Rachel Caine: Midnight Alley

"Yes, I am responsible for that, among many other things," he said. "Later, Claire. Go now. Talk tomorrow."

He took hold of her and bodily shoved her through the doorway, and slammed it behind her. She heard his hand hit the wood with stunning force.

"Lock it!" he shouted. Claire dug the key out of her pocket. She could barely get it in the lock; the light was bad here, and her hands were shaking. But she managed, and heard the solid click as the tumblers fell. "Take the key!" Myrnin yelled.

"But — "

"You're responsible for me now, Claire. You must keep me safe." Myrnin's voice had fallen lower now, as if he'd gotten tired. "Keep me safe from everyone."

And then he started ... crying.

"Myrnin?" Claire said, bending closer to the door. "Are you okay? Should I come in and — "

The whole door vibrated with the force of his blow. Claire scrambled backward, shocked.

And the crying continued. Lost, little-boy crying.

Claire hesitated for a few seconds, then turned to see that Amelie hadn't left after all. She was standing quietly by the desk, in the glow of the single candle, and her expression was composed, but sad.

"Myrnin's mind is not what it once was. He has periods of lucidity, however. And at all costs, you must take full advantage of these to learn what he has to teach. It can't be lost, Claire. It must not be lost. There are things he does that —" Amelie shook her head. "There are projects in motion that must continue."

Claire's heart was racing, her whole body shaking. "He's crazy, he's a vampire, and you want me to be his student."

"No," Amelie said. "I require you to be his student. You will comply, Claire, by the rules of the contract you signed of your own free will. This is valuable work. I would not risk you unnecessarily."

Have you explained to her the risks? Myrnin had asked that. "What risks?" Claire demanded.

Amelie merely pointed to the bookcase, where her backpack still leaned. Claire grabbed it and hauled it to her shoulder — and paused, because a doorway had formed in the blank area of the wall. A solid wooden door, with a plain knob. Identical to those at the university. "Open it," Amelie said.

"But — "

"Open the door, Claire."

Claire did, and the glare of fluorescent lights and the dead, air-conditioned smell of the AdministrationBuilding swept over her in a rush.

Amelie blew out the light. In the darkness, Claire couldn't see her anymore.

"Be ready at four o'clock tomorrow in the University Centre," Amelie said. "Sam will fetch you. I suggest you do the reading Myrnin requires of you. And Claire — tell no one what you're doing here. Absolutely no one."

It wasn't until Claire was in the hall, with the door shut, that she realized Amelie hadn't answered her question. She opened the door again, but — there was just a room piled with discarded, broken furniture. Something moved furtively in the corner. There was a window with crooked blinds, but no Amelie. No cave of books. No Myrnin.

"He's sick," Claire said aloud, to whatever was rustling in the corner behind a three-legged desk. "That's why she talked to him like that. He's old, and he's sick. Maybe even dying."

She shut the door gently, adjusted the weight of her backpack, and looked down at the two ancient books in her hand.

Last Will and Testament.

She hoped that wasn't a sign of her future.

###

Eve chattered on about her day on the drive back, talking about some boy who had totally tried to ask her out, and Amy's boyfriend Chad who'd come by to help clean up and was a total sweetheart, and how her boss was a toerag but at least he'd given her a twenty-cent-an-hour raise. "I think that's just for not quitting in the first couple of weeks," Eve said, but she sounded pretty jacked about it, and Claire was pleased for her. "Yeah, it's only a couple more dollars a week, but — "

"But it's something," Claire nodded. "Congratulations, Eve. You deserve it. You're really good at this. I'll bet you could run the whole thing if you wanted."

"Me? Manager?" Eve laughed so hard she snorted. "Yeah, like I'd be able to order people around and have anybody listen to me. Get serious."

"No, I mean it. You're nice, people like you, you know what you're doing. You could."

Eve shot her a sideways look that was almost a frown. "You're serious."

"Yep."

"I don't know if I'm ready for management. Don't you have to wear a tie for that?"

"You've got one," Claire said solemnly.

"Only one with the Grim Reaper on it. Hey, wait. That could be my management style! Screw up and I'll kill you." Eve grinned. "They ought to teach that in business school."

"They probably do here," Claire sighed.

"What's up with you, CB?" CB stood for Claire Bear, which was Eve's funny nickname for her. Claire didn't think she much resembled a bear, not even the stuffed Gund variety. "You seem really, I don't know, thoughtful."

"Yeah, well — " She couldn't talk to Eve about Myrnin. "Homework and stuff." Yeah, it was just that she'd never had quite this kind of pass/fail pressure before. She'd flipped through the book on Egyptian inscriptions. That was pretty straightforward, though she wasn't sure how actually Egyptian it all was. Interesting, though. The other one, Last Will and Testament, was lots tougher. Tons of symbols in some weird notation she didn't understand. She'd be up all night trying to make sure she remembered even the basics. "Eve ... has anybody ever broken their contract in Morganville? I mean, and lived?"

"Contract?" Eve shot her yet another look, this one definitely coming with a side order of frowning. "You're talking about a vamp contract? Sure. People have tried everything, one time or another. But not very successfully."

"What happened?"

"Back in the old days, they got hanged. These days, I think they just throw 'em in jail until they rot, if the vampires don't eat 'em, but hey. Not like you and me have to worry about it, right? Live free or die!" Eve held up her hand. "High five!"

Claire slapped it, without much enthusiasm. She was thinking about the way the pen had felt in her hand, moving across that stiff paper. Signing her life away. And she felt ashamed.

"Why?" Eve asked.

"Huh?"

"Why are you asking?" Eve made the turn onto Lot Street, and the glow of the windows of the Glass House — home — spilled out into the street. "C'mon, Claire. Someone you know thinking about it?"

"Um ... there's this guy at school. I just heard him say — I wondered, that's all."

"Well, quit wondering. His problem, not yours. Ready for the fire drill? Quick like a bunny. Go!" Eve braked the black Caddy hard, Claire threw open her passenger-side door and jogged around the back of the car, banged open the white picket gate, and raced up the walk to the steps with her house keys in her hand. She heard the engine die, and the noisy clatter of Eve's shoes behind her.

Eve's steps stopped. Stopped dead. Claire whirled, scared and expecting to see a vampire on the prowl, but Eve was just checking the mailbox, grabbing a small handful of stuff and then hurrying up the steps as she sorted through it. Claire stepped over the threshold, and Eve followed, hip-bumping the door shut behind them and shooting the bolt with her elbow, a feat Claire would never have tried — or been able to accomplish with half that grace.

"Electric bill, water bill — internet bill. Oh, and something for you." Eve pulled out a small bubble-padded mailer from the pile and handed it over. "No return address."

Who'd be sending her anything? Well, Mom and Dad, sure, and the occasional card from another relative. Her former BFF Elizabeth had sent a postcard from Texas A&M, but only the one. Claire didn't recognize the neat handwriting on the outside of the envelope. Eve left her to it and walked down the hallway, yelling to let Shane and Michael know they were back, to which Michael yelled back for her to get in here and make me some dinner, now, woman.