Fade Out

13

When Claire came awake again, there were lights in the cave—diffuse and dim, but enough to make things out. Like Myrnin, sitting huddled against the cave wall. She must have made some noise, because his head came up, and he looked straight at her.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen anybody look so miserable in her life, and for a moment she couldn’t think why he would look that way, and then it all came crashing back.

The throbbing in her neck.

The hollow, disconnected feeling inside her.

The panicked thudding of her heart trying to speed too little blood through the racetrack of her veins. Yeah, she recognized that feeling all too well.

“You bit me,” she said. It came out surprised, and a little sad. She started to sit up, but that didn’t go so well; she sank back to the cold stone floor, feeling sick and vague, as if she were fading out of the world.

“Don’t move,” he said softly. “Your pressure is very low. I tried—I tried to stop, Claire. I did try. Please give me the credit.”

“You bit me,” she said again. It still sounded surprised, although she really wasn’t anymore.

You can’t trust him.

Shane had said that. And Michael. And Eve. Even Amelie.

You can’t trust me.

Myrnin had told her that, too, from the very first. She’d just never really, really believed it. Myrnin was like a thrill ride, one of those dark carnival tracks where scary things swooped in close but never quite touched you.

Now she knew better.

“I told you I’d kill you if you did that. I promised.”

“I am so sorry,” Myrnin said, and lowered his head.

“Lie still. It won’t be so bad if you keep yourself flat.” He sounded tired and defeated. Claire blinked back gray fog, fighting her way back into the world, and almost wished she hadn’t when he shifted a little, and she saw—really saw—what had happened to him.

There was a silver bar through his left arm, driven in between the two bones. On either side of it hung silver chains that rattled on the stone and were fixed to a silver-plated bolt. The wound continued to drip red down his arm and hand, to patter into a large puddle around him.

Claire had a flash of Amelie at Sam’s grave, silver driven into the wounds to keep them from closing. But Amelie had chosen to do that. This had been done to keep Myrnin here, pinned and helpless.

He shuddered, and the chains rattled. Even as old as he was, the silver must have been horribly painful to him; she could see tendrils of smoke coming from his arm, and he was careful to keep his hand away from the chains. His skin was covered with thick red burns.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I tried to warn you, but I couldn’t—I needed—”

“I know,” Claire said. “It’s—” What was it? Not okay, okay would be a real stretch. Understandable, maybe. “It’s not so bad.” It was, though. Still, Myrnin looked a little relieved. “Who did this to you?”

The relief faded from his face, replaced with a blank, black rage. “Who do you think?” he asked.

And from all around them, from the faint shimmer of crystal embedded in the walls, came a soft, smoky laugh.

“She touched me,” Claire said, remembering. “She dragged me here. I didn’t think she could do that.”

“No,” Myrnin agreed. “I didn’t think she could do a great many things, although she was capable of them on a purely theoretical level. I’ve been a fool, Claire. You tried to warn me—even Amelie warned me, but I thought—I thought I understood what I’d created. I thought she was my servant.”

“And now,” Ada said, gliding out of the wall in cold silver and black, “you belong to me. But am I not a generous master? You starved me for so long, barely giving me enough blood to survive. Now I give you a feast.” Her cutout image turned toward Claire, and she folded her hands together at her waist, prim and perfect. “Oh, Myrnin. You didn’t finish your dinner. Don’t let it go bad.”

Myrnin stripped his black velvet coat off his right arm, then shrugged it down his left until it was covering the chain. He took hold of it, right-handed, and pulled. Claire tried to get up to help, but her head went weird again, and she had to rest. She rolled on her side and watched Myrnin’s right arm tremble as he tried to exert enough pressure to snap the chain, and then he sat back against the wall, panting.

He stared at Ada as if he wanted to rip her into confetti.

“Don’t pout,” she said. “If you’re good, I’ll let you off the chain from time to time. In a few years, perhaps”

Claire blinked slowly. “She’s sick,” she said. “Isn’t she?”

“She’s insane,” Myrnin said. “Ada, my darling, this would be amusing if you weren’t trying to kill us. You do realize that if I die, you waste away down here. No more blood. No more treats. No more anything.”

In answer, Ada’s image reached out and grabbed Claire by the hair, dragging her up to a sitting position. “Oh, I think I can hunt up my own blood,” Ada said. “After all, I control the portals. I can reach out and snatch up anyone I wish. But you’re right. It would be terribly boring, all alone in the dark. I’ll have to keep you all to myself, the way you kept me all to yourself, all these years.” She dropped Claire and wiped her hand on her computer-generated gown. “But I can’t share you with her, my love.”

