Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 111

When I woke up, my head was in Justin's lap, and he was stroking my hair. I heard the hushed murmur of voices. "What - " My throat hurt. Hurt a lot. And my voice sounded funny.

"Hey," Justin said, and smiled down at me. It didn't look right, that smile. "Don't talk. We're home - we've got everything secured. It's okay."

I doubted that. I could hear sirens outside, racing past on the street. Voices inside the house, lots of them. I tried to sit up, but Justin held me back. "Sam's upstairs with Amelie, in the rec room." Which was Justin's term for Amelie's hidden lair. "The city's in lockdown. Bishop had a lot of people on his payroll already. Lots of surprises. He's been busy."

I mouthed, Who's here?

"Yeah, well, we've got guests tonight," he said. "Couldn't get them to their own places, so they're taking refuge here. Your mom and dad are right here - "

And there they were, pushing Justin out of the way. Mom was crying as she stroked my face. My dad was more stoic, but his face was flushed and his jaw was tightly clenched.

"How you doing, kiddo?" he asked.

"Fine," I whispered, and pointed at them.

"We're just fine, sweetheart," my mother said, and kissed me on the forehead. She was still wearing the long white dress, but the angel wings looked battered and off center. "When Oliver brought you in, I thought - I thought it was too late. I thought - "

They'd thought I was dead. I felt guilty, even though passing out hadn't been my idea, exactly. "I'm okay," I managed to say. I tried to swallow, and found that was not just a bad idea; it was a terrible idea. I coughed. That hurt worse.

Pitiful.

"Oliver?" I whispered. My dad nodded to someplace behind the couch, where I was stretched out.

"On the phone," he said. "He's quite the take-charge guy, isn't he?"

The lights in the house went out, and people screamed. Almost immediately, flashlights clicked on; Eve and Justin had them ready, and so did Michael.

"Calm down," Michael said. "Everybody relax. The house is secure."

Nothing was secure from Bishop, I wanted to tell him. Ysandre and Francois had been here, and they'd get in again if they wanted. The gloom felt thick and oily around me. If there were ghosts in the house - other than the one Michael had been - they were coming out in force tonight, drawn by the fear and fury.

"Hey," Eve said. She was standing at the front windows, looking out. "Something's on fire out there."

A fire truck roared by, screaming, chased by a fleet of patrol cars. Busy night for city services, I thought dizzily. I got up, despite my mother's attempts to keep me flat. The room spun a little, then steadied. I joined Eve at the window. Eve put an arm around me and hugged me, eyes still on the fire. It was a big one, maybe three streets away. Flames were leaping a dozen feet into the air.

"How you doing?" Eve asked me.

I gave her a silent thumbs-up, and saw Eve smile.

"Yeah, you went all Spartacus up there. I was proud, you know. Well, until you kind of got your ass kicked."

I tried to choke out an indignant "Hey!"

"Okay, so, maybe not your fault." Eve hugged me again. "Holy water. Nice touch. I was almost impressed."

"Whose house?" Two words, I managed in one whisper. That was progress. "On fire?"

"I think it's the Melville house." Eve angled for a different view. "Crap. I see some more. This isn't good."