"They issued me a car, " Michael said. "It's in the garage. Fully sunproofed. And there's underground parking at JT's. There is most places. "
"Issued -- who issued you a car?" He shot her a you're not stupid look. "The town? Amelie?"
He didn't answer directly as he slid the filter compartment shut and turned on the brew switch. The machine began wheezing and peeing into the pot. "They tell me it's standard procedure, " he said. "For new vampires. "
"Not there have been any for fifty years, right?"
He shrugged. It was obvious that she was making him uncomfortable with the questions, but Claire couldn't help herself. "Michael --did they get you the job, too?"
"No. I know JT. I got the job all by myself. They offered -- " He stopped, clearly thinking he'd already said too much.
Claire finished it out, guessing. "They offered you some kind of job in the vampire community. Right? Or -- " Oh, God. "Or they offered to make you a Protector?"
"Not right off the bat, " he said, still staring at the coffee maker. "You have to work up to that. So they say. "
Michael. Owning people. Skimming off of their wages like some Mafia don. She tried not to let him see how sick that idea made her feel, that he'd ever really consider doing it.
His eyes suddenly cut toward her, as if he'd read her mind. "I didn't do it. I took the job at JT's, Claire, " Michael said, and suddenly moved toward her. She flinched, and he took a deep breath and held out his hand in clear apology. "Sorry. I forget sometimes -- it's hard, okay, learning how to move around people when I can go so much faster. But I wouldn't hurt you, Claire. No way. "
"Shane thinks -- "
Light caught and flared in Michael's eyes, eerie and frightening, and then he blinked and it was gone. He obviously made a real effort to keep his voice quiet. "Shane's wrong, " he said. "I'm not changing, Claire. I'm still your friend. I'll look after you. All of you. Even Shane. "
She didn't answer him. Truthfully, as much as she liked him -- and it verged on love -- she felt something different about him today. Something complicated and agitated and strange.
Was he ... Hungry? He was staring at her. No, he was staring at the thin skin of her neck, wasn't he? Claire put her hand to it, involuntary but irresistible, and Michael got a very slight pink flush in his pale cheeks and looked away.
"I wouldn't, " he said, in a far different tone than before. It almost sounded scared to her. "I wouldn't, Claire. You have to believe me. But -- this is hard. It's so hard. "