“That would, of course, be ideal, if we could find him. However, Magnus in particular has developed excellent chameleon skills, and fashioned his draug to exactly resemble himself, so it is a fool’s game to target him. He can hide himself in plain sight, and if that fails, he can surround himself with copies. It would take someone with the ability to see through his …” He blinked, and turned toward Claire. “See through his glamour.”

She felt suddenly exposed and uncomfortable, as if he’d turned a spotlight on her and asked her to dance. “Why are you looking at me?”

“You’re the only one who noticed him originally,” Myrnin said. “When no one else took note of his presence at all. Even vampires. Now, the question is, can you distinguish him from his vassals?”

“I don’t …” She thought back on it, on the draug in the Civic Pool building. There had been a lot of them, but when she’d seen Magnus she’d known, deep down, that it was him. He had more … well, just more density, she supposed. “Maybe. I don’t know if I can do it all the time or anything. He might not know—” Wait, he did know. There had been a reason for Magnus to follow her home in the rain from the store, to invade their home, the Glass House, to kill her. He must have been tracking down and dealing with what he perceived to be a genuine threat.

She was a threat to him. Somehow.

“An interesting question,” Myrnin said, “and one we will have to explore as we go along, I suppose.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment, cool and assessing, and then he went back to the blueprints. Claire gave up quickly; the maze of lines made about as much sense as trying to read a bowl of spaghetti. Michael and Shane, though, were much more interested, and Myrnin was happy to be chattering away.

Her attention wandered to the idea of water … flowing through pipes, carrying the draug into every house, every business. The vision of a draug emerging from a toilet bowl made every kind of nightmare she’d ever had about the bathroom pale in comparison. And showers. It was bad enough being out in the rain, knowing what was out there, but being naked and vulnerable, with the draug building themselves out of drops around you in the shower … yeah, that was Psycho times ten. And forget about baths. She’d never be taking a bath again. Horror movie time.

“You’re going to need Oliver’s permission for any of this,” Michael said. “You know that, right?”

“In fact, I do not. He specifically told me I was not allowed to initiate any battles,” Myrnin said. “This is not a battle. I need you to go into the building and turn the cutoff wheels. Nothing more. It’s a simple enough operation, and quite obviously necessary. Oliver will be happy with the results.”

Michael shot Shane a look. “Translation: what Oliver doesn’t know won’t hurt us, theoretically,” he said. “So we’re doing it on our own.”