Fade Out (23 page)

“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.”

“She’s dead?”

“She was always dead, Claire. Now she is well beyond our attempts to revive her.” Amelie looked at her with cool, calm eyes. “Did you kill her?”

Claire swallowed. “No. I reset her, and she figured out that she couldn’t be fixed. She did it herself.” That seemed . . . sad, somehow. And a little bit brave. “Where’s Myrnin?”

“Here,” he said, and crouched down next to her, all long arms and legs, awkward and graceful at the same time. He was still wearing his black velvet coat. Claire fixed her gaze on the bloodstained, ragged hole in his left sleeve. Under it, the skin still looked red and torn. “I’m all right now. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” she lied. “Does it hurt?” she asked, because he was holding his arm at an odd angle.

“A little.” He was lying, too—a lot. “Claire—”

“No, don’t say you’re sorry. I know, you had to do it.”

“I was going to say thank you for stopping Ada. She always knew you would be the one to destroy her, you know.”

“What?” Claire rubbed at the headache forming between her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“She had taken it into her head that you were going to kill her,” Amelie said. “She believed it. So she tried to kill you first, and in doing so, she forced you to this. Unfortunately, it is a great deal of trouble for me; Ada was very valuable. Without her, we cannot maintain many of the less scientific measures of security and travel in the town.”

“No more portals,” Myrnin said, and sighed.“No more barriers to keep people from leaving. And we won’t be able to track those who leave, at least for now.”

He turned away, looking at the computer, and for a moment—just a moment—Claire saw the agony clearly visible on his face. His hand was clenched, and as he opened it, she saw the locket she’d found in the box. Ada’s portrait. “Oh my dear,” he said, very softly. “What we did to each other . . . I am so very sorry.”

Amelie watched him and said nothing. Myrnin closed his eyes for a moment, then slipped the locket into his vest pocket and turned toward her, clearly making an effort to make himself seem normal again. As normal as Myrnin ever got. “Right. I’ll need a viable candidate to replace Ada. Do you have someone in mind?”

Amelie was still watching Claire. Claire swallowed.

“I do,” Amelie said softly. “But I think not quite yet. Let’s see where this takes us, Myrnin.”

Myrnin said, “I believe it will take us straight into trouble, if experience is any guide at all. Ah, there they are. Claire, your friends—”

She hardly had time to turn before Shane had her and was smothering her in a hug, then devouring her in a kiss, and even though she wasn’t exactly in the best possible shape, she felt a hot flush race through her veins to warm her whole body. “Hey,” Shane said, then gently combed her hair back from her face. “You look—”

He saw the bite mark, and froze.

Michael and Eve were right behind him, and Claire heard Eve make a funny, strangled noise. Michael’s head snapped toward Myrnin.

“I’m okay,” Claire said. “A little juice, a steak—I’ll be fine. It’s just like the blood bank. Right?”

Amelie exchanged a glance with Myrnin, then turned away. He said, “Absolutely,” and bounced to his feet to join Amelie at the hissing hulk of the computer. “Take a few days off. With pay.”

Shane’s face turned red. “You son of a—”

“Don’t,” Claire said, and put her hand on his cheek. “Shane. I need you. Don’t do that.”

“I need you, too,” he said. “I love you. And it is not okay.”

Myrnin didn’t look at either of them again. After a moment, though, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and came up with a small, portable hard drive.

SHANE & CLAIRE, it read in silver Sharpie.

“I think this is yours,” he said.

Claire felt a wave of weakness that had nothing to do with loss of blood. “Where did you get it?”

“Ada,” Myrnin said. “She was planning to do something creative with it, I expect—put it on the Internet, or send it to your parents. Her idea of a prank. You can thank me later.”

She stopped, staring at his back. “You didn’t watch it, did you?”

He didn’t turn around. “Of course not.”

It even sounded as if he might be telling the truth.

“My car’s outside,” Michael said. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“In a moment,” Amelie said, and turned to face them. In that moment, with her hands clasped at her waist, she looked very much like Ada, which gave Claire a severe attack of the terrors. “I’ve made a decision. About the three of you.”

