He hissed, and there was fury in his voice when he said, Dont you say that. Dont you ever say that.
There was a choked cry, and a sudden, violent flurry of motion in the dark where Myrnin was hiding.
Oliver staggered backward and fell into a pool of light. His face was twisted, and there was a silver stake buried deep in his chest. He went limp and stayed that way.
Claire rushed forward, but before she could get to him, Myrnin stepped out of the dark and grabbed her. She hadnt seen him coming, and couldnt twist out of the way in time. He had her in a split second, dragging her away from Oliver and off into the shadows with his hand over her mouth.
No! Shane yelled, and ran forward to yank the stake out of Olivers chest. Oliver convulsed and rolled over on his side, but Shane hardly even paused.
He came after Myrnin and Claire with the weapon.
Frank Collins grabbed his son from behind and slung him out of the way just as Shane hit a trip wire, almost invisible in the dim light.
All Claire could see from her perspective was a brilliant flash of light, which was followed almost immediately by an incredible, numbing roar of sound. She felt stinging cuts open up on her body, even as Myrnin shoved her down to the floor and fell atop her, and a choking wave of dust washed over her. She twisted free of Myrnin, who was lying dazed, and tried to scramble to her feet.
In front of the machine, a huge metal column had tipped over and pinned Frank Collins in a pile of rubble. Shane was lying a few feet away, covered in pale dust but still alive and breathing; as Claire pulled herself up, she saw Michael get to him and check his pulse. He gave her a thumbs-up gesture, then moved to where Frank was pinned. He tried to lift the metal column, but it was too heavy even for his vampire strength.
And Frank didnt look good. There was a steady, thick stream of blood running from his chest to pool on the floor around him.
Help me! Michael yelled, and Oliver managed to crawl over and put his shoulder to the pylon as well. Push!
No use, Frank gasped. Im done. Finish this. Claire, finish it.
She turned toward the console of the machine. It was covered in dust, and the screen was cracked, but it was still alive and working. She reached for a handful of wiring, but stopped just an inch away as she felt the hair on her arms stirring and standing up.
You cant, Myrnin said as he rolled over and stared at her. You cant stop it. Its all right. Once you let go, it feels better. Youll feel better. Just . . . let go.
I cant do that. She was crying now, out of sheer frustration and fright. Help me. Help me!
It cant be turned off now, Myrnin said. I made sure. Ada wont ever be hurt again. Not by you, not by me. Shes safe.
Shes killing us! Claire screamed. God! Stop!
No, shes fixing us, Myrnin said. Dont you understand? I read the journals, the ones upstairs. Morganville hasnt been right for years. Its been changing, turning into something wrong. Shes made us right again. All of us.
Bullshit, Frank Collins said, and coughed blood. Shut it down, Myrnin. You have to do it.
Myrnin looked at him over the pile of rubble. Dont you want to go back to when you were happy, when we were all happy? You, your wife, your daughter, your son? It can all come back. You can feel that way again. She can make you feel that way.
Frank laughed. Youre going to give me my family back? he said. Is that what youre telling me?
Not me, Myrnin said. Not really. But I can make it all as it was, for you as well as me. You, of all people, should want that.
Franks throat worked, as if he were swallowing something unpleasant. His eyes were bright and very, very cold. So youre God now, he said. You can bring back the dead.
I can give you a new family. This girl can be your new daughter. We can find you a wife. I can make you forget. Youll never know the difference, and shell forget all about who she once was.
You really think thats tempting, Frank Collins said, very softly. Its sick. My wife and daughter are dead, and youre not going to make me believe a lie. Youre not going to pervert their memories. My son loves that girl, and Im not letting you take her away from him, too.
Myrnin looked up, as if hed sensed something. Its too late, he said. Its starting.
Claire heard the pitch of the machines hum changing, shifting to something higher, more urgent. She felt a pulse of power from it, and something went weird in her head. Something she needed.
Something that held her in place in the world, in time, in space.
It hurt. It felt like her brain was being shredded, ripped in half, and memories spilled out in a silvery stream. She couldnt hold on to them; it was all just . . . noise.
