Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 90

The drive back was even more uncomfortable, and not just physically; my father was livid, my mother embarrassed, and I myself was so mad I could barely stand to look at either of them. How could they? Even if Mr. Bishop had done something to them, screwed with their heads, they'd bought into it completely. They'd always said they trusted me, always said that they wanted me to make my own decisions, but when it came right down to it, they wanted me to be their helpless little girl, after all.

Well, it wasn't going to happen. I'd come too far for that.

Michael pulled to a stop in front of my parents' new house - another big Gothic-style house, looking almost exactly like our own except for the landscaping out front. My parents' Founder House had a spreading live oak tree towering over the property that rustled like dry paper in the evening breeze, and the trim was painted what looked like, in the dark, a dull black.

My dad leaned in to give me one last look. "I expect to hear from you tonight," he said. "I expect you to tell me when you're coming home. And by home, I mean here, with us."

I didn't answer. After extending the look for way too long, my dad shut the car door, and Michael accelerated smoothly away - not too quickly, but not slowly, either.

And we all breathed an audible sigh of relief when the house faded into the darkness behind the car. "Wow," Justin said. "Dude's got a glare on him. Maybe he really does belong here in Morganville."

"Don't say that," I said. I was fighting with all kinds of emotions - anger at my parents, frustration with the situation, worry, outright fear. My parents didn't belong here. They'd been just fine where they were, but Amelie had to uproot them and bring them here. Having my parents where she could control them gave her more leverage.

And now it gave Mr. Bishop leverage, too.

Justin took my hand. "Easy," he said. "Like Michael said, you don't have to go if you don't want to go. Not that I wouldn't feel better if you were someplace a hell of a lot safer."

"I don't think the Ian house will be safer," Michael said. "They don't understand the rules, or the risks - they're too new here. I think Bishop's trying to play with Amelie's head, and whatever we think about her, he's worse. I guarantee it."

I shuddered. "Was it Amelie who called you at the restaurant?"

"No," Michael said, and there was a grim tone in his voice. "That was Oliver. I have to admit, I'm not feeling real good about this. Oliver's never really been on her side - maybe he's taken Bishop's. In which case we could be going home to a trap."

"Do we have a choice?" Justin asked.

"Don't think so."

"Then screw it. I'm getting tired." Justin yawned. "Let's go get eaten. At least then I can get some sleep."

Nobody thought it was funny - least of all Justin, I suspected - but we didn't have any better ideas, and Michael drove home. Morganville was silent outside the dark-tinted windows; I could barely see dim gleams of lights, and we might have been the few and far-between streetlamps, or the glow from house porch lights. It was a lot like being in a space capsule, but with better upholstery.

Michael parked and turned off the car. As Eve reached for her door handle, he said, "Guys." She waited. We all waited. "I didn't exactly get any instant upgrade on knowledge when I - when I changed, but I'm damn sure of one thing. This Bishop, he's real trouble. Trouble like maybe we've never seen before. And I'm worried. So watch each other's backs. I'll try - "

He didn't seem to know how to finish that. Eve reached out to touch his face, and he turned toward her, lips parted. The look that went between them was so naked it felt wrong to see it. Justin cleared his throat.