Page 21 of Blood on the Ice

Facial recog… is she shitting me? How is that even legal?

“Uh, no. I didn’t come for an official tour, Rhoda. I’m here to speak with a professor.” I tilt my head and paste an imperious glare at the screen. “I’d be interested to know how your software is being used without violating Fourth Amendment rights, though.”

The woman blinks and laughs softly. “Rhoda is the robot, Dean. My name is Antares Simone and I’m an executive assistant to the Head of the Science and Mathematics department. All the EAs in this building can access Rhoda when non-program students, staff, or visitors enter the VLSMC. They include disclaimers about the use of the recognition software in legal disclosures when admitted, hired, or entering campus—most people simply do not read the fine print.”

That’s not sketchy at all. I’ll have to review that shit.

“Thank you, Antares. I appreciate your help. Can you direct me to the Shifter Biology professor? I need their expertise.” Forcing a smile, I wait. I’m not revealingwhyI want to visit with that educator; this fucking building already has more information than I’d prefer logged in its servers.

Antares nods, clicking on a computer keyboard before turning back to her camera. “Yes, ma’am. Professor Shadwell is in sector two, floor ten, in office number four hundred eighty-two. Her credentials are: B.S. in B&B from Stanford, Masters in Shifter Sciences from Yale, and Ph.D. s in Shifter Zoonotics and Shifter Psychology from State University. The professor has been head of the Shifter Physiology and Sociology department since 1999. Please knock before entering.”

I blink. “Thank you?”

“Have a lovely day!”

Rhoda the robot spins in place like a damned Battle Bot and heads back in the direction she came from. I have to physically force myself to walk to the bank of elevators and push the button; that’s how astonished I am. When the doors open, I step inside and yet again, I marvel at this damn place. The LED touchscreen on the wall lists the sectors and once I punch in two, it changes to a screen asking which floor. A disembodied voice comes over the speakers, confirming my choices, then advises me to step away from the doors and hold on to the handrails.

What in the Willy Wonka bullshit is this place?

I don’t even have time to ask before the elevator takes off like a shot and I’m on my way.

My hands gripthe rails as the metal coffin I’m in zips at an impossible speed horizontally, then diagonally, then vertically. The chocolate factory reference was accurate. I marvel at the board’s ability to keep this tech a secret. There has to be some kind of goddamned NDA woven into admission and hiring papers just like the damn surveillance release is. I didn’t have a choice but to simply sign whatever the Society put in front of me after the trial, but I’d bet my bottom dollar most of the people on this cursed campus don’t have a clue they signed away their lives to be here.

What other horrors are in that paperwork?

Resolving to get Channing to dig into it once we get my schedule somewhat normalized, I suck in a breath as the speed increases as we climb up the floors until the screen says ‘ten’. The disembodied voice announces our location, gives directions to the office I need, and wishes me a good day before the doors open. When I step out, I have to pause as my equilibrium settles. That fucking thing was like a theme park ride and while I enjoy the hell out of a good rollercoaster, I prefer being prepared for the twists and turns. I didn’t know I was riding a death trap, so I’m stunned in place.

Once the world stops spinning, I look at the waiting area. It’s fairly normal, though the furniture looks new and comfy. I can’t imagine who is left here to wait for appointments, but it must be frequent, because I notice long power strips with various USB and power hubs, along with lap desks resting against a table. Students often come here for quiet or to meet with advisors. Before I go left down the hallway, someone’s head pops up from the counter near the closed door.

“Welcome, Dean LeCiel! We have notified Professor Shadwell of your arrival and she will see you at once.”

I blink at the tiny shifter in front of me. She looks like a student and I wonder if this is a work study assignment. I haven’t seen many possum shifters, but from her scent, I can tell she’s not a hybrid. “Thank you. Are you working full time, or is this a work study arrangement?”

Her laugh is adorable, and she appears to climb up on something to make herself taller. “I’m an undergrad in costuming. Most of the work studies on campus place people in the complete opposite area from their specialty because it encourages us to broaden our horizons. Plus, it keeps us honest—or so they say. My name is Beatrice.”

“Nice to meet you, Beatrice. I appreciate you explaining that, but I’m afraid I’m still learning all the ins and outs of State U. It’s overwhelming to step into a culture where everyone simplyknowsthings.”

She titters again and nods. “Oh, SU isdefinitelylike that. When I started two years ago, I came from further down in the state and man, is it a hard transition. But I love it! Professor Shadwell is amazing. Whatever you need, I know she’ll be able to help.”

“Thanks, Beatrice.” I smile and tilt my head at the hallway. “I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Have a lovely day!”

Is that overly cheerful shit required of everyone who works in this building, or is it just because of who I am?

Sighing as my paranoia gets the best of me yet again, I stride down to the end of the hall where a placard on the door reads, ‘Dr. Zuzanne Shadwell, B.S, M.S, Ph.D-Head of Shifter Physiology and Psychology, Professor Emeritus.’ I stand there, staring for a moment at the intimidating name plate as I ponder.

Whoa.

Either this woman is going to be a great ally or a really powerful enemy—no one has that much alphabet soup without gathering influence. I raise my hand to knock, but the door swings open quickly and I see a plump woman with smile lines crinkling the corners of her eyes. Her grin is genuine and when she shakes my hand vigorously, I wince. I’m not usually out-squeezed by people, but this lady has meat hooks for hands. I study her for a second, trying to suss out her heritage before I go any further.

“Oh, bother. I did it again, didn’t I?” She lets out a bellowing laugh and I look at her with wide eyes. “Sorry! I can’t always gauge how strong a shifter is by their species; I should know that, but I can’t help trying to guess. It must be the giantess in me—she’s a playful sort.”

Ah-ha! She’s a hybrid.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Shadwell. I won’t break,” I reply as I give her an understanding expression.

“Please! Zuzanne is fine. Come in, come in. I admit to being curious about your visit. You have so many things to do since that blasted group of hoity-toity asskissers sentenced you. I didn’t expect to see you in this building for months.”

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