Fall of Night The Morganville Vampires - By Rachel Caine Page 0,60

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