Hello, my cherished readers. So I've been re-reading the Morganville series, and I've fallen in love with it all over again. I'm sorry it's been so long, and I haven't cared to update this, but I lost my muse.

Now, I will be doing something I didn't think I'd ever do. I will be editing and re-writing this story. The plot will stay the same, don't fret! But I will be re-writing it. I feel there's more I could have explained. I hope you'll all still love it as much as the first time around. Those of you who are new, welcome!

Stay with me, lovelies. Enjoy the updated and continued story! Let me know what you think of the update on this!

A Choice, Their Will

Having Myrnin in her head was like being Alice down the rabbit hole. He sounded sane enough, but in the backround rushed images, feelings, an utterly mad and jittering landscape of too much colour, too much pain, too much love, too much hunger, too much everything. This was what Myrnin was.

And he scared her, and charmed her, and made her want to cry.

The ice in her veins had something wonderful about it, because it felt like peace. Like stillness. Not like death, but with something of death in it, and something of life. It had the fierce, sharp clarity of eternity.

Her heart was struggling to beat against it, and the struggle hurt. Life hurt. Everything about it brought pain, even the best things.

Then let go, Myrnin whispered. I'll catch you. But understand – you have to let go of everything when you fall. Even him.

Shane.

Shane, the light in her darkness, her motivation to crawl from her bed to look death in the eye every day, her sunshine in the rain. He blew life into her with every smile, and without him she was sure she would no longer stand for the things she did. He gave her meaning, he gave her happiness; the pain of everything around them was made worth it with just a word or two from him.

And then there was Myrnin.

Crazy, eccentric, fragile, beautiful Myrnin who on her lowest days could make her feel worth millions. Myrnin who loved her mind more than anyone she'd ever known, who constantly wanted to teach her things, who treasured her in a way she'd never experienced before. Myrnin, who made her feel like a somebody when she felt like she was no one.

And even with all of that, even with all of the wonderful things he could do for her, he still terrified her sometimes. He knew just how to deeply disturb her, and sometimes it was intentional.

Myrnin...?

Another wave of cold washed through her and she shivered violently, a shudder raking its way through her. What was she thinking? Why was she evaluating them both, weighing them against each other?

Then slow realization dawned on her.

She was contemplating a future with Myrnin. Her boss, her old vampire boss. Who was, in some way she didn't quite understand, in love with her.

God, what the Hell was she thinking? She shook the thoughts away, scrambling to push them as far from her conscious thought as they'd go. She couldn't be with Myrnin, not now, not ever. Shane loved her, she loved Shane! There was nothing else in the world for them, no one else. They were made to be together. Their hearts beat as one.

Claire?

Myrnin's voice came to her in a whisper through the freezing darkness, its tone puzzled, confused and hurt. He sounded weak, more fragile than she'd ever heard him. She pondered for a moment on why, and then she realized he could probably hear her thoughts. He was, after all, inside her head.

Claire, do hurry and decide. I can't... hold on for much longer.

There was real pain in his mental voice, as though he was falling apart, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with an alarming panic. What was he losing his grip on? His sanity? Her? Oh, God, what if he slipped back into lucidity? As of now, he was her only chance of surviving, otherwise she'd be lost to the cold pain currently raking its way through her veins like an angry mob.

In her questions, she was lost in thought; oblivious to much else than her worry for him. But then, in the beauty of colour that was Myrnin, she saw a flash of dark streak through the rapidly moving landscape, something black and cruel and terrifying, and she flinched away from it. Her mind pulled from his reach and she felt as his grip slackened.

Myrnin! No! Please, please don't let go of me!

She screamed and lunged back for him, and felt as their minds collided once again, a calming warmth spreading through her for just a moment before the mob of ice rebelled and took over again, running rampant.

If it had to be physical, it would have felt like Myrnin had his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She could feel his fear and his anxiety, and she waited a brief moment for him to say something, anything.

He didn't speak again, just held on, despite the pain he was probably experiencing.

She had to make her choice. She had to make it now.

The cold was flooding through her now, washing over her in brutal, freezing waves. It was dragging her down into its depths, and she tried so desperately to fight against it; the more she fought, the more pain she felt. She knew she should have been crying, only she couldn't.

