She concentrated so hard it felt like she might collapse into a tiny white dot, like a dying star, and the vase shivered and rocked. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Michael steadied it, and smiled. A real, warm smile of relief. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them and said, "Thank you."
"I was right, wasn't I?" Eve suddenly shrieked and jumped like a cheerleader, waving her hands in the air. The black mourning veil floated in the air behind her like a cloud. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"Excuse me, you were right? I've been yelling at you guys for half an hour while you gave me the sad eyes and counseling!" Shane shouted back, but he was grinning now. He ran at Michael and hugged him fiercely, then Eve, catching her in midair as she squealed in delight. He spun her around. "She's here. She's really here!"
Claire wanted to collapse on the couch, but being insubstantial, collapsing was sort of theoretical. She settled for hovering close to it, and moved quickly as Shane threw himself in a relieved, boneless slouch on that end of the cushions. He covered his face with his hands for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were bright with tears. "She's here," he said again, more softly. "Thank you, God."
"Claire? Do it again, with the vase," Eve said. She knelt down and stared intently at it. "Go on, do it!"
She reached deep again, but there wasn't anything left, really . . . and then she felt a dim, whispered trickle of power. Of course. The house had power, loads of it. She might not be a Glass, but she was something to it - it had saved her. And if she was careful, maybe she could siphon off just a little....
She could actually see the power running through the boards and beams now, a close-knit cage of light. There, right in the middle, was a particularly bright, pulsing thread, like . . . well, like a blood vessel.
She touched it and got a shock, a small one, not the kind that hurt, but a feeling of stability and warmth.
Then her fingers sank into the flow of power, and the vase flew off the table and bashed into the wall and shattered into pieces, and Eve gasped and fell back, staring. She shot to her feet and did a victory dance. "Yes! Yes, that's my girl!"
Claire felt a ripple of power, and when she looked back, Hiram Glass was standing behind her. "Stop," he said. "Take your hands off that. Now."
She did, and the sudden removal of that surge of energy left her feeling even weaker and less real than before. Claire felt all the joy in her melt away, even while her Glass House family was celebrating.
Hiram was angry.
"You stupid, stupid creature," he hissed. "Don't ever touch my lifeblood again. Do you understand? You are not a Glass. You don't belong here, no matter what the house thinks. It's a dumb beast. A pet. It has no intelligence. I say who lives and dies, not the house, and I don't choose to help you."
"I'm sorry," she said. She hoped Shane couldn't hear her now - or hear the dread in her voice. There was something awful about Hiram now, something cold and black and violent. "I didn't mean - "
Hiram gave her a vicious, dry smile. "You won't last," he said. "You're already beginning to feel it. You're like the afterimage of the sun - a ghost, burned in for a moment, but after a few blinks it's gone. The house might have saved you temporarily, but you're just a memory without my help. And memories fade, Claire. They fade."
No, that couldn't be true. It couldn't. She looked at Shane, laughing, knuckle-bumping Michael. Eve was twirling in delight, catching Michael in her arms and kissing him.
This couldn't be temporary. It just couldn't.
Hiram gave her another bitter little smile when she said it, shrugged, and rippled into nothing.
He didn't even bother to convince her.
That, more than anything else, made her sickly sure he wasn't lying.
Nobody slept. Claire couldn't move objects anymore, no matter how hard she tried, and the effort exhausted her - but ghosts, apparently, didn't need unconsciousness like humans did. She stayed awake, drifting, watching as her friends broke out the cherished stash of Shiner and each had a beer in celebration.
"This is weird," Shane said, swigging one as Michael popped the cap on his own. "I mean, seriously. She died today. We should be - "
"She's not dead," Michael said. "And we'll get her back. You convinced me, man." He held up his hand, and Shane high-fived it. "But we need Myrnin. He's the one who said he could do it."
"I have his cell number," Eve volunteered. "Claire gave it to me. We could call?"
"Phones are out," Michael reminded her. She looked crushed. "I'll have to go get him."
"What about the portal thingie? Can you go through - Wait." Eve turned to Shane, frowning. "You went through, didn't you? How'd you do that?"
Shane shrugged. "Don't know exactly. I'm not sure I could do it again."
"Okay, Michael?"
He shook his head. "I don't have the right stuff, I guess. I've tried. Even if I get it to open, it's just black. Congrats, butthead; you can do something I can't."
"I'll add it to the list," Shane said loftily. "So, you want me to give it a shot?"
"It won't do any good," Claire said. She had to concentrate harder than before, and she wasn't sure Shane heard her, so she repeated it. He jerked and looked off into empty air, not remotely close to where she was floating. "Myrnin's not there. Amelie has him at Founder's Square."
"Say that again," Shane said. "Something about Myrnin?"
She composed herself and tried again. It was getting harder. Maybe that was just because Hiram had spooked her so hard, but she didn't think so. "Myrnin's at Founder's Square," she said again, very distinctly. She looked at the hot, burning lattice of power that ran through the walls of the Glass House with real longing, but she didn't dare try to touch it again. Hiram would know.
"Founder's Square." Shane had shut his eyes to listen, and now he opened them and looked over at Michael. "Claire says he's at Founder's Square."
Michael tipped the bottle and drank about half of it in three long gulps, then put it down. "I can't take the easy way," he said. "I have to go in person, get him, and bring him back."
"But - what if he won't come?" Eve said, wide-eyed, as she anxiously turned her unsipped beer in her hands. "Michael, what if Amelie won't let you come back, either? Don't go. I have a wicked bad feeling."
"I'll come back," he promised her. "How could I leave you?" He kissed her, long and sweet. It left her breathless, with splashes of color high in her pale cheeks.
"Maybe we should go along," Shane said. "Strength in numbers, man."
Michael smiled at Eve and shook his head. "After she bitch-slapped the Founder? Not a good idea. The two of you don't just have baggage with the vampires - you've got baggage trains. I go alone, and I come back with Myrnin."
He went into the kitchen, where he picked up his keys, and then he looked around and said, "Claire? Are you here?"
She tried doing the cold-spot thing, but clearly, she wasn't powerful enough now to pull it off. Even moving through him didn't work.
"I didn't want to tell them, but - if I don't come back, Claire, you have to find a way to stay with Shane. Somehow. Understand? And take care of Eve. I need you to promise me."
He wasn't confident now, not like he'd been in front of the others. He knew it was dangerous, going out there. Deadly dangerous.
"I will," she said. He still couldn't hear her. Even though it was not a good idea, she reached out and touched the house's power line, soaking up energy. She heard her voice actually ring and echo here in the black-and-white world as she said, "I'll do everything I can, Michael. I love you. Take care."
He heard her. She saw the relief wash over him, and he smiled, and then he was gone.
Claire let go of the pulsing latticework of power, and immediately felt exhausted. Thin. Faded.
She saw a flash of color - color, in this black-and-white world - and pirouetted in midair to face it.
Leaning against the closed kitchen door, cutting her off from Shane and Eve, was Hiram. The color came from the red brocade vest he was wearing, and the gold gleam of a watch chain. He looked almost real, almost more real than her live friends in their black-and-white world.
"I warned you," he said. "I warned you not to touch that again."