Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,115

said flatly. ‘You’ve got an hour. Move it.’

Claire took a deep breath, put the nonworking VLAD in the centre of the worktable, consulted the plans one last time, and began the work.

She built the thing, piece by piece. The tools were all right there, everything precise and perfectly laid out for her. Anderson was watching her, and she made sure that she did nothing, absolutely nothing, that would draw any suspicion.

Not even Dr Anderson could keep her focus completely on her forever. Claire felt when it started to wander; it was like pressure coming off of her, and she had to work hard to not give any kind of physical signal that she knew something had changed.

Just do the work. Do the work.

By the time she was down to the last of it, Anderson’s focus had mostly moved on, though she remained close. And when Myrnin suddenly convulsed and cried out, writhing in his restraints, it drew Dr Anderson’s complete attention for a critical few seconds, just as Claire fastened the last piece of the machine on board.

She’d already identified the opportunity, when she’d been going over the plans. The last component had switches built inside. They were tiny, not meant to be manipulated without specialised tools, but she’d deliberately chosen the smallest possible screwdriver, even though it was the worst tool for the job she was apparently doing.

It fit into the tiny slots just far enough to slide the switches in opposite directions.

I have no idea if I’m modding this right, she thought. But all she could do was reverse the order of the switches, and hope that it worked.

As she finished and put down the screwdriver, Dr Anderson was right there to take control – even before she’d managed to take the weapon off its stand to hand it to her.

‘Good job, and done in time, too,’ Anderson said. She handed it to the man who’d been Claire’s shadow and guard all this time. He didn’t bother with the safety strap. ‘It’s time to see if you’re reliable, Claire. If you aren’t – if you decided to try to pull a clever one and sabotage me – then we’re going to find out right now, and it won’t go well for you. Or for your friends. This is your final exam, do you understand? Pass, and you win the lives of those you care about.’

Claire met her eyes. ‘And what if I fail?’

‘Then we have acres and acres of farmland waiting for fertiliser,’ Dr Anderson said. ‘I’m fighting for the human race. I’m not going to flinch from whatever I have to do to save innocent lives for the future.’

‘Neither am I,’ Claire said. ‘You should have trusted me. I’m really tired of people not trusting me.’

Shane would have recognised that tone. But Dr Anderson missed the warning altogether.

Anderson led the way to the other half of the room, through the clear glass door that separated the two parts. The three vampires knelt where they’d been left, all still submissive. Dr Davis had blood samples laid out on his lab tables, neatly labelled, and he was talking to a lab geek in a white coat – but one, Claire noticed, who also had the rising sun pin on his lapel. He looked up when he saw Anderson, Claire, and the guard, and nodded.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘We’ve been waiting.’

‘You can afford to lose one, Patrick? Just in case Claire’s tried to do something interesting with her project?’

‘I have redundancy now,’ he said. ‘So, yes. If I had to pick one, I’d say the older-looking one. He seems like the most trouble.’

‘Oliver?’ Anderson nodded. ‘Very well. He’s got quite the reputation as a killer. I think that seems appropriate.’ She turned to the guard, took the heavy weapon, and held it out to Claire. ‘Take it.’

Claire didn’t hesitate. The weight settled in her hands, throwing off her balance, but she felt better for having it. Stronger.

‘Before you try using it on me,’ Anderson said, ‘please remember that my friend here has a weapon pointed at your head.’

Claire glanced aside, and saw that the guard behind her had drawn his sidearm, and yes – it was pointed at her, steady and calm. He wouldn’t hesitate, she thought.

‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked. But she already knew.

‘I want you to shoot Oliver,’ Anderson said. ‘I want you to prove to me that I can trust you. He looks as if he is recovering faster than the others, and I