Myrnin looked up and bared his teeth. His eyes were fierce, but they were sane. Mostly sane, anyway. "They won't tell you the truth, little morsel, but I will. We're dying. Seventy years ago -- "
Sam moved Claire out of his way, and for the first time since she'd met him, Sam actually looked threatening. "Myrnin, shut up!"
"No, " Myrnin sighed. "It's time for talking. I've been shut up enough. " He looked up, and his eyes were red-rimmed and full of tears. "Oh, little girl, do you understand? My race is dying. My race is dying and I don't know how to stop it. "
Claire's mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't find anything to say. Sam turned toward her, fury still radiating off him like heat. "Ignore him, " he said. "He doesn't know what he's saying. We should go, before he remembers what he was about to do. Or forgets what he shouldn't. "
Claire cast a look back over her shoulder at Myrnin, who was holding a broken glass pipe in his hands, trying to fit the two pieces back together. When it wouldn't go, he dropped it and covered his face with both hands. She could see his shoulders shaking. "Can't -- shouldn't somebody help him?"
"There's no help, " Sam said in a voice flat with anger. "There's no cure. And you're not coming back here again if I can do anything about it. "
t;Can't -- shouldn't somebody help him?"
"There's no help, " Sam said in a voice flat with anger. "There's no cure. And you're not coming back here again if I can do anything about it. "
not coming back here again if I can do anything about it. "
t;Can't -- shouldn't somebody help him?"
"There's no help, " Sam said in a voice flat with anger. "There's no cure. And you're not coming back here again if I can do anything about it. "
Claire kept her silence for about half the ride home, and Sam didn't offer anything either. The pressure of questions finally was too much for her. "He was telling the truth, wasn't he?" she asked. "There's some kind of disease. Amelie tried to make me think that not making more vampires was her choice, but that's not really true, is it? You can't. She's the only one who isn't sick. "
Sam's face went tight and still in the glow of the dashboard lights. Sitting in the car was like traveling through space; the dark-tinted windows refused even starlight, so it was just the two of them in their own pocket universe. He had the radio on, and it was playing classical music, something light and sweet.
"No, " he said. "She's sick, too. We all are. Myrnin's been searching for the cause -- and the cure -- for seventy years now, but it's too late now. He's too far gone, and the chance that anyone else could help him through it is too small. I can't let her sacrifice you like this, Claire. I told you that he's had five assistants. I don't want you to become another statistic. "
"What if he doesn't find the cure?" Claire asked. "How long --?"
"Claire, you need to forget you ever heard any of this. I mean it. There are a lot of secrets in Morganville, but this one could kill you. Say nothing, understand? Not to your friends, and not to Amelie. Do you understand?"
His intensity was even more terrifying than Myrnin's, because it was so controlled. She nodded.
It didn't stop the questions from swirling in her brain.
Sam let her out at the curb and watched her until she was inside the house -- it was full dark, and there were plenty of hunting vampires out on a clear, cool night like this. Nobody would hurt her --probably -- but Sam wasn't in the mood to take chances.