Fade Out

“Kim’s missing,” Eve said. “I tried to find her before the rehearsal; we were supposed to get together—anyway, she didn’t show. I was really worried. I was almost late, and I couldn’t find her. She’s not answering her phone, either.”

“Kim,” Oliver said. “Valerie owns her contract. Her unreliability is very much Valerie’s problem.” He didn’t sound overly bothered about it. Claire guessed Kim hadn’t made friends there, either.

“We need you to call the police. Tell them to look for her.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Kim has a Protector, who is responsible for her,” he repeated. “I will not order town resources to be spent chasing down someone who is, in all likelihood, a victim of her own folly in one way or another.”

“Wait a minute. According to the Morganville rules, she’s got rights,” Claire said. “Whether she’s got a vampire Protector or not, she’s still a resident. You can’t just abandon her!”

“In fact, I can,” Oliver said. “I am neither required to help nor harm. Kim Magness is no concern of mine, or any other vampire except Valerie, whom I will inform in due course. If you wish to call Chief Moses and explain the situation, you are free to do so. She and the mayor have jurisdiction over the humans. But I sincerely doubt that a human well known to be unstable, who’s been missing only a few hours, will be a top priority.” He dismissed the whole thing, and walked away, back up the steps. By the time he’d reached the stage, he was back in his meek, mild persona.

That was just weird.

“Son of a bitch,” Eve hissed through clenched teeth.

“Come on, we don’t need him,” Michael said. “Where first?”

Eve took a deep breath. “I guess her apartment.” She cast an almost apologetic look at Claire. “I’m sorry. I know you guys don’t exactly, ah, click, but—”

“I’ll help,” Claire said. Not because she cared so much about Kim, but because she cared about Eve. Eve gave her a quick hug. “Want me to call Shane?”

“Would you?” Eve was making puppy-dog eyes now, really pitiful. “Any help we can get—I’m really worried, Claire. This isn’t like Kim. It really isn’t.”

Claire nodded, took out her phone, and dialed Shane’s number. He didn’t seem to need a lot of encouragement to yell to his boss that he had to go, family emergency. Claire told him they’d swing by to pick him up.

By the time the call was over, they were heading down into the darkened parking garage again. “I can’t believe I did that,” Eve said. “I just totally blew my shot at the play, forever. He’s going to replace me. I’ll never get a part in anything, ever again. My life is over.”

“Blame Kim,” Claire said. “You’re a good friend.”

Eve looked miserable anyway. “Not good enough, or she’d be here, right?”

“So not your fault.”

Eve raised her eyebrows. “What if it were me missing? Wouldn’t you guys feel guilty, somehow?”

That shut Claire up, because she would, and she knew it. Even if she’d had nothing to do with it, she’d feel she should have done something.

She was still thinking that over when she felt the tingle of a portal opening nearby. Claire felt a spike of alarm drive deep, and grabbed her phone to look at the tracking app she’d loaded on it.

Yes.

An unpla

“Get to the car!” she yelled, and sprinted for it. Eve didn’t ask why, thankfully; she just tore off in pursuit, and Michael bounded ahead to jump in the driver’s side.

A flood of spiders poured out, skittering across the concrete floor—bouncing, as if they were being poured out of a giant bucket.

Thousands of Bobs, only larger, the size of small Chi huahuas. Eve shrieked and threw herself into the backseat, slamming the door as one launched itself toward them; it hit the glass and bounced off. Claire kicked one away as she jumped in the passenger seat, and Michael locked the doors. “What the hell?” Eve yelled. “Oh my God, it’s like Attack of the Giant CGI!”

“It’s Ada,” Claire said. She and Michael exchanged a look. “She’s tracking me. She’s got to be.”

“Why?”

Symbols flashed in front of Claire’s eyes, the symbols she reviewed and committed to memory every single morning. “Because I know her secret,” she said. “I know how to reset her, kind of like wiping her memory. Myrnin won’t do it, but I will. And she can’t have that.”

“Great,” Michael said. “And where do you have to go to reset her?”

“Guess.”

“You are just all kinds of fun right now.” He fired up the engine and hit the gas. Claire hid her eyes as they drove over spiders, because that was just sick and kind of sad. The spiders chased them for a while, then milled around in the distance and one by one, turned up their legs and died.

Ada hadn’t been able to keep them alive for long, which was great news for the next person in the parking garage.

“Kim first,” Claire said. “Eve’s right. Something could have happened to her.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’m sure Ada would expect me to come ru

10

Kim’s loft was a crime scene. Maybe not literally, but Claire thought if the police had roped it off, nobody would disagree. . . . Things were tossed everywhere, broken junk was piled in the corners, clothes were tossed on every flat surface. It smelled of old Chinese food, and the at-least-month-old trash was overflowing with cartons and pizza boxes. One pizza carton lay on the floor with a couple of slices of sausage withered inside.

“Nice,” Shane said, and looked around. “Well, we know she’s not a closet neat freak.” There was paint all over the walls, too—not paintings, just paint, thrown on in sprays as if Kim had taken a few gallons and spun around in a circle, splashing it all over. It was probably still art, just not Claire’s favorite kind.

“She’s busy,” Eve said, and cleaned up the pizza box and a few other Chinese food cartons, which she jammed into a plastic trash bag. “She’s an artist.”

“She’s a slob,” Shane said. “I’m not judging, though. So, what’s the plan? We look around? Can I have dibs on the underwear drawer?”

Claire winced. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Shane took on an angelic look. “Somebody’s got to do it.”

“Then that somebody will be me.”

Shane lost his smile and got serious. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” It still hurt. She avoided his eyes and started rummaging through things. It wasn’t as if Kim actually had an underwear drawer—she didn’t seem bothered by leaving her bras and panties all over the place. Claire grabbed a bag and started stuffing the clothes into it, just because.

“Girls,” Michael said. “We’re here for clues, right? Not cleanup?”

“Right.” Eve took a deep breath. “I’ll check the bedroom.”

“Bathroom,” Shane volunteered.

“You’re brave. All right, you keep going in here,” Michael told Claire. “I’ll take the kitchen.”

“Good luck.” She meant it. She bet mold had formed its own civilization in the refrigerator.

That left Claire on her own in the big, trashed-out room. She had no idea where to even start looking, but when she let herself ignore the trash, strewn clothes, and general mess, she found herself focusing on the walls. One of them had a mural painted on it, creepy elongated faces and staring eyes.

Staring eyes.

They glittered. For a frozen second, Claire thought there was someone behind the wall, watching her, and then she got her head together. It was just glass, reflecting; it wasn’t real eyes. But why would Kim put glass on the eyes—no, on only one eye?

Oh.

“Guys?” Claire opened the closet beside the mural, shoved through piles of crap and boxes, and found the camera that looked out through the eyehole. It was a small high-tech thing, wireless. So there had to be some kind of receiver, somewhere. She ducked out of the closet to yell, “Any computers around here?”