“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.”

“Ada needs me as much as I need her,” Myrnin snapped, suddenly—and very un-Myrnin-like—offended. “You know nothing about her, or me, and I am ordering you to stay out of my affairs where they concern Ada.” He suddenly staggered, and had to put out a hand to steady himself against the nearest lab table. “And fetch me some blood, Claire.”

“Get it yourself.” She couldn’t believe she’d said it, but he’d really stung her. “Also, your precious Ada killed Bob by supersizing him and trying to get him to bite me. So maybe you don’t know anything about Ada.”

“Get me blood, or I’ll have to take what’s available,” Myrnin said softly. He didn’t seem dramatic about it, and it wasn’t a threat. He raised his head and looked at her, and she saw that shine there—lunatic and focused and very, very scary. “I’m very hungry.”

“Claire, go,” Michael said, and moved to stand between her and Myrnin. “He’s not faking it.”

He really wasn’t, because Myrnin lunged for her. He was faster than she or Michael could have expected, and Michael was off balance and nowhere near the right place as Myrnin shoved him out of the way and sent him crashing into the nearest stone wall. . . .

Then he grabbed Claire by her shoulder and a fistful of hair. He wrenched her head painfully to the side, exposing her neck, and she felt the cool puff of his breath against her skin, and she knew she had only one move left.