Fall of Night (The Morganville Vampires #14) - Page 8

Claire started to call Professor Anderson to tell her about her night-time visitors, but she realised that it was probably a very bad idea … if the government really was involved, they had the power and the ability to monitor cell communication as easily as breathing. In fact, her conversation with Michael and Eve, even encrypted on the Morganville system, was probably vulnerable in some way, though she imagined that Amelie's paranoia was a pretty decent firewall against such things. Some things needed to be said in person, though. In a secured environment.

So, even though she slept remarkably little, and felt hungover from lack of sleep, Claire got up early and jogged to the lab. It was very quiet at that hour – just after dawn, really – and she passed a few students sleepily heading to early sessions. The hallways of the secured area were deserted and silent. Claire quickly badged into Anderson's area, and found the professor already there, sitting at the desk in the corner, typing away. Anderson turned around, frowning, when she heard the warning chime of the security door, and her eyes widened when she saw Claire.

'Is everything all right?' she asked, and got up to come closer. 'You look pale.'

'Long night,' Claire said, and took a deep breath. 'Can I talk here?'

'Give me your cell phone.' Claire handed it over, and Anderson took it over to the computer. She linked it on with a cable and did some key-clicking, and handed it back about a minute later. 'I've installed an app to block anybody trying to snoop. They'll get playback of innocuous conversation instead, so they won't be able to tell there's anything wrong. Now you can talk freely.'

'My house was searched last night by two men. I think they thought I'd gone out, like my roommate. Professor – they didn't break in. They let themselves in, like they had keys.'

'Did you get a look at them?'

Claire nodded. Anderson sat down in her computer chair and brought up a screen. More mouse movement and key clicks, and suddenly Claire was looking at an album of surveillance photos … not the grainy kind, either. These were sharp and clear as high-res stills. 'See anyone you recognise?'

Claire pointed over her professor's shoulder at one of the men pictured there. 'He was one of them, for sure. I'm not sure about the other, I just got a quick look. Could have been one of the others, but I'm really not sure at all. Who are they?'

'Well, they're not from the people I work with directly, but there are plenty of players on the board. Best to be careful. Do you have an alarm system?'

'No, I told my housemate we need to get one.'

'Convince her. It wouldn't hurt for you to learn to use that knife I gave you, either.'

'I know how to use it,' Claire said, pretty calmly she thought, given that suddenly she was hip-deep in government agencies and foreign spies when she'd thought all that she was getting into were vampire politics. 'Professor – are you sure that we're not in over our heads, somehow? Is this related to VLAD?'

'I have no way of knowing what it's related to,' Anderson said, which was just logical, Claire guessed. 'I am under contract to several government and privately funded groups; any one of them could have decided that you should be carefully checked out. Let's not read too much into it, shall we?'

'They came into my house!'

'And left you and your possessions unharmed. Let's not call in an air strike quite yet.' Anderson gave her a warm, comforting smile. 'Now, I'm glad you're here early. There are some things about VLAD that still puzzle me, and I'd like to go over them before our test today.'

'Test?' Claire had a blinding moment of panic; nobody had warned her there was a test coming.

'Not for you,' her professor said, laughing, because the panic must have been visible. 'We're testing VLAD on a live subject at noon.'

'By subject, do you mean-'

'Vampire, yes, that's exactly what I mean.'

'There are vampires here?'

'Not in the school per se, no. But close by. Because, of course, Amelie doesn't trust anyone to leave Morganville without a little oversight, especially someone who's been so deeply into Myrnin's confidence. Luckily, I'm a friend of my particular minder, and she's agreed to keep the secret – for now. I'd rather not involve her, but we do need a live subject, and she's the only one I have at hand.'

'But – I thought you were scared of Amelie finding out about VLAD!'

'I was. But the fact is, she's going to find out. It's more important for us to make quick, efficient progress than to go carefully. Myrnin would take my side, and yours; I think he'll be able to contain her paranoia, at least for a while. And so while this will be a risk, it's probably one we have to take. Now. Let's go over the questions.'

Dr Anderson brought VLAD out from the secured area, and Claire answered about an hour's worth of detailed questions on the internal workings. Some of the questions startled her, led her off on tangents that started discussions about better ways to channel and concentrate the energy being generated. It was … well, exciting. Problem solving was always thrilling for Claire, and clearly it was for Anderson, too.

