Authors: Rachel Caine

Midnight Bites (48 page)

BOOK: Midnight Bites

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She fumbled with the keys, tried them one after another, and finally, one turned in the old, rusted lock.

The door swung open.

“Claire,” Eve said. “You can't go in there. If you do, you can't keep the light on the door, and that meansÂ .Â .Â .”

“That means it seals up behind me,” Claire said. “Yeah, I get it. SoÂ .Â .Â .”

“So that's me, volunteering,” Eve said. She stepped up next to Claire and swallowed hard; the shotgun was in her hand. Not enough to stop most vampires, but enough to slow them way down and make them think twice. In terms of Morganville's vampire population, a shotgun was the equivalent of a Taserânonlethal force, as long as it wasn't aimed at their face. “I go in first, right?”

“You can't,” Claire said. “Step in front of me.”

Eve did, and the second she blocked the light, the doorway justÂ .Â .Â . disappeared, in the shape of Eve's body. No matter where she moved, if she blocked the artificial moonlight, the whole room disappeared. “Well, this is awkward,” she said. “So, how about we just stay out here and nicely ask Myrnin to please come out? Hello, crazy dude? Anyone?”

There was no answer. Nothing. Claire swallowed hard and said, “Put your arm around my neck, Eve.”

“UmÂ .Â .Â . okay?”

Claire stepped in closer and changed the light source to her left hand. Her right went around Eve's waist. “We have to move together,” she said. “Don't let go.”

“I won't,” Eve promised. “So, left foot first?”

They took each step together, edging carefully through the doorway. Without looking, Claire knew it had sealed behind them. She pinwheeled Eve to the left to sweep the light through the darkness, and purely by luck, she managed to shine it directly on the window opposite.

Sunlight poured in, bright and cheeryÂ .Â .Â . and for a second it lit up the entire room. The wardrobe, both doors shut now. The small chest with the old-fashioned bowl and pitcher.

The bed.

And Myrnin, lying on it, still as death.

It was only a glimpse, because as soon as the sunlight poured across the room, Claire's light ceased to function at allâor, more accurately, it just became completely useless. She quickly averted the beam toward her feet, away from the window, and plunged them into darkness so thick it seemed to wrap around them like black cotton.

Eve made a little squeak of protest.

Claire carefully lifted the blue beam again until it rested on the bed. On Myrnin. Together, she and Eve twin-walked toward him. He didn't look hurt, just motionless. His hands were folded together on his chest, over what looked like the same device he'd retrieved from the wardrobe the night before. His eyes were open. Claire risked poking him. No response.

“This isn't good,” Eve said. “What now?”

“Drag him out, I guess,” Claire said. “But you'll have to put the shotgun down if you do.”

“I do not like this plan.”

“Got another one?”

“Not so much. Okay. Hang on.” Eve leaned forward and pulled the round device from Myrnin's arms; she stuck it inside the pocket of the vest she was wearing, where it made a big, awkward bulge. Then she leaned her shotgun against the wall and grabbed Myrnin by one arm to pull him toward her. He slid like a dead man, slack and empty, and it was awful to see. Eve kept pulling until Myrnin thumped off the bed to the floor, and then she grabbed the back of his shirt. “Right. Now what?”

“We back up toward the door and never take our eyes off of him,” Claire said.

That plan lasted one step, and then they both stopped, because of a sound that shouldn't have been thereÂ .Â .Â . the sound of the wardrobe door creaking open from behind themÂ .Â .Â . just off to their left.

And a slow rustling.

“Claire?” Eve whispered. Her voice was shaking. “Might want to, ah, light that up.”

Something told Claire that whatever was coming out of that cabinet, she
really
didn't want to see it. She had the strong feeling that the reason Myrnin was in this state might have something to do with it. So instead of turning and looking directly, she took the light, reversed it, and pointed it straight behind them where she thought the room's door should be.

“Step back,” she told Eve. “Fast. One, two, threeÂ .Â .Â .” They moved in an awkward, but fast, backward scuttle, dragging Myrnin along with them, and Claire's arm bumped into the wooden doorframe. “Squeeze!”

Eve pushed hard into her, and somehow they both got through the doorway.
Myrnin,
Claire thought suddenly, and swung the light in a smooth curve upward as they passed through the doorway to keep it open for him.

His feet had just passed the boundary when she saw the thing from the wardrobe.

It was a vampire. Ancient, bony, bitter white, with mad pale eyes and rags for clothes.

And it was staring at them.

At freedom.

Claire didn't think; she lunged forward, grabbed the doorknob, and slammed the door shut an instant before the vampire moved. The keys were still dangling in the lock, and she twisted them, and then switched the light off.

Just before she did, she heard the thing whisper something.

She backed away, and Claire felt herself shuddering beyond any possibility of control.

“Oh God,” Eve whispered. “What did we just do?”

