Claire's knees wobbled, and she had to sit down, quickly. It was funny, and not funny at all. It was terrifying.
What had Hannah said about the vampire from the diner recovering? She didn't. Best we can tell, she never will. And Oliver had been forced to kill another vampire who went nuts, just last night.
Myrnin was the old Myrnin. The crazy Myrnin, the one he'd been when he'd been at his worst, before he'd killed Ada and put her brain into the machine. He'd been cruel. And he'd been insane.
He wasn't at all the man she knew. And now he knew what they were after.
"We have to get him back," Claire said aloud, feeling sick and horrified. "We have to."
Because she cared about him . . . but also because Myrnin was the only one who knew the password to shut down the machine.
She tried calling Amelie, but got voice mail. She left a message to send someone to detain Myrnin--more than one someone, preferably heavily armed. Claire promised to try to shut down the machine in the morning, when the lab was Myrnin free. If she couldn't crack his password, she'd do exactly what Shane suggested: she'd pull the plug. Better to destroy it all than to risk this continuing.
Getting Shane's head examined at the hospital was a little crazy, because of the number of strange incidents and injuries that were going on. Turned out he didn't have a concussion, but he did need stitches at his hairline. Again.
He wasn't too upset. "Girls love interesting scars," he said. "Right? Girls? Are you with me?" Eve held up her hand. So did Claire. Michael and Shane high-fived, but not very hard, because Shane winced. "At least whatever's going on hasn't hit any of us four. That's good."
Claire looked at Michael, but he didn't seem to know why she was staring his way. He didn't remember. Or if he did, he'd chalked it up to dreams, the way so many people probably had.
Eve suddenly turned her head and watched someone walk by behind Claire. "Wow," she said. "Can't even come here to get away from the bad elements. Monica on your six, CB."
Claire looked. It was definitely Monica, heading straight for them. She was trailed by Gina, but not Jennifer--both dressed as if they expected a party to break out any moment, but in oddly out-of-date dresses. There was something strange about the way Monica moved, though. It looked less graceful than Claire was used to, almost awkward.
Monica went right past Claire without a glance, glared at Eve, smiled at Michael, and focused on Shane. "Oh, my God, you're here, too! I was wondering where you were. Didn't you get my texts?"
Shane looked at her, winced, and shut his eyes. "Please make the bad thing go away." He groaned. "I've already got a headache."
Monica's bright smile faltered, and Claire could have sworn she saw hurt flare briefly across her expression. Then the smile just got brighter. "Oh," she said. "I guess you didn't get them. I e-mailed you, too. I'll send everything again."
"Let's not," Shane said. "Are you kidding me? What are we, friends?"
Monica frowned at him. "Quit being a little prick, Shane. Of course we're friends." She giggled. Giggled. "Well, you know. Kissing friends."
Shane opened his eyes and stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it and looked at Michael, who was staring at Monica with exactly the same WTF look. "Not that we couldn't be more," Monica said, and winked at him. "Remember that makeout session in the closet at school? That was hot, right?"
Shane actually blushed. Little red spots high on his cheeks. Claire stared at them, fascinated, and thought, This is like watching one of those reality-show train wrecks. It was almost . . . entertaining. "Shut up," Shane said. He sounded like he was choking on something.
"Oh, relax. It's not like we did it or anything. Yet."
"Seriously. Shut. Up."
Monica must have finally gotten the idea that Shane was really not joking, because she looked a little thrown, then hurried on to another topic. "So what happened to you? Oh, we're here because Jennifer got into her mom's gin or something and forgot how to drive, even though she just learned. So funny! She totally destroyed her mom's car--at least, I think it was her mom's car. Some kind of red convertible. Tacky! So she's a couple of rooms over. You?"
"Just do me a favor and leave, Monica. I don't need the aggravation right now." When Shane wanted to be, he could be blunt and kind of mean, and Claire actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the way Monica's smile collapsed.
"Jeez, I was just trying to be nice, Collins," Monica said. "You don't have to be such a toe rag all the time. You're not that cute, you know. I can do better. Lots better."
She flounced off. Literally flounced, with her hair bouncing. So odd.
Shane said, finally, "Did that remind anybody else of something?"
"Yes," Eve said, tapping her lower lip with a bloodred fingernail. "How much I need to shave her head while she's sleeping."
"That's not what I meant. Mike?"
"School," Michael said instantly. "That's what she was like in school when she was coming on to you."
"Speaking of school . . ." Eve said. "What the hell was this about the closet makeout session?"
"Nothing."
"Did you seriously tongue-wrestle Monica in the--"
"Eve, shut up."
"No, seriously, I have to know this. Were you high? Because that is honestly the only excuse I can think of."
"It wasn't my fault. She grabbed me and pulled me in." Shane got that flush in his cheeks again. "Once. It was once. And I told her to f**k off the next day." Shane's eyes widened, and Claire saw his expression change. "The next day. That was the day she . . . the day she told me she'd make me sorry."