The boys thought it was a good idea, too, so we tried it. There was trial and error involved, what with all the hallways and doors; the more rooms we opened, the more it seemed obvious that this place was deserted. We found Theo in the infirmary; he had a couple of human patients in the beds, and his hulking friend Harold as his nurse.

“Myrnin?” Theo repeated when we asked, and straightened up from where he sat staring into a microscope. “I’m afraid he’s not been here. I haven’t seen him for some time. Have you tried the lab?”

“Can’t find it,” Shane said. He sounded like he was ready to break something, and I couldn’t really blame him.

“Ah. Second hall, turn left, then three doors down on the right. Tell the madman I said hello.” Theo went back to his microscope as if it was vitally important, which maybe it was, and Harold waved to Shane. Shane waved back, looking a little confused about it, and we backed out of the mini-hospital and into the hall.

Theo’s directions took us straight to Myrnin’s makeshift lab, but although it was full of glass and books and tables, there was absolutely no one there.

“Hang on,” Michael said, and took out his phone. He dialed, and listened. I watched his expression grow set and a little worried. “She’s not answering.”

“Try Myrnin,” Shane said. He was as tense as a guitar string, and about as likely to break at the wrong pressure. Michael dialed, listened, and shook his head. “I can’t help it, I have a bad feeling about this …”

“You should.”

We all turned, in varying degrees of fast, and I don’t know about the guys, but I was really surprised to see my uncomfortable little friend Miranda standing in the lab doorway. She looked as mismatched and odd as ever, and her eyes had that looking-through-us focus that made me shudder.

“What are you talking about?” Shane asked, and walked toward her. He probably didn’t mean it to be threatening, but he was agitated, and an agitated Shane was an intimidating thing. Miranda backed up. He stopped and held up both hands in frustrated surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid. Just tell me. Where is Claire?”

“Home,” she said. “I told her not to go. I told her.” She looked … distressed, which was weird to me. I’d seen Miranda go through a car wreck and the loss of a sister without that much of a reaction. “It’s all going wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Mir.” I pushed past Shane and took the girl’s hand. She was all soft skin over thin bird bones, and I made a mental note to make the poor kid a sandwich sometime; she desperately needed it. “Miranda, you know me, right?”

That knocked her out of the psychic trance state, and she gave me a wary, annoyed look. “Of course,” she said. “You’re Eve. Why wouldn’t I?”