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and reminded her again that no matter how cute and cuddly Myrnin could sometimes be, there was something about him that just...wasn't quite right.

Not for a human, anyway.

"Frank!" Myrnin yelled, making her jump. "Do you have any insights to share? At all?"

Frank Collins's voice came out of every speaker in the room--the old radio set in the corner, the newer TV mounted on the wall, the computer on the antique desk, and Claire's own cell phone in her pocket. "You don't have to yell. Believe me, I can hear you. Wish to hell I could shut you off."

"Well, you can't, and I need your particular expertise," Myrnin said. He sounded smug and a little bit vindictive; Myrnin didn't like Frank, Frank didn't like anybody who drank plasma, and the whole thing was just plainweird.

Because Frank Collins, Shane's dad, had once been a badass vampire-hunting criminal, and then Mr. Bishop had made him a self-loathing vampire, and now he was...dead. She was listening to a dead man speaking over the radio.

Well, notdead , exactly. After Frank had died saving Claire and Shane, Myrnin had scooped out his still-sort-of-living brain, stuck it in a plasma bath, and hooked it up to a computer. Frank Collins was now the brain that ran Morganville, and, thankfully, Shane didn't know.

Claire could honestly not imagine howthat conversation was going to go when he found out. It made her ill to even try to imagine it.

"This would go easier if you'd show your face," Myrnin said. "Please. You may be assured that by please , I meando it , or I'll put an injection of something nasty in your plasma."

"Myrnin!" Claire blurted, wide-eyed. He shrugged.

"You have no idea how difficult he's been lately. I thoughtAda was a problem, but she was positively the model of decorum next to this one," he said. "Well? I'm waiting, Frank."

In the corner, a faint shadow appeared, a blur of static that resolved into a flat image on the three-dimensional background. He wasn't bothering with a color image; maybe Frank thought shades of gray made him look more badass.

If so, he was right.

His computer image looked years younger than Claire had last seen him. He had grungy good looks, though his hair was long and messy, and he still had a wicked bad scar on his face. He was dressed in black leather, including a jacket with lots of silver buckles, and big, stomping boots. "Better?" his voice asked. The image's mouth moved, but his voice still came in surround sound from the speakers. "And if you mess with me, I'll hit you back, you bloodsucking geek. Don't think I can't."

Myrnin smiled, fangs down. "Well, you cantry ," he almost purred. "Now. Let's have a chat about the

criminal elements of Morganville, since you have such a fine and intimate acquaintance with them."

Frank's 2-D avatar didn't have much in the way of facial expression, but, then, Frank in 3-D form hadn't been big on emoting, either. His voice, however, was full of sarcasm. "Always glad to be of help to the vampire community," he said. "We all know there is no crime in Morganville. And the humans are all just happy to be here. It's paradise on earth. Ain't that what it says in the brochure?"

Myrnin lost his smile, and his dark eyes got that dangerously hot look that made Claire nervous. "I suppose you think you're irreplaceable in your current position," he said. "You're a brain in a jar, Frank. By definition, you are eminently replaceable."

Now Frank's avatar smiled. It seemed just as artificial as the rest of him. "Then pull the plug, if you think you can do better."

Myrnin's gaze slid to Claire, and she felt that chill again, the one that rushed from the bottom of her spine right up to the top of her head. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She knew he'd always thought she was a better candidate for the brain-in-a-jar thing--which meant he thought she'd be easier to control. Frank had just been at the right, or wrong, place at the right time to take her place.

That could always change.

Frank must have figured that out, too, because he said, "You touch my kid's girl, and I'll end this miserable town. You know I can."

"Ada couldn't pull that off, and she had much longer to think about it than you have," Myrnin said, suddenly back to his old self. "So let's abandon the empty threats, shall we? And get back to the subject. I