Free Morganville Vampires [01] Glass Houses by Rachel Caine Page B

surprised—anybody who thinks World War Two was in China isn’t exactly going to impress—”
    She saw the punch coming this time, and ducked as best she could. Monica’s fist smashed into her forehead, which hurt, but it must have hurt Monica a whole lot more, because she let out a shrill little scream and backed off, clutching her right hand in her left. That made the horrible throbbing in Claire’s head almost okay.
    “Careful,” Claire gasped, nearly giggling. The scab on her lip had broken open, and she licked blood from her lips. “Don’t break a nail! I’m not worth it, remember?”
    “Got that right!” Monica snarled. “Let that bitch go. What are you waiting for? Go on, do it! Do you think that wimp’s going to hurt me?”
    The Monickettes looked at each other, clearly wondering if their queen bee had lost her mind, then let go of Claire’s arms and stepped back. Jennifer bumped into the towering column of boxes, spilling an avalanche of dust and old papers, but when Claire looked at her, Jennifer was staring at a spot between the boxes.
    The spot where Claire had hidden the phone. Jen had to have seen it, and Claire gasped out loud, suddenly a whole lot more afraid than she’d thought she was.
    “What the hell are you looking at?” Monica snarled at Jen, and Jen very deliberately turned her back on the incriminating phone, folded her arms, and stood there blocking it from view. Not looking at Claire at all. Wow. That’s… what? Not lucky, exactly. Jennifer had shown some cracks already. And maybe she wasn’t a complete convert to the First Church of Monica.
    Maybe Monica had just pissed her off one too many times. Not that she would be stepping in on Claire’s side anytime soon.
    Claire wiped the blood from her lip and looked at the other girls. The ones who were standing, uneasy and indecisive. Monica had been challenged and, so far, hadn’t exactly delivered the smackdown everybody—Claire included—had expected. Kind of weird, really. Unless Claire really struck some nerve besides the ones running through Monica’s knuckles.
    Monica was rubbing her hand, looking at Claire as if she’d never seen her before. Assessing her. She said, “Nobody’s told you the facts of life, Claire . The fact is, if you suddenly just up and disappear…?” She jerked her pretty, pointed chin at the dusty towers of boxes. “Nobody but the janitor’s ever going to know or care. You think Mommy and Daddy are going to get all upset? Maybe they would, but by the time they spend their last dime putting your picture on milk cartons and chasing down rumors of how you ran off with somebody else’s boyfriend? They’re going to hate to even think about you. Morganville’s got it down to a science, making people disappear. They never disappear here . Always somewhere else.”
    Monica wasn’t taunting her. That was the scary part. She was talking evenly, quietly, as if they were two equals having a friendly conversation.
    “You want to know why I live in Howard?” she continued. “Because in this town, I can live anywhere I want. Any way I want. And you—you’re just a walking organ donor. So take my advice, Claire. Don’t get in my face, because if you do, you won’t have one for long. Are we clear?”
    Claire nodded slowly. She didn’t dare look away. Monica reminded her of a feral dog, one that would jump for your throat the second you showed weakness. “We’re clear,” she said. “You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.”
    “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.”
    Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.”
    Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.”
    Claire went back to where Jennifer was standing, and reached behind her to drag the phone out