"You really think he'll keep his word?"
Michael shrugged and opened the door of a standard-issue dark vampire-tinted sedan, exactly the same as the one Sam had driven. A Ford, as it happened. Nice to know the vamps were buying American. "I tried," he said. "Shane doesn't listen to much anything I have to say anymore."
Claire got into the car and buckled in. As Michael climbed in the driver's side, she said, "It's not your fault. He's just not dealing with it very well. I don't know what we can do about that."
"Nothing," Michael said, and started the car. "We can't do anything about it at all."
It was a short drive, of course, and as far as Claire could tell from the dimly seen streets outside Michael took the same route Sam had to the alley, and Myrnin's cave. Michael parked the car at the curb. When she got out, though, Claire realized something, and bent to look into the dim interior of the car, and ducked back inside.
"Crap," she said. "You can't come inside, can you? You can't go out in the sun!"
Michael shook his head. "I'm supposed to wait out here for you until the sun goes down, then I'll come in. Amelie said she'd make sure you were safe until then."
"But -- " Claire bit her lip. It wasn't Michael's fault. There were about three hours of sun left, so she was just going to have to watch her own back for a while. "Okay. See you after dark."
She closed the car door. When she straightened up she saw that Gramma Katherine Day was on the porch of her big Founder's house, rocking and sipping what looked like iced tea. Claire waved. Gramma Day nodded.
"You bein' careful?" she called.
"Yes ma'am!"
"I told the Queen, I don't like her putting you down there with that thing. I told her," Gramma Day said, with a fierce stab of her finger for emphasis. "You come on up here and have some iced tea with me, girl. That thing down there, he'll wait. He don't know where he is half the time, anyway."
Claire smiled and shook her head. "I can't, ma'am, I'm supposed to be there on time. Thank you, though." She turned toward the alley, then had a thought. "Oh -- who's the Queen?"
Gramma made an impatient fly-waving gesture. "Her, of course. The White Queen. You're just like Alice, you know. Down the rabbit hole with the Mad Hatter."
Claire didn't dare think about that too much, because the phrase off with her head! loomed way too close. She gave Gramma Day another polite smile and wave, hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder, and went to Night School.
Chapter Eight
Amelie had made sure she was safe, all right. Shed done it by locking Myrnin up.
Claire dropped her backpack at the bottom of the stairs -- she always put it where it was easy to grab in mid-run -- and spotted a new addition to the lab: a cage. And Myrnin was inside of it.
"Oh my God -- " She took a few steps toward him, navigating around the usual haphazard stacks of books, and bit her lip. It was, as far as she could tell, the same cage that the vampires had used to lock up Shane in Founder's Square - heavy black bars, and the whole thing was on wheels. Vampire-proof, hopefully. Whoever had locked Myrnin in had been nice enough to give him a whole pile of books, and a comfy (if threadbare) tangle of blankets and faded pillows. He was lounging in the corner on the cushions, with a pair of old-fashioned Benjamin Franklin-style glasses perched on the end of his hooked nose. He was reading.
"You're late," he said, as he turned a page. Claire's mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't think of a thing to say. "Oh, don't fret about the cage. It's for your precaution, of course. Since Samuel isn't here to watch over you." He turned another page, but his eyes weren't moving to follow text. He was pretending to read, and somehow, that was worse than heartbreaking. "Amelie's idea. I can't say that I really approve."
She finally was able to say, "I'm sorry."
Myrnin shrugged and closed the book, which he dropped with a bang on the pile next to him. "I've been in cages before this," he said. "And no doubt I will be let out once your appointed guardian is here to chaperone. In the meantime, let's continue with our instruction. Pull a chair close. You'll excuse me if I don't get up, but I'm a bit taller than -- " He reached up and rapped the bars overhead. "Amelie tells me you have enrolled in advanced placement classes."
Claire gratefully took that as an opportunity not to think about how disturbing this was, seeing him locked up like an animal in a cage, because of her. She read off her class schedule, and answered his questions, which were sharply worded and a strange mix of expert knowledge and complete ignorance. He understood philosophy and biochem; he didn't know anything at all about Quantum Mechanics, until she explained the basics, and then he nodded.
"Myth and Legend?" he echoed, baffled, when she read off the class title. "Why would Amelie feel it necessary ... ah, no matter. I'm sure she has reason. Your essay?" He held out his hand. Claire dug the stapled computer printout from her bag and handed it over. Six pages, single spaced. The best she could do on the history of a subject she was only just now starting to understand. "I'll read it later. And the books I gave you?"
Claire went to her backpack and pulled them out, then came back to her chair. "I read through Aureus and The Golden Chain of Homer."
"Did you understand them?"
"Not -- really."
"That's because Alchemy is a very secretive field of study. Rather like being a Mason -- are there still Masons?" When she nodded, Myrnin looked oddly relieved. "Well, that's good. The consequences would be quite terrible, you know, if there weren't. --As to alchemy, I can teach you how to translate the codes that were spoken and written, but I'm more concerned that you learn the mechanics than the philosophy. You do understand the methods outlined in the texts for constructing a calcining furnace, yes?"