Claire shook her head. Even if she knew—and she didn’t, in detail—she wouldn’t have told him. “Let’s not talk about it. Shane—I’ve missed you so much—”

He kissed her again, and the world melted into a wonderful spinning blend of heat and bells, and it was only when she finally, regretfully pulled back that she heard Myrnin’s mocking, steady clapping.

“Love conquers all,” he said. “How quaint.”

Claire turned on him, feeling fury erupt like a volcano in her guts. “Shut up!”

He didn’t even bother to glance at her, just leaned back against the wall and smiled. “You want to know what he’s got planned for you, Shane? Do you really?”

“Myrnin, don’t!”

Shane reached through the bars and grabbed Claire’s shoulders, turning her back to face him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “This matters, right now. Claire, we’re going to get out of this. We’re going to live through it. Both of us. Say it with me.”

“Both of us,” she repeated. “We’re going to live.”

Myrnin’s cold hand closed around her wrist, and he dragged her away from the bars. The last thing she let go of was Shane’s hand.

“Hey!” Shane yelled, as Claire fought, lost, and was pulled through the door. “Claire! We’ve going to live! Say it! We’re going to live!”

Myrnin slammed the door. “Theatrical, isn’t he? Come on, girl. We have work to do.”

She tried to shake him off. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you traitor!”

Myrnin didn’t give her a choice; he half dragged, half marched her away from the first vampire guard, then the second, and then pulled her into an empty, quiet room off the long hallway. He shut the door with a wicked boom and whirled to face her.

Claire grabbed the first thing that came to hand—it happened to be a heavy candlestick—and swung it at his head. He ducked, rushed in, and effortlessly took it away from her. “Girl. Claire!” He shook her into stillness. His eyes were wide and very dark. Not at all crazy. “If you want the boy to live, you’ll stop fighting me. It’s not productive.”

“What, I should just stand here and let you bite me? Not happening!” She tried to pull away, but he was as solid as a granite statue. Her bones would break before his grip did.

“Why on earth would I bite you?” Myrnin asked, very reasonably. “I don’t work for Bishop, Claire. I never have. I thought you certainly had enough brains to understand that.”

Claire blinked again. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re still on our side?”

“Define our, my dear.”

“The side of . . .” Well, he was right. It was a little tough to define. “You know. Us!”

Myrnin actually laughed, let go, and stuffed his hands casually into the pockets of his frock coat. “Us, indeed. I understand you might be skeptical. You have reason. Perhaps I should allow someone else to convince you—Ah. Right on time.”

She wouldn’t have believed him, not for a second, except that a section of the wall opened, there was a flash of white-hot light, and a woman stepped through, followed by a long line of people.

The woman was Amelie, vampire queen of Morganville—though she didn’t look anything like the perfect pale princess that Claire had always seen. Amelie had on black pants, a black zip-up hoodie, and running shoes.

So wrong.

And behind her was the frickin’ vampire army, led by Oliver, all in black, looking scarier than Claire could remember ever seeing him—he usually at least tried to look nondangerous, but today, he obviously didn’t care. He wore his graying hair tied back in a ponytail, and it pulled his face into an unsmiling mask.

He crossed his arms and looked at Myrnin and Claire like they were something slimy he’d found on his coffee shop floor.

“Myrnin,” Amelie said, and nodded graciously. He nodded back, like they were passing on the street. Like it was just a normal day. “Why did you involve the girl?”

“Oh, I had to. She’s been quite difficult,” he said. “Which helped convince Bishop that I am, indeed, his creature. But I think it’s best if you leave her behind for now, and me as well. We have more work to do here, work that can’t be done in hiding.”

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it without thinking of a single coherent question to ask. Oliver dismissed both of them with a shake of his head and signaled his vampire shock troops to fan out around the room on either side of the door to the hallway.

Amelie lingered, a trace of a frown on her face. “Will you protect her, Myrnin? I was loath to let you lead her this far into the maze; I should hate to think you’d abandon her on a whim. I do owe her Protection.” Her pale gray eyes bored into his, colder than steel in winter. “Be careful what you say. I will hold you to your answer.”

“I’ll defend the girl with my last breath,” he promised, and clasped his hand dramatically to the chest of his ragged frock coat. “Oh, wait. That doesn’t mean much, does it, since I gasped that last breath before the Magna Carta was dry on the page? I mean, of course I’ll look after her, with whatever is left of my life.”

“I’m not joking, jester.”

He suddenly looked completely sober. “And I’m not laughing, my lady. I’ll protect her. You have my word on it.”

Claire’s head was spinning. She looked from Myrnin to Amelie to Oliver, and finally thought of a decent question to ask. “Why are you here?”

“They’re here to rescue your boyfriend,” Myrnin said. “Happy birthday, my dear.”

Amelie sent him a sharp, imperious look. “Don’t lie to the girl, Myrnin. It’s not seemly.”

Myrnin sobered and bowed his head very slightly. Claire could still see a manic smile trembling on his lips.

Amelie transferred her steady gray gaze to Claire. “Myrnin has been helping us gain entry to the building. There are things we are doing to retake Morganville, but it is a process that will take some time. Do you understand?”

It hit Claire a little late. “You’re . . . you’re not here to rescue Shane?”

“Of course not,” Oliver said scornfully. “Don’t be stupid. What possible strategic value does your boyfriend hold for us?”

Claire bit her lip on an instinctive argument and forced herself to think. It wasn’t easy; all she wanted to do was scream at him. “All right,” she finally said. “I’m going to make him strategically valuable to you. How’s that?”

Myrnin slowly raised his head. He had a warning look on his face, which she ignored completely.

“If you don’t rescue Shane and his father, I’m not going to help keep Myrnin on track, and I’ll destroy the maintenance drugs and the serum we were working on. I’m guessing you still want to avoid getting on the crazy train, right?” Because that was where all the vampires were headed, even Oliver and Amelie.

When she’d first come to Morganville, she’d thought they were immortal and perfect, but in many ways, that was all just a front. The reason there were no other vampires out there in the world—or very few, anyway—was that over the years, their numbers had gradually declined, and their ability to make other vampires had slipped away. It was a kind of disease, something nasty and progressive, although they’d been in denial about it for a very long time.

Amelie had created Morganville to be their last, best hope of survival. But the disease hadn’t gotten better; it had gotten worse, and seemed to be affecting them faster and faster these days. Claire had learned to pick up the subtle signs by now, and they were already visible—tremors in the pale hands, sometimes up the arms. Soon, it’d be worse. They were all terrified of it. They had good reason to be.

Myrnin had developed a maintenance drug, but they needed a cure. Badly. And with Myrnin slipping fast, Claire was the key to getting that done.

There was a profound silence in the room, and for a second, Claire’s angry resolve faltered. Then she saw the look in Oliver’s eyes. Oh no you don’t, she thought. Don’t you look smug.