The pain stopped, but something worse took over. Panic. Horror. Fear. She was looking at a room full of strangers. Scary people in a scary place. How had she gotten here? What was . . . what was happening? Where was she?
Why wasnt she at home?
No, that wasnt right. She knew them; she knew them all. That was Shane, getting to his feet . . . then everything shifted, and he was a boy she didnt know, dark-haired, dusty. A stranger. He started toward her, but then he wavered and stopped, and put his hands to his head as if it hurt. Hers still hurt, too. There was a sound, a weird sound that wasnt really there, wasnt really a sound at all, and she felt . . .
Lost. She felt so lost, and alone, and terrified.
It was like having mental double vision. She knew these people at some very basic level, but shed also forgotten them. She didnt/ did know the man with the scarred face, and the boy reaching out to her, and the girl with the dark hair and the pale face, and the other golden-haired boy. She could see them in one way, with names and histories, but it kept fading out. Disappearing.
No. She didnt know anyone here, and shed never felt so vulnerable and horrible in her life. She wanted to go home.
There was another stranger dressed in funky old Victorian clothes, like some steampunk wannabe, staring at her with big, dark eyes. He reached out for her, and she knew that wasnt right. Knew she had to stumble away from him, into the arms of the boy.
Another older, gray-haired man elbowed her out of the way and slammed the Victorian man into the wall, then dragged him out and down the tunnel. He was yelling at them all to follow. Claire didnt want to; she didnt trust them, any of them.
But the boy took her hand and said, Trust me, Claire, and she felt something inside that had been howling in fear go quiet.
Another wall of pain slammed into her, and she almost went down. It was all going away, everything she was, everything. . . .
She fell to her knees and realized that she was kneeling next to a man with a scar on his face. He was trapped under a fallen metal pillar, and it looked bad, really bad. She tried to move it, but he reached out and caught her hand in his. Claire, he said. Get out of here. Do it now.
He let go and rummaged through a bag that had fallen next to him. He brought out something round and dark green, about the size of an apple.
Grenade. The word floated through her mind and dissolved into mist. There was some reason she should be afraid of that, but she couldnt really think what it was.
The dark-haired boy was yelling at her now, pulling her to her feet. He looked down and saw the thing, the grenade. Dad, he whispered. Dad, what are you doing?
Get out of here, the man said. Im not going to lose you, too, Shane. Its starting to all go away, and I cant let that happen. I have to stop it. This is the only way.
The boy stood there, looking down at him, and then dropped to his knees and put his hand on the mans head. Im sorry, he said. Dad, Im sorry.
Dont be, the man said. I need a little help, and then you need to get your friends out of here. Understand?
The boy was crying, and trembling, but he nodded.
He reached down and took hold of the metal ring in the grenade, and his dad yanked his arm in the other direction. The pin sprang free.
Go, the man said. I love you, son.
The boy didnt want to go. Claire practically dragged him across the room, in the direction all the others had already gone. They stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, and Claire saw the man roll the grenade slowly across the floor, until it clicked against the metal of a huge, Frankenstein tangle of cables and clockworks, pipes and keyboards.
She knew him. She was almost sure she did as he turned his head and smiled at her.
His name was Frank. Frank Collins.
Frank said, Good-bye.
Claire gasped and yanked Shane into the tunnel. He tripped and went down, and she did, too, and it was a good thing.
In another second, the world exploded behind them.
She woke up to a ringing sound in her ears. Her whole body ached, and her head felt like it had been filled with battery acid, but she was alive.
And she felt . . . whole. Herself again.
When she moved, she found she was pinned under a heavy, warm weight. Shane. She wriggled out from underneath and turned him over, frantic with terror that hed been hurt, but then she saw he was breathing, and his eyes fluttered open, looking momentarily blank and oddly surprised. They focused on her face. He said something, but she pointed to her ears and shook her head. She helped him sit up, and ran her hands anxiously over him. He had some cuts and bruises, but nothing bad.
Shane pointed to her and raised his eyebrows to make it a question. She made an okay sign. He gave her a thumbs-up on his own behalf.
