“Don’t you?” Her hands folded primly at her waist, Ada was the image of one of those schoolteachers from the old days. “All science requires sacrifice. And you didn’t even like Bob.”

Well, that was true. “Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean I want to see it die horribly!”

“Really? I find that . . . not very interesting at all, actually. Sentimentality has no place in science.”

Just like that, poof, Ada was pixels and vapor, gone. Claire ventured slowly forward, to where Bob the Giant Spider was curled up on the table. She half expected him to suddenly flip upright in true horror-movie style, but he stayed still.

Claire wasn’t falling for it. No way. She backed up to the steps that led out of the lab, and sat down on the cold stone, wrapping her arms around her for warmth.

Minutes ticked by.

The dead spider didn’t move, which meant that either he wasn’t faking it, or he was really, really good at it.

“Claire?”

She shrieked and jumped, and Michael, standing about a foot behind her, jumped backward, as well. Being a vampire, he somehow made it look cool. She, not so much. “God, don’t do that! Warn me!”

“I did!” He sounded wounded. “I said your name.”

“Say it from across the room next time.”

But Michael wasn’t looking at her anymore; he was staring past her, at the dead spider. “What the hell is that?”

“Bob,” she said. “I’ll tell you later. Come on.”

“Where?”

“Ada’s cave.”

Which was why she’d called him, because, of course, there were no stairs. Vampires didn’t need them. They could jump twelve feet onto solid stone and not even feel a twinge; Claire figured she was sure to have a broken bone, at the very least. She wasn’t a superhero, a magical vampire slayer, or even a particularly coordinated athlete. Michael was her way in—and, hopefully, out.

Of course, having a friend with her going down into the dark, that was a plus, too.

Luckily, Michael didn’t seem too bothered at being asked to stand in for a ladder; he looked down into the darkness for a few moments, craning to see every detail of what, to Claire, was pitch-blackness. “Looks clear,” he said. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“She won’t say where Myrnin is. Well, he’s not up here, and the carpet was rolled back. He must have gone down there.”

“And there’s a reason why we can’t just wait for him to come back?”

“Yeah. Ada’s tried to kill me twice now, and who knows what she’s tried to do to him. There’s something wrong with her, Michael.”

“Then maybe we should call somebody for help.”

Claire laughed a little wildly. “Like who, Amelie? You saw her at the cemetery. You really think we should rely on her right now?”