Her heart was thumping wildly and erratically, unable to keep its pace for much longer, and Claire knew that her time was up. She was imprisoned here, in her own body – her own mind. It was working both for and against her, desperately clinging to the remnants of life, and yet bit by bit, accepting the frost that crept its way through her, slowly but surely.

The coldness was sweeping through her now, so strong she could barely keep afloat. She was so tired, the adrenaline that had kept her fighting through this suddenly fading into nothingness and she was so tired...

She didn't want to fight it anymore. The pain was becoming unbearable, and her mind was greying around the edges, and she just couldn't find the will to struggle against the current threatening to drown her. She couldn't, she couldn't... and then she didn't.

With a last tired beat, her heart suddenly stopped, and the cold all around her suddenly enveloped her, pulling her down into the darkness, shades of black becoming deeper and the cold intensifying as she fell through the void. There was a flash of something sudden, something proud, and she felt it brush up against her just before there was a bright, perilous flash.

And she was drawn into something real.

And God, did it hurt.

There was a weight on her chest, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear mechanical whirring and hissing, slightly muffled. Aware all of a sudden of her physical body once again, she opened her eyes slowly and squinted into the dim glow of the Glass House's sitting room. She blinked slowly, encouraging her eyes to adjust to the light, and when they did, she glanced around.

It was as though she were looking through a high definition screen. Everything was so clear, so pristine.

Her gaze traveled slowly around the room, examining the scarred coffee table, locating every dent and scratch on it at such a clarity, her eyes sweeping to Michael's guitar case, its hard, black surface drinking in the glow, its hard edges illuminated into something of a soft, golden glow.

Everything surrounding her was so illuminated with life and light, and it was so weird and wonderful. She watched for a moment, almost in awe, as dust particles floated through the air, dancing on the shallow breaths of a breeze that dragged by. They made elaborate patterns, gracefully floating through, and Claire's eyes followed them until more caught her gaze and she was drawn this way and that.

"Huh," she finally said, feeling her vocal cords scratch and pull uncomfortably. There was a dull ache in her neck, and her voice came out sounding raspy and not at all like her, like she'd been smoking forty a day.

She suddenly felt her seat shift to her left and she glanced in that direction, seeing a startled Eve with hands clasped tightly over her mouth. There was a moment when their eyes locked, the Goth girl's brown orbs suddenly glistening with tears and a shrill shriek left her lips as she threw her hands out towards Claire.

"Claire!"

Eve practically sobbed her name in utter relief, smothering the smaller girl in a tearful, Gothic hug, and Claire grunted from the force of being dragged into her arms before letting out a husky laugh, patting Eve's shoulder assuredly, unable to do much in their awkward tangle of limbs. She was patient, and filled with so much love then, feeling Eve's warm embrace surround her. Her friend's body was shaking violently, but she could feel the happiness radiate from her.

The world came back into sharp focus again then as there was a loud thump, a clatter of metal meeting wood following in pursuit and Claire untangled herself from Eve.

Myrnin sat defeated a little away from her, some weird, steampunk machine laying abandoned and most definitely broken by his side. Myrnin was visibly breathing, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and his skin had taken on a sickly pale colour, not its usual beautiful milky smoothness. His eyes were clenched shut and his lips were slightly blue. If not for the breathing, Claire would have thought he was dead.

He had probably felt her gaze on him because it wasn't long before he dropped his head and waved a hand at her, dismissing the worry he knew she felt.

Shane.

Her head whipped wildly around to find him standing feet away from her, a haunted, guarded look on his face. That wasn't all – the way his body language was, it was totally wrong. She'd never seen him this way. She faltered, the smile she'd had in place suddenly disappearing, a frown quickly replacing it. Her eyebrows furrowed and she went to stand. Suddenly, she was weightless, a moving blur and then she was on her feet. She blinked, urging the light-headedness to fade.

What the Hell...?

A strangled cry left Shane's lips as her eyes found him again, and she watched, helpless, as he seemed to just crumble in on himself. He sagged against the wall behind him, sinking without much regard for how hard he fell against the ground. His head was bowed, and a deathly silence filled the room. A lump rose in her throat as she watched his shoulders begin to shake.

