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But then she felt the rope suddenly pul taut, and in seconds, she saw something pale appear in the dark below, gradually becoming clearer as it moved up toward her.
Myrnin climbed as if he'd learned how from his pet spider, swarming up with frantic speed. He had burns on his face and hands and lower legs, silver burns, but that didn't slow him down, and when he reached the top of the hole, Claire grabbed his forearms and dragged him out on the side that wasn't blocked by the raised silver grate.
He col apsed on his back, foul water bleeding out of his soaked and ruined clothes, out of his matted black hair, and after a second of silence he whispered, "I knew you'd come, Claire. I knew you would. Dear God, you took your time."
She took his hand, and sat down next to him.
Shane was standing fifty feet away, beside Michael, but he looked up and jerked his chin in a silent question. Is he okay? She nodded.
It wasn't much, she thought. It wasn't anything to build any kind of hope upon, just that he was wil ing to show up here, wil ing to fire a rifle, throw her a rope.
But she'd take it. It was horrifying to her how pitifully grateful she was just for that smal est hint of a smile he gave her, before he turned his back.
"You're very sad," Myrnin said. He sounded faint and distant, as if he'd been a long way off in more ways than one. "You smel like tears. Did he break your heart?"
"No," Claire said, in a very soft whisper that she hoped Shane couldn't hear from where he stood. "I broke his."
"Ah," Myrnin said. "Good for you." He sat up, and suddenly leaned over to throw up a horrifying amount of black water. "Pardon. well , that was distressing.... Oh no..."
He col apsed back on the ground, as if too weak to rise, and shut his eyes tight. His whole body was shaking and twitching, and it went on for a horribly long time. She didn't know what to do for him, except put her hand on his shoulder. Beneath the slimy clothes, she could feel his muscles locked and straining as if he were having an epileptic seizure.
He finally relaxed and took in a deep, slow breath before he opened his eyes and said, "We have to go, Claire. Quickly."
"Where?" she asked, because she was cold and scared and couldn't think of any place, any place at all, that might be safe now.
"To safety," he said. "Before it's too late."
"But you-you're not well enough to-"
Before she could finish, he was off stalking barefoot through the weeds toward the exit. He tore the chain off the fence with one hard pul and shoved the gates open with a rusted shriek.
Then he looked back with a red glow in his eyes and said, "Bring Michael. None of this is his fault. I won't allow him to suffer for it."
Shane hadn't moved during allof this, but now he bent down and pulled the tranquilizer dart out of Michael's neck. "It's going to be a few minutes before he's well enough to stand up."
"Then drag him," Myrnin said. "Unless you'd like to enjoy the comfort of my little oubliette. I'm sure Naomi wil be sending Pennyfeather in a moment to be certain allof us are dead, and I'd rather not be here to oblige her. Now, children."
He clapped his hands and disappeared beyond the gates, and in a moment, Claire heard Eve's car start up with a roar.
She went back to Shane and took one of Michael's arms as he grabbed the other. Their eyes met, briefly.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Yeah," he said. "Me, too."
But she wasn't sure if they were talking about the same things at all.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
CLAIRE
It took them a while to drag Michael's heavy, unresponsive body over the uneven ground and out to the hearse. Myrnin stuck his head out of the passenger window of the hearse to helpfully suggest that Michael could be dumped down the same hole he'd just crawled out of. Shane suggested that Myrnin bite him, hard. Myrnin declined.
And Claire drove, leaving Shane with Michael, by his own request. She was a little anxious about that; Shane held grudges, and it was going to be hard for him to see past what Michael had done to them, but it was at least a truce for now. Mortal danger trumped emotional pain. Temporarily.
Myrnin said, "Michael seems to be under Naomi's spel , just as Oliver and Pennyfeather must be. I have no idea how many she's suborned, but it's too bad she didn't try it on me." He smiled, and his expression was bleak and dark, and it wasn't only the streaks of black water staining his face. "Greater vampires have tried, including her black-hearted father. I believe my blood made Bishop sick for a month."
"Where should we go?" she asked. He sighed.
"I suppose we really have no choice," he said. "Retreating to the Glass House wil simply give them an easy point to attack, and we cannot defend the place, not from a concerted attack. So we wil have to take the fight to them."
"Where?"
He shrugged wearily. "To Amelie herself. Ultimately, she is Naomi's target. Oliver's seduction of her-or at least, part of it-was Naomi's effort to weaken her, to stir up trouble against her. She must be warned of what's to come or she'l be taken unawares, by those she trusts."
"How the hel are we supposed to get into Founder's Square?" Claire asked. "Do you have some secret passage or something?"
"They're allshut up, I'm afraid," Myrnin said. "Oh, and I'm ruining your friend's lovely upholstery. Sorry about the mess. Imagine if they'd left me down there for months. That did happen, once. I was dumped into a cel no larger than a doghouse for half a year. allthey did was throw down the occasional chicken or hog...disgusting. I seem to have lost my slippers."
"I'l buy you new ones."
"I expect we're going to have to rely on Michael," Myrnin said, switching suddenly back to the original question. "The boy has an automatic entrance to Amelie's presence, as her offspring. The difficulty is that he's hardly in a position to voluntarily assist us, and by the way, Shame, why did you shoot him?"
"It's Shane, and if you cal me that again, you'l be getting the next dart."
"The question still stands."
"Because he was going after Claire. Again." Shane didn't look at her, not even a glance in the rearview mirror; Claire knew, because she was waiting for it-for some sign that his anger was starting to wear off.
"Again?" Myrnin asked, and his eyebrows rose. "My. Things change so quickly with you young people. Claire, are you enemies now with Michael?"
"Not exactly," she said. Shane cut her off.
"Last time he just tongue-kissed her," Shane said. "This time it looked a little more extreme than that. So I didn't take the chance of being wrong."
That earned her a sharp, interested look from Myrnin. "Wel . We'l have to have the ful story, then."
"We really don't," she said. "Something's wrong with Michael, all right. And I saw Naomi, with Oliver. They're working together."
"That-is very, very unpleasant," Myrnin said. He frowned and pulled at a stray thread on his shirt, threatening to unravel an entire piece of it.
"Naomi was kil ed in the attack on the draug, or so it was said. I had my doubts. It seemed too convenient, considering that Naomi had begun working to undermine Amelie. I imagine she wanted to take her place even then, but Amelie's not someone who fails to respond to a chal enge."
"You mean Amelie had Naomi killed?"
"Possibly. Or possibly Oliver did, to protect her. But if so, he must have had a change of heart, since, or Naomi secured control of him. I've never trusted the Roundhead, myself. A man of low character and high ambition. Naomi wouldn't be above using him to achieve her dreams of ruling."
"Then we have to tel Amelie he's stabbing her in the back." Claire took a deep breath. "You have to tel her. She won't believe me, or Shane, and Michael's not able to tel her anything, even if he wanted to."
"I can't," he said. "Look at me. I'm in no fit state to-"
"You're the official bearer of bad news," Shane said, and pointed the rifle at Myrnin. "End of discussion."
"Yes," Myrnin said instantly. "Of course. No problem at all."
There was quite a lot of animated debate about how to make it into the guarded area around Founder's Square. In the end, they propped Michael up in the passenger seat, next to Myrnin, who held him upright with a friendly arm around his shoulders; when Claire rolled down the passenger window, the Founder's Square vampire guard took one look inside, saw Michael and Myrnin, and nodded them through without any questions. "Amazing," Myrnin said, squeezing rank water out of his hair. "You'd think someone might notice my general appearance."