Myrnin’s eyes flared red, then smoothed back to black, full of secrets. “No indeed,” he said. “Why, she’s in the way. I see that now. Send her out of here, lock her out of the portals. I never want to see her again.”

“Easily done,” Ada said, and grabbed Claire’s hair again. She dragged her backward, and Claire flailed weakly, grabbing at loose stones and breaking nails on sharp edges of rock.

She looked over her shoulder in the direction they were going.

Ada was dragging her to the edge of the sinkhole.

“No!” Myrnin said, and got to his feet. He lunged to the end of his chain, reaching out; his clawing fingers fell short of Claire’s foot by about two inches. “No, Ada, don’t! I need her!”

“That’s too bad,” Ada said. “Because I don’t.”

Claire’s hand fell on a sharp, ancient bone—a rib?—and she stabbed blindly behind her head. A second later it occurred to her that she was trying to stab an image, a hologram, an empty space—but Ada let out a yell and the pressure on Claire’s hair eased.

Ada’s pressed both hands over her midsection, which slowly spread into a black stain.

She was bleeding.

Where the blood hit the stone, it vanished in a curl of smoke.

But the wound didn’t heal.

“Yes!” Myrnin cried out. “Yes, by manifesting enough to touch you, she makes herself vulnerable—Claire! Here! Come here!” Myrnin cried, and Claire crawled back in his direction. The second she was within reach, he dragged her toward him, putting her against the wall.

Ada was still standing where she’d been, looking down at her and the spreading dark stain on her dress. Her image guttered, flared, sparked, and then stabilized again.

She flashed toward them, screaming that awful, echoing shriek from all the walls. Myrnin pivoted gracefully and hooked the slack of his chain around her silver, two-dimensional throat. Where it touched her, it burned black holes, and her scream grew louder, until it was cracking stone in the walls. She tried to pull free, but the silver wouldn’t let her go. “I’ve got her!” he said, although Claire could see that his whole body was trembling from the strain, and the burn of silver on his hands must have been horrible. “Go, Claire! Get out of here! You have to go!”

She was too weak, too dizzy. The room was a minefield of sinkholes and false floors, and even if she’d known where to step, chances were she’d simply collapse halfway across and disappear into one of those deep, dark chasms . . . .

And she couldn’t just leave him.

“Claire!” His voice was desperate. “You have to go. Go now.”

Now that the lights were on, she could see a clear trail that looked solid, leading all around the room’s edge. Claire stumbled out onto it, guiding herself with both hands on the stone wall, and took one torturous step after another. The lights flickered, and the screaming suddenly cut off behind her.

Claire didn’t dare look back. She was at the door, a black unknown facing her.

Portal.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t get her head together. Couldn’t remember all the frequencies to align to take her where she needed to go.

Behind her, she heard Ada laugh.

You have to do this. You can do this!

Claire’s eyes snapped open, and without thinking about it, without even meaning to do it, she threw herself forward into the darkness.

And fell out on the other side, into the tunnel beneath Myrnin’s lab. Overhead, the trapdoor was open, letting in streams of pale lamplight. Claire staggered into a wall, bounced, and ran away from the light, into the damp chill of the tunnel.

Twelve long steps, and she heard the cavern echoing overhead. She slapped the wall until she found the lights, flipped them on, and ran toward the keyboard at the center of Ada’s hissing, steaming, clanking metal form.

A cable slithered across the stone, trying to trip her, but she stumbled on, caught herself against the giant keyboard, and took a second to gasp for breath. Her body was shaking all over, cold as a vampire’s, and she just wanted to fall down, fall and sleep in the dark.

Claire closed her eyes, and the symbols began to burn against her eyelids. The symbols she’d memorized every day since Myrnin had given her the sketch on paper of the order. She knew this.

She had this.

She opened her eyes . . . and gasped in utter anguish, because the keys were all blank.

Somewhere in the darkness, Ada’s tinny voice scratched out a contemptuous laugh. “Surprised, little wretch? What’s wrong, not as easy as you’d thought?”

You’ve got this.

Claire chanted that to herself, and closed her eyes again. This time, she didn’t just imagine the symbols she wanted to push, but with a huge effort, she imagined the keyboard as it had been the last time she’d seen it. She fixed the image in her mind, opened her eyes, and touched the first key.

Yes. Yes, that was right.

The force required to push the key down seemed enormous, like trying to squeeze a boulder. She got the first symbol pressed, then pushed her palm down on the second and leaned her whole weight against it. It slowly, reluctantly clicked and locked.

Ada’s laughter died away.