Finally, her professor nodded and stowed VLAD away, and Claire got ready to do something even more exciting.

She was disappointed.

'Sometimes, being my assistant isn't going to be action-packed,' Anderson said, and pointed to a huge bin full of paper. 'Shred all that, then take the pieces to the incinerator at the end of the hall for burning. I like to be thorough.'

'What is all this?'

'Old projects,' her professor said. 'Don't read it. Just shred and burn, or your eyes will melt.' She said it so matter-of-factly that Claire had a moment's hesitation, before the other woman laughed. 'Don't worry. I haven't perfected that eye-melting technology quite yet. Shredder's over there.'

That commenced a vividly exciting morning of sitting in a chair feeding paper into a machine that spit out shreds, and putting the shreds into a giant plastic bag when the bin was full. It took a full three hours to go through the stack of paper, and Claire quickly learnt that shredded paper might be more volumetric than the flat kind, but it wasn't really that much lighter in total weight. She struggled with the bag down the hall, located the incinerator room, and dumped the paper down the chute before she pushed the big red button to fire up the oven.

She couldn't help but think that it was awfully convenient, having a thing like this so close to the lab. Or to labs that did all sorts of mysterious, biological things. She imagined grisly scenarios in which mistakes had gone down this chute, and shivered.

When she turned around, empty bag in hand, Jesse was standing in the incinerator room watching her. The sudden appearance of the woman made Claire's hackles rise on the back of her neck, and at the same time she felt an uncomfortable flush on her skin. Something about Jesse invited contradictory impulses, seemed like. She looked just as calm and composed as she had the night before, though she wasn't wearing leather just now; she'd changed into a loose black shirt, jeans, and heavy boots that Eve would have swooned over, considering all the buckles. Her red hair was twisted back in a loose, sloppy bun and fixed with a pair of chopsticks.

'Hey,' Jesse said. 'Irene sent me to find out if you were done. Looks like you are.'

Claire rattled the bag. 'Looks like.'

Jesse was sizing her up in an odd sort of way, she thought, and as the two of them walked back toward the lab through the clean white hall, Claire finally said, 'Do I have a big ink stain on my face, or …?'

'No,' Jesse said, and smiled slowly. 'I was just thinking that there's more to you than meets the eye, that's all. You inspire a certain reckless passion in others, did you know that?'

'I do? In who?'

Jesse didn't answer that. She badged through into Anderson's lab, and Claire had to wait to follow; by the time she was inside, Jesse was at the table with the professor, and the device – VLAD – was laid out on a lab table on top of a foam cushion. 'Doesn't look like much,' Jesse said. 'You're sure, Irene?'

'No, of course I'm not sure, or I wouldn't have asked you here,' Anderson said, a touch impatiently. 'And I don't like doing it, either; I don't really know what the outcome's going to be. But we need to have a baseline, and like it or not, you're the only game I have in town.'

'Only game in …' Claire repeated, and felt the truth hit home with a vengeance. She fixed her gaze solidly on Jesse. 'You're a vampire?'

'The kid's sharp,' Jesse said. 'Yes, sweetie, I'm a card-carrying member of the undead. Remember how I didn't come into your house, but Pete did, to get the box? I thought that would tip you off, being a Morganville kid and all, but you didn't seem to suspect anything.'

'I would have, if we'd been back home, but I didn't expect to find … one of you here.'

'Mistakes like that get you killed,' Jesse said. 'There aren't a lot of us out in the wild, sure, but there are still a few, and most of them aren't as nice as I am.' She flashed Claire a grin that wouldn't have been out of place on Eve's face. 'Relax. I don't bite.'

'Oh, she does,' Anderson said. 'Just not unless she's invited to.'

'Well, you should know,' Jesse purred, and laughed when Dr Anderson's cheeks turned pink.

'All right, now that you've made your point, sit over there, Jesse. What's going to happen is that I'm going to point this weapon at you and press the trigger, and you should report to me exactly what it feels like. It shouldn't hurt you.'

'Shouldn't?' Jesse's eyebrows climbed higher. 'Not sure I like the variable in that statement. Claire, you tried this on any other vampires before?'

