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Rachel Caine

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“Yeah, I get it; you're a vampire," she said. "Creepy. And okay, a little hot, I admit." "You don't mean that." "Come on. I still like you, you know, even if you... crave plasma." Michael blinked and looked at her as if he had never seen her before. "You what?" "Like. You." Eve enunciated slowly, as if Michael might not know the words. "Idiot. I always have. What, you didn't know?" Eve sounded cool and grown-up about it, but Claire saw the hectic color in her cheeks, under the makeup. "How clueless are you? Does it come with the fangs?" "I guess I... I just thought... Hell. I just didn't think... You're kind of intimidating, you know." "I'm intimidating? Me? I run like a rabbit from trouble, mostly," Eve said. "It's all show and makeup. You're the one who's intimidating. I mean, come on. All that talent, and you look... Well, you know how you look." " How do I look?" He sounded fascinated now, and he'd actually moved a little closer to Eve on the couch. She laughed. "Oh come on. You're a total model-babe." "You're kidding." "You don't think you are?" He shook his head. "Then you're kind of an idiot, Glass. Smart, but and idiot." Eve crossed her arms. “So? What exactly do you think about me, except that I’m intimidating?” “I think you’re…you’re…ah, interesting?” Michael was amazingly bad at this, Claire thought, but then he saved it by looking away and continuing. “I think you’re beautiful. And really, really strange.” Eve smiled and looked down, and that looked like a real blush, under the rice powder. “Thanks for that, “ she said, “I never thought you knew I existed, or if you did, that you thought I was anything but Shane’s bratty freak friend.” “Well, to be fair, you are Shane’s bratty freak friend.” “Hey!” “You can be bratty and beautiful,” Michael said. “I think it’s interesting.”

“You are not trapped in the box forever," Myrnin said, "as you well know. But I still need you, so you will simply have to stop your endless wailing and get on with things. If you want an escape, research your way out." "Or you'll what?" Myrnin's eyes snapped open, and he bared his fangs - not that he could bite the computer. It was just a reaction of frustration, Claire thought. "Or I'll disconnect your puzzle sets," he said, "and you can read the works of Bulwer-Lytton for entertainment for the next twenty years before I take pity on you.”

“For now," Amelie said. "Take her home. And -- " "Say nothing -- yes, yes, I heard you the first seven hundred times," Myrnin said, much too sharply. "I'm ancient. I'm not deaf. " Amelie's cold expression deepened, and her gray eyes took on an unpleasant reddish glitter. "Do you think I find this a joking matter?" "Maybe you should," he said. "And maybe you should have cut off the old man's head when you had the chance. Absolutely no one would have argued with that choice. Merely walling him up, to increase his suffering and create an example -- that was unmerciful, and, worse, it was sloppy. I believe that flapping sound you hear is pigeons, coming home to roost.”

“But why can't we just order what we need? Or buy it?" Myrnin flicked the silver ring on his right hand into the bars of his cell, setting up a metallic ringing. "None of that. Modern children are fools, slaves to the work of others, dependent for everything. Not you. You will learn how to build your tools as well as use them." "You want me to be an engineer?" "Is it not a useful thing for one who studies physics to understand such practical applications?" She stared at him doubtfully. "You're not going to make me get an anvil and make my own screwdrivers or anything, are you?" Myrnin smiled slowly. "What a good idea! I'll consider it.”

“He took the slide of and, before she could stop him, removed the glass top and licked the sample. She fought the urge to gag. He didn't seem at all bothered. He stood quite still, closing his eyes, and then said, "Hmmm. A bit salty, bitter aftertaste...iron...hydroxide." He smiled then, and looked at her as if he was quite proud of himself. "Definitely iron hydroxide. That is a binding agent, is it not?" "You are insane," she said. "You can't go around...licking things that come out of a water treatment plant. That's just...unsanitary." "Life is unsanitary," he said.”

“What about me?" Monica whined. "Do you really want to know?" Shane gave her a glare that should have scorched her hair off. "Be grateful I'm not leaving you as an after-dinner mint on his pillow." Myrnin leaned close to Claire's ear and said, "I think I like your young man." When she reacted in pure confusion, he held up his hands, smiling. "Not in that way, my dear. He just seems quite trustworthy.”

“Myrnin blinked, looked at Eve, and smiled. It was his seductive smile, and it came with a lowering of his thick eyelashes. “Sweet lady,” he said, “could you get me one of those delicious drinks you prepared for my friend, here?” He gracefully indicated Oliver, who remembered the cup of blood still sitting in front of him, and angrily choked it down. “Perhaps warm the bag a bit in hot water first? It’s a bit disgusting, cold.” “Yeah, sure,” Eve sighed. “Want a shot of espresso with that?” Myrnin seemed to be honestly considering it. Claire urgently shook her head no. The last thing she—any of them—needed just now was Myrnin on caffeine.”

“You're kidding, right?" Shane asked. "You don't need caffeine. You need sleep." He held out the last cup, and Claire realized she'd been wrong; there was someone else in the shadows. Deeper in the shadows even than Oliver had been. Myrnin. He looked completely different to her now, and not just because he wasn't crazy anymore. He'd remembered how to dress himself, for one thing; gone were the costume coats and Mardi Gras beads and flip-flops. He had on a gray knit shirt, black pants, and a jacket that looked a bit out of period, but not as much as before. All clean. He even had shoes on. "Yes, you must sleep," he agreed, as he accepted the cup and tried the coffee. "I've gone to far too much trouble to train up another apprentice at this late date. We have work to do, Claire. Good, hard work. Some of it may even earn you accolades, once you leave Morganville." She smiled slowly. "You'll never let me leave." Myrnin's dark eyes fixed on hers. "Maybe I will," he said. "But you must give me at least a few more years, my friend. I have a great deal to learn from you, and I am a very slow learner.”