A sudden burst of light overhead caught her by surprise, and she looked up to see a trapdoor fly open as light poured down. A lithe figure in a white suit dropped, landing lightly on her high-heeled feet, and looked around at the damage. If Amelie spoke, Claire couldnt hear it; she moved over to stand beside Oliver, who was bending over Myrnin and holding him down.
Myrnin didnt seem as if he needed to be held down. He was shivering, pale, and hollow eyed, and when he met Claires eyes, he looked quickly away.
She saw tears.
Michael and Eve were standing together, wrapped in each others arms, looking like they didnt intend to ever let go. Claire reached down and took Shanes hand, pulling him upright. She felt a cautious kind of joy, a dawning realization that they might actually be okay, after all.
Until Shane turned his head and looked down the tunnel, and Claire remembered. Worse, she saw him remember. His lips parted, and she saw him yell, Dad!, and he ran down the tunnel toward the machine room.
Claire ran after him, heart pounding.
The machine was destroyed. Really, truly scrapped. It was hard to believe just how ripped apart it was, actually; she supposed that thered been some kind of chain reaction inside of it, because it looked like it had just crushed in on itself at some points. There were pieces everywhere, bent and scattered. Nothing moved. There was a thick, choking haze of dust hanging in the air.
Shane headed straight for the wreckage. Claire tried to stop him, but he shook her off, face white and blank. Dad? She heard a dim echo of the shout this time, and heard the dread in Shanes voice.
She grabbed Shanes arm, and he looked down at her. She had no idea what to say, but she knew her expression would communicate how sorry she was.
Shane pulled free and ran over to the machines wreckageand stopped. Just . . . stopped, staring down.
Claire didnt know what to do. She felt awful and scared and sick, and she knew she should go to him, but something told her not to. Something told her to wait.
Amelie touched her shoulder, frowning, and Claire jumped in tense surprise. Amelie looked from her to Shanes motionless figure, and Claire saw knowledge dawn in Amelies face. She went to Shane and put her arm around his shoulders, then turned him around, and Claire knew that hed seen something behind that tangle of metal. Something awful. There was a burned-out, dead look in his eyes again, and it felt like her heart turned to ash in sympathy for him.
Claire rushed over and into his arms, and after a few seconds, he hugged her. Then he put his head on her shoulder, and even if she couldnt hear him, she felt the way his body shook, and the dampness of his tears against her skin.
Claire combed her fingers through his hair and did the only thing she could do.
She held on.
SIXTEEN
The only thing that approached the sadness Claire felt for Shane was the sympathy she felt for Myrnin.
Maybe it was all wrong; after all, it was his fault. All of it. But in destroying the machine, Frank Collins had reset things back to the way they should beincluding Myrnins sanity.
Sane, he understood what hed done, and Claire could hardly stand to look at him, to see that awful, stunned, horrified expression in his eyes. He hadnt said a word, not a word. When Amelie tried to speak to him, he averted his eyes and sat, motionless and quiet, head down.
Oliver, as usual, had no sympathy at all. West is dead, he said flatly. Or worse, perhaps. Collins sacrificed himself to put it right. Let him brood, if he wants to brood.
Myrnin raised his head then, slowly, and fixed his dark, tragic eyes on Oliver. He said nothing, but there was something very nasty in the way they looked at each other.
Well? Oliver demanded. Myrnin looked away. All because you couldnt lose your precious Ada without going mad. Promise me, Amelie, that youll crucify me with silver before you allow me to fall in love.
I hardly think theres any chance of that, Amelie said. I doubt you have the capacity. She sounded remote and cold, but there was something almost painful in it, too. There is some positive news, I suppose. Most people seem to have recovered their memories. Whatever damage has been done seems to be temporary.
Positive news, Oliver repeated. Except that our boundaries are down, and all our defenses. You know that cant continue. The machine
Isnt working, Claire said, and got up from the chair where she sat next to Shane. It isnt working. It isnt going to be working, not for months, if it ever does again. Get over it, Oliver. She was angry, she realized. Shaking. And she knew that it was because of Shanes dad. Could you maybe take a minute or something? Just feel something?
