Page 22 of Blood on the Ice

I don’t know how to respond. Having someone who dislikes the Society and the Council as much as I do would be nice, but experience has taught me not to trust what I can’t verify. I can’t verify her allegiance until I do some background searches and though her scent isn’t giving off a liar vibe, I’m not putting myself at risk. “I agree. There’salot on my plate. But honestly, I have some questions to ask that landed squarely in your area of expertise. I’ll try to be as brief as possible, but I’m helping a student who has questions I’m not able to answer.”

“Look at you, adopting stray students already! I can’t say I ever saw your predecessor do that unless he could leverage them somehow. I suppose you know that now, though I’m being rude again by mentioning it. Fie on my cursed mouth!” She smacks her fist on the desk and it rattles like it’s going to fall apart. “Damn. If I break another one, Facilities is going to grindmybones.”

This woman is fascinating and I think I might actually like her.

“Well, I’m not offended, Zuzanne. I find bluntness refreshing.” Moving to the big chairs in front of her desk, I take a seat and cross my legs. “Let me explain what I need to know before the janitorial staff goes on strike.”

Her smile is bright and eager. “Tell me. I am eager to be of help, Dean. You seem like good people.”

Looks can deceive, I suppose.

the fear

Practice was so subdued, it might as well have been a book club instead of a hockey team. Frustration at the cancellation of the game and the lack of access to the rink for two days simmered in the air. Coach was terse as he barked orders and watched us scrimmage against our second and third string players. Not-so-subtle looks of suspicion pinged betweenthe guys and me, making my already rankled disposition even more edgy.

I might be new this year, but I’ve been nothing but a good team member and a hardworking player. They all know I hit the gym daily before dawn and go for long runs that half of them wouldn’t be able to keep up on if they joined me. My shifter animal is bulky and large, making my human form larger, but I keep myself in top condition. Playing professionally in leagues that take shifters is a completely different ball game than college level sports, even at a top tier school like State U. Getting soft because I can is not an option, nor is it in my nature.

Nana Wolfenberg doesn’t raise lazy assholes—well, except my father, I suppose.

“Wolfberg! Get over here! The rest of you hit the showers!”

The irritated shout comes from Coach as I skate towards the exit, and I roll my eyes. If he tells me I’m suspended until this bullshit is resolved, Nana will go ballistic. He’ll be lucky if she doesn’t send Thorne and a cadre of lawyers so expensive that one meeting would be equivalent to purchasing a car. On one hand, it would keep me from being benched, but on the other, the pressure on Coach to do what he’s told is likely to make my first year miserable.

So I turn, skating over with a quizzical look on my face, hoping that lack of aggression will make him calmer. “What’s up, Coach?”

“What was that shit out there? You were holding back, Wolfberg.”

Despite my height, I have to look up at the angry Yeti shifter glaring at me. Coach isn’t the biggest shifter I’ve ever met, but hestill has a half-foot on my seven-and-a-half feet. “You know why, Coach. With the shit that happened the other night, I didn’t want the guys to?—”

“Bullshit! You were brought here because of your talent and skill. Downplaying that because of some ridiculous small town dick’s accusations doesn’t help the team. What helps the team is you playing to your capabilitieswithoutexcessive violence so they realize you’re not guilty. They have to trust you for who you are, not some watered down horseshit.” Scratching his snow-white beard, Coach Driftwood’s icy blue eyes look like cold fire as he stares at me.

Well, I’ll be a son of a siren. He’s not kicking me off.

Dipping my chin, I nod. “Yes, Coach. I understand.”

“Good. If I catch you holding back again,thenI will bench you. Are we copacetic?” He crosses his arms over his chest and I look at the muscles the size of Yule hams on display. Hopefully, he doesn’t intend to use that bulk on any of us if we step out of line. That guy is ridiculously enormous.

“We are, Coach.” I conjure up a small smile, hoping it looks sincere.

He can’t know that I’m a tumultuous mess inside at the moment. It’s not about the stupid Detective—I’m confident the brash Thorne will handle that. The problem leaving me unsettled is what happened last night with Morgana. I haven’t been able to wrap my head around it yet and it’s making my bear stay just beneath the surface of my skin. The night was full of surprises, but the last part will cause problems.

I have to figure out how I feel, and talk to Morgana before this gets out of hand.

To do that, I need to find someone to talk to about it. Obviously, it can’t be Nana and my parents are useless. They’d sell me out to her for the price of a new Rolex, so Dad is out. I don’t want rumors to fly around the locker room more than they already are because of LaMount’s death, which means my team members aren’t able to help. No, the only option I have is to find a third party—someone with no skin in the game who can talk to me about this shit without bias.

Once I get dressed, I’m heading to the Science Building. Is there a professor available for me to ask a hypothetical question to? That would be convenient.

If someone can help me confirm what my animal is telling me, I’ll know what to do next.

This building is an eyesore.

Helmut Von Lichtenstein’s family has been friends with Nana’s since forever, of course, but they’ve always been a little… showy. They aren’t what people in the South would call ‘new money,’ but they’re not ancient wealth like many of the Society board members’ lines. That’s likely why this place has been upgraded to appear as a hub of future technology and research. Unfortunately, it just looks tacky and soulless instead of fancy.

I open the doors only to be greeted by a weird robot with a tablet mounted on it. My eyes widen when the screen flashes and awoman with horn-rimmed glasses appears. She glances to the side, then turns back to me with a bright smile.

“Hello, Lucas Wolfberg! This is Rhoda, our virtual greeter. How may I direct you today?”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

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