“Bishop was all done with the witty conversation. 'Will you swear?' And Myrnin said, shockingly, 'I will.' And he proceeded to, a string of swearwords that made Claire blink. He ended with, '—frothy fool-born apple-john! Cheater of vandals and defiler of dead dogs!' and did another twirl and bow. He looked up with a red, red grin that was more like a leer. 'Is that what you meant, my lord?”

“Bishop was all done with the witty converstaion. "Will you swear?" And Myrnin said, shockingly, "I will." And he proceeded to, a string of swearwords that made Claire blink. He ended with, "--frothy fool-born apple-john! Cheater of vandals and defiler of dead dogs!" and did another twirl and bow. He looked up with a red, red grin that was more like a leer. "Is that what you meant, my lord?”

“Claire was struggling through last summer’s diary volume when Myrnin popped in through the portal, wearing a big floppy black hat and a kind of crazy/stylish pimp coat that covered him from neck to ankles, black leather gloves, and a black and silver walking stick with a dragon’s head on it. And, on his lapel was a button that said, If you can read this, thank a teacher.”

“Myrnin came in from the back room, carrying a load of books, which he dropped with a loud bang on the floor to glare at the two of them. "Excuse me," he said, "but when did my lab become appropriate for snogging?" "What's snogging?" Shane asked. "Ridiculous displays of inappropriate affection in front of me. Roughly translated. And what are you doing here?”

“What's possible?” - she asked “Anything,” he said absently. “But that’s not what I was talking about. Oh, hello, Claire. You’re in good time. I need an extra pair of hands.” “As long as I keep them attached,” she said, which earned her a startled stare. “The things you say to me, you’d think I was some sort of monster.” -- Myrnin and Claire”

“She was almost at the top of the steps, and Shane was right behind her, when she heard Myrnin say, in a quiet voice that was like the old Myrnin, the one she actually liked, "I'm sorry, Claire. I never meant - I'm sorry. Sometimes I don't know... I don't know what I am thinking. I wish... I wish things could be like they were before.”

“Here," Myrnin said, his voice still gentle and low. "Amelie said you had to work. No one said you had to work alone." He picked up the next part and slotted it in, took the screwdriver from Claire's numbed fingers, and fastened it with a couple of deft, fast movements. "I'll be your hands." She wanted to cry, because it was so sweet, but it wouldn't do any good.”

“Myrnin, who hadn't said much, suddenly reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened, shocked, and for a panicked second wondered whether he'd suddenly decided to snack on her neck... but it was just a hug. His body felt cold against hers, and way too close, but then he let go and stepped back. "You've done very well. I'm extremely proud of you," he said. There was a touch of color high in his pale cheeks. "Do go home now. And shower. You reek like the dead." Which, coming from a vampire, was pretty rich.”

“She came awake, stomach rumbling, and opened her eyes to see a plate being held right under her nose. When she reached for it, Shane snatched it back. "Nuh-uh. Mine." "Share!" she demanded. "Man, you are one grabby girlfriend." She grinned. It always made her feel so fiercly warm inside to hear him say that- the girlfriend part, not the grabby part. "If you love me, you'll give me a taco." "Seriously? That's all you got? What about you'll do sexy, illegal things to me for a taco?" "Not for a taco," she said. "I'm not cheap." "They're brisket tacos." "Now you're talking.”

“He's not doing anything he shouldn't be doing, right?" "Like what?" "Like hitting on you." "Ew. No, of course not. He doesn't see me that way." Michael shook his head and went back to his coffee. "What? You think he does?" "Sometimes he looks at you a little... oddly, that's all. Maybe you're right. Maybe he just wants you for your blood." "Again, Ew! What's with you this morning?" "Not enough coffee.”

“You okay?" "Fine." "Your heart's beating really fast." "Gee, thanks. That's very comforting that you can hear it." He smiled, and it was the old Michael, the one she'd first met before all the vamp stuff. "Yeah, I know it is. Sorry. Just stay behind me if there's trouble." "You sound like Shane." "Well, he did say he'd kill me if I got you hurt. I'm just looking after my own neck." "Liar.”

“I’m faster than the rest of you, if .. Because I’m a vampire,” Michael said, and it was some kind of breakthrough for him to say that. “If you get in trouble, I’ll be there.” “Nice,” Shane said. “I’m warming up to this bloodsucking thing, Mikey.” “No, you’re not.” “Okay, no, I’m not, but right now let’s pretend I am.”

“Amelie said, “I won’t be your servant in Morganville. Nor should you be mine. Equals.” She offered her hand to him, and he looked down at it, clearly taken aback. But he took it. “Now defend what is ours, my partner.” He grinned … grinned! … and whirled to meet Myrnin in midleap as Myrnin attacked.”

“Claire said. “I might be able to get him to stop.” “Who, crazy dude? Maybe. Or he might pull your head off,” Shane said. “I kind of worry.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah?” “A little bit.” “That’s …nice.” He studied her, and returned the smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Kind of is, actually.”