Fade Out

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 . . .