I know, right? Couldnt be cooler. Eve beamed. Oh, and actually, they were out of the bacteria special, so I got you the ham and cheese. Thats usually the safest one.
Safe being a relative term when it came to UC food. Thanks, Claire said. Tomorrow Im making spaghetti. Yes, before you ask, with meat sauce. Carnivores.
Eve made a chomping sound with her teeth. Michael just smiled. The smile faded as he asked, You dont have to go see Amelie tonight, do you?
No, probably not. The books been sitting in that shop for who knows how long. It can wait until tomorrow. I have to go to the lab anyway. Amelie will be a nice break, after my mandatory crazy-boss time.
Eve got herself a cold Coke from the fridge and popped the top as she dragged Claires bag off of a chair and dumped it in the corner. How is crazy boss man, anyway?
Myrnins . . . well, Myrnin, I guess. Hes been getting a little weird.
Sweetie, coming from you, thats alarming. You have an awfully large scale of weird.
I know. Claire sighed and sat down, propping her chin on both fists. She debated how much to say, even to her friends, but honestly, there werent any secrets. Not in the Glass House. I think hes under a lot of pressure to get the machine fixed; you know the one
Ada? Eve asked. Ugh, seriously, hes not bringing that back to life, is he?
Not . . . exactly, no. But Ada wasnt all bad, you know. Well, Ada was, the personality, but the machine did all kinds of things that the vamps need, like maintain the borders of the town, give alerts when residents leave, wipe memories when they want it done . . . and run the portals. The portals were the dimensional doorways that ran through town. Myrnin had discovered some freaky way of accelerating particles and constructing stable tunnels through space-time, something that Claire was still struggling to understand, let alone master. It wasnt quite magic, but sometimes there didnt seem to be much of a boundary between magic and Myrnins science. Its important. Were just trying to, you know, take the Ada factor out of the equation and get the mechanical piece working without the mind-of-its-own part.
Killer computers. Eve sighed. Like we didnt have enough trouble in Morganville already. Im not so sure any of those things youre talking about are good for us, Claire Bear. You feel me?
If by us you mean the regular humans, yeah, I know. But Claire shruggedfact is, having those safeguards lets them trust us, at least a little, and trust is all that keeps this town going.
Eve didnt have a comeback to that. She knew Claire was right. Morganville existed on a teetering, dangerous balance between the paranoia and violence of the vampires, and the paranoia and violence of the humans who outnumbered them. Right there, at the balance point, they could all coexist. But it didnt take much to tilt things to one side or the other, and if that happened, Morganville would burn.
Claire chewed her lip and continued. Were getting it done; really, we are, but hes got some kind of deadline hes not telling me about, and Im worried hes going to . . . do something crazy.
He lives in a hole in the ground, dresses funny, and occasionally eats his assistants, Eve said. Define crazy.
Claire closed her eyes. Okay. I think he wants to put my brain in a jar and wire it into the machine.
Dead silence. She opened her eyes. Michael was staring at her, frozen in the act of opening the refrigerator door; Eve had put her Coke down, her eyes as wide as anything ever drawn in animation. Michael finally remembered what he was doing, reached in, grabbed a green sports bottle, which he carried to the table, and sat down. Thats not going to happen, he said. Im not going to let it happen. Neither will Amelie.
Claire wasnt so sure about that last part, but she was sure Michael meant what he said, and that made her feel a little better. I dont think hes serious about it, Claire said weakly. Well, not most of the time. But he keeps going on about how the brain is a much better CPU
Not going to happen, Michael repeated flatly. Ill kill him first, Claire. I mean it.
She didnt want Myrnin dead, but it did make her feel better to have her friend say it. Michael was a sweetheart most of the time, but the truth was, there was something cold inside himand it wasnt just that his heart didnt beat. It was . . . something else. Something darker. Mostly, it didnt show.
Sometimes, she was grateful it did.
Shanes late, Eve said, changing the subject. Wheres Mr. Barbecue McStabby?
