Carpe Corpus

“What?” the computer asked. The sound this time boomed out of the portal.

“I need to track Bishop!” Claire said.

“I don’t work for you anymore, human,” Ada said, and shut down the portal with a snap. Claire turned to look at Myrnin, who was watching a few feet away, eyes fading back to his normal black. He walked toward her, bare feet gliding over the carpet, and studied the empty space where the portal had been.

Then he reached out and drew a wide circle with a sweep of his arm, and the silver shimmer flickered back into view.

“Don’t be rude, Ada,” he said. “Now, I know you can hear me. Where did our dear Mr. Bishop take himself off to?”

“I can’t tell you,” Ada said primly. “I don’t work for you, either.”

Myrnin placed his palm flat on the surface of the shimmer and looked at Claire. “He’s reprogrammed her,” he said. “He must have gone to her and given her his blood while we were making our own plans. I didn’t expect him to move so quickly. I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should have been.” He removed his palm, and Claire realized he’d done it as a kind of mute button, so Ada wouldn’t hear what they had to say. “Ada, my darling, I put you together from scraps and my own blood. Are you really going to say you don’t love me anymore?” Claire had never heard him sound that way before—so in control of himself, so assured and darkly clever. It made her shiver somewhere deep inside. “Let me come to you. I really want to see you, my love.”

Ada was silent for a moment, and then her ghostly image appeared on the surface of the portal—a Victorian woman, dressed in the big skirts and high collar of the times. She smoothed her pale hands over the fabric of her dress. “Very well,” she said. “You may call on me, Myrnin.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed Claire by the hand and stepped through the portal.

Her foot came down on something soft that ran off with a shrill squeak, and she jumped and gave out a squeal of her own. Rats. She hated rats. It was too dark to see, but in the next second the lights flickered on around the cavern, and there was the monster tangle of pipes and elaborate bracing that was Ada.

Her ghost stood in front of the clumsy giant typewriter-style keyboard, smiling at Myrnin like a lovesick girl, but the smile faltered when she saw Claire. “Oh,” she said, through the tinny speakers of the computer. “You brought her.”

“Don’t be jealous, love. You’re the only girl for me.” Myrnin strode up to the keyboard, through Ada’s two-dimensional form, and Claire saw Ada make a startled face and turn toward him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Myrnin!”

“Fixing you, hopefully,” he said. “Claire.”

She headed for his side, but Ada turned on her, and the prim Victorian image turned into . . . something else. Something dark and corrupt and horrible, snarling at her.

She flinched and veered off, but Myrnin’s hand reached out and grabbed her to drag her in, past Ada. “Ignore her,” he said. “She’s in a mood.” Myrnin tapped symbols, then uncovered the sharp needle on the control panel, and slammed his hand down on the point. “Ada. You will no longer accept commands from Mr. Bishop; do you understand me?”

“He was nicer to me,” Ada said sulkily. “He gave me better blood.”

“Better than mine? I believe I’m offended.”

Ada’s giggle sounded like a rattle of tinfoil. “Well, you haven’t been yourself, you know. But you taste much better now, Myrnin. Almost like your old self.”

“Imagine that. Well, then, I promise that you’ll get all the lovely sweet blood you’d like from me, if you will block Bishop from access, my sweet.”

Ada made a long, drawn-out humming sound, as if she was thinking, and then she finally said, “Well . . . all right. But you have to give me a full pint.”

“I haven’t moved my hand at all, my dear. Drink away.” He let almost a minute go by, then gestured to Claire to come closer. “Nearly done, Ada?”

“Mmmmmm.” Ada sighed. “Yes. Delicious. I feel ever so much—What are you doing?”

He yanked his hand off the panel, grabbed Claire’s, and slammed it down on the needle. She knew better than to try to fight him this time, just winced and bit her lip and tried not to wonder if, say, having Myrnin’s blood infecting hers would have any nasty side effects, like a sudden craving for blood and an allergy to the sun.

“Sorry,” he said, not as if he was, and altered his voice again to that velvety, dark, seductive tone. “Ada, my love?”

No answer.

“Ada, Claire is my very good friend, and I really must insist that she have the same access I do.”

Ada made a retching sound.

“Ada.”

“No.”

He sighed. “List for me who has access to the system, please.”

Ada said, “There are currently six individuals with full access to the portals, not including you. I have removed Mr. Bishop, because you asked so very nicely. That leaves Amelie, Oliver, Michael, Claire, Jason, and Dean. Although Claire is no good for you, Myrnin. You should eat her immediately.”

“Thank you, I shall think that over.” He frowned down at the console. “Jason. Jason Rosser? Why did I not know this? And who is Dean?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Ada said, and laughed. Myrnin blinked.

“She’s not supposed to do that, right?” Claire asked.

“Right. Oh dear. I think that my blood might have carried an infection deep into her systems. This may be a very bad thing.”

“Can’t you give her the cure?”

“It’s not quite that simple,” Myrnin said, and shifted his focus again. “Ada, my love? Can you tell me how Jason and Dean have access to the system?”

“Sam Glass gave it to Jason,” she said. “But not full access, of course. Just to use open portals. Dean is Jason’s friend. I revoked Sam’s access, obviously. Because he’s no longer functional.”

Claire fidgeted uncomfortably. The white-hot pain in her hand was starting to eat away at her calm. “Um— Myrnin, can I please stop now?” She figured that Ada must have drained at least a pint by now.

“Please,” Ada said. “I don’t like your blood anyway.” She made a computerized spitting sound. Claire yanked her hand away in relief and cradled it against her chest, squeezing her fist tight to stop the bleeding. “Disgusting. Too sweet.”

Claire stuck her tongue out at the computer.

“I saw that.”

“Good,” she snapped. “Where did Bishop go?”

“Why should I—”

“Ada!” Myrnin’s voice cracked across the computer’s sulky response, and she went quiet. “I want you to block access to the portals for anyone except me, Amelie, Oliver, Michael, and Claire. Do you understand?”

“I’m not your slave.” Ada’s image flickered, then went out completely.

“I’m sorry,” Myrnin said, and put his hands on the machine, almost like a caress. “My dear, I will come back and talk to you soon, and we’ll work all this out. But you must promise me this. It’s important.”

Ada’s sigh echoed through the speakers. “I can never say no to you,” she said. “All right. I’ve locked out Dean and Jason, too.”

“I guess that’s it,” Claire said, and felt a little bubble of relief that quickly popped when Myrnin shook his head.

“One more thing. I need to know where Bishop went when he traveled the last portal. Ada, love, can you do that for me?”

Behind them, Claire felt the subtle warping of a portal forming. She and Myrnin both turned to look. Ada’s ghost reappeared, and then drifted off to the side, hands clasped behind her back. Definitely sulking.

Michael stepped through, holding Eve’s hand. Behind him came Shane.

“Really.” Ada sighed. “There’s just no getting rid of any of you, is there?”