'Myrnin,' Claire said.

'Did it hurt him?'

'I don't think so.'

'Well, I'm not Myrnin, and I'm not so willing to hop on the crazy train, but all right. Just for you, Reenie.'

Anderson rolled her eyes. 'God, please don't call me that name. Just go sit in the chair. I promise, it'll be a very brief exposure.'

Jesse crossed the room to the plain aluminium chair that sat against the wall, put her hand on it, and said, 'Here?'

'Yes, please.'

Jesse sat down, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap like a church lady, which she was most certainly not. 'Ready, aim, fire.'

'Not funny,' Anderson said softly, but she raised VLAD, sighted and pulled the trigger.

Nothing came out of the gun – no rays or smoke or visible sign of any kind – but Jesse sat up very straight, eyes opening wide. Anderson immediately let go of the trigger and replaced VLAD on the foam pad. 'Are you all right?' she asked, and took a step forward. 'Jesse?'

'Stop,' Jesse said, and held her hand out. She looked … odd, and her face was utterly expressionless. 'Irene, stop right there, please.'

Dr Anderson did, looking very worried, until Jesse finally dropped her hand back to her lap and relaxed. 'That was … interesting.'

'Apparently,' Dr Anderson said, and smiled, though it was clearly a troubled sort of smile. 'What just happened to you?'

'I'm not really quite sure. I can tell you that when I sat down, I was feeling a little nervous about what was about to happen, and I was also feeling a little' – Jesse cut her glance toward Claire for a second, and probably amended what she was going to say – 'a little amused, I suppose. And all of a sudden I was both those things, still, but ramped up to eleven. It was … disconcerting, because those are not two emotions that go very well together. You understand?'

'It amplifies,' Claire said. They both focused on her. 'The way I set it up to start with, whatever the vampire feels, it's amplified by the device. I think it kind of works on humans, too. But more on vampires, obviously.'

'Well, if your question was, did it work … it works.' Jesse started to stand up, and – incredibly – suddenly faltered and braced herself against the wall. 'Whoa. It also makes you wicked dizzy, in case you didn't know that.'

'I didn't,' Claire confessed. 'Are you okay?'

'Fine. Just have to shake it off.' Jesse pushed away from the wall and smiled at Dr Anderson. 'I'm not a wilting flower, unless that gets me extra special treats.'

'It might,' Dr Anderson said. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to do that, but I needed to know if this was something that had potential, or just another empty promise.'

'Oh, it's got potential all right,' Jesse said. 'If I'd been hungry and that thing had hit me, I'd have gone for your veins, and you'd have had to stop me any way you could. So be warned. It's not a toy, and it might make an angry vampire damn angry.'

'The idea is to reverse those emotions,' Claire offered. 'To make an angry vampire less angry, a hungry one less hungry … and like you said, it's disconcerting. I suppose it could be used kind of like a vampire stun gun, I guess.'

'You're looking for something non-lethal to use to defend yourself,' Jesse said. 'Well, that's not a bad goal, and it's not a bad start. I suppose I'd be okay with testing it for you when you take it to the next step. But just remember: I'm not the usual vampire, either. I've got a pretty good grip on myself. The next one you run into might not be quite so in control.'

'Jesse – I'm not ready to report to Amelie about this thing. Myrnin kept it from her for a reason when Claire was working on it; I'm quite sure she'd have shut it down if she'd known. I'd really like to proceed with this line of enquiry, but I'm afraid that she would object. So can we agree to keep it quiet, for now? Please?'

Jesse was silent for a long, long moment, frowning. She crossed her arms and paced a bit, and then finally bit her lip and nodded. 'For a while,' she said. 'But you know I can't keep it from her for long. And if she asks me a direct question about it, I can't lie.'

'I know,' Anderson said. 'You've always made it quite clear where your real loyalty lies.'

There was something strange in her smile, something almost a little angry, and she and Jesse locked stares for a moment that stretched on too long for comfort.

Then Jesse smiled, too. 'You know, this is super fun, but I actually have to go sling some drinks tonight, and I need to get ready. Being this gorgeous ain't easy, you know.'

'So you tell me,' Anderson said. 'Go on, and stay out of the sun.'

