Read Online Midnight Bites by Rachel Caine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Caine
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BFFs, Gina and Jennifer. They were standing at the edge of the crowd, closest to where Shane sat, and Jennifer looked horrified and fascinated by the fireâbut Gina and Monica were staring straight at Shane.
Monica held up her hand. She had a Bic lighter, and she flicked the wheel and showed him the flame. Then she made a little finger-and-thumb gun and shot it at him.
Shane heaved himself up off the grass and went for her, screaming, raving, crazy, and not caring at all about the rules, about whether she was a girl, about anything, because if sheâd done this, if sheâd . . .
Somebody stopped him. The face didnât register with him for along couple of seconds, but then he saw it was Michael, grabbing on, and then Monicaâs brother, Richard, the cop.
âShe killed her!â Shane screamed, and felt his knees go out from under him, because saying it had made something awful become horribly real. âShe killed Alyssa!â
Michael hadnât realized, Shane saw; his friendâs face went white, and he looked at the house, and whatever he said, Shane couldnât hear it over the violent pounding of his heart. He tried to get up. Michael stepped back, but Richard Morrell kept him down.
âShane!â Richard was yelling, and shaking him, but all Shane could see was Monicaâs face over her brotherâs shoulder. She wasnât smiling anymore. In fact, she looked as pale as Michael, and now she was staring at the house, too.
Like she hadnât known.
Like she hadnât thought.
Shane kept screaming, and fighting, until Richard finally rolled him over and put him in handcuffs, but even then, Richardâs hand on his back was only there to keep him down.
To keep him from doing something insane.
Monica, you stupid bitch.
She hadnât known. She hadnât realized Alyssa was still in the house.
And Shane didnât care. He didnât really care about anything anymore.
By the time the fire was out, Monica was gone.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
Time passed. Things happened. Shane didnât much care, still; he felt numb, even days later. He felt numb when he picked through the wreckage of the house, looking for something that hadnât been destroyed. Looking for something of his sisterâs.
The cops brought him in, along with his parents, and gave them the dog and pony show. Terrible accident, faulty wiring, no reason to believe . . .
It was bullshit. Shane knew it. Big cover-up, because Mayor Morrellâs precious baby girl just couldnât be a killer. Wouldnât be right.
Sometime in there, his dad got screaming drunk and his mom started taking Valium and still, Shane really didnât care. He sat alone, mostly. He thought about nothing. He just . . . existed. They were stuck in some crappy motel room with borrowed clothes and no money and no home, and Lyssa was gone. So what did any of it matter anyway?
Michael kept coming over; he kept trying to talk, trying to get Shane to think about something else. And that was cool and all, but Shane just couldnât even care about Michael, either. He guessed Michael knew. He saw the pain in his friendâs face, the confusion, but none of it touched him.
He just wanted people to leave him the hell alone.
He was out buying a pizzaâthey never ate anything else these days, when the three of them remembered to eat at allâwhen he saw Monica Morrell outside the store. She was with her brother, the cop.
Shane put the pizza down on the counter and walked outside.
Richard got in the way, fast. âNo,â he said, and put a hand flat on Shaneâs chest. âListen to her. Just listen.â
Monica looked bad. Worse than Shane had ever seen her. She wasnât pretty; her face was puffy and red, her eyes swollen, like sheâd been crying for days. Her hair was stringy and unwashed. She looked miserable.
He didnât care. He wanted to
Monica held up her hand. She had a Bic lighter, and she flicked the wheel and showed him the flame. Then she made a little finger-and-thumb gun and shot it at him.
Shane heaved himself up off the grass and went for her, screaming, raving, crazy, and not caring at all about the rules, about whether she was a girl, about anything, because if sheâd done this, if sheâd . . .
Somebody stopped him. The face didnât register with him for along couple of seconds, but then he saw it was Michael, grabbing on, and then Monicaâs brother, Richard, the cop.
âShe killed her!â Shane screamed, and felt his knees go out from under him, because saying it had made something awful become horribly real. âShe killed Alyssa!â
Michael hadnât realized, Shane saw; his friendâs face went white, and he looked at the house, and whatever he said, Shane couldnât hear it over the violent pounding of his heart. He tried to get up. Michael stepped back, but Richard Morrell kept him down.
âShane!â Richard was yelling, and shaking him, but all Shane could see was Monicaâs face over her brotherâs shoulder. She wasnât smiling anymore. In fact, she looked as pale as Michael, and now she was staring at the house, too.
Like she hadnât known.
Like she hadnât thought.
Shane kept screaming, and fighting, until Richard finally rolled him over and put him in handcuffs, but even then, Richardâs hand on his back was only there to keep him down.
To keep him from doing something insane.
Monica, you stupid bitch.
She hadnât known. She hadnât realized Alyssa was still in the house.
And Shane didnât care. He didnât really care about anything anymore.
By the time the fire was out, Monica was gone.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
Time passed. Things happened. Shane didnât much care, still; he felt numb, even days later. He felt numb when he picked through the wreckage of the house, looking for something that hadnât been destroyed. Looking for something of his sisterâs.
The cops brought him in, along with his parents, and gave them the dog and pony show. Terrible accident, faulty wiring, no reason to believe . . .
It was bullshit. Shane knew it. Big cover-up, because Mayor Morrellâs precious baby girl just couldnât be a killer. Wouldnât be right.
Sometime in there, his dad got screaming drunk and his mom started taking Valium and still, Shane really didnât care. He sat alone, mostly. He thought about nothing. He just . . . existed. They were stuck in some crappy motel room with borrowed clothes and no money and no home, and Lyssa was gone. So what did any of it matter anyway?
Michael kept coming over; he kept trying to talk, trying to get Shane to think about something else. And that was cool and all, but Shane just couldnât even care about Michael, either. He guessed Michael knew. He saw the pain in his friendâs face, the confusion, but none of it touched him.
He just wanted people to leave him the hell alone.
He was out buying a pizzaâthey never ate anything else these days, when the three of them remembered to eat at allâwhen he saw Monica Morrell outside the store. She was with her brother, the cop.
Shane put the pizza down on the counter and walked outside.
Richard got in the way, fast. âNo,â he said, and put a hand flat on Shaneâs chest. âListen to her. Just listen.â
Monica looked bad. Worse than Shane had ever seen her. She wasnât pretty; her face was puffy and red, her eyes swollen, like sheâd been crying for days. Her hair was stringy and unwashed. She looked miserable.
He didnât care. He wanted to
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