hanging on the hook where it was supposed to be. It took twenty minutes to locate it in the pocket of Myrnin's ratty old bathrobe, which was hanging on an articulated human skeleton wired together in the corner of the lab--one of those old teaching tools, she hoped, and not a previous occupant of her own job.
Once she'd opened the door, what was beyond was an empty, dark space, leading . . . well, potentially to a horrible death.
Claire reached over and grabbed a book from a nearby stack, checked the title, and decided they could do without it. Then she concentrated, imagining the living room at the Glass House. It was harder to project that image into the portal than before, almost as if there were some kind of force fighting not to open the connection, but then the image resolved through with an almost audible pop and color spread out in front of her. Blurry at first, then slowly coming into focus.
"My God," she breathed. "He actually made it work."
Facing her was the back of the battered couch at home. She could see Michael's acoustic guitar still propped up in his chair off to the side. The TV was off, so obviously Shane wasn't up yet.
She flinched as a shadow walked in front of her, but it was only Eve, who crossed between the TV and the couch, still fastening her pigtails as she headed toward the kitchen.
"Hey!" Claire called. "Hey, Eve!"
Eve, puzzled, stopped and turned around, staring up toward the second floor, then looking at the TV.
"Over here!" Claire said. "Eve!"
Eve turned, and her eyes widened. "Claire? Oh, are the portals working?"
"No, stay there. I'm testing it." Claire held up the book. "Here. Catch."
She tossed the book through the open connection, and on the other side she saw Eve raise her hands.
The book hit Eve's palms and crumbled into dust. Eve, surprised, let out a little squawk and jumped back, shaking the dust from her hands.
"Are you okay?" Claire asked anxiously.
"Yeah, just surprised. And filthy." Eve held up her smudged palms. "Not quite there yet, right? Unless you wanted to pulverize people."
"Not exactly." Claire sighed. "Thanks. I'll keep working on it. Sorry about the dirt."
"Well, it's not like we don't have that on the floor. Michael was supposed to sweep; do you really think he's done it?" Eve grinned. "Nice try with the weird science, but for now, I think I'll stick with walking."
She blew Claire a kiss, and Claire waved and stepped back. The color faded out again, turning Eve and the room to black-and-white, and then to just a sea of liquid darkness.
Myrnin was standing by her elbow when she looked over. He was tapping a finger on his lips. "That," he said, "was very interesting. Also, you owe me a third-edition Johannes Magnus."
"You have six of them already. But the important thing is, it's almost working," Claire said. "The stabilization's off. But the connection's working. That's a huge step forward."
"Not much of one if it turns us to ashes upon arrival. I can do that all on my own by strolling long enough in the sunlight. Well, it's your problem now, Claire. I'm working on the other part."
"What other--Oh. Wiping people's memories when they leave Morganville."
"Exactly. I'm actually getting quite close, I believe." "But you're not going to use a brain. Other than your own, I mean."
"Since you insist, I am trying it the hard way. I am not optimistic at all that this will ever work," he said, and produced the box of doughnuts again, with a magician's flourish. "One more?"
She really couldn't resist, when he gave her that smile.
Chapter Three
THREE
Over the next three days, Claire didn't go home for long. She was obsessive when she got into a problem, and she knew it, but this was so cool. She went to the store and bought cartloads of cheap plastic toys, which she spent hours tossing through the portal to an increasingly bored Eve, then Michael, then Shane. They had their own supply of toys, too, and pitched them through in the opposite direction.
All she got out of it, for two and a half days, was dust--so much of it that Shane told her she was on permanent vacuum duty at home, if she ever came home again. She knew that he was grumpy, both because it was boring pitching toys back and forth, but also because she'd barely seen him for days, except to come home, shovel in food, and fall