He looked at her directly, then, with those warm dark eyes that seemed so human and yet, at the same time, were so very not. He’d seen so much – ages, generations, all kinds of horror and death, brilliance and beauty. And it showed. ‘I will miss you, Claire. You know that.’

‘I know,’ she said, and couldn’t look away. She wanted to, but Myrnin’s gaze held hers like a magnet. ‘I’ll miss you too.’

He flew at her and embraced her, a sudden and awkward kind of thing; he was too strong, and too fast, and it drew a startled little squeak from her as her body remembered all too well how it felt to have fangs sinking into her neck … but then he was gone again, stepping away, turning toward the horizon where pink was painting the hills and scrub brush of the desert. The wind was cold, and picking up speed.

‘You should go,’ Claire said, and got control of her pounding heart, somehow. ‘My parents are on the way. They’ll be here any minute.’

‘A very poor escort I’d be to leave you out here in the dark, prey for anything,’ he said. ‘Highwaymen, and all that.’

‘Myrnin, there haven’t been highwaymen in at least a hundred years. Probably more.’

‘Robbers, then. Serial killers. The modern bogeyman under the bed, yes? Bad men skulking in the darkness have always been there, and always will.’ He flashed a smile at her, which was made unsettling by the extra-long eyeteeth, but he was still glancing uneasily at the horizon. Myrnin was old; he wouldn’t burst into flames with the rise of the sun, but he’d be uncomfortably scorched. ‘I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.’

‘More than a little,’ she sighed, and caught sight of car headlights speeding over the crest of the far hill. Mom and Dad. She felt a little surge of excitement, but it was quickly overwhelmed with a huge wave of sadness and longing. It felt different from what she expected, leaving Morganville … leaving her friends behind. Leaving Shane. ‘They’re coming. You should go.’

‘Should I not see you off?’

‘In that get-up?’

Myrnin looked down at himself, baffled. ‘It’s most elegant!’

‘When you were partying down with Beethoven, maybe, but today you look like you’re on your way to a fancy dress ball.’

‘So I ought to have worn the casual shirt with it, then?’

Claire almost smiled at the idea of one of his loud Hawaiian shirts thrown on over breeches and boots. ‘God, no. You look great. Just not … period appropriate. So go on, I’ll be fine, okay?’

He looked at the car, coming fast toward them, and finally nodded. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Professor Anderson will be expecting you. Don’t forget, you can use the telephone to call me.’