And Claire choked, because Stinky Doug's personal aroma wasnothing compared to the state of his dorm room. Her eyes watered. She couldn't stand to take a full breath, because she was deeply afraid she was going to vomit. Not that it would make the stench any worse.
"Eww," Eve said, pitifully, holding her nose shut. "Oh, my God! What died?"
Michael turned on the lights. For a couple of seconds, they stared in silence, and then Eve said, in a very small, muffled voice, "It was supposed to be a rhetorical question."
Because Doug was lying on the bed, eyes open and staring, and he was definitely, completely dead. Not for long, Claire guessed, because blood still dripped from the wound in his neck.
It wasn't a vampire bite. There was a huge pool of blood soaked into the mattress beneath Doug, staining his T-shirt crimson.
Michael had gone very, very pale--marble white, in fact. He leaned over the body, maybe checking for signs of life, and shook his head. As Claire and Eve stood rooted to the spot in shock, he ransacked Doug's backpack, then patted down the dead man's pockets, pulling out keys, a cell phone, breath mints (it made Claire suddenly sad that he carried those when he was so generally unpleasant to the senses), a wallet, some change.
No vials of blood.
"We have to go," Michael said. "Now. Right now."
"Was it--Was it the vamps?" Eve asked. "Can you tell?"
"I don't think so."
"But--"
"The ones I know wouldn't be that bloody," Michael said. "We have to go."
They were heading for the stairs, and Claire was still feeling a strange, distant sense of disconnection, when the reality of what she'd seen actually hit her, like color and sound and smell all snapping into focus at the same instant.
Doug wasdead. He'd beenmurdered.
She stopped, put her back against the hallway wall, and slid down to a crouch. She couldn't breathe. Her whole body was shaking. She'd seen a lot of unpleasant things since moving to Morganville, but this...this was worse. This seemed so...cold.
And the worst part of it was, Michael thought that the monsters hadn't done it. Not the side of town she usually thought of as monsters, anyway.
Eve was bending over her, pulling on her arm. Having lost the Goth makeup, she looked stark right now, washed pale. "Come on, Claire, we need to get the hell out of here. Too many questions."
"But we can't...just leave him--"