"Claire," he said. "Yes, Claire. I know you. Of course I know you."
A feeling of hot relief made her just about melt into the seat cushions. Oh, thank God. She'd caught him at a sane moment. "Myrnin, you have to do something for me. It's really important, okay? I need you to go down to the machine in the basement of the lab. Do that now, okay? Right now."
"My head aches so. Do I have to?"
"I'm really sorry, but this is going to help. Please. Just go now."
She heard noises that she assumed meant he was unlocking the trapdoor, jumping down, walking through to the cavern, and then he said, "All right, I'm here. Claire? Could you come here to help me? I really don't feel at all well."
"In a minute," she promised. "Right now, I need you to go to the keyboard and enter the password you put on the system so we can turn it off. Can you do that?"
"Password," Myrnin said. "I don't think . . . I can't remember any passwords with this headache. Could you come help me?"
"I can't until you do this. Just concentrate. Remember the password, okay? Put it in and then I can come help you."
"Oh, all right . . . I think maybe--yes, I think that's it. I'm turning it off now." She heard sounds of clicking, of what sounded like switches being thrown, and then Myrnin said, "All right. It's safe. You can come back now, Claire."
There was something strange about his voice. It wasn't right. "Myrnin? Did you turn it off?"
"Of course. I did just as you asked. Now come."
That really wasn't right, and Claire felt a shiver working its way up her spine. "Myrnin, are any of the lights still on? Are you sure you turned it off--"
"Come here right now!" Myrnin roared, and she was so shocked she dropped her phone and scrambled away from it in panic, as if it had grown teeth. "Come here, little Claire. Juicy, sweet little Claire who thinks she can fool me into destroying Morganville. Come and get your reward!"
Claire folded up the phone and ended the call. She sat clutching the crossbow, feeling cold even in the sunlight.
She'd never felt so alone, never. Not even when she'd first come to Morganville.
She couldn't stop this. She was helpless. Completely helpless.
She put her head on the deflated air bag and cried.
Eventually, crying wore off, but the feeling of overwhelming failure didn't. She kept the crossbow ready, just in case. She thought she'd go to Eve, find her . . . but then she realized that although Oliver had known where they were going, she had no idea where Eve's house might be. The only thing she could think to do was . . . go back to the Glass House. It seemed like a long, scary walk. There were lots of people roaming around, mostly confused, angry, or terrified. She tried to avoid them, but sometimes they confronted her and wanted to know where their wives, husbands, sons, daughters, moms, dads were. Or what had happened to their houses. Or their cars. Or their jobs.
She could have sworn someone was following her.
She finally just started running, running as if her life depended on it, and there was such a surge of pathetic hope when she saw the Glass House up ahead that she felt sick. She unlocked the door and slammed it behind her and slid down against it, holding her head in her hands.
It'll happen to me, too, she thought. Maybe in an hour. Maybe tomorrow. But I'll forget, too. And when I do, nobody will be able to stop this.
She felt a rush of warmth around her, almost of comfort. It was the house, trying to respond to her misery. She wiped her eyes and sniffled and said, "That doesn't help. Nothing helps."
But somehow, it did help a little, even though she knew it was as useless as a hug during an earthquake. She sucked in a deep breath and got up to go upstairs. No Michael, of course. Not yet. And no sign of Eve, so she probably was at her parents' house, after all. Her door was open, and her clothes were all thrown around. It was impossible to tell whether that was panic or just natural behavior with Eve.
Claire's room was neat and just the way she'd left it. She got into bed and pulled the covers up, keeping the crossbow with her, and curled onto her side. She still had her phone with her, and she paged through the contacts list, feeling miserable and alone. Finally, she tried to call Eve's cell. She didn't know why, but maybe Eve had snapped out of it. Maybe she--
"What?"
That sounded like the Eve she knew. Claire slowly sat up in bed, clutching the phone like a lifeline. "Eve? Oh, thank God. Eve, where are you?"
"Home, duh. Who's this?"
Her heart sank. "C-Claire."
"From school?"
"Uh . . . yeah. From school." She only lied because she felt so bad, and she needed to just hear a friendly voice. Even if that person didn't know who she really was. "In math."
"Oh, yeah, you sit at the back, I remember."
Claire cleared her throat, because her voice sounded thick and teary. "What are you doing?"
"There is some weird shit going down in Weirdsville, let me tell you. I came home and my mom won't talk to me, which is actually nice for a change, but my room is gone. I mean, it's here, but it's full of junk. I had to move stuff to get to my bed! It's like they didn't care if I ever came back." Eve sounded manic, and nervous. "It's weird, I mean, my stuff . . . I think she trashed everything. I can't find my clothes. I think my parents are trying to make me leave. Which, fab, I'll go, you know? I hate it here. Don't you?"
Claire sniffled and wiped her nose. "Yeah," she said faintly. "I do. Where would you go?"
"I don't know. Away, you know? Away from all this crap. Someplace sunny, if you get me."