Working late, Claire replied. Somebody canceled on the night shift, so he had to work dinner service. He said it was okay; he could use the overtime. And he doesnt like you to call him Mr. McStabby, you know.
Have you ever seen him cutting up that meat? He is like an artist with slicing. And that knife is as long as my arm. Mr. McStabby it is.
They debated it for a while, with Michael staying out of it and sipping his sports bottle ofprobablyblood, until Eve got the sandwiches out and they ate a cold, and somewhat mushy, dinner. After that, Claire fidgeted around, too restless to study, missing Shane, until Eve finally snapped at her about pacing and moving stuff, and she went up toward her room.
On an impulse, she didnt go there; she stopped in the hallway, reached out, and found the hidden catch to the secret room. The paneling clicked open, and she went in and shut the door behind her. No knob on this side, but that was okay; she knew where the release was. She ran up the narrow flight of stairs and came out in the windowless, dusty room that theyd always figured had been Amelies retreat, when shed once lived in this house. It looked like her, somehowold Victorian furniture, tapestry hangings, multicolored Tiffany lamps that were probably worth a fortune. It was always a little cold in here, for some reason. Claire stretched out on the old velvet sofa, staring up at the ceiling, and thought about how many times shed come here with Shane. It was their private place, where they could just get away from everything, and the blanket draped over the back smelled like him. She pulled it over her and smiled, feeling like the ghost of Shane was here with her, snuggling up close.
She had no idea shed fallen asleep at first, and then she thought she was dreaming, because someone was touching her. Not molesting her or anything, just a fingertip being drawn down her cheek, across her lips . . . a slow, gentle sort of caress.
She opened her eyes to see Shane crouched down next to her. His hair wasas usualmussed, hanging long around his face, and he smelled like barbecue and wood smoke, and his smile was the most beautiful thing shed ever seen.
Hey, sleepyhead, he said. Its three in the morning. Eve thought vampires stole you, but thats only because you didnt make your bed this morning. I think Im a bad influence.
Her lips parted, and his finger paused there, tracing her mouth slowly. She didnt speak. His smile got wider.
Miss me?
No, she said. I wanted some peace and quiet. I didnt even know you were gone.
He clapped his hands over his chest like shed shot him, and fell on the floor. Claire rolled off the couch on top of him, but he refused to open his eyes until she kissed him, long and thoroughly. She licked her lips as she pulled away. Mmmm, barbecue.
Hungry?
Eve brought UC sandwiches.
Shane made a face. Yeah, glad I missed that. But I wasnt exactly talking about midnight snacks.
Boys. Is that all you think about?
Midnight snacks?
Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?
He laughed, and she felt the rumble of it through her skin. Shane didnt laugh often, except when they were together; she loved the light in his brown eyes, and the wicked way his smile curled up on the ends. Like I would know, he said. I never was one of the cool kids.
Bullshit.
Such language, Miss Danvers. Oh, wait, shitIm a bad influence.
She settled her head down again, ear against his chest, listening to the rush of his breathing. Tell me what you were like in school.
Why?
Because I missed it.
You didnt miss much, he said. Me and Mikey hung out a lot. He was Mr. Popular, you know, but really shy. Girls, girls, girls, but he was pretty choosy. At least, up until our junior year.
What happened in your junior year? she asked before she thought.
Shanes fingers kept stroking through her hair as he said, House burned, my sister Alyssa died, my family went on the run. So I dont know how Mikey was the last two years of school. We caught up some when I came back, but it wasnt the same. Something happened to him. Sure as hell something happened to me. You know. He shrugged, even with her weight on him, but then, she wasnt much of a burden, and he was a strong guy. Theres not a lot to say about me. I was a pretty boring dumb-ass.
Were you in sports?
He laughed. Football, for a while. I liked hockey better. More chances to hit people. But Im not really a team player, so I ended up in the penalty box about twice as much as everybody else. Not as much fun. He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, I guess you know Monica was after me for a while.
