the old days. “All science requires sacrifice. And you didn’t even like Bob.”
Well, that was true. “Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean I want to see it die horribly!”
“Really? I find that . . . not very interesting at all, actually. Sentimentality has no place in science.”
Just like that, poof, Ada was pixels and vapor, gone. Claire ventured slowly forward, to where Bob the Giant Spider was curled up on the table. She half expected him to suddenly flip upright in true horror-movie style, but he stayed still.
Claire wasn’t falling for it. No way. She backed up to the steps that led out of the lab, and sat down on the cold stone, wrapping her arms around her for warmth.
Minutes ticked by.
The dead spider didn’t move, which meant that either he wasn’t faking it, or he was really, really good at it.
“Claire?”
She shrieked and jumped, and Michael, standing about a foot behind her, jumped backward, as well. Being a vampire, he somehow made it look cool. She, not so much. “God, don’t
“I did!” He sounded wounded. “I said your name.”
“Say it from across the room next time.”
But Michael wasn’t looking at her anymore; he was staring past her, at the dead spider. “What the hell is
“Bob,” she said. “I’ll tell you later. Come on.”
“Where?”
“Ada’s cave.”
Which was why she’d called him, because, of course, there were no stairs. Vampires didn’t need them. They could jump twelve feet onto solid stone and not even feel a twinge; Claire figured she was sure to have a broken bone, at the very least. She wasn’t a superhero, a magical vampire slayer, or even a particularly coordinated athlete. Michael was her way in—and, hopefully, out.
Of course, having a friend with her going down into the dark, that was a plus, too.
Luckily, Michael didn’t seem too bothered at being asked to stand in for a ladder; he looked down into the darkness for a few moments, craning to see every detail of what, to Claire, was pitch-blackness. “Looks clear,” he said. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“She won’t say where Myrnin is. Well, he’s not up here, and the carpet was rolled back. He must have gone down there.”
“And there’s a reason why we can’t just wait for him to come back?”
“Yeah. Ada’s tried to kill me twice now, and who knows what she’s tried to do to him. There’s something wrong with her, Michael.”
“Then maybe we should call somebody for help.”
Claire laughed a little wildly. “Like who, Amelie? You saw her at the cemetery. You really think we should rely on her right now?”
Whether Claire had a point or not, Michael must have realized that debating wasn’t getting anything done. He shrugged and said, “Fine. If you get me killed, I’m haunting you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He winked at her, and stepped off the edge, dropping soundlessly into the dark. Claire rushed forward, grabbing up the flashlight along the way, and shone its glow down into the trapdoor. A dozen feet below, Michael’s pale face looked up. His blue eyes looked supernatu rally bright as his pupils contracted in the glare.
“Right,” he said. “Jump.”
She’d been through this with Myrnin, but it still never felt exactly
She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and plummeted, straight into his cool, strong arms. Michael let her slide down, already looking past her into the dark. “There are things down here,” he said.
“Vampires.”
“Not—sure I’d call them vampires.
“They’re sort of guard dogs. Watch them right back, okay?”
“Doing that, yeah. Which way?”
“This way.” It was easy to get turned around in the dark, but Claire had a pretty good memory, and there were enough strange shapes in the rocks of the walls that she’d picked some out as signposts. Her flashlight’s beam bounced and glittered on granite edges, and pieces of broken glass scattered on the floor. There were some bones. She didn’t think these were human, though that was probably wishful thinking.
“Whoa,” Michael said, and held her shoulder as the room opened up. She knew what he was seeing—the big cavern where Ada was housed. He’d been here before, but not through the tunnel; it was kind of a shock, the way it opened up into this vast, echoing space.
“Lights,” Claire said. “To the left, on the wall.”
“I see them. Stay here.”
She did, clutching the metal of the Maglite more tightly, until a sudden hum of power accompanied the dazzling arrival of lights overhead. Claire blinked away glare and saw that Ada—the computer, not the flat, generated image she liked to present—was in full-power mode, gears clanking like giant teeth, steam hissing from pipes, liquid bubbling here and there in huge glass retorts.
Myrnin was slumped against the giant keyboard, face-down.
“Oh no,” Claire breathed, and raced to his side. Before she could touch him, Michael flashed to her and caught her hand.
“No,” he said, and picked up a stray piece of metal from the floor, which he flicked at Myrnin’s back, where it landed, electricity arcing, and sizzling. “I can smell the ozone. She’s got him wired. If you touch him, it’ll kill you.”
9
“Is he dead?” Claire’s heart was racing, and not just because she’d nearly gotten herself barbecued. . . . Myrnin was just getting better, just becoming himself again. For Ada to do this to him, now . . .
But Michael was shaking his head. “More like he’s unconscious. I don’t think he’s hurt too badly. We just have to break the circuit.”
Claire hunkered down, trying to get a look at Myrnin’s face; his head was turned to the side, but his black hair had fallen over his eyes, so she couldn’t see if they were open or closed. He wasn’t moving. “We need something wood or rubber to push him off the metal,” she said. “See if you can find something.”
And with a snap, the lights went off. Claire’s breath went out of her, and she felt her heart accelerate to about two hundred beats a minute when she heard Ada’s cell-phone-speaker voice whisper, “I don’t think you should do that.”
“Michael?”
“Right here. The circuit’s still on to the keyboard; I can feel it.” His hand touched her shoulder, and even though she flinched, she felt reassured. “Here. Take this.”
He handed her something. It took her a second to figure out what it was—a hunk of wood? It felt odd. . . . “Oh God,” Claire blurted, “is that a
“Don’t ask,” Michael said. “It’s sharp on one end. Organic, like wood, so it makes a good weapon against vampires. Just don’t stab me, okay?”
She wasn’t making any promises, really. “Help me with Myrnin.” She carefully reversed the bone in her hands to the non-sharp end, and used the flashlight to check that Michael had something nonconductive, as well. He did, and it was more bone. It might have been a rib. She tried not to think about that too much. “You push from that side; I’ll push from here. Push hard. We need to knock him completely away from the panel.”