"No," she whispered, her voice threatening to crack. She hadseen him this way. Frequently. When he was looking at Michael. Michael the vampire.

Misery suddenly overwhelmed her and she was so painfully aware of the silence beginning to deafen her. The spacious living room of the Glass House seemed to shrink as seconds ticked by, the air she no longer needed to breathe becoming shallow and hot. She was beginning to cry, feeling that familiar hotness well up in her throat and eyes as her vision blurred slightly.

Claire inhaled deeply in an attempt to stop herself, to calm her roaring emotions, but on the breath she took, there was a scent among the dampness... a scent so warm, so delicious, a scent that reminded her of walking into a bakery on a warm morning. Another slight sniff of the air and she realized it was coming from Shane.

That wasn't how Shane usually smelled, and he hardly ever wore cologne. So what was it?

And she knew what it was the second she heard Myrnin's voice, dangerous and commanding, say, "Eve, dear. Do help me up. I believe the scent of the boy's blood is a bit provocative to Claire's young nose."

But he'd spoken too late.

She hadn't even realize she was moving until she was crouched before Shane, her hand beneath his chin with his head tilted upwards. His eyes were wide for a split second, before terror sank in and he simply sat there as she inched closer to his throat, her nose taking delicate sniffs. He smelled so good, like nothing she could describe.

Just as her nose was a mere centimeter from touching the soft, pulsing skin of his neck, something slammed into her side and she was knocked like a rag doll into the air. It happened so quickly, she hadn't even seen it coming, but somehow she managed to land on her feet, her wet shoes skidding back a few inches as she landed, a snarl rising in her throat. A steady buzz hummed in her head, and there was a dull ache pulsing in her gums, an ache she'd never felt before.

"Claire!" Myrnin suddenly snapped, standing defensively at Shane's side as Eve helped the broken man up from the ground. "Why are you attacking him?" his eyes narrowed before softening into a look of confusion, his voice trembling slightly. "Of all people, I would have thought you'd have gone for him last."

Myrnin, Claire realized with a startling observation, was really pretty. She admired how his darkened hair fell in loose curls to his shoulders, the way his wide eyes held so much emotion in their almost-blackened depths. Even from here, in this weird accuracy of her vision, she could see the bare golden glint around his wide pupils.

Her eyes trailed then, to the slender line of his nose, the high arch of his cheekbones, the alabaster of his perfect, smooth skin. His full, soft lips. Her gaze lingered there a moment before she forced herself to blink, shaking any thoughts of her lips against his from her mind.

Why the Hell would I even think that?

But Myrnin was really, really pretty. It was almost surprising to her. Yes, she'd thought he was somewhat attractive, clearly a good-looking man, but this... was different.

"What do you mean?" she asked, licking her lips nervously. Her voice still sounded strange to her sensitive ears, something that was her, but still quite... not. Hopefully that would fade.

"My dear," began Myrnin, his voice breaking into something that seemed so sad, so horrified, but most of all, disappointed, "you do realize what you've done, don't you? What you've accepted?"

Thoughts began to circle Claire's mind rapidly, but any coherent thought she might have had dissolved into nothing when Shane moved. His movements were slow and jerky, as though he was unable to control himself, like he'd been shattered into pieces and couldn't find the will to repair himself.

He turned on her then, and she was suddenly overwhelmed. She felt cornered and alone, facing three people she loved who were now staring at her, each expressing different emotions she couldn't comprehend. Was this how Michael felt?

His face broke her heart all over again. His eyes were terrorized, his face chalk-pale and drawn. His mouth was a tight line, and she could clearly see the disgust he felt written all over his face. She wanted to throw up.

"Why?" he asked her, his voice quiet, something dark hiding beneath that word. "Why would you do that, Claire?"

He sounded everything she wished he didn't. His tone was accusing, and he was hurt and baffled, his childlike confusion causing her stomach and throat to tighten. She didn't know what to do, what to say. How on Earth could she justify her reasons?

"Do what?" she asked desperately. But she knew.

She'd chosen death over life. She'd chosen darkness over light. She'd chosen to give up fighting because she was tired, even though she promised him so long ago that was something she would never do. She promised she would always fight against the fate she had not so long ago surrendered to. She swore no matter how tired she was, she would never give up.