'Nag. I'm wearing the super sunblock, don't you worry.' Jesse stuck her tongue out, just like a three-year-old, and Claire had to laugh. There was something oddly childlike about her, considering she was also capable of turning cold at a moment's notice, like any vampire. She was certainly old to be so nonchalant about roaming around during the day, and she wasn't even wearing the thick layers of protective coats and hats that most vampires preferred. 'You two don't get up to anything funny around here. I'm done bailing people out of trouble for the next couple of days. It's been busy.'

'Yeah? Who'd you bail out today?'

For no apparent reason, Jesse smiled, and made a locking motion at her lips. 'Can't say,' she said, 'but he was real, real cute. Maybe I'll tell you the story later.'

'You'd better.'

Jesse waggled her fingertips and swiped her badge to get out of the lab, and it felt like half the light had left the room, somehow. She was … intense, Claire thought. And really, kind of cool.

Dr Anderson certainly thought so; she stared at the door for a full ten seconds after Jesse was gone, then snapped out of it and cleared her throat, put on her glasses, and walked back to stare down at VLAD. 'Right,' she said. 'We have some work to do. First step is that we disassemble, label and scan every part of this so that we can make a virtual model. I want to be able to prototype this on the 3-D printer next time.'

'The – what?'

'3-D printer,' the professor repeated, and pointed to a big, strange-looking thing in the far corner of the lab. 'It takes a solid block of paper, plastic or metal and repeats a design. With good enough specs, you can print anything. The guys down the hall are working on 3-D printing of human organs. You remember the replicators on Star Trek that could make anything you wanted, from a roast beef sandwich to a phaser? We're working on it. And actually, we've made a daunting amount of progress.'

That was … new. Claire thought about Myrnin, clinging to his antique microscopes and time-tested tools, and wondered what he'd think about all this. He'd probably feel it was too far from nature and the cycles of the moon and sun; that's what he always said about things that he didn't quite grasp. For all his brilliance, and he was brilliant, he just couldn't shake off the bonds of his background in alchemy.

Maybe he'd change his mind if she brought back a new, shiny, 3-D printed, working copy of VLAD. It might solve the weight problems, too, if they could machine it out of some very lightweight materials. Maybe, with enough imagination, they'd even be able to model a vampire brain and print an artificial one to fit inside Myrnin's computer, eliminating the need for anyone to die for science ever again in Morganville.

Well, she could dream, anyway.

Dr Anderson was putting out a wide selection of tools for the disassembly, and pointed Claire toward a rolling 3-D scanning device; her job, as each piece was disassembled from VLAD, was to tag it with a number and description, scan it individually, and put it in a bin. Dr Anderson was very careful; when she got to the little vials of bubbling liquid – Myrnin's addition, along with all the whirling gears – she kept the liquid as well, though she siphoned off a bit for testing. Bit by bit, the device came apart into its component pieces, and the lab began to smell like hot solder and cooling metal.

By the time it was done, Claire yawned, stretched and glanced up at the clock. It was already five o'clock. She hadn't intended to stay so long, but there was still more to be done; the scanner had to download into the mainframe, so that Dr Anderson could begin to work with the component pieces in wireframe form.

'You should go,' Dr Anderson said, and yawned. 'Sorry. I got up early, and I know it's been another long day for you. I can handle reassembly tonight.'

'Want me to put the parts away?' The bin was full now, and just as heavy as the whole device had been. Dr Anderson nodded, and Claire carried it back to the concealed panel, which was still open. She slid the bin inside and, on Anderson's instruction, pressed her hand to the panel on the side. It lit up red, and the door slid shut.

'I programmed it for your palm print,' Anderson said. 'You can open and close it on your own now. But only if there's no one else in the room but me. If someone tries to force you to open it, it'll simply stay closed, so you just tell them you don't have authorisation. Without authorisation, you wouldn't be of any use to them.'

She'd thought ahead, Claire thought, and it was a little chilling that she'd thought as far as someone holding a gun to Claire's head and forcing her to try to open the hiding place.

But that was someone from Morganville for you – always thinking of the worst-case scenario.

Claire said goodnight, and started for home.

She was walking down the street from the Mudd Building, dodging excited groups of students who were apparently headed to the Biopolymer Lab, when her phone rang – no, it hadn't, actually, because she had a voicemail, not a call. Dodgy reception in the lab, she guessed.

