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She had no idea how bad it would be this time, but she couldn't afford to wait.
Claire whirled, and the doorway was still there, right where it had been.
Myrnin was framed in it, staring at her.
She couldn't go that way. She had to find another path.
Claire ran into the dark. There was just enough light filtering in from very narrow, very tall windows that as her eyes adjusted, she realized that she was inside of a prison. A filthy, horrible prison, with very little light.
And all the cells were full.
It took her a while to realize it, because they were all so quiet. Pale, quiet things, one to a cell, that flashed to the bars like ghosts as she ran past. That changed, the farther she went. A sound went up -- a whisper at first, rising to a howl. She heard metal rattling.
They were trying to get out.
Claire was gasping, and she was getting tired, and Myrnin was behind her.
This is where she keeps them. The ones who can't be fixed.
It was where all the vampires would end up, one after another. Left to die in the dark, alone, trapped and starving.
Amelie let that happen.
It got quiet suddenly, and that was worse than the howling and rattling. Claire glanced over her shoulder and saw that Myrnin was slowing down, then stopping. There was only the sound of her feet hitting the stone floor, until she skidded to a stop, too.
"Claire," Myrnin whispered. "What are you doing here?" He sounded confused, but at least he knew her name. He fumbled at his pockets, found some kind of small silver box, and opened it. Red crystals spilled out into his palm, mounded up, and he forced them into his mouth, choking and retching.
The effects sent him staggering. He braced himself with one shoulder against the wall of the hallway and moaned. It sounded like it hurt. A lot.
"Not much time," he said. His voice was barely there at all, but in the cold silence, she heard every word. "The notebooks. You need them?"
"I -- I made a mistake. Somebody else took the crystals. I need to give them to the doctors."
"Someone else took the crystals?"
"Yes."
"Most die," he said, as if it didn't matter. "Maybe you can find a way from what you wrote, I don't know. I never tried."
That meant that when he'd given her the crystals that first time, he hadn't even known if they would kill her.
God. And she'd thought he actually cared.
He sounded very tired now. "You understand how to use the doors now?"
"No."
"All you have to do is find a doorway, then concentrate on your destination. Mind you, it's the rare human who has the mind to manage it even once, never mind on a regular basis -- and the doors have a subtle go-away to anyone not invited to use them -- no matter. You can go to any Founder House, or to seven other doorways in town, but you must have a mental picture of where you are going first. If you fail to do so, you end up -- " He raised a hand with effort, and gestured feebly. " -- here. Where she keeps the monsters." Myrnin smiled faintly, but it looked broken. "After all, I ended up here, didn't I?"
Claire fought to still her heartbeat. "How do I get back? Back to your lab?"
"That way." Myrnin looked down at his hand, as if it seemed odd to him. He turned it this way and that, examining it, and then pointed. "Stay to the right, you'll find it. Don't go near the bars. If they grab you, you must not let them pull you close enough to bite. And Claire -- "
She clutched the notebooks tight to her chest as he met her eyes. He still seemed rational, but even that massive dose of crystals hadn't driven the beast completely back.
"I need you to do me two services," he said. "First --promise me that you'll continue to work to find the cure. I'm not longer able to carry it forward."
She swallowed hard, and nodded. She'd have tried anyway. "I can't do it alone," she said. "I'll need help. Doctors. I'm going to give them the notes and see if we can find something."
Myrnin nodded. He looked around. On the far side of the wall was an empty cell, with its door standing open. There was a decaying bunk, but nothing else.
He took a breath, let it out, and walked into the cell. Then he turned and firmly closed the door behind him. Claire heard the lock engage with a thick, metallic clank.
"Second thing," Myrnin said, "do bring me some books, when you visit. And perhaps more crystals, if you're able to produce more. It's so nice to think clearly again, even for a few moments."
She felt like he'd punched into her chest and ripped out her heart. She felt hollow, light, and empty.
And very, very sad.
"I will," she said. "I'll be back."
When she looked back, Myrnin had settled himself on the edge of the bunk, staring at the floor.
He didn't look up when she said, "I'll be back. I promise."
She hesitated, and thought she heard something whispering to her. A voice.
Her mother's voice.
"You should go," Myrnin said tonelessly. "Before we both have cause to regret it."
She ran.
Nothing got her on the way back to the door, although a lot of the sick vampires reached out mutely to her, or screamed; she covered her ears and ran, heart pounding, feeling sicker and more terrified all the time. The relief of seeing the open door ahead was like a warm blanket after the cold. The doorway was black, just black; she couldn't see Myrnin's lab on the other side. Couldn't see anything.
Think! Myrnin had said she had to focus, visualize where she wanted to go. Of course, he'd also said that she probably wouldn't be able to do it. No, don't think about that. If you want out of here, you have to focus. Hard!
Nothing. Nothing at all.
She closed her eyes, even though it was terrifying to do it here, in this place, and slowed her breathing. She thought about the lab, about the confusion of clutter, the books, the bottles, the new and the old. She smelled it, like a breath of home, and when she opened her eyes she could see it on the other side of the door.
Claire took a deep breath, stepped over the threshold through a slight tug of resistance, and turned to close the door as soon as she was through.
When she turned back, Amelie was waiting.
She stood in the center of the room, hands folded. Her ancient, smooth face was untroubled by any kind of expression, but there was something bitter in her eyes.
"He's gone," Amelie said. "Where is he?"
"I -- the prison."
"You took him below." Amelie frowned slightly. "You took him below."
"I think he wanted to go there. He -- put himself in a cage." Claire struggled to keep her voice steady. "How -- how can you leave them like that?"
