have the chance."
"No," Michael said raggedly, and staggered to his feet.
And Shane said, "We're not going without Claire."
"I assure you, boys, you will be going, one way or another," Amelie said. "Myrnin. Give the girl to me, and I will deal with this intrusion."
"But--"
"Do you doubt that I will act in the best interests of Morganville?" she asked, holding his gaze. "Have you ever doubted that, in all our years together?"
"But they have Ada," he said, and his voice was small and lost and plaintive. "You have to make them give her back. Please." "I will," Amelie said. "But first, let me have the girl."
Myrnin nodded and shoved Claire at her.
Claire tried to twist aside, but Amelie, without seeming to move at all, was somehow in the way. She took hold of Claire's arm in an ice-cold iron grip, and looked at her with even colder eyes. "Be still," she said. "I'll deal with you in a moment." Claire felt her last hope die, because there was no hint of real recognition in Amelie's face.
Frank said, "You'd better deal with me before you settle with some little schoolkid, or I'll get offended."
"You'd better deal with all of us," Shane said. "I'm not going to let you hurt her."
"You sound brave, Shane, for someone who doesn't remember being in my presence before," Amelie said. "But I won't hurt her. Or any of you." She looked at Claire again, and this time there was warmth in her eyes. A kind of comfort. "I assure you, I am fully aware of what I am doing here."
She remembered. Relief hit Claire, and she sighed as the tension left her body. Things were still dangerous, no question about that, but with Amelie on their side, surely it was going to be all right. She could convince Myrnin to do the right thing.
"They have Ada," Myrnin said. "You have to find her. Please."
Amelie let Claire go and moved her off to the side, out of Myrnin's reach. "There's no need," she said, and the compassion in her voice was a kind of pain all its own. "We both know where Ada is, Myrnin. I know you remember."
He didn't move, and didn't speak, but there was a frantic, feverish glitter in his eyes.
"You've been ill. Ada was caring for you, but she fell ill as well. Weakness has always triggered bad things in you, and she grew weak. One day--"
"No," Myrnin said. It wasn't so much a denial as a plea for her not to keep talking.
"One day I came here and found her dead. Drained of life."
"No!"
"It was too late to save her, but you'd tried, once you came to your senses. Heaven knows you'd tried. You did your best to preserve what you could of her--don't you remember?"
"No, no, no!" Myrnin sank down to a crouch, hiding his face in his hands. "No, it isn't true!"
"You know it is," Amelie said, and walked forward to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "My friend, this isn't the first time we've had this conversation. You become ill, and you forget, and you wait for her to come back. But Ada isn't coming back, is she? She's gone."
"No, she's not gone," Myrnin whispered. "I saved her. I saved her. She can't die now. She can't leave me. She's safe. I'll keep her safe. No one can hurt her."
He still thought Ada was in the machine. That hurt worse than his grief, somehow; it was another tragedy in slow motion, because Claire knew she'd have to see him remember, see him lose what he loved all over again.
Just like everyone else.
But the difference was that Myrnin wanted to hang on, had to hang on. He was three years in the past, and sick, and crazy.
He'd do everything he could to stop them from taking Ada away from him. That was why he'd treated Claire like an intruder in the first place . . . because on some level he was still trying to save Ada, and he knew that Claire intended to destroy her.
"You can't take her," Myrnin whispered. "You can't take her away from me. Please don't do that."
Amelie's expression had slowly gone still and cold. "There's nothing to take," she said. "Ada's gone. Three years ago you wept in the corner and ripped your own skin. I had to stop you from killing indiscriminately to keep from drowning in your pain. I won't let you go back to that . . . beast. You deserve better