That didn’t sound good. They all exchanged looks.

Claire felt something odd happen inside her, like a flash of heat, followed by one of cold . . . and then the bracelet on her wrist, a constant, heavy presence, clicked, and fell off to roll away on the stone floor.

Claire cried out and rubbed at her wrist. It was dead white where the bracelet had been, and indented with the shape of gold.

“I’ve decided to record you as Neutrals,” Amelie said. “Friends of Morganville. You will be issued special pins, which you must wear at all times. Your names will be recorded in the archives. You are not to be menaced or hunted by any vampire from this point onward. In return, I will require services from you, as I do from other Neutrals, from time to time. You will be listed as employees of the town.”

Even Myrnin seemed surprised, Claire thought. “Generous,” he said.

“Pragmatic,” Amelie said. “Less trouble for me. The four of them are stronger together, and less vulnerable. And I’m well aware that there are those within Morganville who would prefer to split them apart, for their own uses. I can hardly have people with such intimate knowledge of us running around without . . . restrictions.”

Claire licked her lips. “About that—I kind of made a deal with Morley. That you’d let him and his people leave Morganville, or else Eve and Shane get hunted.”

“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Amelie shook her head. “I can’t protect you from deals made prior to the announcement. If Morley can make a claim, he can register the hunt. It would be legal, according to law. It would be up to you to protect yourselves.”

“But you could let Morley and his people leave, right? That’s all they want. To be set free, to go where they want.”

Amelie was silent for a moment, and then she said, “No.” That was all. No Sorry or Hope you don’t die.

She turned back to the dead computer.

“But—”

Shane shook his head. “Let’s go home. Come on, we have a month. We’ll work it out.”

Claire didn’t think so, but she shut up and let Michael ferry them, one by one, out of the trapdoor and up to the lab. As they headed for his car, Eve’s cell phone rang.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Heather.” Eve sighed. “Don’t tell me, I’m fired, right?”

Heather? Claire remembered, finally, that Heather was the assistant director for the play. It was the last possible thing Claire could think of, importance-wise, but Eve’s face gradually lit up with a smile. “I’m not? Seriously? He didn’t—oh wow. Okay. Yes. I’ll be there. Yes, of course! . . . Oh, sure, hang on.” She handed the phone to Claire. “She says she wants to talk to you.”

Claire carefully put the phone to her ear. “Yes?”

“Claire, look, we need a new Stella. Mein Herr says you’re perfect. He’s already cleared it with your boss.”

“He what?” And how did Myrnin get to make that kind of call, anyway? “I’m not an actress! I don’t know anything—”

“That’s what he likes,” Heather said. “You’re cast. Be at rehearsal tomorrow. Eve will tell you when.”

She hung up.

Claire stared at the dead phone, then handed it back.

“I guess I’m in the play,” she said.

“Good news,” Eve said. “You’ve already got on-camera experience.”

“Yeah, speaking of that, what’s going to happen with Kim? Not that I care,” Shane said quickly when Claire looked at him. “Just curious.”

“I asked,” Eve said. “Chief Moses says they’ll keep her in the nuthouse for a while, see if she gets better. But even if she does, she’ll be in jail a long time.”

“You okay with that?”

Eve took in a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Claire looked down at the hard drive in her hand, the Sharpie-marked evidence, took it out, and handed it to Shane. “You do the honors,” he said.

One smash against the bricks, and it shattered. He kept on smashing it, just to be sure, and then tossed the remains into a handy trash can at the end of the alley.

“The end,” Shane said.

It wasn’t. Michael and Eve were walking together, but not touching; Claire could see the tension between them. Ada was dead, and that meant the vampires were risking everything, at least for a while. As for Amelie’s “gift,” Claire knew there had to be a catch, and a big one.

It wasn’t the end at all . . . but Claire was content to pretend for now. With Shane warm at her side, and the future stretching out in front of them, she could pretend for today that it was happily ever after.

Of course, tomorrow was another day.