Amelie and Oliver both looked at her with identically surprised expressions. Feel what? Oliver asked. Grief? For Frank Collins? Are you sure your memory is entirely restored?
Claire gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to flip him off. She shouldnt have. Eve silently did it for her, from where she stood near the portal, slapping dust and debris off of her Goth black. Her boots were still untied. Hey, Oliver? she called. Didnt see you biting the bullet back there and taking one for the team. You were out of there faster than me.
That put Olivers mood dangerously toward the dark, but Eve clearly didnt care. She was distressed, too. And angry.
Myrnin finally spoke. I knew, he said, very softly. I knew that I wasnt . . . myself. I let myself believe that what I was doing was safe, but it wasnt. Maybe even then my mind was . . . going. He looked up, and there was a faraway, miserable look on his face. If Id believed Claire in the first place, we could have stopped this. It didnt have to happen this way. But I wanted . . . I suppose that deep inside, I wanted things to be . . . He took a deep breath. I wanted her back. I wanted the past. I wanted to feel . . . less constrained by the rules. And thats what the machine picked up from me. Thats what it tried to do.
Well, Oliver said. You got your wish.
Amelie shook her head. This gets us nowhere, she said. Frank Collins did us a great service, regardless of his history. I will honor that.
Shane looked up. How? His voice was hollow and empty. A plaque?
How would you prefer he be honored? Amelie asked. If its within my power, Ill grant it to you.
Shane didnt hesitate, not even for a second. It was, Claire thought, like hed already figured out what he was going to say. Let Kyle out of the cage in Founders Square, he said. Put him on probation. But dont kill him.
Silence fell, long and heavy, and for a few dreadful seconds Claire thought that Amelie was angry. But she was just . . . pensive. She finally said, All right.
Oliver made a frustrated, furious noise in the back of his throat, picked up a glass beaker that had somehow survived all the destruction, and smashed it to smithereens against the far wall. Enough! he barked. Will you continue to bend to every breather who
Amelie grabbed him by the arm, pulled him to face her, and said, Stop. Her tone was chilly, and quiet, and deadly serious. We will stop tearing at each other, Oliver. It does neither of us good. It solves nothing. It breeds mistrust and paranoia and ill feelings, and we are not so numerous in this town that we can afford our ambitions. I told you we will rule as equals, but mark me: unless we change, unless we learn how to risk our safety and compromise, the humans will rise up. They will destroy us. I dont grant this because the boy is innocent. I grant it because mercy is more to our cause than justice.
Oliver stared at her without speaking or moving. There was something odd about his expression, something . . . vulnerable? Claire wasnt sure. Shed never really seen anything like it. And what if I decide I want to rule alone after all?
I wont fight you for it, she said. But your arrogance would destroy Morganville, and all of us.
Ive ruled men before, he said.
Not to any lasting effect. You tried to change those you ruled. You couldnt. Amelie let go of him, and put her hand on his chest, lightly. Your ideals didnt survive you. Mine must, or we will all perish together. Im sure you dont want that.
No, Oliver said, oddly quiet. No, thats not what I want.
Then what do you want?
He hesitated, and then he inclined his head. Ill let you know, he said. But for now . . . for now, a truce.
Amelie let another second tick away, and then stepped away from him. Ill dispatch police to monitor the roads out of town. Well have to hope that we can maintain order with more conventional means until
Until what? Myrnin asked bitterly. Until I create another miracle? Another brilliant feat that turns fatal because you wont allow me to build it as it must be built? No. No, Ill create nothing else, Amelie. This cannot be done properly unless you stop telling me how to do my job!
Ah, Oliver said. I think I have thought of what it is I want. To never have to listen to him complain again.
Amelie raised her pale eyebrows, staring at Myrnin, and then turned to Claire.
Its no longer Myrnins job, she said. And I suppose youd best begin thinking how youll solve our problems, Claire.
What?
It was going to be your responsibility in a few years. This merely moves up our plans, I believe. Myrnin can assist you, but I will expect results within the week.
