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 . . .
And then they were gone.
A steady, quiet glow came up around her.
Lights.
Claire sank down, back to the keyboard, gasping in breaths through her bruised throat, and watched a silvery light flicker in midair, then take on form.
Ada, but not Ada.The same image, but immaculate, perfectly groomed, and with an entirely blank expression.
“Welcome,” Ada said. “May I ask who you are?”
“Claire,” she said. “My name is Claire.”
“My name is—” Ada cocked her head and frowned. “I’m not quite sure. Addy?”
“Ada.”
“Ah yes. Ada.” Ada’s flat image smiled, but it was a fake kind of smile, with nothing behind it. “I’m not feeling very well.”
“You just got reset.”
“No, I know all about that. I don’t feel at all well, quite beyond that. There’s something very wrong with my mind.” Her image flickered, and a spasm of emotion flared across her perfect, blank face. “I’m scared, Claire. Can you fix me?”
“I—” Claire coughed. She was so tired, and she really, really hurt. “I don’t know.” She knew she sounded discouraged. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
“Oh,” Ada said softly. “I see. I really am broken, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“And I can’t be fixed.”
“No,” Claire said softly. “I’m sorry. I think—I think you’ve got brain damage. I don’t think you’re ever going to be right.”
Ada was silent for a moment, watching her, and then she said, “I loved him, you know. I really did.”
“I think he really loved you, too. That’s why he tried to hang on to you all these years.”
Ada nodded. “Please tell him that I still love him. And because I love him, I can’t take the risk that I might hurt him again.”
Claire had a very bad feeling. “What are you—”
“Just tell him.” Ada smiled, and it was a real smile. A sweet one. “Good-bye, Claire.”
And the panel at the wall blew up in arcs of electricity and flames and shredded metal, and Claire ducked and covered her head.
The lights went out.
Ada’s image flickered in place for a moment, and then she said, very quietly, “Tell Myrnin I’m sorry I hurt him.”
Then she was gone, and the low-level hum of the computer just . . . died.
Claire crouched there, trembling in the dark for a while and listening to the escaping hiss of steam. On one of the round screens on the computer, she saw Ada’s image appear. It moved to the next screen—and then to the next. It grew a little fainter every time.
Then Ada’s image faded to a single dot of white, and the screen went totally black.
Silence. Real, total silence.
Claire put her head on her upraised knees.
I’ll just take a nap, she thought, and then it all just went away for a while.
When she woke up, Amelie was standing in front of the silent, dead computer, one pale hand on the keyboard touching the metal and bone.
“We’ll have to get this running again as soon as possible,” she said, and then turned toward Claire. “I see you’re awake.”
“Not really,” Claire said. “I don’t know what I am right now.”
“Your friends are coming.” Amelie’s tone was cool, and her face was a mask. Claire couldn’t tell anything about what she was feeling. “I called them.”
“Where’s Myrnin?”
Amelie’s gray eyes focused on her neck. “He bit you.”
“Well—a little.” Claire put her hand to the wound, and winced when it throbbed. “Is it bad?”
“You’ll live.” Amelie turned back to the keyboard. “I’m afraid Ada is beyond help. When the electrical power failed, the nutrients that sustained her organic remnants turned toxic.”