Myrnin looked around into darkness that hid whatever it was that scared Michael so much. Claire didn’t think she wanted to know; she put her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life as she felt his muscles tense. Things moved past, and she noticed a sense of air pressing against her. The tunnel, she thought, because things felt closed in, sounds seemed muffled and strange. “Myrnin?” she called behind them, but got no reply. Then she felt Michael jump, and for a breathless second she was weightless, suspended in midair as the light seemed to rush over her.

Michael landed perfectly just beyond the trapdoor set into the lab’s concrete and stone, and quickly spun around, backing away at the same time.

Myrnin seemed to almost levitate up out of the hole in the floor, graceful as a cat. As his coat swirled like black fog, he turned in midair, reached out, and slammed the trapdoor shut.

Then he landed on it, light and perfectly balanced, and leaned over to slam his palm down on a red panel on top. It lit up, and a metallic clunk echoed through the lab. Myrnin stepped off the door, stared at it for a second, and then carefully unrolled the carpet and smoothed it back over the entrance to Ada’s cave.

Claire let go of Michael and slid to her feet. She was still gripping her sharp-pointed bone weapon, and she didn’t really feel inclined to put it down. Not yet. “What just happened?”

“I set the lock,” Myrnin said, and tapped a toe on the carpet, in case she’d missed the point. “It’s quite clever, you know. Electromagnetic. Keyed to my own handprint.”

“Yeah, that’s great. Why were you down there in the first place? You know she’s not—well.”

Myrnin fussily adjusted the lapels of his velvet coat, frowned at his bright blue vest as if he didn’t remember wearing it, and shrugged. “Something to do with adjusting her emotional responses. Unfortunately, she was ready for me, it seems. She’s quite clever, you know.” He seemed almost proud. “Now—was there something you wanted, Claire?”

“A thank-you might be nice.”

He blinked. “Whatever for? Oh, that. The electricity was only to keep me immobilized. She’d have had to let me go, eventually.”

“Not really. She could have just kept you like that until you starved, right?”

“I can’t die. Not like that. I can be made very uncomfortable, and very hungry, and quite a bit mad, but not dead. She’d have to have one of her creatures—cut my head—off. . . .” Myrnin’s voice trailed away, and he seemed very distant for a few seconds; then he said, “I see. Yes, you’re quite correct. She would have options. But she wouldn’t kill me.”

“Why not?”

“I think we both know why, Claire.”

“You mean, because she loves you? I’m not really seeing it right now.”