Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 102

My next visit to Myrnin's lab brought a surprise. When I descended the steps, I saw the glow of lamps, and my first thought was, Oh God, he's out of his cell. My second was that I'd better get the dart gun ready, and I was unzipping the backpack to reach for it when I saw that it wasn't Myrnin at all.

The overcrowded, dimly lit lab - which was more like a storeroom of outdated equipment, really - held a chair and reading lamp. Seated in the chair, turning pages in one of the fragile, ancient journals, was none other than Oliver.

I put my hand on the butt of the dart gun, just in case, although I wasn't really sure what good a dose of antidote would do in this situation.

"Oh, relax, I'm not going to attack you, Ana," Oliver said in a bored voice. He didn't even look up. "Besides, we're on the same side these days. Or haven't you heard?"

I came down the remaining steps slowly. "I guess I haven't. Was there a memo?" Granted, he'd come running when Eve had called about Bishop, but that didn't necessarily put him in the category of ally in my books.

"When outsiders threaten the community, the community pulls together against the outsiders. It's a rule as old as the tribal system. You and I are in the same community, and we have a common enemy."

"Mr. Bishop."

Oliver looked up, marking the place in the journal with one finger. "You have questions, I'd assume. I would, in your place."

"All right. How long have you known him?"

"I don't know him. I doubt anyone does who's still alive today."

I slipped into a rickety chair across from him. "But you've met him."

"Yes."

"When did you meet him, then?"

Oliver tilted his head, eyes narrowed, and I remembered how I'd once thought he was nice, just a normal kind of person. Not so much now.

Not so much a person, either.

"I met him in Greece," he said. "Some time ago. I don't think the circumstances would be particularly enlightening to you. Or comforting, come to think of it."

"Did you try to kill him?"

"Me?" Oliver smiled slowly. "No."

"Did Amelie?"

He didn't answer, but he continued to smile. The silence stretched until I wanted to scream, but I knew he wanted me to babble.

I didn't.

"Amelie's affairs are none of yours," Oliver said. "I assume you've been listening to Myrnin's chatter. I confess, I find it fascinating he's still with us. I thought him dead and gone, long ago."

"Like Bishop?"

"He's quite mad, you know. Myrnin. And he has been for as long as I can recall, though it certainly got worse in more recent times." Oliver's eyes took on a faraway look. "He did so love the hunt, but he was always such a pathetic weeping idiot after. It doesn't surprise me he wants to blame his own weakness on some - mythical disease. Some people simply aren't cut out for this life."

Of all the things I had expected, that one caught me off guard. "You don't believe there's a disease?"

"I don't believe that because Myrnin and a few others are - defective - that it means we're all declining, no."

"But - you can't, um - "

"Reproduce?" Oliver said it without any emotion at all. "Perhaps we don't wish to."