But she had. And he was furious that she'd broken those promises.

"Become one of them, Claire! Jesus fucking Christ, what possessed you to do that?" he raged, and something inside of him snapped. She could see as the coil of his hatred and fury suddenly sprung free, knocking the emotions he'd for so long kept locked away free. And now, she got to bear the brunt of that fury.

Then suddenly, he whirled on Myrnin, a rage so ugly contorting his beautiful features. "Was it you?" he snarled, turning on Myrnin viciously, who simply raised his hands.

"I only gave her the choice, I didn't force her to do it." He then realized what he'd said, and shot Claire a look of apology. She hated him a little bit in that moment. She watched warily as Shane thought over the words Myrnin had uttered, slowly piecing together things in his mind.

"So, Claire, you've obviously been planning this for a while now, haven't you?" he growled at her, his every word hurting her more than dying had. "I should have seen it coming, though. Always cosying it up in the lab. 'Sorry, Shane, Nutty McFang needs me today. Gotta run!'."

She winced slightly at his crude impersonation of her, even more so at the thought of him being jealous. His voice was raising in pitch and she could see the manic expression slowly taking over his body, his hands trembling at his sides, his face twisting into something she was suddenly extremely cautious of.

A moment of cold silence passed before Shane let out a dark chuckle. "That's why he tried to kill me."

Bleak horror crossed Myrnin's face. Claire's mirrored it. "God, Shane, no! Why would you even think that?" she cried, her body suddenly trembling weakly as tears pooled in her eyes, blurring the sight of her love shaking with rage. She felt her heart shatter into pieces – pieces so severe that she'd shred her hands into bloody threads if she even attempted to pick them up.

"Why are you defending him, Claire?" Shane roared, and she had never been so terrified of him.

And then he fell silent, his mouth closing with what seemed like reluctance until he was just staring at her, his face a canvas of sadness, fury, betrayal – every emotion she'd seen when he'd found out Michael had been turned.

He was disgusted by her.

It took everything she had to choke back tears and remain cold towards him, indifferent to the hate he was trying to poison her with. She knew this was just anger. She knew he was hurting. It was a fair reaction, in a sense, but in that moment she was too hurt to go to him and try to smooth out his ruffled feathers.

A moment passed before Myrnin slipped away from the wall of people before her and began to quietly gather up his things, leaving Eve holding onto a silent, broken Shane. Eve spared a glance to him before rushing to Claire with open arms, enveloping her in a hug filled with everything opposite to what Shane had made her feel.

Eve was just warm and comforting, and she didn't give a rats ass about Claire's now dead heart. Eve still loved her, and Claire could feel that as she gave way and hugged the Goth girl back just as fiercely, refusing to cry.

"God, I love you, Claire Bear. Just be careful, okay?" she withdrew and held Claire at arm's length, studying her a moment before glancing over her shoulder to Myrnin, a sly grin on her lips before facing Claire once again. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She sent Claire a wink, which Claire managed a brief smile for.

And then Eve's features sobered, and she sniffled, tears already clouding in her soft brown eyes.

"If... if you hear anything about... about Michael, please?"

Her words were broken, and it took everything she had not to cry. Claire could feel Eve's misery, and it made her want to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. Then again, she didn't know if it would, and she wasn't going to lie to her best friend. Claire nodded, and exhaled sharply.

"Of course. Keep your cell on," she told her before pulling away as Myrnin came to stand by her.

"I believe I'll need to see she's tended to," said Myrnin before bending and taking one of Eve's hands in his, raising it to his lips. Claire watched, fascinated by how charming he could be sometimes. Eve blushed beneath her streaked rice-powder makeup and nodded her head almost dazedly.

"You have my thanks, young lady. Also see if you could tend to him," Myrnin said, glancing briefly towards Shane with dark eyes, to which Eve nodded again. Then Myrnin spun, taking Claire's arm in his grip and wheeled her around, urging her to look away as Eve's boots stomped towards a detached Shane.

The portal flared to life before them, and Claire let loose her tears as she stepped through, a sob tearing its way from her throat as she went.