Glass Houses (Morganville Vampires, Book 1)
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College freshman Claire Danvers has had enough of her nightmarish dorm situation, where the popular girls never let her forget just where she ranks in the school's social scene: somewhere less than zero.
When Claire heads off-campus, the imposing old house where she finds a room may not be much better. Her new roommates don't show many signs of life. But they'll have Claire's back when the town's deepest secrets come crawling out, hungry for fresh blood.
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Eve forced a bright smile. “Let’s eat, yeah? I’m starving.” They sat out in the living room, chatting about nothing, not talking about the thing that was most important: what to do. Because, Claire sensed, neither one of them had a clue. 5 Claire watched the clock—some old-style wall clock, with hands—crawl slowly up to, and past, eleven o’clock. Professor Hamms is starting the lecture, she thought, and felt a nauseating twist in her stomach. This was the second day in a row she’d missed
didn’t, but Mrs. Lawson had all kinds of cute tops and jeans and things, and cheap, too. Claire picked an armload and followed her to the counter, where she counted out a grand total of twenty-two dollars, including tax. As Mrs. Lawson was ringing it up, Claire looked behind her to the things on the wall. There was some kind of official-looking certificate hanging there, framed, with an embossed seal…. No, that wasn’t a seal. That was a symbol. The same symbol as the one on the bracelet Mrs.
kind?” Because brown leather cover didn’t exactly narrow things down when it came to books. Eve pushed up the sleeve of her skintight black mesh top, and held out her forearm. There, tattooed in plain blue, was a symbol that looked kind of like an omega, only with some extra waves in it. Simple, but definitely nothing Claire could remember seeing before. “They’ve been searching for it. They gave everybody growing up in a Protected family the tattoo so that we remember what to look for.” Claire
through orange goo. “Claire needs to go to bed,” Michael said, and flopped down. “Scoot over, man. I don’t like you that much.” “Dick. That’s not what you said last night.” “Bite me.” “I want another beer.” “You’re cut off. It was my birthday present, not yours.” “Oh, that’s low. You really are a dick, and just for that, I’m totally thrashing you.” “Promises, promises.” Michael glanced at Claire. “You’re still here. No beer. I’m not corrupting a minor.” “But you’re a minor,” she pointed
surprisingly comfortable with the whole living-dead-not-dead thing. She supposed that if a ghost had to have a girlfriend, well, Eve was just about the best choice there was. Shane was standing downstairs, just…standing. Not paying much attention to her or anything else. She reached out, ready to tap him on the shoulder, let him know she was here even if she was no help at all, but just then, there was a knock on the front door. “I swear to God, if that’s Miranda—,” he grated. His fists were