Feast of Fools Page 0,49

She managed a smile, despite everything.

"I can't wait."

Shane banged his head back against the wall. "Chicks."

Her next visit to Myrnin's lab brought a surprise. When she descended the steps, she saw the glow of lamps, and her first thought was, Oh God, he's out of his cell. Her second was that she'd better get the dart gun ready, and she was unzipping the backpack to reach for it when she saw that it wasn't Myrnin at all.

The overcrowded, dimly lit lab - which was more like a storeroom of outdated equipment, really - held a chair and reading lamp. Seated in the chair, turning pages in one of the fragile, ancient journals, was none other than Oliver.

Claire put her hand on the butt of the dart gun, just in case, although she wasn't really sure what good a dose of antidote would do in this situation.

"Oh, relax, I'm not going to attack you, Claire," Oliver said in a bored voice. He didn't even look up. "Besides, we're on the same side these days. Or haven't you heard?"

She came down the remaining steps slowly. "I guess I haven't. Was there a memo?" Granted, he'd come running when Eve had called about Bishop, but that didn't necessarily put him in the category of ally in Claire's books.

"When outsiders threaten the community, the community pulls together against the outsiders. It's a rule as old as the tribal system. You and I are in the same community, and we have a common enemy."

"Mr. Bishop."

Oliver looked up, marking the place in the journal with one finger. "You have questions, I'd assume. I would, in your place."

"All right. How long have you known him?"

"I don't know him. I doubt anyone does who's still alive today."

Claire slipped into a rickety chair across from him. "But you've met him."

"Yes."

"When did you meet him, then?"

Oliver tilted his head, eyes narrowed, and she remembered how she'd once thought he was nice, just a normal kind of person. Not so much now.

Not so much a person, either.

"I met him in Greece," he said. "Some time ago. I don't think the circumstances would be particularly enlightening to you. Or comforting, come to think of it."

"Did you try to kill him?"

"Me?" Oliver smiled slowly. "No."

"Did Amelie?"

He didn't answer, but he continued to smile. The silence stretched until she wanted to scream, but she knew he wanted her to babble.

She didn't.

"Amelie's affairs are none of yours," Oliver said. "I assume you've been listening to Myrnin's chatter.

I confess, I find it fascinating he's still with us. I thought him dead and gone, long ago."

"Like Bishop?"

"He's quite mad, you know. Myrnin. And he has been for as long as I can recall, though it certainly got worse in more recent times." Oliver's eyes took on a faraway look. "He did so love the hunt, but he was always such a pathetic weeping idiot after. It doesn't surprise me he wants to blame his own weakness on some - mythical disease. Some people simply aren't cut out for this life."

Of all the things Claire had expected, that one caught her off guard. "You don't believe there's a disease?"

"I don't believe that because Myrnin and a few others are - defective - that it means we're all declining, no."

"But - you can't, um - "

"Reproduce?" Oliver said it without any emotion at all. "Perhaps we don't wish to."

"You tried to turn Michael."

Oh, she shouldn't have said that, she really shouldn't have; Oliver's face tensed, and she saw the skull underneath that smooth, pale skin. A flicker of red went through his eyes. "So Michael says."

"So Amelie says. You wanted - you wanted your own power base here. Your own converts. But you couldn't do it. That surprised you, didn't it? Because all of a sudden you're - not able to."

"Child," Oliver said, "you should think carefully about the next thing you say to me. Very, very carefully."

He followed up with another stretch of silent staring, and this time Claire did look away. She picked at invisible lint on her backpack. "I should get to work," she said. "And you aren't supposed to be in here without Amelie knowing about it."

"How do you know she doesn't?"

"There'd be somebody else here watching you if she did," Claire pointed out, and got a small, cold smile in response.

"Clever girl. Yes, very well. Are you going to tell me to leave?"

"I don't think I can tell you to do anything, Oliver, but if you want me to call Amelie - " She