“That’s good.” It would be, if it were true, but Claire didn’t trust Myrnin’s judgment when it came to Ada. “Um, about that portal—”
“Yes, fine, coming right up. I will be there in a moment.”
“No, Myrnin—”
He hung up before she could explain that she didn’t actually need him to come along. Not that he was going to listen to her, anyway. Claire replaced the phone on its cradle.
“Crazy boss is coming,” Shane interpreted, just from the expression on her face. “Lovely. This ought to be fun.”
About five seconds later, Claire felt a psychic wave sweep through the house, so strong she was surprised neither Shane nor Eve seemed to feel it, and then a dark opening formed in the far wall of the living room, and Myrnin stepped over the threshold.
“I so want his wardrobe,” Eve sighed. “Is that shallow, or just strange?”
“Don’t sell yourself short. It’s both,” Shane said, and cocked his head to take in Myrnin’s latest effort at blending in. It was . . . interesting. Claire couldn’t decide if it was some deliberate, unholy mix of Victorian lord and hippie, or just what had been on the floor of his closet.
He had on his bunny slippers.
These had fangs.
They all stared at them in silence for about a heartbeat, and then Shane said, “That is impressively wicked. Crazy, but wicked.”
Myrnin frowned at him, then looked down at his shoes. He seemed genuinely surprised. “Oh. Those. I thought—well, they’re appropriate, I suppose.”
“Wouldn’t want to be inappropriate,” Claire said. “You really didn’t have to come. I’m sorry.”
“I did, in fact. I tried to open the portal to the radio station, and I couldn’t do so.” Myrnin’s dark eyes were wide and gleaming, clearly fascinated. “Claire, do you know what this means?” He paced, the bunny slippers flopping their ears in a very distracting way. “Someone locked down the area. And it wasn’t me.”
“Who else could?”
“No one.”
“But—”
“Exactly!” He smacked his hands together in glee. “A mystery! Thank you for calling and imposing on me for a favor; this is very exciting stuff, you know. Chaos, mayhem, someone stealing a march against me—ah, I’ve missed it these past few months, haven’t you?”
“No,” they all said, exactly together. Claire took Shane’s hand and said, “Myrnin, who else could lock down areas of town and freeze out portals?”
“Amelie,” he said, “but it’s not her. There’s a certain signature to her work, and by the way, she’s been here recently, did you know? She reeks of pain these days. It’s most disturbing.”
“Dude, focus,” Eve said. “Who else?” She threw Claire a why-am-I-even-asking look, but Myrnin got hold of himself and nodded as he thought about it.
“There have been a total of six others in the history of Morganville,” he said. “But they’re all dead. All but you, Claire.”
They all looked at her. She blinked. “Well, I didn’t do it!”
“Oh. Pity. Then I have no idea.”
She cleared her throat. “What about Ada?”
“Ada is not the boogeyman behind every shadow, my dear,” Myrnin said, and flopped himself down in Michael’s chair, taking hold of the acoustic guitar and picking out a surprisingly competent series of chords. “Ada does as she’s told. Unlike you, I might add, which is not an attractive quality in a lab assistant.”
“Could she do it?”
He stilled the strings with one hand, and looked up. His dark hair fell back from his pale face, and for a moment, he looked entirely serious. “Ada can do anything,” he said. “I don’t think even she understands that. But I find it highly unlikely—”
“You’re a vampire wearing bunny slippers with fangs. Highly unlikely kind of goes with the territory,” Eve said. “How close can you get us? To the radio station?”
“Why do you want to go there? It’s hardly safe for untagged blood donors to roam around out there after dark. Even Claire would be at risk, and she’s wearing the strongest protection available. I don’t advise it.” He put the guitar aside and steepled his fingers together. “But you’re not quite foolish enough to be doing it for the thrill, I think, so you do have a reason. Tell me.”
Claire exchanged a quick look with her friends, and then said, “Michael went alone out there. We need to help him.”
“Michael is a vampire. Vampires go out at night.” Myrnin shrugged and dusted a bit of fluff from his black velvet jacket, which was pretty elegant, if you were heading off to a costume party. “Why concern yourself, unless you think there will be trouble? Stop lying by omission, Claire. Tell me everything. Now.”
Eve shook her head, a tiny spasm that was probably involuntary. Even Shane looked like he thought it was a terminally bad idea. Claire said, “We can trust him. We have to trust him.”
“Oh, this sounds interesting,” Myrnin said, and leaned forward in Michael’s chair. “Please continue.”
She did. She even brought down one of the wireless cameras, showed it to him, and explained how it worked, which was a complete delight to his obsessively scientific side. “But this is amazing,” he said, turning the little device over in his nimble fingers. “This girl, she’s quite the enterprising little thing. How many of these, you say?”
“We think seventy-two.”
He lost his smile, focused on the object in his hand. “She can’t be doing it alone, then. There must be a larger purpose. A larger plan. Still, this Kim, she may be using it for her own purposes; have you thought about that?”
“We know she’s getting her own thing out of it,” Claire said. “But you’re saying . . . she didn’t come up with it in the first place?”
“Exactly.”
So, maybe Kim had been recruited to put cameras out, and then hijacked it for her own reality-show dream project . . . but that meant someone else was in charge.
Someone smart enough to not get caught. Or even suspected.
“You really should tell Oliver,” Myrnin said. “I know he’s not the most pleasant of allies, but he is effective in the right circumstances. Rather like one of those nuclear bombs.”
“If we tell Oliver, Kim’s dead,” Eve said. “She may be an epic bitch, but I don’t want her executed, either.”
“Valid,” Myrnin agreed. “However, if this goes wrong, she’s dead in any case. I will come along. You need an adult chaperone.”
“Once again, bunny slippers,” Shane said. “I’m just pointing that out.”
“I suppose they would get dirty. I’ll be right back.” Myrnin jumped out of the chair and dashed for the portal. It snapped shut behind him with a flare of energy.
“Do you think—”
Before Shane could finish the question, the portal opened again, and Myrnin hopped out on one foot, pulling on serious pirate boots, the knee-high kind with the cuff of leather. He finished tugging the left one on and did a runway pose for Claire. “Better?”
“Um . . . yeah. I guess.” He now looked like a demented version of that pirate captain from the rum bottles.
“Then let’s go.”
As he turned to concentrate on the portal, Eve tugged on Claire’s shirt.
“What?”
“Ask him where he got the boots.”
“You ask.” Personally, Claire wanted the vampire bunny slippers.
12
The closest Myrnin could get them was a few blocks away. Claire was glad, actually, that he hadn’t warned her where they were going; she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to step through if he had.
German’s Tire Plant had closed at least thirty years ago, and the gigantic, multi-story facility was basically one big gold mine of creepy. Claire had been in it exactly twice before, and neither visit held pleasant memories—and those had been daytime excursions. At night, the terror level went way, way up.
The only reason she knew they were at German’s Tire Plant was that the weapons bag Shane had brought contained flashlights, and one of the first things Claire’s lit up was the spooky clown face graffitied around a big open maw of a doorway. She’d never forget that stupid clown face. Ever.