Rachel Caine - Fade Out

“Myrnin—” Claire squeezed her eyes closed, counted to five, and started over. “She’s not listening to you anymore. Don’t you get that? She’s doing her own thing, and her own thing means getting rid of the competition.”

“Competition for what?”

“For you,” Claire said. “Not that I am. But she thinks I am. Because you haven’t killed me.”

She was babbling, because saying this was making her feel a little sick and giddy. She wasn’t in love with Myrnin, but she did love him, a little. He was crazy; he was dangerous ; he was a vampire—and yet, he was somehow not any of those things, in his better moments.

“Claire.” He sounded wounded. “I do not find you attractive, except for your mind. I hope you know that. I would never take such advantage of you.” He paused, and thought about it for a second. “Except if I was hungry, of course. But probably not. Most likely.”

“Yeah, that’s comforting. The point is, Ada thinks you care for me, and she wants me out of the way so you’ll care more for her. Right?”

“Right. I’ll go have a talk with her.”

“You need to pull her plug, Myrnin.”

“Over that? Pshaw. It’s merely a flaw in her programming. I’ll take good care of it.” He paused, then said, “Of course, in the meantime, I wouldn’t follow her anywhere if I were you.”

“No kidding. Thanks.”

“Oh, don’t mention it, my dear. Enjoy your evening. Oh, and tell Michael that I enjoyed his concert.”

“You were there?”

She heard the smile in Myrnin’s voice. “We were all there, Claire. All the vampires. We do so enjoy our entertainments.”

That was ever so slightly creepy, and Claire hung up without saying good-bye.

Downstairs, the video game raged on; Kim was as good a player as Shane, apparently, which didn’t surprise Claire but depressed her kind of a lot. Shane didn’t even notice her reappearance; he was wiggling around on the couch, putting body language into his shooting as his game character ducked zombie attacks and kicked, punched, and shot his way out of trouble.

Kim’s character was a slinky-looking girl with black hair in a ponytail, and half a costume. She fought in high heels.

Great.

Claire sat down on the stairs, watching through the railing, and hugged her knees to her chest. Eve was gone, probably to change clothes, so it was just Shane and Kim.

They looked oblivious to everything but the drama on the screen.

She was developing some kind of sixth sense where Michael was concerned; he didn’t make any noise coming down the steps, but she knew he was coming, and turned her head to see that he’d switched out his rock-star gear for a faded, old gray T-shirt and, like her, jeans. He took a look at what was happening in the living room, then crouched down next to her. “Hey,” he said. “You all right?”

“I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t crashed into us,” Claire said. “Thank you.”

He looked ashamed. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t quite the plan. I was just trying to make him stop. I didn’t think he’d actually hit me.”

She almost laughed, because he sounded so sad about it. She took his cool hand and squeezed. He squeezed back. “It was still a good plan.”

“Except for the part where I nearly killed you, destroyed Amelie’s limo, and my own car? Yeah. It rocked the house.”

“Are they going to get you a new one? A car, I mean?”

“Amelie said they would.”

“I shut all the portals to the house,” Claire said. “Ada’s acting weird.”

“I thought that was normal.”

“Weirder.”

“Ah. Okay.” Michael looked past the railings, at Kim and Shane. “Are you freaking out about Kim?” Claire made the same little-bit mime with her finger and thumb that Shane had earlier. “Yeah, well don’t. Kim’s not his type.”

“I’m not sure I’m his type.” Okay, that sounded really, really whiny. Claire bit her lip. “She’s just so—much.”

“Yep. She is that.” He rose to his feet and padded down the last few steps silently, came up behind Kim, and leaned over her to say, “I vant to drink your blood” in a heavy, fake Dracula accent. She shrieked, flailed, and a zombie ate her brains on-screen.

“You bastard !” Kim yelled, dropped the controller, and smacked him hard on the chest. “I can’t believe you just totally sabotaged me!”

“Can’t let him lose,” Michael said, as Shane hit the high score and the victory music sounded. “Gotta live with the dude.”

They high-fived.

“You’re seriously going to take that as a win,” Kim said. “When he totally cheated for you.”

“Yes,” Shane said. “I seriously am.” He canceled the game, put the controller down, and rose to stretch and yawn. “Damn. It’s late. Don’t you have someplace to go or something?”

Kim looked actually hurt for a second, and Claire felt a twinge of—something. Maybe pity. She hoped not.

“Sure,” she said. “Johnny Depp’s waiting for me back home. Guess I’d better blaze. Hey, where’s Eve?”

“What, you’re going?” Eve called from the top of the stairs, and jumped down past Claire in her eagerness to get to the bottom. “You can’t! Kim, we need to run lines and stuff!”

“No, Shane’s right. It’s really late. How about tomorrow? I can meet you at Common Grounds—how about three? You’re working until about then, right?”

“Yeah,” Eve said. She still sounded disappointed.

“Sure, that’s okay. Hey—you want to go out tomorrow night? Maybe catch a movie? Um—Claire, you want to go, too?”

Great. She was officially an also-invited. “No thanks,” she said. “I’ve got plans.”

“Seriously? What?”

Claire looked at Shane, and he took one for the team. “Dinner with me,” he said. “It’s kind of an anniversary.”

“Awwww, really? That’s so sweet!” Eve leveled a finger at him. “Do not take her to the chili dog place.”

“A real restaurant. With tablecloths. Hey, I’m not a complete idiot.”

Kim stared at Shane, and in that moment, Claire realized this wasn’t just an act. . . . Kim really did like Shane—a lot.

She recognized pain when she saw it.

“So,” Eve said, and turned to Kim. “Movies, right? Something scary?”

Kim got herself together before Eve could see the same thing Claire had noticed. “Sure,” she said. “What ev. You pick. No girly movies.”

Eve looked deeply offended. “Me? Girly movies? Bite your tongue off. No, seriously. Right now.”

Kim laughed, and Eve walked her to the door. Claire said to Shane, “Anniversary?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Depends on how you count things,” he said. “Yeah. It’s got to be some kind of anniversary. Probably of one of us not getting killed.”

Michael said, “Speak for yourself, man.” He picked up the controller and restarted the game. “I can’t believe you almost let her win.”

“Man, I almost let you win sometimes,” Shane said, and dropped into his spot on the other end of the couch. “Game on.”

The next day, Claire sat through classes without any real sense of accomplishment, took a quiz—which she aced—and dropped in on Myrnin’s lab around noon. It looked neat and clean again, which was two miracles in a row as far as she was concerned. She went to the bookshelves and started looking over journals, trying to find the most recent ones, although those would be the most difficult to figure out, given that most of his notes would have been taken when he was sick, and mostly crazy.

But she was curious.

She was struggling through last summer’s book when Myrnin popped in through the portal, wearing a big floppy black hat and a kind of crazy/stylish pimp coat that covered him from neck to ankles, black leather gloves, and a black and silver walking stick with a dragon’s head on it.