“I don't know,” Claire said. She pulled in a deep, shaking breath. “Let's get him out of here.”

â¢Â Â Â â¢Â Â Â â¢

Myrnin woke up slowly in the hearse. Blinks first, then moans, then twitches. But finally, he turned his head to look at Claire, and said, “Out?” He said it as if he wasn't entirely sure he could trust his eyes.

“You're out,” she said, and touched his hand. She wasn't sure he could feel it, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “What happened to you?”

“Heâ” Myrnin tried to put it into words, then shook his head. “It doesn't matter. The device?”

“Got it,” Eve said. “Whatever it is. Also, please tell me it isn't a bomb or radioactive or something.”

“It isn't, Shreve.”

“Still Eve, man.”

“Apology.”

“Accepted, I guess, and what the hell was that thing in the room with you?”

Myrnin closed his eyes. For a long moment, Claire didn't think he'd answer Eve's question, until he finally murmured, “Someone I thought long dead. In a sense, he
is
dead. Time still passes in that room, but he can't leave it.”

“But doesn't moonlight reveal the door? Can't he open it tonight?”

“It only reveals itself during one
particular
configuration of moonlight. Last night was the only opportunity for the next one hundred yearsÂ .Â .Â . unless you use that device. Clever girl, Claire. I didn't even tell you to find it.”

“What are you going to do aboutÂ .Â .Â . him? Just leave him?”

Myrnin's dark eyes fixed on the horizon for a moment. His expression didn't change. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I will leave him.”

“And one for the devil,” Claire said. “You
were
talking about him.”

Myrnin sighed and leaned his head back against the plush upholstery. “Maybe I was,” he said. “What time is it?”

Eve checked her phone. “Eleven thirty, which, wow, I'm cutting it close. I'm dumping you off at the lab, guys, and then I'm out. It's been super fun. And you owe me a shotgun.”

“I do?” Myrnin didn't open his eyes.

“Also therapy sessions, because, wow. But here you go. Have fun.” She handed Claire the device from her vest pocket. It was about the size of a baseball, heavy and slick. “You going to be okay?”

Eve pulled the hearse in at the curb. Claire looked down at the narrow, dark alley that led to Myrnin's lab, and nodded.

“We'll be okay,” she said.

Then she grabbed her boss and helped him into the dark.

And one for the devil.

At least she'd picked the devil she knew.

“Claire?” Myrnin's voice sounded still and quiet and small. He was just barely walking, and it was all she could do to keep him upright as they struggled down the steps to the lab. The motion lights brought up the visibility, at least. “I need to tell you something.”

She stopped and looked at him. He seemed sincere, for once. And not crazy in the least.

“It was me,” he said. “It was me, in that room.”

“I don'tÂ .Â .Â . I don't understand. Of course it was you. I mean, I got youâ”

“What we left in that room is the me of the future,” he said. “The me that I would have become, starving and mad, if you hadn't returned for me. In that room, times blur. Worlds blur. The creature was meÂ .Â .Â . a
me
that won't exist now, because of you. Thank you, Claire.”

That explained it, Claire realized. What the creature had said right at the end.

It had whispered, “Thank you, Claire.”

She couldn't speak. Couldn't tell him. But she thought that he might have understood anyway.

“Well,” he said, “don't make too much of itâit isn't as if we haven't encountered far worse in our time together. Besides, we have work to do! This, for instance. We need to work on this.” He took the baseball-sized device from her hand and tossed it into the air. Weak as he was, it was a minor miracle he caught it.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Not the vaguest idea,” he said. “I just remember putting it in that room about a hundred years ago. Let's find out, shall we?”

She put the moonlight device down in the spot she'd found it, and smiled, just a little. “Let's find out,” she agreed.

And they did. Eventually.

AFTERWORD

SoÂ .Â .Â . am I finished with Morganville? No, I'm not. I don't know how, or why, I'll be returning to this special little place, but I know that it still holds secrets and wonders for me, and I will most certainly return for visits, or even long stays. I don't know when, but I hope that when I go back to Morganville, you'll come along for the ride. It's always best to have friends in a place like that.

Until next time, then, we wave good-bye to Morganville in the rearview mirror. But remember what the sign says:
YOU'LL NEVER WAN
T TO LEAVE.

I certainly don't. Not quite yet.

Thank you to my wonderful friends at Penguin USA and Allison & Busby UK for encouraging me to put this collection together, and thanks especially to my Kickstarter backers of every level, who helped us take a run at Morganville in an entirely new way. But most of all, thanks to my hundreds of thousands of loyal Morganville residents. You rock.

Until next time, I remain your friend,

Rachel Caine

Rachel Caine
is the
New York Times
,
USA Today
, and international bestselling author of more than forty novels, including the Weather Warden series, the Outcast Season series, the Revivalist series, and the Morganville Vampires series.

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