That surprised her. Monica Morrell? You mean, after you, in the sense of
I mean she slipped me really dirty notes and tried to rip my clothes off in a broom closet once. Which I guess to her was love. Not so much for me. His face got hard for a moment, and then relaxed. I blew her off, and she got pissed. You know the rest.
Shane believedand Claire had no reason to doubt itthat Monica had set the fire that had burned his home and killed his sister and destroyed his familys life. That wound was never going to heal; he was always going to hate Monica with an intense passion that was two seconds from violence. Not that Monica didnt egg him on, most of the time; she seemed to enjoy Shanes rage.
Claire couldnt think of much to say, so she kissed him again, and it felt sweet, warm, a little distracted on his part. She shouldnt have brought it up, she thought. He didnt like to think about those days at all. Hey, she said. I didnt mean
I know. His smile came back again, and she thought he was back in the here and now, with her, instead of in the bad old days. Glad you werent here for all that, actually. I wasnt really all that good to know then. Plus, if you want to know the truth, I was kind of a jerk in junior high.
All boys are jerks in junior high. And mostly in high school. And then they grow up to be jerks. She kissed him again. But not you, Mr. McStabby.
Oh, man, Eves not letting that go, is she?
Not remotely. She felt herself smiling, too. Shane always brought out some crazy streak in her she didnt think she hadthat was probably what worried her parents so much about the two of them. But Claire liked it. When she was with Shane, she could feelfeel the blood pounding in her veins, feel every nerve awake and alive and hungry to be touched. Everything was brighter, clearer, cleaner. A little crazy was a good thing. Want to make out?
Maybe I should take a shower. I smell like sweat and barbecue.
You smell great, she said. I love the way you smell.
Youre getting sappy, you know that? And maybe a little creepy.
Oh, shut up, you like it.
He did, she could tell, especially when they were under the blanket, curled together on the couch, and Amelies refuge was their own, their private, sweet, warm heaven where nothing could intrude.
Well, except for Claires cell phone alarm, which was set for seven a.m.
That sucked.
Morning was hard, partly because neither one of them had slept much, and partly because Claire just didnt want to ever leave the room, but she finally managed to kiss her way free and get down the stairs to the closed door.
It didnt open. Shane! she yelled. I have to go!
His evil laugh drifted down to her, movie-campy, but he pushed the button and let her out. She beat Eve to the shower, of course; Eve was not voluntarily an early riser, and it was her day off, so Claire could take her time in the hot water, and get herself pulled together without knocks rushing her along. When she opened the bathroom door and stepped out, she found Shane sitting on the floor next to it, blocking the hallway with his legs. He had on his rumpled jeans, but hed left off the shirt.
So not fair. She loved looking at his chest, and he knew it.
We have got to get a second bathroom in this monster, he said, and kissed her on his way through the doorway. You take way too long.
Do not! she said, outraged, but the wood had already closed between them. I take half the time Eve does!
Still too long! he called from inside. Girls.
She banged on the door, then winced and hoped it wasnt loud enough to wake Eve or Michael, and went down the hall to her room. Shane had been right: she had never made the bed yesterday, but she did it today, putting the pillows right and everything. Then she pulled out old, ratty clothes and her worst high-tops.
There was no sense in wearing good clothes to Myrnins lab. They were just going to get splashed with icky stuff, or stuff that burned holes, or stuff that never came out, no matter how creative you got with laundry add-ins. Claire gulped a bowl of cereal in the kitchen, standing over the sink, and started to wash the bowlbut it was Shanes kitchen day, and with a grin, she put the dirties down unscrubbed.
Served him right for trying to make her late.
She dumped most of the contents of her backpack, except for the things that were relevant to her project with Myrnin, then added in the slim history book and took off.
It was a beautiful morning. Shed missed sunrise, but it was still a little cool, and the sky was a beautiful clear blue with only a few scrubby clouds on the horizon. At this hour, the sun seemed friendly, not like the scorching monster it would become by noon. Claire skipped down the steps and out the gate, and set off for Common Grounds first. No Oliver, and this time both the baristas were new employees. Her name was spelled wrong again.
