Carpe Corpus

A black-and-white ghost flickered into view at the far end of the room. Ada’s image looked quiet and composed, and just a little bit pleased. She’d come to watch Claire die.

“Get help,” Claire whispered. “Please, go get help!”

Jason and Dean, at least, had no idea who she was talking to, since Ada had manifested behind them. “Who are you talking to, idiot? Jason’s not on your side. Jesus, Jason, hold her feet! Come on, man! I’m not asking you for much, here!”

Ada raised thin eyebrows. Her image flickered. Claire didn’t want to look at the red line rising in the milk jug; she could feel herself getting weaker, her heart pounding harder to keep up.

“Myrnin,” Claire panted. “I need Myrnin.”

Ada flickered out. Claire had no idea whether or not she’d even make the effort.

Outside, the sun settled below the window.

Twilight.

Jason jumped up at a sound from outside. “What the hell is that?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. He was watching Claire’s face. She was breathing too fast, and she tried to slow down; her heart was racing, and she was losing too much blood. Ada, please. Please. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the wind.”

Jason let go of Claire’s feet. She was too weak to move much, anyway. “No, it’s not. There’s somebody out there. Dude, leave her. Let’s go!”

“No frickin’ way. We’re almost done here. Five more minutes. Keep it together, bro.”

“I’m not your bro!” Jason snarled. “You’re on your own, asshole!”

He took off. No—please wait. Claire tried not to cry, but she was losing track of why she ought to be strong. Was somebody coming? No, she had to save herself. Nobody was coming to save her.

“Dean,” she said. “You know about the portals, don’t you?”

That got his attention. Full on.

“I can tell you something about them you don’t know. If you stop this.”

His dark eyes took on a strangely stubborn look; he didn’t like being robbed of his pleasure. “What kind of something? Because it’d have to be really good.”

“Oh, it is,” she said. “I can tell you how to make your own portals. How to go anywhere. Do anything. Imagine what you could do with that, Dean.”

He was imagining it, all right, and she could see color rising in his cheeks. He liked it.

He liked it a lot.

Dean glanced over at the milk jug, which was shimmering with her blood. A steady stream flowed out of the tube to patter down inside. “Start talking,” he said. “If I like what you say, I’ll turn it off.”

He was lying to her; she could feel it. “You can stop pretending you’re killing me for a cause. You’re not. You’re killing me because you like it, Dean. You’re not a vampire; you’re worse. They’re like tigers. You’re a cannibal.”

His eyes flickered, and he leaned forward. “Maybe I’ll try that, too,” he said. “Maybe I’ll start on you.”

She blinked, light-headed. The world seemed to shift in front of her. She had a vision, and it was so real.

She was looking past him into the living room at home, just like through a tunnel. The TV was on. Eve was singing along to some obnoxious commercial, shim- mying her hips as she put a plate full of hot dogs on the table. It was Eve’s night to cook. Michael was tuning his guitar, intent on frets and strings and sounds.

Shane walked in from the front hall, dropped his keys on the table, and said, “Where’s Claire?”

“Not here yet,” Eve said. “Probably on her way.”

I’m not. I’m not coming. I’m sorry.

Shane dug his cell phone out and dialed.

Somewhere in another part of the abandoned house, Claire heard her ring tone echoing. The odd thing was, Shane seemed to hear it, too. He looked around, raised his eyebrows at Eve, and Eve shrugged. “Maybe she left it.”

They could hear the phone. But the phone was here.

Claire pulled in a breath to scream, but she didn’t have to.

Shane looked right at her, and for a second, she realized what that tunnel was, that silvery shimmer at the edges.

She realized that Ada hadn’t let her down, after all. It was a portal, and Shane was going to save her.

He saw her.

His eyes widened.

“Claire!” he screamed, and lunged at the portal.

It closed right before he got there.

“Oh, man,” Dean breathed. “Close. You can do that thing, too? The portal thing? Comes in handy; am I right?” He waved his arm, and the portal shimmered back into existence—but in place of the tunnel that had led to the Glass House, there was one leading into darkness. No—not quite darkness. It was the old prison, the one where the sick vampires had been kept. “Ada locked me out for a while, and man, I was starting to sweat. But I promised her some fresh blood if she’d just let me have it for a couple more days.”

He’d been using the network to kill, and Jason had helped him—probably just because Jason was a joiner, and lonely, and Dean knew how to make people feel wanted. Even Claire had felt it, and she should have known better.

Her heart was racing so fast now.

“See?” he said. “I can do it from anywhere. Just like you. Guess that makes us special.”

He was smart, she realized. Clever and cold. Like Myrnin.

Only Myrnin had a conscience.

Something moved on the other side of the portal. A ghost. Ada?

No, although Claire saw the flicker of her black-and-white image for a second standing in the portal, facing away from her. Beckoning to someone else on the other side.

Then misting out of the way.

Ada had brought help, after all, but it wasn’t Myrnin.

It was Frank Collins.

Shane’s dad stood on the other side of the portal, staring through at them, looking more like a ghost than Ada had. Claire must have made some sound, because Dean turned to look, and his face went completely slack with surprise. “Frank?” he asked. “Frank, wait—let me explain . . .”

Frank Collins reached through, grabbed Dean, and dragged him through the portal.

Dean screamed, once, and then there was silence. Just . . . nothing.

Claire felt herself getting cold. This is how it feels, she thought. Becoming a vampire. Except I won’t wake up.

Frank stepped through the portal.

“Keep breathing,” he told her, and crouched next to her as he took the tube out of her arm and tossed it away. He wadded up a piece of bandage and stuck it in the bend of her arm, then bent it back to add pressure. “Sorry about Dean. I always knew he wasn’t good in the head, but I never thought he’d go this crazy.”

He looked at her for a few seconds, then pushed to his feet and headed for the portal.

Along the way, he grabbed the milk jug, and then he was gone.

Ada’s ghost misted back into view, staring at Claire. She was smiling.

“Help,” Claire whispered.

“I did.” Ada’s prim voice came out of the distant, tinny speaker of the cell phone. “He promised me blood, but I don’t want yours. I don’t like it.”

Ada disappeared.

She was alone, and cold. For a little while, that was all there was.

Then hands were lifting her, and she felt a tiny sting in her numb arm, and there were voices.

Light.

Then a different kind of nothing.