What she had done in developing this device - no, this weapon - was a whole lot worse than just blabbing about Morganville. It could be a real threat to them. To their very lives.
Dr Anderson was right. It was something the vampires wouldn't ignore ... and now that she was out of Morganville, accidents could happen. None of her friends would know the difference.
She was alone.
'Hey,' Dr Anderson said, and gave her a small, careful smile. 'Easy. You look a little spooked.'
Claire nodded, unable to say much.
'You got used to thinking of yourself as safe from them, didn't you? That they were on your side. It's easy to make that mistake. They will treat you as an asset, or even as a friend, right up until you cross the line and become a threat, Claire; you've already done that, even if they don't know it yet. You've gone from Amelie's subject to Amelie's enemy, even though technically you've never turned against her ... she won't wait for the actual betrayal. Just the seeds of it are enough.' Anderson's eyes were still calculating, still cool. 'Are you armed?'
'No. It's the real world. I didn't think I needed to ... there are laws against it, right?'
'Would you rather be fined for carrying a concealed knife, or dead in an alley?'
'Are those my only options?'
Dr Anderson's smile warmed up, and the seriousness faded a bit. Just a bit. 'Not necessarily, but I believe in planning for the worst case scenario.'
'You'd really like my boyfriend Shane,' Claire said. 'Okay. I'm used to carrying a knife - silver, right?'
'We have new processes that allow us to have just a silver layer on the edge. It's more reliable and holds sharpness well.' Dr Anderson walked to a locked cabinet and opened it with a palm print and complicated code punched into the keypad; she reached in and came out with a knife in a leather scabbard. It was dauntingly large, and when she handed it over, it felt heavier than Claire was used to carrying.
'Do you have anything ...'
'Smaller? No. Sorry. It'll fit in a backpack handily. If you want to carry it on your person, I'd advise you to take up the current trend of carrying gigantic handbags. Watch the edge. It's sharp enough to slice anything but diamond. And for God's sake, carry it, Claire. You're no good to me at all if you're dead. Until you start working, I can't even be sure you're any good to me at all, but I'm willing to give you the chance.' Anderson patted her on the shoulder in an impersonally kind sort of way. 'What time is it? - Oh, damn, I have a class to teach in twenty minutes. Lab rules: you'll be here bright and early every day. I arrive at six a.m.; I'll expect you no later than seven. You don't arrive before me, and you don't stay after. If I decide that you're reliable, I'll start allowing you to remain in the lab while I'm teaching, but you'll have a period of evaluation before that happens, and of course the lab's sensors will monitor everything you do. That's not meant as a threat, just clarity - I'd rather you aren't surprised by the level of observation you have here.'
It was nothing but surprising, but Claire didn't really mind; she accepted the need for security. She wasn't sure how to read Dr Anderson, though, and she thought her new mentor felt the same about her. Well, at least she gave me a knife, Claire thought. That said something ... but what, exactly, Claire wasn't quite sure.
Dr Anderson had already dismissed her, clearly, because she was shuffling through a stack of papers and ignoring Claire's tentative goodbye wave, so Claire headed back to the door. There was a second badge station, and she used it to unlock her way out into the hallway. Disorientation set in for a few seconds, because there were few signs and the clean white tile looked the same in any direction, but she finally figured out how they'd come in, and badged out for a second time before returning to normal college surroundings. It felt weird, coming from that high-tech world to one where people her age were laughing, throwing footballs on the lawn and flirting as if it was the most important skill in the world.
Maybe the normal world isn't as normal as I expected.
That was a sobering thought.
She headed across the busy campus grounds, and the knife stuck in her backpack felt strange; she checked often to see if somehow the outline of it was visible, but of course it wasn't. It was like a sliver of her old life sticking into her new one, and she didn't know how to feel about it.
Turned out, she had reason to be happy.
Claire crossed Albany Street and headed for Chicago Pizza, because suddenly she was starving, and it was one place she'd tried before, so a little bit familiar ... and as she got her pizza slice and soda and negotiated through the packed room for a little table at the wall, she saw someone standing on the other side of the window, looking in.
Someone she recognised.
Derrick.
Liz's stalker ex wasn't just checking out the day's pie offerings ... he was staring right at her, boring his gaze in hard as a drill. The shock made Claire's heart kick up hard, and she instinctively pushed back from the table and reached down for the pack leaning against her knee - survival instincts, even though Derrick wasn't doing anything but looking at her.
It was something in his eyes. Something just ... wrong.
There was no chair on the other side of her tiny table, but someone got up and left, and Derrick pushed in the door as that student pushed out. He grabbed the chair along the way and dragged it noisily over to Claire's table, where he sat, put his elbows on the table and said, 'Hey, Claire. How was your day?'
She was not up for small talk. Something she'd learnt from Shane: there was a time for distracting chatter, and a time for shutting up and watching, and this was definitely a guy she could not afford to play games with. It was his game, his rules. She couldn't win it. 'You need to leave me alone, Derrick,' she said, and she didn't try to keep her voice down, either. The restaurant was packed with people, and some of them looked over - not alarmed, just curious onlookers. 'Walk away right now.'
'I'm not doing anything, Claire, c'mon. I just want to be friends. Liz is special to me; I ought to get to know the people she likes, right?'
'Liz doesn't want to see you. I don't want to see you.' Claire stood up suddenly, and the sound of her chair going over backward was very loud. Conversational buzz around them stopped. 'You need to leave, right now.'
'Or?' Derrick didn't seem alarmed at all. 'You'll call the cops and tell them I was politely making conversation?'
Claire didn't even think about what she was going to do. If she had, she probably would have second-guessed it.
She picked up her full soda and flung it right in his face.
He gasped, jumped out of his chair, and stood there dripping and furious. Ice chunks glittered in his hair, and his shirt was stained and soaked.
Someone nearby started a slow clap. Others joined in.
Derrick's menace was no longer simmering beneath the surface. He stared at Claire as if he intended to bite chunks out of her, and the small table between them didn't seem like much, if any, protection. Neither did the people around them, who might cheer a gutsy move but would run from a fight.
She'd never missed having Shane at her back so much.
Derrick took in a deep breath, twitched all over, and forced out a smile that was all teeth. 'All these people are witnesses. I never raised a hand to her, okay? She's the one who assaulted me.' He raised both hands, brushed the ice out of his hair, and backed away from the table, and Claire. 'Damn, girl, back off the caffeine. I'm out.' He sounded like a regular guy now, bemused by her reaction, and the clapping faded off. 'Sorry if I scared you, I didn't mean to.' It sounded sincere. All of a sudden, the tide of popular sentiment was turning around them.
'Yes, you did,' Claire said flatly. 'You know it and I know it. But you don't scare me, Derrick. I've-' Killed scarier things than you, she almost said, but that would sound way wrong in this place, this time. 'I've known plenty of guys worse than you. I'm still standing.'
'Chick's crazy,' he said, to no one in particular - just a pronouncement, and it seemed like some of the others agreed with him. Some didn't. One girl was frowning at Derrick, clearly alarmed; at least a couple of guys were not on his side, either. One of them - a big enough fellow - stood up.
'Maybe just go, man,' he said.
'Why not her?' Derrick shot back.
The guy shrugged. 'Well, she's got pizza. You don't.'
It was a mild, but valid, point, and right then, one of the employees - probably the manager, Claire thought - came out from behind the counter and fixed Derrick, then Claire, with quelling looks. 'Whatever's going on, it stops here,' he said. 'Or I call the cops.'
'No problem,' Derrick said. He was still holding up his hands. 'I'm going, man.'