The third symbol was Amelie’s Founder’s Symbol, the same as on Claire’s gold bracelet, and Claire clearly remembered its position right in the center of the keyboard. She put her palm on it and pushed until it locked down. As she reached for the fourth key, she lost her balance and almost fell.

Behind her, Ada’s voice came out of the scratchy, ancient speakers. “Stop. You’re going to make a mistake.”

“I won’t,” Claire gasped, and pushed the fourth key down. Two more to go.

She couldn’t remember the fifth symbol. She knew it was there, but somehow, her mind wouldn’t focus. Everything seemed blurry and odd. She closed her eyes again and concentrated, concentrated very hard, until she remembered that it had been hidden down on the bottom-left side.

When she opened her eyes, Ada was right there, inches from her face. Claire shrieked and jumped back, slamming her fist forward.

It went right through Ada’s form. She wasn’t able to stay physical anymore. Myrnin had really hurt her. She hadn’t fixed the damage to her image, either—there were black wounds on her throat and hands, and a black stain covering most of her dress.

Her eyes were glowing silver.

“Stop,” Ada said.

“No,” Claire panted, closed her eyes, and stepped through her image. She found the key she was looking for, and pushed it.

One more.

“All right,” Ada said. “Then I’ll stop you.”

Claire felt cold against her skin, and heard the hiss and clank of the computer grow loud, almost like chatter.

The lights went out, but the noise got louder—and louder.

Ada’s cold fingers brushed the back of her neck.

Claire turned toward the darkness behind her. “So that’s it?” she yelled. “That’s all you’ve got? Turn off the lights? Scary! I’m totally shaking, you freak! What do you think I am, five and scared of the dark?”

“I think you’re defeated,” Ada said. “And I think I will kill you, when and how I wish.” Ada had made herself physical again, but it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. She was still bleeding from where Claire had hurt her, and now her neck and face were scarred and burned from the chain. Her head was at a strange angle, but she was still alive. She glowed a very faint, phosphorous kind of silver.

“You’ll never find the key in the dark,” Ada almost purred. “You’re defeated. And now you die.”

“You first,” Claire said.

Claire reached behind her from blind instinct and memory, and slammed her palm down on a key. It almost went down, but then it popped up again.

Wrong.

Ada’s ice-cold hands—not really hands anymore—closed around her neck. “Stupid girl,” she said. “So close.”

Ada’s fingers squeezed, locking the breath in her throat, and Claire wildly hammered her palm down on the next key to the right.

It locked down with an almost physical snap.

As Claire’s fingers slipped off the key, it clicked into place, and the clattering of the machine . . .

. . . stopped.

For a breathless second those cold fingers kept on strangling her, and then they softened, turned to mist . . .

And then they were gone.

A steady, quiet glow came up around her.

Lights.

Claire sank down, back to the keyboard, gasping in breaths through her bruised throat, and watched a silvery light flicker in midair, then take on form.

Ada, but not Ada.The same image, but immaculate, perfectly groomed, and with an entirely blank expression.

“Welcome,” Ada said. “May I ask who you are?”

“Claire,” she said. “My name is Claire.”

“My name is—” Ada cocked her head and frowned. “I’m not quite sure. Addy?”

“Ada.”

“Ah yes. Ada.” Ada’s flat image smiled, but it was a fake kind of smile, with nothing behind it. “I’m not feeling very well.”

“You just got reset.”

“No, I know all about that. I don’t feel at all well, quite beyond that. There’s something very wrong with my mind.” Her image flickered, and a spasm of emotion flared across her perfect, blank face. “I’m scared, Claire. Can you fix me?”

“I—” Claire coughed. She was so tired, and she really, really hurt. “I don’t know.” She knew she sounded discouraged. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Oh,” Ada said softly. “I see. I really am broken, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t be fixed.”

“No,” Claire said softly. “I’m sorry. I think—I think you’ve got brain damage. I don’t think you’re ever going to be right.”

Ada was silent for a moment, watching her, and then she said, “I loved him, you know. I really did.”

“I think he really loved you, too. That’s why he tried to hang on to you all these years.”

Ada nodded. “Please tell him that I still love him. And because I love him, I can’t take the risk that I might hurt him again.”

Claire had a very bad feeling. “What are you—”

“Just tell him.” Ada smiled, and it was a real smile. A sweet one. “Good-bye, Claire.”

And the panel at the wall blew up in arcs of electricity and flames and shredded metal, and Claire ducked and covered her head.

The lights went out.

Ada’s image flickered in place for a moment, and then she said, very quietly, “Tell Myrnin I’m sorry I hurt him.”

Then she was gone, and the low-level hum of the computer just . . . died.

