worse than not doing it at all.

Hannah’s snarl turned to a startled yip, and then she was col-

lapsing to her knees, trembling, mouth open in a silent scream.

Her eyes were wild and yellow, but only for a moment. Then her

skin took on a muted silvery glow as the cure took hold.

Claire held her breath. Myrnin had adapted this from Fallon’s

cure, but what if it had the same shortcomings? What if it only

worked part of the time?

It seemed to take forever. Hannah never quite collapsed com-

pletely, but she trembled, clearly very ill, and as the silvery glow finally faded under her skin, she looked up at Claire. Her eyes, after one last acidic pulse of yellow, settled back to their normal human brown color.

Hannah pulled in a few hard, quick breaths, and nodded.

Shane let go of her. She made a face. “Tastes funny,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse. “Aches, too.”

“It’ll pass,” he said, and helped her up. “You took it a lot better than I did.” He wasn’t looking at her face, though, he was examin-ing her arm. The bite was looking a little better. “I think I screamed like a baby.”

“Give me a minute and I might just get there,” Hannah said,

and attempted a smile. It wasn’t quite right, but it was brave. “Let’s get out of here.”

Claire would have, but as they turned for the stairs, she caught

sight of a fuzzy black spider about the size of her palm sitting on top of a book, watching her with eight bright, beady eyes. He

looked almost cute.

9780451414274_Daylighters_TX.indd 318

7/17/13 9:02 AM

22318

Daylighters

319

“Hey, Bob,” she said. She reached down, and he climbed up on

her hand. “Let’s get you back in your tank, okay?”

He didn’t seem unhappy with that. She carried him back over

the rubble, and he clung to her hand easily, riding all the uneven

progress without much concern. She righted his tank and held out

her hand, and he scuttled off and settled into the gauzy webs,

looking perfectly comfortable.

She resisted the urge to pat him on the head. Thorax. What-

ever. “Good boy, Bob. I’ll be back soon.”

He hopped up and down a little in the webs, then turned his

attention to one of his stored insects.

She was happy to skip that part, actually.

As she came back to them, Hannah already seemed much bet-

ter, and Shane looked relieved. “Swear to God, I don’t get you and

that spider,” he said. “But if you’re done playing Dr. Doolittle . . .”

“I know where they’ll have Jesse,” Claire said. “Let’s go.”

But she was wrong.

The asylum— mental hospital— whatever the current politi-

cally correct term might be— was closed and locked. Nobody there.

Claire went around back to check windows, but she didn’t find any-

thing. Just to be thorough, Hannah broke in (though according to