Page 20 of The Alpha Experiment
So that was out.
Which left me with…what? Direct magic wouldn’t work, and direct stimulation of my human body chemistry probably wouldn’t work either, at least not without a lot of lab work first—work I didn’t have the time to start, let alone complete.
There had to be a middle ground. And since I’d spent years of my life beating away at the problem from a purely scientific perspective, I needed to start at the other side. Not with purposely applied magic, since I’d had that shot down already by an expert. Not to mention I had all the magical ability of a fried chicken wing.
So research, a domain in which I tended to shine. The university library had a supernatural section, and I knew I’d feel more comfortable in the library’s hushed, faintly musty stacks than using the internet. I’d loved the library as an undergrad, the collected wisdom of a thousand scientists and thinkers.
That. I needed to channelthat, the enthusiasm I’d had when I started out in academia, the lust for knowledge and discovery and the infinite possibilities of what the human mind could create and categorize.
I’d start with any accounts I could find of werewolves manifesting alpha powers a little later in life, rather than at the very first onset of puberty like most alphas, and look for common threads, along with stories of shifters remaining phenotypically human until after childhood. Cases of unexpected change of any kind. It’d be more a matter of mythology and fairy tales than science, but I had to start somewhere.
I closed the notebook with intent, a self-satisfied, optimistic flip of the cover.
The library. Just like Hermione Granger, thwarting the evildoers via stacks of old books and possibly a little magic.
Of course, I didn’t have Hermione’s good looks, or a Time Turner, but I’d have to make do.
Before I crashed out, I tiptoed out of my room to take a piss and maybe brush my teeth after all.
Colin had turned out the lights, but he glanced up at me from where he lay on the couch, his features limned in blue-white phone glare. He had the hand not holding the phone tucked behind his head, as if to show off his bulging tricep. When this was all over, I really needed to hit the gym a little more often.
Okay, ever.
“Newt? You okay? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
I rolled my eyes at him, knowing he’d see it even in the low light. “Don’t pretend. You could probably tell I was awake just by hearing me breathe.”
His crooked grin looked just slightly tinged with guilt. He always tried to give me my privacy, even when his enhanced senses made that nearly impossible. “I could tell you were writing something,” he admitted. “And I could see the light around your door. You sure you don’t want to talk now?”
“I’m sure.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze as I passed by to the bathroom. My fingers lingered for a second of their own accord. He felt sowarm. “You know I always need to get my thoughts in order first. Give me a couple of days to process, okay? If you’re really sticking around, we’ll talk this weekend.”
“Just try and get rid of me,” he said, and lifted his phone up again.
“If that couch doesn’t get rid of you, nothing will.”
As I shut the bathroom door, I heard him say quietly, “Nope, nothing will.”
We only exchanged a nod as I passed back through the living room, but those words echoed in my head as I fell asleep and smoothed away the sharp edges of my anxiety.
I could do this. As long as I had Colin—and a library, of course—I could do anything.
Chapter 7
A New Direction
The night went by without any sign of trouble, either from Dr. Asshole Greenwald, my family, my students, or Colin, and the morning started quietly.
It should’ve been a relief, but instead it felt like that moment in a horror movie when someone with an axe was about to jump out of the closet, only extended for hours. I knew I needed to find a way to put my parents’ and Fiona’s minds at ease, at the very least. I might be on the precipice of losing my career and livelihood, and Colin might be in danger of getting reported to the FBI and losing his reputation, but the photos had looked like more of a threat than they actually were, where Fiona was concerned.
Maybe I could find a way to convince them it was some kind of prank…no, probably not, but it beat the truth. I’d need to figure it out later.
While I was mulling that over, Meredith shot to the top of my Christmas list with one simple text.
I taught 102 five years ago for three semesters in a row. I’ll take over for you,dust off an old exam and call it good.
I sent her a series of emojis intended to express that I would be her slave for life, and she sent back a single emoji of a coffee cup. I took that to mean I owed her coffee for life, which worked for me.
That left me with one problem: distracting Colin while I geeked out in the library for hours.