The call was from Liz, as were the three text messages. All were alerting her, with cheery good humour, that Liz had invited someone to dinner, and to please come home on time, before six.

Claire checked her watch. She just had time to make it.

Elizabeth met Claire at the door, which swung open before she'd even reached for the doorknob. She was wearing a fancy dress, nice shoes, earrings, a glittering necklace, and she even had on lipstick.

Claire blinked. 'I thought we were just having somebody over for dinner.'

Liz dragged her inside and closed the door. She leant closer to whisper, 'We are, but put on something nice. I want to impress him, okay? It's important!'

'Um … okay.' Claire wasn't sure why she had to dress up to impress Elizabeth's date, but she was willing to meet her halfway for the sake of good roommate karma. Up the stairs, and into her room. She dumped her backpack on the still-unmade bed and sorted through her limited clothing choices, settling on a fitted white shirt and some black pants. Plain, but nice. Adding one of the necklaces Eve had given her – a Day of the Dead skull, enamelled in all kinds of bright colours – jazzed it up a little. Claire fluffed her hair in the mirror and decided that she wasn't going to resort to make-up; after all, it was Liz's date, not hers.

When she made her way downstairs, she heard Elizabeth laughing, and she opened the door to the kitchen and saw her in an actual apron over her fancy dress, stirring a pot. A man was sitting at the small kitchen table – not a college boy at all, a man of about forty, probably, with little grey threads at his temples and sparkling blue eyes in a suntanned face. Even sitting down, he seemed tall. He was wearing a denim work shirt with the collar open, and a sports coat, and he had a little smile on his face that Claire somehow didn't really like.

She'd rarely taken an instant dislike to anyone, but … she might have to make an exception, she decided.

'Claire, this is Patrick,' Elizabeth said. Which caught her by surprise. Somehow, Claire had thought that she'd introduce the man as her father, which he was certainly old enough to be. Or an uncle, or something. But just plain Patrick? 'Dr Patrick Davis, I mean. He's one of my professors.'

'Really?' Claire raised her eyebrows and carefully nodded to him. 'Which class?'

'Biology,' Patrick said. 'Elizabeth's a very bright student. I hope you don't mind that she invited me over for a meal.'

Claire avoided answering that by joining Liz at the stove. 'What are you making?'

'Chicken and stuffing, peas, and carrots,' her housemate said. Her smile looked excited, but it trembled a bit in the corners. 'Sound okay?'

'Delicious. What can I do?'

'The bread? Just put it to warm in the oven.'

Claire did that, and fetched herself a glass of Coke from the fridge. She didn't ask Dr Davis if he wanted anything, because as she was putting ice in the glass she caught him staring at Liz in a way that was not very professorial. More predatory.

Oh, God. Seriously? Gross.

'Funny,' Claire said, 'but I don't think I ever invited any of my professors home for dinner. Not even the ones I liked.'

Liz gave her a pleading look. 'Well, that's too bad. You haven't had the fantastic teachers I have, I guess,' she said. 'Patrick is great.'

'I'm sure.' Claire sipped her Coke for a minute, thinking about it, and then said, 'You know what, I think I really should be studying, and-'

'Oh, no, please, don't let my presence drive you away,' Patrick said. He sounded earnest and kind, and he even had a hint of a gentle Irish accent, which threw her off her wary game. 'Liz assures me that she doesn't cook very often; I want you to share in the bounty. I'd very much like to talk; Liz tells me you're doing quite interesting work.'

'I – excuse me?' Claire paused in the act of picking up the bread tray to turn to look at him. Liz kept her gaze fixed steadily on the pot she was stirring, as if she hadn't heard a thing. 'What interesting work?'

'Well, I hear you're enrolled in an individual study programme at MIT. I don't think there's been more than a handful of people who could claim that in the entire history of the university. Tell me, how did that come about?'

Claire forced herself to move – to set the stove dial, open the door, shove the tray inside on the rack. But she knew she looked awkward and nervous. Very awkward. Her brain was scrambling to keep up with the changing scenery. She'd pegged Dr Davis as one of those teachers … the ones who used their jobs to pick off the easy prey, like Liz, who craved acceptance and protection. She was sure he was on a quest to seduce her housemate, if he hadn't already.

