Bitter Blood(15)

ID cards were the first thing they asked to see. Michael silently produced his gold card, but the two cops hardly even glanced at it. They wanted Claire's.

The tal er one smiled as she looked it over. "Good blood type," she said, and handed it to her partner, who admired it in turn. "You take care of yourself. Wouldn't want to see it wasted."

Claire felt particularly weird about that. It was like being exposed, as if she'd had some kind of privacy taken away. Michael must have felt it, too, because he said, in a dangerously soft voice, "You've checked her out. Knock it off."

"You're no fun," the shorter one said, and winked at him. "Just like your grandfather. And look where that got him."

"Dead," the tal er cop agreed. "Al for trying to treat humans like equals. Seems like the Glass family members just never learn their lessons."

Michael's eyes flickered a sudden, bright crimson, and he said, "I'l take any comparison to my grandfather as a compliment. And you really need to stop screwing with us now."

"Or?"

"Viv, dial it down," the other cop said, and handed Claire's ID back to her. "We're done. They're cleared for the Founder's office."

"I'm sure we'l see you again," Viv said, and grinned, showing fangs. "Both of you. Hunting season starts soon."

Michael rolled up the window and put the car in gear. Claire let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and finally said, "That was completely creepy."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "I'm sorry. It was." He seemed to be almost apologizing for the two women, or maybe for vampires in general. "This might not have been such a great idea, coming out here. It's not like it was before."

"I have to try."

"Keep this short, then. I don't want you out here once the sun sets. Not even if I'm with you."

That was very unusual to hear from him, and unsettling, too. Claire looked straight ahead-at nothing, because the view was pretty much pitch-darkness. Michael's pale face and golden hair were tinged a little with blue from the dashboard light, and he glowed like a ghost in the corner of her eye. "What's happening to us?" she asked. She didn't mean to; it just came out, and it revealed way too much of the growing dread she was feeling.

"They looked at me like meat in a supermarket. I know there have always been a few vampires like that, but...they were police. That means they're supposed to be the best at holding back their instincts."

Michael didn't answer her. Maybe he didn't know how. The dig they'd thrown about Sam Glass, his grandfather, had hit home, and she knew it. Michael's grandfather had physically looked about like Michael did now, only with more reddish hair. He'd been a sweet man, probably the most human of allof the vamps Claire had ever met. Sam had been a force for good in Morganville, and he'd paid for it with his life. Michael hadn't forgotten that. Claire wondered whether he thought about what might happen to his own life, if he kept trying to stay in the middle, squarely between humans and vampires, and whether he thought about being killed.

Of course he did. Especially now that he'd married Eve, against the wishes of both sides. They both had everything to lose.

Michael eased the car down, following the curve of the ramp as it led below Founder's Square. The vampires had excel ent parking, allcovered. When he'd pulled to a stop and turned off the engine, he finally said, "It's going to get bad, Claire. I know it. I feel it. We've got to do everything we can to stop it."

"I know," she said, and held out her hand. He took it and held it lightly-a good thing, because he could have easily shattered bones. "Glass House gang forever."

"Forever," he said. "If we're going to be a gang, we need a good sign to flash. Something intimidating."

They tried a few silly, strange attempts at flashing signs, but the efforts looked awkward. "We," Claire said, "are the worst gang ever."

"Bad idea," Michael agreed, straight-faced. "Shane's the only one of us with real street cred anyway."

They got out of the car, and Claire was watchful of the shadows; so was Michael, but he must not have spotted anything out of the ordinary, because he nodded and escorted her to the elevator. While they waited for it to descend, Claire kept looking behind them, just to ensure that nobody had decided to stalk them.

Nobody did.

Someone had decided the elevator music had needed a change, so this time up, Claire was treated to an orchestral version of "Thril er," an oddly appropriate choice. Even vampires had a sense of humor, though it was mostly atrophied. Either Michael didn't think it was funny, or he was too focused to notice-probably the latter, because he seemed very self-contained just now. He must have been gearing up for whatever would be waiting for them.

The doors opened on a dead-white vampire, bald as a cue bal and dressed in formal black. Claire didn't know if he was security or just a very intimidating greeter, but she took a step back, and Michael tensed beside her.

The man looked them both over in silence, then abruptly turned his back on them and walked away. As he did, one hand snapped up to give them a follow-me gesture.

"Do you know him?" Claire asked as they trailed their black-suited guide into the paneled hal ways. Vampires seemed to deliberately design all their buildings to confuse people, but the two of them didn't really need a personal escort; they'd spent a lot of time here, over the past couple of years. "And is he always this friendly?"

"Yes, and yes." Michael put his finger to his lips, asking her for silence, and she complied. They were passing closed, unmarked doors and watchful portraits of people she recognized as still walking the streets of Morganville, even though they'd been painted in ancient styles of clothes. Their escort moved fast, and Claire realized that even though it was tough for her to keep up, it was probably just standard vampire walking speed. It was oddly tel ing that the vamps no longer felt they needed to slow down to accommodate mere mortals.

She saved her breath and hurried, while Michael strode along beside her, matching her speed but not pushing her. He was watching the doorways, she realized. She'd never seen him quite this alert before, at least not here, in what should have been a safe place for them both. It allbecame clear when a vampire slid out of the shadows ahead, lowered his chin, and bared his teeth. Claire knew him slightly, but he'd never looked quite so...inhuman. He was bone white, and his eyes were flaring crimson, and he gave off waves of menace that made her slow down and look at Michael in alarm.