Claire realized, with a sinking sensation, that shed just become . . . the new Myrnin? How was that even possible?
Things could not possibly be worse than thatuntil she failed. She supposed then things would take a turn for the extra bad.
At least she had a week.
Myrnin shook his head. Amelie. Dont be ridiculous. The girl isnt
Enough, Amelie said, and the iron snap of command in her voice made him fall silent. Youve done enough. People are dead, Myrnin.
Claire couldnt even say she was wrong. Not about that.
Shane cleared his throat. Uh, about Kyle
Amelie turned to Oliver. Make the call, she said. Unless youre planning to take my place.
He let a few seconds go by, then pulled out his cell phone and ordered the prisoner in Founders Square released.
Well, Claire thought. At least somebody would be happy.
She didnt see how it was going to be her.
* * *
Back home that evening, the four of them sat down to dinner. It was a quiet kind of thing, a little awkward, as if none of them knew where to start. They were all bruised, cut, and exhausted, for one thing; for another, nobody really wanted to say what they were all thinking. Or to bring up Shanes dad at all.
Eve, of course, decided to go at it from the opposite direction completely. I cant believe I went home to my parents, she said, a little too brightly. Ugh. Revolting. My mom made my room into a hoarders paradise, you know, full of boxes of crap. She ought to be in some freaky reality show. The weirdest part about it? I didnt really expect anything else, somehow. I just figured shed pitched out my stuff and was pretending Id never even been there. I pretended that often enough. Eve played with her plate of spaghetti, but she wasnt really eating it. I kept asking her where my dad was. She kept saying he was on his way home. Eves father, Claire remembered, had been dead a year. No wonder she was playing with her food instead of eating. Eve swallowed a gulp of water. I wonder if maybe I should call her, see if shes okay.
We can go over there if you want, Michael offered. I know you dont like going by yourself.
Eve gave him a grateful little smile. Youre awesome, she said. Maybe tomorrow?
Sure.
Shane wasnt talking at all. He was eating, though; hed already cleaned one plate of spaghetti and was working on his second one. She wanted to talk to him, but she knew he wouldnt want her bringing it up, not in front of the others. Shane didnt like to be vulnerable, not even with his friends. He knew theyd understand, but that wasnt the point. He just needed to be . . . stronger than everybody else.
Eve said, At least youve got an appetite, Shane.
That fell into an awkward silence, because Shane didnt come back at her at all. He just kept eating. Claire twirled some noodles on her fork and said, My mom called. Dads getting surgery this weekend in Dallas. They said he needed some kind of valve transplant, but it all looks like its going to be okay, really okay. Im going to ask for permission to go up on Friday.
You dont have to ask permission, Shane said then. You can just go. The machines dead. Just go. His voice sounded flat, and wrong.
They all looked at one another, the rest of them. Therell be roadblocks, Michael finally said. Its not that easy.
Yeah, it never is, is it? Shane threw down his fork, pushed back from the table, and took his stuff into the kitchen. Claire went after him, but as soon as she came in the door, he dumped his food in the trash and his plate in the sink and turned to go.
Shane
He held up both hands, pushing her off without touching her. Give me some room, okay? I need room. He left. She stood there, looking at his plate sitting in the sink, and felt her heart breaking again. Why wouldnt he talk to her? What had she done? It hurt; it really did. She felt like . . . like she was losing him again.
She was tired of losing him.
Claire walked back out to the table. Shane had already disappeared upstairs, and his door shut with a slam. Michael and Eve were looking down at their plates.
Awkward, Eve finally said, but her heart wasnt in it.
Michael shook his head. He lost his dad. It hurts.
I know, Eve said sharply. Remember? Not like I dont have the T-shirt for that one.
Sorry. I just meant
I know. Eve sighed, and took his hand. I know. Sorry. Im just a little . . . weird. I guess we all are.
The truth is, he lost his dad a long time ago. Maybe when his sister died. Maybe when Frank . . . uh . . . Claire didnt quite know how to say it.
Michael did. Got turned.
