A little scene between Claire and Myrnin.
Claire hitched her backpack higher up on her shoulder as she took out the key to the padlock on Myrnin's entrance to his lab. She opened the door with a creak that interrupted the eerie silence coming from down below. Claire took a deep breath and started down the steps. There was one oil lamp in the corner of the room that was still emitting a faint light from when Claire had set it up for him yesterday. Myrnin wasn't anywhere to be seen, she wondered if he was going to try and jump out at her—
But no. There he was, slouched in his armchair. She took out a syringe filled with the liquid medicine Dr. Mills had created just for Myrnin. He was so unpredictable; he could be sleeping peacefully, having a crazy attack, or trying to lure Claire over to get her close enough to bite.
"Myrnin?" she called gently, getting the needle ready, just in case. He didn't reply or show any sign of hearing her. That ruled out sleeping peacefully. With his vampire hearing, that would have woken him up. "Myrnin," she called a little louder this time.
"Please," came a hoarse whisper from his barely-moving lips. "Please, little one, come end the pain." He didn't raise his head; he didn't do anything except say that.
"W-what?" she asked, surely having not heard him right.
"Take the silver and kill me. I can't continue," he rasped.
Claire wondered if this was just him being overly dramatic, or if he was being serious. "I can't, Myrnin. I'm supposed to be helping you, remember?"
"Remember?" he asked quietly, sitting up from his slouched position in his favorite chair. "Remember... remember what? What is there to remember? Too many painful memories, child. You're too young—please. Please, end my pain."
"Myrnin, Amelie wants me to—"
"Amelie's will is of no importance to me. When I have departed, her anger will no longer affect me. Please, child, put me out of my misery," he was pleading now. His eyes were looking at her... but not. His gaze was fixed on her slightly shaking form, but she could see the glazed over, unfocused look she was getting. He wasn't in his right mind, and he was most dangerous now.
"I'm supposed to learn from you," she said carefully.
"And you've learned more than many of the other ones I've had. You should have gone long ago. And yet, here you are, standing before me. Now you have a chance to help me, like I've helped you so many times before. You can put me away forever. Just—"
"Myrnin, I can't do that. I can't kill you," Claire said sadly, but still being firm.
"But you can," he was getting that manic sound in his voice. The way he spoke when he made up his mind about something in a frenzy. And now he was desperate. "Do it, Claire. I know you want to. No one wants to deal with me, yet you put up with it all. I've seen the way you watch me when I'm being angry. You want me dead. Now you can kill me and I shall comply. The pain is too immense. I've lived through so much hurting, and this I can't stop. I can't put cold water to my face to ease the burning inside. I can't numb myself to stop my insides from twisting and shredding themselves to nothing over and over again—"
"Myrnin, I have your medicine. I've got it right here," she said, holding up the syringe. "This will help the pain go away."
"It won't!" he barked. He shot out of his chair and slapped the drug out of Claire's shaking hand. She heard it roll away into the darker corners of the room. "You think those will help me get better, Claire. They won't. They're nothing but a distraction. You humans like victory. That, for you, was a sense of achievement. For me, it's just a taunting taste of it. I'll never be the same," he said, quieting down. "I'll never be the man I once was. Please, little girl. Put me out of my misery," he repeated.
"I—I can't." It was heartbreaking, to see Myrnin like this. He was so sure he wasn't going to be the same again. That made Claire want to study the disease harder and find more information about what was going to make them overcome this challenge.
Myrnin put his hands on her shoulders, his grip firm, but not strong enough to break bones, and looked her in the eye. His were filled with so much despair and sense of loss, it made Claire sad. She wanted to help Myrnin, but she didn't know how to fix him. And, as he had said before, he couldn't be saved.
"Please, Claire. Please, I'm begging you. Do this for me."
"Myrnin," her voice broke with emotion as her eyes filled with tears. "Killing yourself isn't going to get us anywhere! You're going to have to fight now. You're going to help me make the cure!"
"Fight..." He let go of her shoulders. "I've fought for seventy years, Claire. That is a long time to prolong a disease's damming fate such as this." Myrnin slid to his knees and pounded his head on the stone floor. The echoing bang of the repeated impacts made Claire wince. Her tears fell out of her eyes as she saw him trying to kill himself.
"Stop," she whispered, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Myrnin, stop. You're hurting yourself." She reached out towards him, to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off angrily.
Then he got up, slowly, and reached under the bottom of one of his bookshelves. He pulled out a dusty, cobweb-covered object folded up in a dark purple velvet cloth. Myrnin unwrapped it and handed it to Claire. It was a silver knife. The tip was sharp and would surely cut anything it was put against. Claire took it, but only because Myrnin was getting the blade too close to her for comfort.
She knew she had another dose of medicine for Myrnin in her pocket. She just needed to get close enough to inject it into him without him fighting it too much.
Myrnin fell back onto the floor and covered his eyes with his hands. Claire saw his stomach rise and fall with his labored breathing. This disease really was killing him.
Since he couldn't see her, she took the shot out of her pocket and uncapped it as quietly as she could. She moved over to where Myrnin lying on the cold, stone floor. She crouched down as if she was going to plunge the knife into his chest and she heard his breathing stop: Waiting for Claire to finish him. But then she stuck the needle into the side of his neck and injected the medicine into his body quickly.
His eyes went wide, and he convulsed for a moment before he came back to reality. He looked at Claire and asked, completely sane, "Why didn't you do it?" He hadn't forgotten he'd been trying to end his own life. Hadn't forgotten how he'd tried to get Claire to do it for him. Because he hadn't been crazy when he'd asked. He'd really wanted her to do it.
"I couldn't," she said simply, putting the knife back in its purple covering. "You're going to be saved, Myrnin. One way or another."
He answered her with a strange look. One Claire couldn't exactly read, but one that showed he was afraid, unprepared for what was to come, and sorrow.