Coffees in hand, she headed for Myrnins lab.
Morganville was busy at this hour, with practically everybody who wasnt a vampire taking advantage of the sunshine and the safety it afforded. Kids walked in groups, even so; most adults didnt go alone, either, but go they did. Claire met several people she knew as she walked along.
It felt like home. That was actually a little sad.
A police car pulled up next to her on the street, idling and crawling along, and Claire saw Hannah Moses wave at her. The police chief of Morganville rolled down her window. You need a ride, Claire?
Hannah was . . . impressive. She just had this completely competent air about her, and there was a scar on her face that should have looked disfiguring, but on her, it made her seem even more intimidatinguntil she smiled. Then she looked beautiful. Today, she was wearing her cornrowed hair back in a loose knot, elegant and kind of formal. For Hannah, anyway.
No, thanks, Claire called back. I appreciate it, but its a really nice day. I should walk. And youre probably busy.
Busy is vampires fighting over the snack supply, Hannah said. This isnt it, trust me. Okay, then, have a nice day. If you see Myrnin, tell him I said I want my slow cooker back.
YourYou let him borrow something you put food in?
Hannahs smile disappeared. Why?
Um, never mind. Ill make sure it gets disinfected before you get it back. But dont lend anything to him again unless you can put it in some kind of sterilizer.
That made even Hannah look nervous. Thanks. Tell crazy boy I said hey.
I will, Claire promised. Hey, if you dont mind me askingwhen did he borrow it from you?
He just showed up at my door one night about a week ago, said, Hi, nice to meet you. Can I borrow your Crock-Pot? Which I understand is pretty typical Myrnin.
Very, Claire agreed. Well, I should go; the coffees getting cold
Be safe, Hannah said, and accelerated away. Claire increased her pace, too, walking faster as she passed through a couple of neighborhoods and arrived in the street with the Day Housea mirror of Michael Glasss, because they were both Founder Houses, the original houses built by Amelie and Myrnin. The Founder Houses not only looked the same; they had the same kind of energy to them, Claire had found. In some it was stronger than others, but they all had that slightly unsettling sensation of . . . intelligence. It was strongest in the Glass House, almost a personality of its own.
The Day House was at the end of the cul-de-sac. Hannahs relatives lived there, or at least Gramma Day still did; Claire didnt know where Lisa Day had gone, except that shed chosen wrong during Morganvilles civil uprisings of a few months back, gotten jailed, and been released after a couple of weeks. Shed never come back to the Day House; that was certain. Claire knew Hannah was still looking for her cousin. There were only a few possibilitiesLisa had managed to escape Morganville, or shed gone into hiding, or shed never made it out of jail alive. For Gramma Days sake, Claire hoped Lisa had escaped. She wasnt the friendliest person, but the old lady loved her.
Claire wasnt planning to stop at the Day House, although Gramma Day, an ancient little old woman sitting outside in a big rocking chair, called to her and asked whether she wanted any breakfast rolls. Claire smiled at her and shook her headGramma didnt always hear too welland got a friendly wave in return as she turned right, down the narrow fenced alley between the Day House and the anonymous tract home on its other side. It was too small for a car, this alley, and it got narrower as it went, like a funnel. Or a throat. It was suspiciously clean, toonot a lot of trash blown in, and even the tumbleweeds had stayed away.
And here she was, walking right into the trap-door spiders lair.
The door to the rickety shack at the end of the alley banged open before she could reach it, and the spider himself charged out, grabbed his coffee out of her hand, and dashed back inside at vampire speed before she could say a word. From the glimpse she had of him, hed been wearing black cargo-style pants that were too big for him, flip-flops with daisies on top, and some kind of satin vest with no shirt, probably because he just forgot to put one on. Myrnin didnt dress for vanity. Completely at random, really, as if he just reached into the closet blindfolded and put on whatever pieces he touched first.
