The rest of the day passed slowly. Dad and I ate a silent dinner. I don’t even remember what we had. Our cousins had sent over a big casserole, some kind of noodle thing. Dad served it without even warming it up.
The whole time, I stared at Mom’s empty chair and fought back the urge to cry. My cut wrist was bandaged, and it throbbed a little. Dad asked if I thought it needed stitches. But I told him it wasn’t a deep cut at all.
“How could you cut yourself with a screwdriver?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”
What happened in the garage that afternoon wasn’t clear to me. As if a fog had settled over everything.
But I remembered how strange Morgan had acted when my wrist started to bleed. It kept troubling my mind, and I had a growing urge to tell someone.
Zane wasn’t home. After dinner, I drove over to Julie’s house. I found her in the dining room. She and Amber and Delia were seated around the dining room table, a pile of cards and envelopes between them.
As I walked in, they raised their eyes, and their faces twisted in concern. Julie stood up, walked over, and hugged me. “How are you doing, Liam?”
“Are you okay?” Amber asked.
“Did you have dinner? We have some pizza left over,” Julie said, motioning to the kitchen.
“We didn’t expect to see you,” Delia said. “I mean, so soon after . . .”
“I’m trying to deal with everything,” I told them. “It’s been a tough day.”
I glanced at the envelopes stacked on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Sending out invitations to the alumni carnival,” Julie said. “Want to help us?” She walked back to her chair.
“Not really,” I said. “I . . . want to tell you guys something.”
“Have you heard from the police?” Delia asked, setting down the card she was working on.
“It’s not about that,” I said. “It’s about Morgan.”
That got their attention. All eyes were on me now.
“I saw Morgan at your mom’s funeral,” Amber said. “She sat in the back and kept her head down the whole time.”
“I saw her, too,” Delia said. “When it was over, I went over to talk to her, but she hurried away. I don’t know if she saw me or not.”
Amber pushed her glasses up on her nose. “She looked as pale as milk,” she said. “Like she was sick. Poor Morgan. She was so totally devastated after Winks was murdered. And now to have a second murder . . .” She gasped. “Oh. Sorry, Liam.”
I dropped down on the edge of the chair next to hers. “Are you going to let me tell you my story, or not?”
All three grew silent and turned their gaze on me.
“Morgan came to my house,” I said. “After the funeral. She said she was feeling weird, out of sorts.”
Julie narrowed her eyes at me. “So she just dropped by your house?”
I nodded. “She was being nice. She brought me some cupcakes.”
“What flavor?” Amber asked.
“Shut up, Amber,” Julie snapped. “That’s not funny.”
“Just asking,” Amber replied.
“So what happened?” Delia asked.
“I was in the garage. Dad thought it might help me get through the day if I worked on building my drone. But I couldn’t really concentrate on it. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Like I had clouds in my brain.”
“And Morgan showed up?” Julie said.
“Yes. But here’s what I wanted to tell you.” I leaned over the table and lowered my voice. “I dropped a screwdriver. It slipped out of my hand, and the tip scraped my wrist.”
I held up my bandaged wrist.
“Was it a bad cut?” Julie asked.
“No,” I said. “But it started to bleed. Just a little. And Morgan took my hand. I thought she wanted to inspect the cut. But no. She raised my hand to her mouth and started to lick off the blood.”
Delia gasped. Amber and Julie just stared.
“You think Morgan is a vampire?” Delia said.
“I’m just saying—” I started.
“No. No, no, no, that doesn’t make sense,” Julie insisted.
“Morgan held my hand to her mouth and licked it up. And—”
“Morgan is a total flirt,” Amber said. “She’s not a vampire.”
“She was coming on to you, Liam,” Julie said.
“If Morgan is a vampire, I am, too,” Delia said.
“They caught the killer, Liam,” Julie said. “That weird guy who thinks he’s a vampire hunter. We can relax now. They’ve got him.”
“Okay, okay.” I raised my hands to signal an end to the discussion. “I’m only telling you what happened. I—”
A sound behind me made me turn around.
Morgan came hurrying in, her hair fluttering behind her. “Sorry I’m late. Are all the envelopes addressed?”
“No. Plenty more to do,” Julie said. “Where were you?”
Morgan flung her jacket onto an empty chair. “I was at the blood bank. Did you know they have takeout?”
