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hurt her, and it took everything he had inside—everything he had left—not to deck Richard and go after her, right then.
    But somehow, he stood there, numbed, waiting.
    â€œI didn’t know,” she said. Her voice was muffled, and her nose was running. She was crying again. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”
    â€œShe didn’t do it,” Richard said, staring into Shane’s face. For a Morrell, he didn’t look like a complete jerk, but again, Shane just couldn’t care. “My sister did not do this. Understand? She was trying to piss you off, and she pretended she’d started the fire. She didn’t know Alyssa was in the house. She wouldn’t have done that. She didn’t torch your house. It was an accident.”
    Shane laughed. It was a dry, empty sound, and he saw Monica flinch, like he’d hit her. “Oh, man,” he said. “You really don’t know her at all, do you?”
    Richard’s face turned hard. “I know this,” he said. “You come near my sister, and this is going to get ugly. You want your parents to lose another kid?”
    Shane didn’t answer. He looked past Richard, at Monica, and made a little gun out of his finger and thumb.
    Then he silently fired it at her.
    Then he went back, got his pizza, and went to the motel, where the world was still dying in slow motion.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Two days later, Michael’s grandfather Sam Glass arranged for them to get out of Morganville. Shane didn’t know how, didn’t know why, didn’t care. His father was sober enough to drive, for a change. His mother—he didn’t know what his mother was doing anymore.
    They drove past the borders of Morganville, and it occurredtoShane that maybe this was Richard’s way of keeping Shane away from his sister. Well, it had worked. They were out of town, and heading . . .
    â€œWhere are we going?” Shane asked. It was the first thing he’d said in hours.
    His dad said tightly, “Nowhere.”
    And he was right aboutthat.

NEW BLOOD
    Dedicated to Samantha Monical for her support of the Morganville digital series Kickstarter
    Here is our second original story for this collection, and in a way, it’s an outside look into the last story you read. This is about Eve and Michael, and life before and after the fire at Shane’s house. I really enjoyed getting to write from Eve’s point of view; she’s tremendous fun, and looks at things from angles I hadn’t considered before—especially her relationship with her brother. This story has it all: sweet romance, evil Monica, sinister Bloodmobile, and yet another view of the Collins family disaster.
    Samantha, to whom this story is dedicated, requested a story from Eve’s point of view specifically, so you can definitely thank her for this one!

 
    T he flyer Eve Rosser was handed on the way out of class was candy-colored pink, with a big red cartoon heart on it—typical February crap. She glanced at it, shoved it in her black Dracula notebook, and forgot about it. February was lousy with stupid Valentine-themed stuff. This would be a flyer for a band bake sale, or a drama-sponsored dance, or something equally dumb that had no relation to actual Valentine’s Day. She was hoping for a bake sale, though. At least there might be cookies.
    Morganville High wasn’t huge, but it was crowded; too many loud, proud students all jammed into ancient hallways built too small. Tough swimming upstream to her locker, but one thing about being Morganville’s resident Weird Girl: people tended to give her personal space. Unlike some of the poor kids she saw getting slammed face-first into lockers. Bullying might be a problem in other places, but it was a way of life here. You were a predator, or you got eaten. The kids who were getting locker facials weren’t at the top of