“You are insane,” she said. “You can’t go around … licking things that come out of a water treatment plant. That’s just … unsanitary.”

“Life is unsanitary,” he said. “Death more so, as it turns out. I don’t believe that iron hydroxide has any effect upon me, but of course I should try larger doses. If it in fact has an effect upon the draug, that is quite an advance ….” He turned and rummaged around in drawers. “Bother. You can create iron hydroxide, can’t you? Make some. I think we have all we need in supplies.”

She found goggles, gloves, and an extra lab coat three sizes too big—she had to fold the sleeves back—before laying out the chemicals she needed, and the tools. “It’ll take a while,” she said. “Try not to lick anything else.”

“Cross my heart,” he said solemnly, and did so.

“I don’t think that really works as a promise when your heart’s no longer beating.” That was snarkier than she probably needed to be, but it shut him up, for a while. She concentrated on her work. It was like being back at school again, with a chemistry problem laid out in front of her—something soothing and simple, steps to follow, and a stable and well-documented outcome. She liked science because it was neat. It followed rules.

And it never broke her heart.

Even with distilled water, it took almost three hours for the chemical reaction of iron wire, water, and electric current to create the thick green gel and scummy surface; she mixed it, then boiled it in water over a Bunsen burner until it was reduced to powder. The entire process produced only a couple of teaspoons of iron hydroxide. She’d lost track of what Myrnin was doing, but by the time she was finished, he took part of her output, mixed it into a glass of water, and drank it down.

No reaction. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad about that.

“On to the next phase.” He picked up a sealed flask of murky liquid and set it on the counter in front of her. “Don’t spill any.”

The water in the container was moving and swirling on its own. Claire put her hand out for it, then drew back, because it reacted to her. “Is that the draug?”

“A sample,” he said. “You do not want to know what I had to do to get it, and I will not be doing it again, so please, small sample sizes, there’s a girl. Our goal is to come up with something that will immobilize them, or better yet, poison them without affecting a captive vampire.”

“Isn’t it dangerous, having this here?”

“Not really. It’s too small to form any kind of cohesive entity. If it tries to organize itself …” He handed her a small saltshaker, which she peered at with a frown. “Silver flakes. A shake or two will destroy the sample, but use it only in an emergency. Now. Work.”