His lips parted, and for a second she thought he was going to tell her, but then some crafty little light came into his eyes, and he closed his hand around the sharp outlines of the thing. “Nothing,” he purred. “Pray continue. I’ll be—over here.” He moved to an area of the lab where he had a reading corner with a big leather armchair and a stained-glass lamp. He carefully moved the chair so its back was toward her, and plunked himself down with his bunny-slippered feet up on a hassock to examine his find.

“Freak,” she sighed.

“I heard that!”

“Good.” Claire sawed through the ropes on the next-to-last box.

It exploded.

Chapter 2

2

When Claire opened her eyes again, she saw three faces looming over her. One was Myrnin’s, and he looked concerned. One was the shining blond head of her housemate Michael Glass—Michael had her hand in his, which was nice, because he was sweet, and he had beautiful hands, too. The last face took her a moment, and then recognition clicked into place. “Oh,” Claire murmured. “Hello, Dr. Theo.”

“Hello, Claire,” said Theo Goldman, and put a finger to his lips. He was a kind-looking older man, a bit frayed around the edges, and he had an antique black stethoscope in his ears. He was listening to her heart. “Ah. Very good. Your heart is still beating, I’m sure you’ll be very pleased to hear.”

“Yay,” Claire said, and tried to sit up. That was a bad idea, and Michael had to support her when she lost her balance. The headache hit a moment later, massive as a hurricane inside her skull. “Ow?”

“You struck your head when you fell,” Theo said. “I don’t believe there’s any permanent damage, but you should see your physician and have the tests done. I should hate to think I missed anything.”

Claire pulled in a deep breath. “Maybe I should see Dr. Mills. Just in case—hey, wait. Why did I fall?”

They all exchanged looks. “You don’t remember?” Michael asked.

“Why? Is that bad? Is that brain damage?”

“No,” Theo said firmly, “it is quite natural to have some loss of memory around such an event.”

“What kind of event?” There it was again, that silence, and Claire raised her personal terror alert from yellow to orange. “Anybody?”

Myrnin said, “It was a bomb.”

She blinked, not entirely sure she’d heard him right. “A bomb. Are you sure you understand what that is? Because—” She gestured vaguely at herself, then around at the room, which looked pretty much untouched. All glassware intact. “Because generally bombs go boom.”

“It was a light bomb,” Myrnin said. “Touch your face.”

Now that she thought about it, her face did feel a bit hot. She put her fingers on her cheeks. Burning hot. “What happened to me?” She couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.