Claire crouched there, trembling in the dark for a while and listening to the escaping hiss of steam. On one of the round screens on the computer, she saw Ada’s image appear. It moved to the next screen—and then to the next. It grew a little fainter every time.

Then Ada’s image faded to a single dot of white, and the screen went totally black.

Silence. Real, total silence.

Claire put her head on her upraised knees.

I’ll just take a nap, she thought, and then it all just went away for a while.

When she woke up, Amelie was standing in front of the silent, dead computer, one pale hand on the keyboard touching the metal and bone.

“We’ll have to get this running again as soon as possible,” she said, and then turned toward Claire. “I see you’re awake.”

“Not really,” Claire said. “I don’t know what I am right now.”

“Your friends are coming.” Amelie’s tone was cool, and her face was a mask. Claire couldn’t tell anything about what she was feeling. “I called them.”

“Where’s Myrnin?”

Amelie’s gray eyes focused on her neck. “He bit you.”

“Well—a little.” Claire put her hand to the wound, and winced when it throbbed. “Is it bad?”

“You’ll live.” Amelie turned back to the keyboard. “I’m afraid Ada is beyond help. When the electrical power failed, the nutrients that sustained her organic remnants turned toxic.”

“She’s dead?”

“She was always dead, Claire. Now she is well beyond our attempts to revive her.” Amelie looked at her with cool, calm eyes. “Did you kill her?”

Claire swallowed. “No. I reset her, and she figured out that she couldn’t be fixed. She did it herself.” That seemed . . . sad, somehow. And a little bit brave. “Where’s Myrnin?”

“Here,” he said, and crouched down next to her, all long arms and legs, awkward and graceful at the same time. He was still wearing his black velvet coat. Claire fixed her gaze on the bloodstained, ragged hole in his left sleeve. Under it, the skin still looked red and torn. “I’m all right now. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” she lied. “Does it hurt?” she asked, because he was holding his arm at an odd angle.

“A little.” He was lying, too—a lot. “Claire—”

“No, don’t say you’re sorry. I know, you had to do it.”

“I was going to say thank you for stopping Ada. She always knew you would be the one to destroy her, you know.”

“What?” Claire rubbed at the headache forming between her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“She had taken it into her head that you were going to kill her,” Amelie said. “She believed it. So she tried to kill you first, and in doing so, she forced you to this. Unfortunately, it is a great deal of trouble for me; Ada was very valuable. Without her, we cannot maintain many of the less scientific measures of security and travel in the town.”

“No more portals,” Myrnin said, and sighed.“No more barriers to keep people from leaving. And we won’t be able to track those who leave, at least for now.”

He turned away, looking at the computer, and for a moment—just a moment—Claire saw the agony clearly visible on his face. His hand was clenched, and as he opened it, she saw the locket she’d found in the box. Ada’s portrait. “Oh my dear,” he said, very softly. “What we did to each other . . . I am so very sorry.”

Amelie watched him and said nothing. Myrnin closed his eyes for a moment, then slipped the locket into his vest pocket and turned toward her, clearly making an effort to make himself seem normal again. As normal as Myrnin ever got. “Right. I’ll need a viable candidate to replace Ada. Do you have someone in mind?”

Amelie was still watching Claire. Claire swallowed.

“I do,” Amelie said softly. “But I think not quite yet. Let’s see where this takes us, Myrnin.”

Myrnin said, “I believe it will take us straight into trouble, if experience is any guide at all. Ah, there they are. Claire, your friends—”

She hardly had time to turn before Shane had her and was smothering her in a hug, then devouring her in a kiss, and even though she wasn’t exactly in the best possible shape, she felt a hot flush race through her veins to warm her whole body. “Hey,” Shane said, then gently combed her hair back from her face. “You look—”

He saw the bite mark, and froze.

Michael and Eve were right behind him, and Claire heard Eve make a funny, strangled noise. Michael’s head snapped toward Myrnin.

“I’m okay,” Claire said. “A little juice, a steak—I’ll be fine. It’s just like the blood bank. Right?”

Amelie exchanged a glance with Myrnin, then turned away. He said, “Absolutely,” and bounced to his feet to join Amelie at the hissing hulk of the computer. “Take a few days off. With pay.”

Shane’s face turned red. “You son of a—”

“Don’t,” Claire said, and put her hand on his cheek. “Shane. I need you. Don’t do that.”

“I need you, too,” he said. “I love you. And it is not okay.”

Myrnin didn’t look at either of them again. After a moment, though, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and came up with a small, portable hard drive.

SHANE & CLAIRE, it read in silver Sharpie.