Claire went at human speed into the shack and down the steps, and emerged into the big room that was Myrnins lab and sometimes his home. (She thought he had a separate one, but she rarely caught him absent from this one, and there was a room in the back with castoff clothes he rummaged through when the mood took him.) Myrnin was bent over a microscope, studying who-knew-what. He had all the lights on, which was nice, and the lab looked clean and cool today, all its steampunky elements gleaming. She wondered whether he had a mad-scientist cleaning service.
Thank you for the coffee, he said. Good morning.
Morning, Claire said, and dumped her backpack on a chair. How did you know which coffee was yours?
I didnt. He shrugged. You havent been returning my phone calls. And you know how much I dislike making them in the first place. Telephones are so cold and impersonal.
I didnt answer because I didnt feel like rerunning the argument again. Were not getting anywhere with it, are we?
He looked up from the microscope, shoved old-fashioned square spectacles up on top of his long, curling black hair, and looked at her with a devastating smile. Myrnin wasfor a vampire who looked about twice her age, but was thousands of years older than thatpretty hot. He could be sweet and affectionate one minute, cold and predatory the next, and that kept her from having any kind of crush on him, mostly. Truth was that hed make a terrible, possibly fatal boyfriend.
She also really had no idea how he felt about her, deep down. He treated her like a particularly clever pet most of the time.
I love arguing with you, Claire. You always surprise me. And occasionally, you even make sense.
She could have said the same about him, but not in a flattering kind of way. Instead of trying to put that into words, she took her coffee over to the granite-topped lab table. He was using a modern microscope, digital, that shed ordered for him special. He seemed happy with it, for now, though hed probably go back to his old brass-and-glass monstrosity soon. Myrnin was just more comfortable with Victorian technology. What are you doing?
Checking my blood, he said. I do it every week. Youll be happy to know that theres still no trace of the Bishop virus.
The Bishop virus was what theyd named the cruel sickness that had attacked the vampires long before shed arriveda manufactured virus that Amelies father, Bishop, had released, because only he had the cure. Unfortunately for him, since hed first used the cure on himself, his blood had been the cure for everybody else, and now the evil old vampire was locked down, under maximum security, somewhere in Morganville. Nobody knew where, except Amelie and the people guarding him.
Claire liked it that way. The last thing she wanted to think about was Bishop getting away and coming after all of them for revenge. Shed met some nasty vampires, but Bishop was, as far as she was concerned, the worst.
Im glad youre okay, she said. The Bishop virus had caused vampires to lose themselves, their memories, their self-control. It had happened slowly for most, which made it worselike human Alzheimers, only a vampire stripped of all of those things was an unpredictable, dangerous beast. Unlike the others, Myrnin hadnt recovered completelyor, more likely, hed always been a little off the bubble from normal. Can I see?
Oh, certainly, Myrnin said, and stepped back to let her squint into the eyepiece of the microscope. There, in vivid color, was the busy life of Myrnins drop of bloodwhich wasnt his own blood, really, so much as that of others. There was a lot of difference between vampire blood and human, and Claire was still fascinated by how it worked. See? Im in fine shape.
Congratulations. She shut down the microscopeno sense in running up the labs probably horrible electric billand sipped her coffee while he drank his. What are we doing today?
Oh, I thought wed take a day off. Go to the park, stroll, watch a film . . .
Really.
You know me too well. Since you werent talking to me this week, I designed some new circuitry. Id like to see what you think of it. He darted over to another table, this one covered by a white sheet. For a horrible few seconds she thought there was a person under there . . . but then he whipped it off, and it was just piles of metal, glass, and plastic. It didnt look like circuitry. Most things Myrnin built didnt look right. They just worked.
Claire came over and tried to figure out where to startprobably there, at the open pipe that wound around and led to some kind of vacuum-tube arrangement, then into what looked like a circuit board scrounged from something more rational, then into bunches of wire, all the same color, that snaked out like spaghetti to other things buried under more coils of tubing.
She gave up. What is it?
What do you think it is?
It could be anything from a lawn trimmer to a bomb, for all I know.
I would never build a lawn trimmer, Myrnin said. What did the lawn ever do to me? No, its an interface. For the computer.
