“Stop,” Shane said. His voice sounded ragged and anguished, and as Claire looked, she saw him getting to his feet. “Just stop. What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry you got hurt. They weren’t aiming for you,” Kim said. “I don’t want to kill you, Shane. I spent a lot of time thinking about this. How to get it right.”
Kim sounded earnest and very crazy. Claire didn’t know who she was more afraid for—Shane, wounded, with blood running down his fingers to pool around his feet, or the vampire lying completely still nearby.
“You are crazy,” Shane said, and meant it. “If you’re expecting me to love you—”
“You do love me.” Kim sounded utterly sure of it. “It’s just that she’s in the way.”
“Trust me, that’s not it.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want me?”
“Pretty much.”
Kim pulled a gun out of her pants pocket, and she aimed it right at Shane. He didn’t flinch. Maybe he was just too tired.
“How about now?” she asked. “Do you want me now?”
Shane sighed. “About as much as cancer. So shoot me already.”
She was going to—Claire could see it in her eyes—but then Frank Collins flickered into view just a foot away from Kim’s face.
She shrieked in terror. Even crazy people could do that when a ghost with the vicious face of Shane’s father showed up in their moment of triumph.
“Not my son,” Frank said. “You’re not hurting my son.”
Shane’s eyes snapped open. “Dad?” He sounded dazed and disbelieving, but he could see it, too—the flat, black-and-white image of his father, translucent and standing between Shane and his would-be killer.
Kim fired, but the shot went wild, missing Shane by at least a foot. Claire gasped and ran as fast as she could through the maze of books, discarded clothing, and glass beakers. She vaulted over a chair and landed next to an open cabinet where Myrnin kept all kinds of things that were too dangerous to handle.
Including a set of silver stakes that Eve had made for Claire, and that Myrnin had confiscated and put in the cabinet for safekeeping.
Claire grabbed one and threw it desperately, just as Kim tried to aim again. It didn’t kill her, but it did hit her solidly in the head, snapping her skull sideways, and she staggered and went down to one knee.
Frank Collins turned to Claire and yelled, “Handcuffs, second shelf! Hurry up, dammit!”
She found them. They were silver, but they’d work just fine. She got to Kim just as the girl was climbing to her knees, and knocked her down to put the restraints on her. Kim yelled and kicked and cursed, but Claire held her down. She wanted to bang Kim’s stupid head into the floor, but didn’t dare, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop. She was shaking all over with rage.
She looked up and saw Shane staring at them with an empty, horrified expression on his face. She couldn’t think why for a second—it couldn’t be Myrnin; he didn’t care about that. He wasn’t worried about Kim, surely……
And then the adrenaline haze faded, and it hit Claire with a sickening thud what he was looking at.
His father.
Frank Collins.
The black-and-white ghost of a man he thought was safely, and even heroically, dead.
“Hello, son,” Frank said. His voice sounded gentle but inhuman as it whispered out of the radio and phone speakers all over the lab. “Sorry you have to learn about it like this. I never meant it to be this way. I never wanted you to know.”
Shane had an arrow in his shoulder, but it seemed like he’d forgotten all about it, because this hurt so, so much worse. He took a step forward, then another, then seemed to just…collapse. Claire did bang Kim’s head into the floor then, just once, enough to make her stop struggling for a minute, and then she went to her boyfriend’s side.
Frank Collins stayed where he was, a safe distance away. “Don’t take the bolt out,” he said. “Best to do that at the hospital. Could have nicked an artery.”
“You’re dead,” Shane said. “You’re dead.”
“I still am,” Frank agreed. “It’s just a picture, son. I’m not really here.”
“Yes, you are.” Shane’s throat worked as if he was trying to swallow a huge, unchewable chunk of shock and sorrow. “He did this. Myrnin brought you back. For his machine.”
“Don’t blame Myrnin. It was either me or Claire. I’d rather it was me.”
Shane shook his head. He wasn’t looking at his dad anymore, or at Claire, or at anything but the bloodstained fabric of his blue jeans. His face was pale from shock, his eyes very wide.
“Shane…I’m calling the ambulance,” she said. “You’re going to be okay. It’s all—”
“It’s not,” he said, and met her eyes. She flinched. “You knew. You knew. And you didn’t tell me.”
“I told her not to,” Frank said.
Shane ignored him. “You knew,” he said as if his heart was breaking. He pitched over on his side and closed his eyes. “You knew, Claire.”
She felt breathless and terrified. Was he dying? No, the bleeding wasn’t that bad; surely he’d be okay…. Surely they’d be okay…….
“Claire.” Myrnin’s voice, just a bare whisper. “Claire, help. Help.”
She looked over. His eyes were open, dark, and suffering…just like Shane’s. It was the arrow. It hadn’t hit him completely through the heart, but it was close enough that it was hurting him.
But that meant leaving Shane.
“Go,” Frank said. “Shane’s stable enough. See to Myrnin.”
She didn’t have a choice, but she knew that Shane didn’t see it that way.
She went to her vampire boss and took hold of the bolt and yanked it free in three awful tugs.
Shane was curled up now, looking awful and beaten and defeated, and the second the bolt was free of Myrnin’s chest, she left him and ran, ran back to Shane. She took him in her arms and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you again. They called me to go to MIT, but I won’t go now, not in January, not ever. I won’t. I love you….”
Shane’s dark eyes opened and fixed on her, and she felt the whole world crumble into darkness underneath her.
“You knew,” he said, and then a spark of understanding flared in his expression. “January. You were going in January.”
“No, I—”
“You didn’t tell me that, either.”
“Shane, I—”
“I can’t do this. Just leave me alone.”
Claire scrambled backward, through Frank’s flickering image, back until she was pressed against the cold, heavy bulk of one of the lab tables.
Then she used her cell phone to call for help.
Shane didn’t say another word to her. Not another word to anyone.
Not for days.
It had been almost a week, and Claire still felt frozen, stuck in a horrible, empty place that was full of darkness and loneliness. Eve tried to cheer her up. So did Michael. But it was the specter of Shane, who never left his room except to get food or visit the bathroom, that haunted their house now.
Shane, who hated her.
The doctors had given him good scores on his wound; with a little time and rehab, he’d be fine. Kim was going back to prison for good. Myrnin had recovered in less than two hours, drained half the cooler of blood, and looked suspiciously interested in the bloody floor where Shane had been standing. But Claire didn’t want to think about that. She hadn’t talked to him, and he hadn’t pressed.
Frank kept trying to talk to her on her phone, so she finally turned it off. Today was the first day she’d switched it back on.
There were three messages from MIT.
Claire lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, playing them one after another on the speaker. Ms. Danvers, just calling you to see if you’ve reached a decision…. Ms. Danvers, I urgently need to hear from you by the end of the weekend if we’re to hold your place for the next term…. Ms. Danvers, I’m concerned that you haven’t returned our calls…….