Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 81

I nearly fell off the couch, I jerked so hard. Michael wasn't there, and his guitar was in the case on the table. I squinted at the clock. It was nearly two o'clock, and I'd slept through lunch, but it wasn't hunger that had woken me up. I'd heard something.

It came again, a thumping knock on the front door. I yawned and pushed back the blanket that Michael had draped over me, and padded to the door still trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I had to stand on tiptoes at the peephole to see out. Some guy, nobody that clicked any immediate recognition -- not Jason, at least. That was good. I looked over my shoulder, but there was no sign Michael had heard. I had no idea where he'd gone.

I opened the door. The guy standing outside looked up and held out a padded mailer with stickers on it; I took it and read my own name on it. "Oh," I said, preoccupied. "Thanks."

"No problem, Anastasia," he said. "Be seeing you."

There was something way too familiar about the way he said it. I jerked my head up, staring at him, but I still didn't know him. He was just ... normal. Average height, average weight, average everything. There was a silver bracelet on his wrist, so he was human, not vampire.

"Do I know you?" I asked. He tilted his head a little, but didn't answer. He just turned and walked away down the sidewalk, toward the street. "Hey, wait! Who are you?"

He waved and kept walking. I went a couple of steps outside into the early afternoon heat, frowning, but I'd left my shoes off and the concrete was blazing hot. No way could I run after him in bare feet, I'd fry like bacon.

I retreated back into the cool darkness of the house, and sighed in relief at the feeling of cool wood under my soles. I looked down at the envelope in my hand and suddenly wanted to drop it and step away. I didn't know who this guy was, and it was really strange that he wouldn't answer me. And strange, in Morganville, was rarely going to be a good thing.

I closed and locked the door, took a deep breath, and tore open the top of the envelope. No smell of blood or disgusting rotting things, which was a plus. I carefully squeezed the sides to open it up, and saw nothing in it but a note. I shook it out into my hand, and recognized the paper immediately -- heavy, expensive paper, cream-colored, embossed with the same logo that was on my gold bracelet.

It was a note from Amelie. Which meant the guy who'd dropped it off had to be somebody she trusted, at least that far.

"Everything okay?" Michael's voice from the end of the hall. I gasped, stuffed the paper back into the envelope, and turned to face him.

"Sure," I said. "Just mail."

"Good stuff?"

"Don't know yet, I haven't read it. Probably junk."

"Enjoy the fact that you don't have electricity, water, cable, internet and garbage to pay for," he said. "Look, I'm going upstairs. Yell if you need anything. There's stuff in the fridge if you're hungry." A brief pause. "Don't open the pitcher in the back on the top shelf."

"Michael, tell me you're not putting blood in our refrigerator."

"I told you not to open it. So you'll never know."

"You suck!" Of course he did, he was a vampire. "I mean, not in a good way, either!"

"Eat something! I'm sleeping." And I heard his door shut, so I was effectively alone.

I fumbled out the letter and unfolded it. A smell of faint, dusty roses came from the paper, like it had been stored in a trunk with dried flowers. I wondered how old it was.