and sees patterns in lab results that the rest of us miss. So she never did advanced work in biology. Who cares? I’m up to my eyeballs in biologists already.”
Chris looked at Matthew and Game Boy working together and shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Matthew is wasted in a research laboratory. Your husband belongs in a classroom. He’s a born teacher.” Chris tapped Gallowglass on the arm. “Call me if you want to meet up in the gym. Diana has my number.”
Chris went back to his work and I turned my attention to Matthew. I’d only seen flashes of this side of my husband, when he was interacting with Annie or Jack in London, but Chris was right. Matthew was using all the tools in a teacher’s bag of tricks: modeling, positive reinforcement, patience, just the right amount of praise, and a touch of humor.
“Why can’t we just swab the surface again?” Game Boy asked. “I know it came up with mouse DNA, but if we picked a fresh spot, it might be different.”
“Maybe,” Matthew said, “but there were a lot of mice in medieval libraries. Still, you should feel free to swab it again after you’ve taken this sample.”
Game Boy sighed and steadied her hand.
“Deep breath, Janette.” Matthew gave her an encouraging nod. “Take your time.”
With great care Game Boy inserted a needle so fine it was almost invisible into the very edge of the parchment.
“There you go,” Matthew said softly. “Slow and steady.”
“I did it!” Game Boy shouted. You would have thought she’d split the atom. There were whoops of support, a high five, and a muttered “About time” from Miriam. But it was Matthew’s response that mattered. Game Boy turned to him expectantly.
“Eureka,” Matthew said, his hands spread wide. Game Boy grinned broadly. “Well done, Janette.
We’ll make a geneticist out of you yet.”
“No way. I’d rather build a computer from spare parts than do that again.” Game Boy stripped her gloves off quickly.
“Hello, darling. How was your day?” Matthew rose and kissed me on the cheek. One eyebrow lifted as he looked at Gallowglass, who silently conveyed that all was well.
“Let’s see . . . I worked some magic in the Beinecke.”
“Should I worry?” Matthew asked, clearly thinking of the havoc that witchwind and witchfire might cause.
“Nope,” I said. “And I have a lead on one of the missing pages from Ashmole 782.”
“That was quick. You can tell me about it on our way to the doctor’s office,” he said, swiping his card through the reader.
“By all means take your time with Diana. There’s nothing pressing here. One hundred and twenty five vampire genes identified and only four hundred to go,” Miriam called as we left. “Chris will be counting the minutes.”
“Five hundred genes to go!” Chris shouted.
“Your gene prediction is way off,” Miriam replied.
“A hundred bucks says it’s not.” Chris glanced up from a report.
“That the best you can do?” Miriam pursed her lips.
“I’ll empty my piggy bank when I get home and let you know, Miriam,” Chris said. Miriam’s lips twitched.
“Let’s go,” said Matthew, “before they start arguing about something else.”
“Oh, they’re not arguing,” Gallowglass said, holding the door open for us. “They’re flirting.”
My jaw dropped. “What makes you say that?”
“Chris likes to give people nicknames.” Gallowglass turned to Matthew. “Chris called you Wolfman. What does he call Miriam?”
Matthew thought for a moment. “Miriam.”
“Exactly.” Gallowglass grinned from ear to ear.
Matthew swore.
“Don’t fret, Uncle. Miriam hasn’t given any man a tumble since Bertrand was killed.”
“Miriam . . . and a human?” Matthew sounded stunned.
“Nothing will come of it,” Gallowglass said soothingly as the elevator doors opened. “She will break Chris’s heart, of course, but there’s naught we can do about it.”
I was deeply grateful to Miriam. Now Matthew and Gallowglass had someone to worry about besides me.
“Poor lad.” Gallowglass sighed, pushing the button that closed the elevator doors. As we descended, he cracked his knuckles. “Perhaps I will wrestle with him after all. A good thrashing always clears the mind.”
A few days ago, I’d worried whether the vampires would survive being at Yale once the students and faculty were around. Now I wondered whether Yale would survive the vampires.
16
I stood in front of the refrigerator, staring at the images of our children with my hands curved around my belly. Where had the month of September gone?
The three-dimensional ultrasound pictures of Baby A and Baby B—Matthew and I had elected not to learn the sexes of our two children—were uncanny. Instead of the familiar ghostly silhouette I’d