"What?"
"This isn't Bob," Myrnin said.
Claire rolled her eyes. "He came out of Bob's cage."
"Ah, that explains it. I found a companion for Bob. I thought it was likely they'd try to eat each other, but they seemed content enough. So this must have been Edgar. Or possibly Charlotte."
"Edgar," Claire repeated. "Or Charlotte. Right."
Myrnin left the dead spider and went to Bob's container. He rooted around in it for a few seconds, then triumphantly held out his palm toward Claire.
Bob - presumably - sat crouched there, looking as confused and frightened as a spider could.
"So it was only Edgar," Myrnin said. "Not the same thing at all."
"Was Edgar always the size of a dog?"
"Oh, of course not, he - oh, I see your point. Regardless of which spider it is, there are some mysteries to be solved." Myrnin carefully nudged Bob off his palm, back into the container, and then rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Yes, there's definitely work to be done. Ada must have made tremendous strides recently in her research, for her to be able to create this kind of effect. I must know how, and what went wrong."
"Myrnin. Ada made a spider grow into a monster and tried to kill me with it. This isn't about how she did it. It's why."
"Why is for other people. I am much more concerned with the method, and I'm surprised, Claire; I thought you would be the same. Well, not surprised, perhaps. Disappointed." He carefully uncurled one of the spider's long legs. Claire shuddered. "I'll need a corkboard. A large one. And some very large pins."
Claire and Michael exchanged a look. He'd been standing there, a fascinated but disgusted observer to all this, and now he just shook his head. "If all he wants is for you to fetch and carry, maybe you should just leave him to it."
"She's my assistant; it's her job to fetch and carry," Myrnin snapped, and then looked sorry. "But - perhaps you've done enough for one day."
Claire ticked them off on her fingers. "Survived spider attack. Rescued you. Got you blood. Cleaned up blood leftovers."
"I shall therefore fetch my own corkboard. Claire?" She turned and looked at him as she and Michael headed for the exit. Myrnin looked back in control again, and except for the bloodstain on his vest, you'd never have known he'd been anything less.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I shall consider what you said. About Ada."
She nodded, and escaped.
Michael, as it turned out, was headed for the rehearsal of the play Eve was in, and Claire belatedly remembered that she'd been invited, too. His car was parked at the end of the alley, on the cul-de-sac, and he had an umbrella with him to block the sun. It looked kind of funny, but at least it was a giant golf umbrella, very manly. It had a duck carved into the handle.
Michael even opened the passenger door for her, like a gentleman, but instead of getting in, she reached for the umbrella. "You're the one who combusts," she said. "You get in first." He gave her a funny look as she walked him to the driver's side, and shaded him as he sat. "What?"
"I was thinking how different you are," he said. "You really stood up to Myrnin in there. I'm not sure a lot of vampires could have done that. Including me."
"I'm not different. I'm the same Claire as ever." She grinned, though. "Okay, fewer bruises than when you first met me."
He smiled and closed the car door; she folded the umbrella and got in on the shotgun side. She was careful to open the door only enough to get in; the angle of the sun was cutting uncomfortably close to reaching Michael's side of the car. Inside, the tinting cut the light almost completely. It was like being in a cave, again, only she hoped this one didn't house giant mutated spiders and - what had Michael called them? Things.
"Some people come to Morganville and collapse," Michael said as he put the car in motion. "I've seen it a dozen times. But there are a few who come here and just - bloom. You're one of those."
Claire didn't feel especially bloomy. "So you're saying I thrive on chaos."
"No. I'm saying you thrive on challenge. But do me a favor, okay?"
"Considering you came running and jumped into a cave to help me out? Yes."
He shot her a smile so sweet it melted her heart. "Don't ever let him get that close to you again. I like Myrnin, but he can't be trusted. You know that."
"I know." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Thanks."
"No problem. You die, I have to call your parents and explain why. I really don't want to do that. I've already got the whole vampire thing against me."
That took up the entirety of the short drive to the rehearsal hall, which of course had underground parking, being in the vampire part of town. It also had security, Claire was interested to note - a vampire on duty in a blacked-out security booth whom she thought she remembered as being from Amelie's personal security detail. Hard to tell when they all wore dark suits and looked like the Secret Service, only with fangs. Michael showed ID and got a pass to put in his windshield, and within five minutes, they were heading up a sweeping flight of stairs into the Civic Center's main auditorium.
There they found the director having a total YouTube moment.
"What do you mean, not here?" he bellowed, and slammed a clipboard to the stage floor. He had an accent - German, maybe - and he was a neat little man, older, with thinning gray hair and a very sharp face. "How can she not be here? Is she not in this play? Who is responsible for the call sheet?"
One of the other people standing in a group around the director onstage waved her hand. She had a clipboard, a microphone headset, and a tense, worried expression. Claire didn't recognize her. "Sir, I tried calling her cell phone six times. It went to voice mail."