Yeah, she said. I dont think he ever really faced it, though. Now its right in his face. He cant really avoid it anymore. His dads just . . . gone.
Thats not it, Shane said from the stairs. They all jumped, even Michael, whom Claire guessed hadnt heard him coming, either. Shane could be quiet when he wanted to. It isnt that hes gone. My problem is that I knew my dad. I was afraid of him, and then I wanted to please him, and then I hated him because I thought he was just a hundred percent evil, especially after he turned vamp. But he wasnt. I was wrong about him. He came to help. And when he had to, he died so we could make it through this.
They all looked at him silently. Shane sat down on the steps.
The point is, he said, its too late for me to really love him now. Thats what hurts.
Claire got up, holding her plate, but Eve took it away from her. Go, she said. Ive got this. But you owe me laundry duty.
Claire nodded and went up the steps. Shane raised his head, and their eyes met. She held out her hand.
After a long moment, he took it and stood up. You know, even when I didnt know you, I wanted to know you, he said. So I guess youre stuck with me. Sorry.
Im not, Claire said, and led him upstairs.
* * *
Her cell phone rang at about four in the morning, vibrating around on the nightstand and sending her fumbling for it in a bleary haze. Claire pulled herself carefully out from under Shanes heavy arm and slipped out of bed, grabbed a robe, and walked out into the hall to answer the call.
The screen said Myrnin. Claire closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then flipped the phone open and said, Its four in the morning. And it wasnt exactly an easy day.
Myrnin said, I can put up the boundaries.
The way he said it gave her pause, because it wasnt manic; it wasnt crazy; it was just . . . a simple statement of fact. You can? How? The whole thing was . . . destroyed.
Yes, he said. It was. But as I once told you, the machine was a support system. An amplifier. The important part of creating the boundaries and the memory control isnt the machine; its the mind.
Myrnin Claire wanted to scream, throw the phone, do something crazy. But she didnt. She swallowed all that and forced herself to say, very carefully, Myrnin, I am not putting my brain into a jar to get you out of the doghouse with Amelie. Thats never, ever going to happen.
I know that, Myrnin said. You dont need to.
Claire drew in a deep, calming breath. I dont.
No.
Why not?
Come to the lab, he said. Come now.
He hung up. Claire stared at the phone through narrowed, bleary eyes, then turned around and went back into her room.
Getting dressed in silence, in the dark, was a little challenging, but she managed, and sneaked carefully down the hallway, down the stairs, and hopped on one foot as she put her shoes on in the living room. She turned on a light and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked . . . well, pretty much like shed been rousted out of bed without enough sleep. Bedhead. Creased skin. Wrinkled clothes.
Ill kill him if this is for nothing, she told her reflection, and grabbed her backpack, which was sitting in the corner. She threw it over her shoulder and walked over to the section of blank wall where the portal would appear. A few moments of concentration, and the black doorway appeared, stabilized, and she walked through, into Myrnins lab.
It was still a whole lot worse for wear. Broken glass glittered on the floor. Tables were overturned. There was still a faint haze of dust in the air.
Then it occurred to her tired, lagging brain, with a real shock, that she shouldnt have been able to do that. Not coming through the portal. The machine had controlled the portal . . . and the machine was a crushed metal mess in the basement.
Why had it worked?
Myrnin was in the back of the lab, standing in front of . . . something she couldnt see too clearly. He didnt turn around. Claire, he said. Thank you for coming.
Yeah. Does Amelie know youre doing this?
She instructed me to rest, he said. So no, in fact she doesnt. But ultimately, I dont think shell be angry.
You dont think so? Are you crazy?
He didnt answer that directly. Ive been working all night, he said. Some of the parts were still usable, but I was only able to cobble together the very basic elements.
Elements of what?
Myrnin finally moved, and Claire walked a few more steps toward him before stopping cold, her breath locked in her throat, her heart lurching, then hammering very, very fast.
Because that was a brain. In a jar. A jar of faintly green liquid that bubbled. There were tubes, copper tubes, circulating liquid, and there were wires, and there were clockworks ticking along, but there was a brain.