So this seemed like a very sharp left turn, at best. And in a worrying direction.

He was clearly waiting for her answer, so she said, 'I'm actually just here temporarily. It's sort of a special project. I'm working with one of the professors. They do those kinds of visiting student projects all the time. Maybe you heard about the boy from Africa who powered his village's technology from found objects …'

'Oh, yes, I know all about the public relations projects,' he said. 'But I think what you're doing is a great deal more … interesting. Isn't that right?'

Claire jerked and knocked a lid from the counter; it fell to the floor and rang like a bell, and it provided a nice sonic distraction from what she was sure was going to be a very telling silence. She fumbled for the pot lid, and Liz bent down at the same time, and in the confusion Claire whispered, urgently, 'What the hell does he want?'

'What? Nothing!' Liz snatched the pot lid from her hands and rinsed it off in the sink before slamming it down on the pot she'd been watching. 'If I'd known you'd be so judgemental I wouldn't have asked you in!'

'You didn't ask,' Claire hissed back.

'Whatever.'

'Everything all right, ladies?' Dr Davis asked, and Liz turned, took a deep breath, dried her hands on the apron, and smiled like a plastic mannequin as she carried the pot over to the table and set it down.

'Just fine, Patrick,' she said. When Claire gave her a look, she got defensive. 'He told me to call him that. I know it seems strange to call a professor by his first name, but-'

'But I do like to be informal,' he broke in. He rose from the table and took the pot holders from Liz to move the chicken breasts to the table, and then the peas. 'Please, let me help. Be seated, ladies. May I get you another drink, Liz?'

'Oh, just water,' Liz said. As he busied himself at the sink with glasses and ice, Liz grabbed Claire's shoulder in an iron-hard grip. 'Do not screw this up for me. I need a good grade, and I like him!'

'And he likes you,' Claire whispered back. 'Probably a little too much, don't you think? He came to dinner? Who does that?'

Liz's eyes turned furious, and she squeezed tighter. Deliberately pinching flesh. Claire bit back a wince. 'Like I said, don't screw this up,' she said. 'I deserve something good for a change. I've had enough bad things in my life.'

Maybe she did deserve a good time, but Claire was one hundred per cent convinced that this wasn't it. Dr Davis was pleasant and casual, but he was also oily and manipulative, and he creeped her out. And what was that dig about her personal study programme? What did he know?

Maybe a lot. Maybe too much. Claire felt as if she was playing a deadly game without knowing the rules or the players. It made her long for the straightforward violence of home.

'Now then,' Patrick said, and deposited the cold glass of water in front of Liz, patted her shoulder, and walked over to his own chair in a triangle between the two of them. 'What were we talking about? Ah, yes-'

'The chicken looks delicious,' Claire said. 'How did you cook it?' That elicited a nervous flood of cooking info from Liz; Rachael Ray would have been proud, because Liz seemed to have memorised the entire recipe, start to finish, and it had a lot of steps. Same for the stuffing. Dr Davis's smile grew fixed and grim, but he waited out the tidal surge of information. His gaze mostly held on Liz, but Claire felt it when he shifted to her.

She didn't like it.

The business of serving out the chicken and vegetables took most of the time, and then when Dr Davis tried to reframe his question, Claire jumped up to get the bread from the oven and passed that around, too. Liz nervously chattered on, clearly scared to death that Dr Davis would think he wasn't wanted (and he wasn't, on Claire's part), which had the nice side effect of blocking his attempts at boxing Claire into conversation again.

For a while, he gave up, preferring to trade idle chatter with Elizabeth – none of it invited or required any participation from Claire, so she ate dinner with single-minded focus. The chicken really was good. She really needed to learn how to make that.

By the time her plate was empty, the other two at the table were only half finished, and Claire drained the rest of her Coke and rose to take her plate to the sink. 'Thanks, Liz,' she said. 'I really have to go study.'

'Oh,' Liz said. 'Really? Well, if you have to.' It was the token protest, with an undercurrent of please go away and leave us alone now. Which was a relief, and Claire headed for the kitchen door.

She didn't quite get there before Dr Davis said, 'I understand that you're studying with Dr Irene Anderson. She has quite the reputation as – let's say, an eccentric, even at M