Claire's mouth went dry. "What about my mom and dad? Did you--"
"Oliver brought me the waivers last night, and I programmed in their exceptions," he said, and met her eyes in the dim, flickering light. "Your parents will remember everything. That's a risk, a great risk. It would be safer, and kinder, if I had been allowed to take their burdens away."
"They won't remember that I'm here if you do that. They'll think I--" She could hardly bear to say it out loud. "They'll think I ran away. Or that I'm dead."
He kept staring into her eyes. She couldn't read his expression at all. "And you don't think that would be kinder, in the end?"
"No," she snapped. "Why would you?"
He didn't answer, just slithered out from under the console. Before she could get out, he'd tapped his password in again. The LED on the keyboard glowed red.
"Don't touch it," Myrnin said, and there was a certain chill in his voice she hardly recognized. "Only I can alter the machine from this point on. I don't want you down here. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"From now on, the machine is my responsibility," Myrnin said. "Only mine."
That did not make her feel any better. Claire swore to herself that she was going to figure out the password. She had to understand what was going on, and somehow, this machine was the key.
Everything seemed quiet the rest of the morning. Claire walked home, after promising Myrnin she'd deliver doughnuts the next day. She didn't see any crazy people, or even confused people. Everyone seemed to have a purpose and understand where they were going.
Was it possible that she'd really just blown it all out of proportion because she was so scared by the fate of poor, doomed Kyle, and so tired from the brutal repair session on the machine? Things looked different today. Better, somehow. She felt a little foolish, really, after she'd stopped in a couple of stores and talked to perfectly normal (for Morganville) people, who didn't seem to have noticed anything odd at all.
Outside of the used bookstore, she ran into another familiar--and unwelcome--face. He stepped out of the mouth of an alley in front of her, keeping to the shadows, and she pulled herself to a sudden halt as she realized that she was facing Frank Collins.
Shane's dad looked just the same as before--pale, with that scar disfiguring his face. She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling, but he looked menacing as hell. It was his default expression.
"Stay away from me," Claire said, and started to walk around him. He stepped in her path. She went off the curb into the sunlight, and that stopped him. "Just leave us alone, okay?"
"I need to talk to my son," Frank said. "I need to explain some things. He trusts you."
"Yeah, and I don't trust you. Why should I?"
"I saved your life," Frank said. "That ought to buy me a few minutes of your time."
"Well, it doesn't," Claire said, and kept on walking. "Don't follow me anymore."
He stood there watching her go, and when she finally looked back at the corner, he was gone. She shivered. There was something feral about Frank Collins now, something that made her hope she never ran into him in the dark.
She decided not to tell Shane about any of it.
She got a call from her mother just as she entered the swinging gate in the picket fence around the Glass House, and sat down on the steps in the warm sun to talk. Her dad was in the hands of some of the most expert heart doctors in the world, Mom assured her. He was resting comfortably, and she'd checked into a hotel nearby. Oliver had sent money to allow them to get an apartment until her father was well enough, and then he'd promised to refund the money they'd spent on the house in Morganville, although Mom was still hell-bent on coming back as soon as Dad was out of the woods.
It seemed very out of character for Oliver to do something that nice; Claire thought it had probably been an order, a pointed one, from Amelie, and she'd made Oliver do it because she wanted him to remember who was in charge. She and Oliver were often like that--Oliver wasn't a comfortable choice for her second in command, but he was good at it. He just didn't think he deserved to be only second, and Amelie had to watch her back with him, always.
It felt good to hear her mother's voice sound so strong and confident for a change. Her parents hadn't been right, here. The stress had hurt her dad, and her mom had . . . withered, somehow. She'd always been strong out there, but in here she'd seemed weak and lost.
This was better. Claire had to believe that it was better.
"Should I come this weekend?" she asked. "To see Dad?"
"Maybe give it another week, honey; he's still going through a lot of tests with these new doctors. I'm sure he'd like to wait and see you once he's not being pulled away for new adventures in science every few minutes." "Are you doing okay?"
"Of course I am, Claire. This isn't the first time he's been in the hospital, and I'm booked in a very nice hotel. They even have a spa. I might just go get a massage later."
"You should," Claire said. "You really should. You deserve it, Mom."
Her mother laughed a little. "Oh, baby, you are the sweetest girl in the world." The laughter faded. "I hate to see you stay there. You put yourself at so much risk. But I promise you we will come back for you. I'm not leaving you alone there."
"I'm not alone; I have lots of friends. And I'd risk a lot more right now if I tried to leave; you know that. It's better if I stick it out here for a while. I can learn a lot from Myrnin, anyway. He's better than a whole roster of teachers at MIT." When he's sane, she thought but didn't say.