in a tailored gray suit with a lighter gray blouse under the jacket. Gray hair curled into exact waves. Claire couldn't see her shoes, but she bet they were fashionable, gray, and yet somehow sensible. "I'm the secretary to Dean Wallace. Do you have an appointment?"
Eve said, "I need to see Michael."
"I'm sorry? I don't think I know that person."
Eve's expression froze, and Claire could see the horrible dread in her eyes.
Hannah, seeing it too, said, "Let's cut the crap, Ms. Nance. Where's Michael Glass?"
Ms. Nance's eyes narrowed. They were pale blue, not as pale as Amelie's, but kind of faded, like jeans left in the sun. "Mr. Glass is in conference with the dean," she said. "I'm afraid you'll have to--"
The door at the far end of her office opened, and Michael came out. Claire's heart practically melted with relief. He's okay. Michael's okay.
Except that he closed the door and walked straight past them, a man on a mission.
He walked right past Eve, who stood there flatfooted, mouth open, fear dawning in her expression.
"Michael!" Claire yelped. He didn't even pause. "We have to stop him!"
"Great," Hannah said, and the three of them took off in pursuit.
It helped that Michael wasn't actually running, just moving with a purpose. Claire and Eve edged by him in the hall and blocked his path.
His blue eyes were wideopen, but he just didn't see them. He sensed an obstacle, at least, and paused.
"Michael," Claire said. Dammit, why couldn't I have tranquilizers? Why? "Michael, you can't go out there. It's already morning. You'll die."
"He's not listening," Hannah said. And she was right; he wasn't. He tried to push between them, but Eve put a hand in the center of his chest and held him back.
"Michael? It's me. You know me, don't you? Please?"
He stared at her with utterly blank eyes, and then shoved her out of his way. Hard.
Hannah sent Claire a quick, commanding look. "Get help. Now. I'll try to hold him."
Claire hesitated, but Hannah was without any doubt better equipped to handle a potentially hostile Michael than she was. She turned and ran, past startled desk jockeys and coffeebearing civil servants, and slid to a stop in front of one of the blackuniformed soldiers. "Richard Morrell," she blurted. "I need him. Right now."
The soldier didn't hesitate. He grabbed the radio clipped to his shoulder and said, "Admin to Morrell."
"Morrell, go."
The soldier unclipped the radio and silently offered it to Claire. She took it--it was heavier than the walkietalkies-- and pressed the button to talk. "Richard? It's Claire. We have a big problem. We need to stop Michael and anybody else . . ." How could she say vampire without actually saying it? "Anybody else with a sun allergy from going outside."
"Why the hell would they be--"
"I don't know! They just are!" The image of Officer O'Malley on fire leaped into her mind, and she caught her breath on a sob. "Help us. They're going out in the sun."
"Give the radio back," he ordered. She handed it to the blackuniformed man. "I need you to go with this girl and help her. No questions."
"Yes sir." He clicked off the radio and looked down at Claire. "After you."
She led the way back toward the hallway. As they reached it, there was a crash of glass, and Hannah came flying out to land flat on her back, blinking.
Michael walked over her. Eve was hauling on his arm, trying to hold him back, but he shook her off.
"We can't let him get outside!" Claire said. She tried to grab him, but it was like grabbing a freight train. She'd forgotten how strong he was now.
"Out of the way," the soldier said, and pulled a handgun from a holster at his side.
"No, don't--"
The bureaucrats scattered, hiding under their desks, dropping their coffee to hug the carpet.
The soldier sighted on Michael's chest, and fired three times in quick succession. Instead of the loud bangs Claire had been expecting, there were soft compressedair coughs.
And three darts feathered Michael's chest, clustered above his heart.
He still took three steps toward the soldier before collapsing in slow motion to his knees, and then onto his face.
"All clear," the soldier said. He took hold of Michael, turned him over, and yanked out the darts. "He'll be under for about an hour, probably no longer than that. Let's get him to the dean's office."
Hannah wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth, coughed, and rolled to her feet. She and Eve helped Claire grab Michael's