An interface, Claire repeated slowly. Between what and what?
He gave her a long look, one of those dont ask me questions you already know the answer to looks, and she felt her stomach clench.
Im not going to let you do that, she said. No building brains into your machines. No. You cant kill someone just to power your stupid computer, Myrnin; its wrong!
Well, I kill people for blood, you know. I thought this would be more like conservationwaste not, want not, and all that. If Im killing them already.
Claire rolled her eyes. You dont kill people for blood, not in Morganville. I know for a fact that since you got better, you havent Well, did she know that, actually? Was she sure? Im pretty sure you havent.
He smiled, and it was a sad, sweet smile, the sort that broke her heart. Oh, Claire, he said. You think me a far better man than I am. Thats kind, and flattering.
Are you saying that you
Doughnuts! Myrnin interrupted her, and darted away, to zip back in seconds with an open box. Chocolate glazed. Your favorite.
She stared at him, helpless, and finally took one. They were fresh, so hed actually gone out and gotten them. She could imagine how that had gone over at the local doughnut shop, especially given what he was wearing today. Myrnin, have you been hunting?
He raised his eyebrows and bit into a jelly-filled doughnut. Raspberry jam oozed out, and Claire swallowed hard.
After he licked his lips clean, he said, Lets look at your latest breakthrough, shall we?
She followed him across to the back of the lab, where her own much saner-looking circuitry was sitting on another table, under another sheet. Hed made some . . . additions, she saw, in his usual nontraditional style. She couldnt imagine how copper pipes and old-fashioned springs and levers were supposed to improve her work, and for a second she felt righteously angry. Shed worked hard on that, and like a bratty little kid, Myrnin had ruined it.
What did you do? she asked, a little too sharply, and Myrnin turned around slowly to stare at her.
Improved the design, he said, and this time his voice was cool, and not at all amused. Science is collaboration, little girl. You are no scientist at all if you cant accept improvements on your theory.
But Frustrated, she bit into her doughnut. Shed spent weeks working on this, and hed promised he wouldnt touch it while she was gone. Shed been so close to making it work! How exactly did you improve it?
For an answer, he reached over to the power cordstill modern, thank Godand plugged it into the outlet at the side of the table.
The computer monitorLCD, perfectly goodhad been given the Jules Verne treatment, too. It was almost invisible in a nest of pipes and springs and gears . . . but it came on, and Claire recognized the graphic interface shed designed for him. Shed made it steampunky, of course, because she knew that made him happy, but with the ornaments on the outside it looked half-crazy.
Perfect for Myrnin, then.
She went through the touch-screen menus rapidly. Town security, town memory control, town transportation . . . Transportation and memory control had been the two things that hadnt worked, but now, at least according to the interface, they did. She pressed the on-screen button for town transportation, and a map popped up, with glowing green spots for each of the stable doorwayslike wormholesthat ran between Founder Houses in town, and throughout most of the public buildings. There were two at TPU, and two at the court-house, one in the hospital, some in places that she didnt recognize.
But just because they were green on the screen didnt mean they actually worked, of course.
Have you tested it? she asked.
Myrnin was finishing his doughnut. He wiped red from his lips and said, Of course not. Im far too valuable to waste on experiments. Thats your job, assistant.
But it works?
Theoretically, he said, and shrugged. Of course, I wouldnt recommend a first-person test just yet. Try something inorganic first.
Despite herself, Claire felt a little thrill of excitement. Its working. Maybe. Transportation and memory control had been two impossible problems, and maybe, just maybe, theyd actually solved one of them. That meant the second wasnt insurmountable, either.
She tried to keep that out of her expression, nodded, and walked to the wooden cabinet that covered the doorway that led to the lab. She tried to slide it. It wouldnt budge. Did you lock this in place or something?
Oh, no, I just stored some lead inside, Myrnin said cheerfully, and with one hand he slid the heavy beast out of the way. There you go. I forget you cant actually move mountains; you do such a good imitation of it. Ill move the lead to another location.