Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,27
yes. And I know this isn’t Morganville, but we can still act for ourselves. Come on. First lesson is how to defend yourself with what’s around you …’
Liz hesitated when Claire pulled her toward the kitchen, and stared toward the door. ‘Is he still there, do you think?’
‘Maybe,’ Claire said. ‘I don’t really care. Let him get frostbite out there, or get arrested for trying to peep. Don’t play his game. Play yours.’
‘I don’t have a game.’
‘You will,’ Claire promised her, and gave her a smile that was probably every bit as scary as anything Derrick had in him. ‘You will.’
Myrnin hadn’t given Claire a whole lot of information about her new mentor, only a name (Irene Anderson) and the fact that she had once lived in Morganville, and been Myrnin’s assistant. It was fairly impressive that she’d survived the experience, but that hadn’t given Claire much context for what Anderson would be like.
Turned out that she was awesome.
For one thing, she was a whole lot younger than Claire had expected – mid-thirties, maybe. And when Claire knocked on her office door, she thought she’d arrived in the wrong place, because the petite woman standing there had no desk, and was wearing overalls that had seen better days, and was using some kind of very small handheld blowtorch on a pile of metal.
‘Just a sec,’ she said, without taking her eyes off what was happening. It was more like ten seconds, but then the woman shut off the burner, set it aside, and made a quick note on a pad of paper nearby. ‘There. Got it. So, you’re my ten o’clock, right?’
‘I’m Claire Danvers. You’re—?’
‘Dr Irene Anderson.’ The woman shoved goggles back on her head, and they slid off to hang hilariously off of her blonde ponytail, then clattered off to the floor. ‘I know, not what you were expecting, am I? Everybody says that. Including my own family. Hi.’ She came around the workbench and offered Claire her hand to shake. It was a decisive, firm grip, and she held Claire’s gaze long enough for it to be evident she had blue eyes to go with the blonde hair. Shane probably would have called her hot, though Claire was never sure exactly what his scale seemed to be … it had more to do with attitude than type. ‘Good to meet you. You’re young to have survived a year or two doing what you were doing.’
‘Are we not supposed to mention …?’
‘Morganville? Sure, you can. Sorry. Native caution is very normal. I’ve always been so careful about not discussing Myrnin that I often forget to use his name even when I’m able. Speaking of the man, I hear he’s better now.’
‘Better than he was when I got there.’
‘Ah. That’s good. I didn’t want to leave, but he was just too unstable for his good or mine, and I thought it was better if he had a vampire assistant for a while. Did he?’
‘I – don’t know. He’s never told me much about people he worked with before me. I know that he, um …’
‘Killed a lot of them? Yes, I know that too. And, of course, he killed the sainted Ada. He’ll never get over her.’ That earned an exasperated eye roll, which stopped when Dr Anderson noticed Claire wasn’t smiling. ‘What?’
‘Ada’s – well, dead, I guess. I suppose technically this would be the third and final time. As in, not coming back.’
Dr Anderson covered her mouth with one hand, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. ‘How’d he take that?’
‘Not very well,’ Claire admitted. ‘He kind of lost it. But he’s better now. I think it helped, letting go. He still has these – episodes, but they’re not as bad as they used to be most of the time. More aggravating than terrifying.’
‘That’s quite a change,’ her new professor said, and looked at Claire with more assessment. ‘You’ve done something I was never able to do, then. Congratulations. I was informed Myrnin had cracked the code on the disease—’
‘We’re calling it Bishop’s Plague these days.’
‘Ah. Bishop’s Plague … but now I think you had more to do with solving it than he did. Right?’
Claire didn’t answer. She looked around the office – though it was more junk room and lab than office – and saw a small, cluttered table stuffed in the corner. It had a duct-taped, sagging office chair, but no visitor accommodations. ‘Is this where we’re going to work?’