“I think this is yours,” he said.

Claire felt a wave of weakness that had nothing to do with loss of blood. “Where did you get it?”

“Ada,” Myrnin said. “She was planning to do something creative with it, I expect—put it on the Internet, or send it to your parents. Her idea of a prank. You can thank me later.”

She stopped, staring at his back. “You didn’t watch it, did you?”

He didn’t turn around. “Of course not.”

It even sounded as if he might be telling the truth.

“My car’s outside,” Michael said. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“In a moment,” Amelie said, and turned to face them. In that moment, with her hands clasped at her waist, she looked very much like Ada, which gave Claire a severe attack of the terrors. “I’ve made a decision. About the three of you.”

That didn’t sound good. They all exchanged looks.

Claire felt something odd happen inside her, like a flash of heat, followed by one of cold . . . and then the bracelet on her wrist, a constant, heavy presence, clicked, and fell off to roll away on the stone floor.

Claire cried out and rubbed at her wrist. It was dead white where the bracelet had been, and indented with the shape of gold.

“I’ve decided to record you as Neutrals,” Amelie said. “Friends of Morganville. You will be issued special pins, which you must wear at all times. Your names will be recorded in the archives. You are not to be menaced or hunted by any vampire from this point onward. In return, I will require services from you, as I do from other Neutrals, from time to time. You will be listed as employees of the town.”

Even Myrnin seemed surprised, Claire thought. “Generous,” he said.

“Pragmatic,” Amelie said. “Less trouble for me. The four of them are stronger together, and less vulnerable. And I’m well aware that there are those within Morganville who would prefer to split them apart, for their own uses. I can hardly have people with such intimate knowledge of us running around without . . . restrictions.”

Claire licked her lips. “About that—I kind of made a deal with Morley. That you’d let him and his people leave Morganville, or else Eve and Shane get hunted.”

“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Amelie shook her head. “I can’t protect you from deals made prior to the announcement. If Morley can make a claim, he can register the hunt. It would be legal, according to law. It would be up to you to protect yourselves.”

“But you could let Morley and his people leave, right? That’s all they want. To be set free, to go where they want.”

Amelie was silent for a moment, and then she said, “No.” That was all. No Sorry or Hope you don’t die.

She turned back to the dead computer.

“But—”

Shane shook his head. “Let’s go home. Come on, we have a month. We’ll work it out.”

Claire didn’t think so, but she shut up and let Michael ferry them, one by one, out of the trapdoor and up to the lab. As they headed for his car, Eve’s cell phone rang.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Heather.” Eve sighed. “Don’t tell me, I’m fired, right?”

Heather? Claire remembered, finally, that Heather was the assistant director for the play. It was the last possible thing Claire could think of, importance-wise, but Eve’s face gradually lit up with a smile. “I’m not? Seriously? He didn’t—oh wow. Okay. Yes. I’ll be there. Yes, of course! . . . Oh, sure, hang on.” She handed the phone to Claire. “She says she wants to talk to you.”

Claire carefully put the phone to her ear. “Yes?”

“Claire, look, we need a new Stella. Mein Herr says you’re perfect. He’s already cleared it with your boss.”

“He what?” And how did Myrnin get to make that kind of call, anyway? “I’m not an actress! I don’t know anything—”

“That’s what he likes,” Heather said. “You’re cast. Be at rehearsal tomorrow. Eve will tell you when.”

She hung up.

Claire stared at the dead phone, then handed it back.

“I guess I’m in the play,” she said.

“Good news,” Eve said. “You’ve already got on-camera experience.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, what’s going to happen with Kim? Not that I care,” Shane said quickly when Claire looked at him. “Just curious.”

“I asked,” Eve said. “Chief Moses says they’ll keep her in the nuthouse for a while, see if she gets better. But even if she does, she’ll be in jail a long time.”

“You okay with that?”

Eve took in a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Claire looked down at the hard drive in her hand, the Sharpie-marked evidence, took it out, and handed it to Shane. “You do the honors,” he said.

One smash against the bricks, and it shattered. He kept on smashing it, just to be sure, and then tossed the remains into a handy trash can at the end of the alley.

“The end,” Shane said.

It wasn’t. Michael and Eve were walking together, but not touching; Claire could see the tension between them. Ada was dead, and that meant the vampires were risking everything, at least for a while. As for Amelie’s “gift,” Claire knew there had to be a catch, and a big one.

It wasn’t the end at all . . . but Claire was content to pretend for now. With Shane warm at her side, and the future stretching out in front of them, she could pretend for today that it was happily ever after.

Of course, tomorrow was another day.