“You know the old radio station outside of town? KV—” Her mind blanked. She looked at Eve, who mouthed the answer. “KVVV. Could you open me a portal?”

“Hmmm,” he said. She heard the sound of liquid being poured in the background, and him swallowing it, and him smacking his lips. “Well, I suppose I could get you close, if not inside the building. Would that do?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“And why can you not do this yourself?”

“Ada . . . ?”

Myrnin was silent for a long few seconds. “She’s better,” he said. “I don’t know what got into the old girl. But I’ve had a talk with her, and really, she’s much better now. Much better.”

“That’s good.” It would be, if it were true, but Claire didn’t trust Myrnin’s judgment when it came to Ada. “Um, about that portal—”

“Yes, fine, coming right up. I will be there in a moment.”

“No, Myrnin—”

He hung up before she could explain that she didn’t actually need him to come along. Not that he was going to listen to her, anyway. Claire replaced the phone on its cradle.

“Crazy boss is coming,” Shane interpreted, just from the expression on her face. “Lovely. This ought to be fun.”

About five seconds later, Claire felt a psychic wave sweep through the house, so strong she was surprised neither Shane nor Eve seemed to feel it, and then a dark opening formed in the far wall of the living room, and Myrnin stepped over the threshold.

“I so want his wardrobe,” Eve sighed. “Is that shallow, or just strange?”

“Don’t sell yourself short. It’s both,” Shane said, and cocked his head to take in Myrnin’s latest effort at blending in. It was . . . interesting. Claire couldn’t decide if it was some deliberate, unholy mix of Victorian lord and hippie, or just what had been on the floor of his closet.

He had on his bunny slippers.

These had fangs.

They all stared at them in silence for about a heartbeat, and then Shane said, “That is impressively wicked. Crazy, but wicked.”

Myrnin frowned at him, then looked down at his shoes. He seemed genuinely surprised. “Oh. Those. I thought—well, they’re appropriate, I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t want to be inappropriate,” Claire said. “You really didn’t have to come. I’m sorry.”

“I did, in fact. I tried to open the portal to the radio station, and I couldn’t do so.” Myrnin’s dark eyes were wide and gleaming, clearly fascinated. “Claire, do you know what this means?” He paced, the bunny slippers flopping their ears in a very distracting way. “Someone locked down the area. And it wasn’t me.”

“Who else could?”

“No one.”

“But—”