Kiss of Death Page 0,22

anymore."

"Never. Promise." He shrugged. "I promise." But not in any way that mattered, Claire thought. Myrnin's promises were kind of--flexible. "You're leaving town the rest of the week?"

"Yeah, we're leaving tonight. You'll be okay?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He clasped his hands behind him and paced back and forth, staring at the charts. He was wearing shorts today, and flip-flops, of course--like some homeless surfer from the waist down, some Edwardian lord from the waist up. It was strange, and ridiculously Myrnin. "I'm not an infant, Claire. I don't need you to take care of me. Believe me." She didn't, really. Yes, he was old. Yes, he was a vampire. Yes, he was crazy/smart--but the crazy part was always as strong as, or stronger than, the smart part. Even now. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?" she asked him. He turned and looked at her, and looked utterly innocent. "Why in the world would I do that?" he asked. "Have a good time, Claire. The work will still be here when you return." She shut down the laptop and closed the lid, packing it up to put it away. As she did, he finally nodded at the machine. "That's not bad," he said. "As a start."

"Thanks." She was a little surprised. Myrnin didn't often give out random compliments. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Certainly. Why wouldn't I be?" There was just something off about his mood. From visiting her parents to the way he was restlessly prowling the lab--he just wasn't his usual, unsettlingly manic self. He was a different manic self. "I wish I were going with you," he finally said. "There. I've said it. You may mock me at your will."

"Really? But--we're just going for Michael, really." That wasn't true. It was a chance to get out of Morganville, experience life out in the real world. And she knew it would be amazing to feel free again, even for a little while. "Couldn't you go if you wanted?" He sat down in his leather wing chair, put on his spectacles, and opened a book from a pile next to it. "Could I?" he asked. "If Amelie didn't wish me to leave? Not very likely." She'd never considered that Myrnin, of all people, could be just as trapped in Morganville as everybody else. He seemed so ... in control, somehow, at the same time he was wildly out of control. But she could see that of everyone in town, Amelie would trust Myrnin the least in terms of actually exiting the town limits. He had too much knowledge, too much insanity brewing around in that head of his. As careful as Amelie was, she'd never take the risk. No, Myrnin, of everybody in Morganville, would be the next to last to leave, right before Amelie herself. He was her--pet? No, that wasn't right. Her asset. It had never really occurred to Claire that he might not altogether like that. "Sorry," she said softly. He waved at her, a shooing motion that left her feeling a little lost. She genuinely liked Myrnin, even though she was always intensely aware, these days, of the limits of that friendship--and of the dangers. "Call me if you--"

"Why? So you'll come running back to Morganville?" He shook his head. "Not likely. And not necessary. Just go, Claire. I'll be here." There was a grim sound to that she didn't like, but it was getting late. Michael had said to be ready at six, and she needed to pack for the trip. When she looked back, Myrnin had given up the pretense of reading and was just staring off into the distance. There was something horribly sad about his expression, and she almost turned back.... But she didn't. 4 The Glass House was chaos when Claire opened the door. Mostly that was Eve and Shane, fighting stereo wars and yelling at each other upstairs. Eve was favoring Korn; Shane was fighting back by blasting "Macarena" at the limit of the boom box knob. There was no sign of Michael, but his guitars were cased and sitting in the living room, along with a duffel bag and a rolling cooler that looked like it could hold any normal drinks. Claire just wasn't sure what it did hold, and she didn't open it to find out. She dropped her backpack, which she figured she'd take anyway, and jogged upstairs. Eve was standing in a pile of clothes, an open suitcase on the bed, holding two identical-looking shirts and