The Fear

the fear

P ractice 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 between the 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 he still 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 capabilities without excessive 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, then I 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 a woman 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.

Shaking my head at the ridiculousness of using this rather than an assistant at a welcome desk, I give the woman an irritated glare. “I need to see someone in shifter biology—preferably an expert. It’s urgent.”

The woman behind Rhoda the robot frowns a little as she glances at her screen again. “Oh, dear. It looks like the professor is still at her current meeting. I can send you to her floor to wait.”

My patience is stretched thin already, but I nod. “Fine. Who should I see and where should I go?”

“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 wait until you are called.”

With another pasted-on smile, the assistant points toward the elevators before the screen goes dark and the robot trundles off. I rub my temples with my hand, annoyed as hell that I’m dealing with some sort of robot instead of a person and I have to wait for the answers I desperately want. Each delay today means less time to apologize to Morgana for my sudden shutdown. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about peacing out on a one-night stand, but this was definitely not that. I didn’t understand why I felt so drawn to her until we fucked and that finale cemented the instincts I’d been ignoring—I think. I need to know for certain before I see her again. She’ll be furious if I find her and give her a supposition. That is, if she doesn’t run for the hills when I broach the subject at all.

This is the worst possible timing.

Stalking over to the elevators, I find the one that says it goes to my destination and hop in. A sign above the buttons tells me to hold on, so I do, and when the damn thing shoots off like a rocket, I almost piss myself. Hermes on skates. This thing is like a damn space shuttle! My eyes narrow, irritated that the Rhoda-thing chose not to warn someone who doesn’t belong in this building about the damn blast-off. I’d bet my left fang the security people spend their days laughing their asses off at people losing it. This fucking thing is a health hazard.

When it zips across, then up, then diagonal, I’m thankful I haven’t eaten in a few hours. I get motion sick at these speeds and the staff in this place is lucky I haven’t yakked. The elevator finally jerks to a stop and I stumble out, groaning a little as I drop into one of the big chairs in the waiting room. Suddenly, I’m grateful the professor is occupied—I’d hate to go in there green at the gills and ready to puke my guts up.

It’s undignified.

Leaning my head against the back of the couch, I close my eyes and try to get control of my roiling guts. This day has been one disaster after another, including the weird behavior of my team at practice. It’s almost like I’ve got some sort of curse plaguing me, but I know that can’t be true. I left Morgana’s last night, went straight to my apartment, and then to the rink immediately afterward. I haven’t had contact with shit out of the ordinary, so that’s impossible. Besides, a bad day doesn’t equal magical punishment.

“You look awful!”

I blink, looking around for the source of the sound in confusion. When I don’t see it right away, I hold my stomach while I continue squinting at the waiting area. “Who said that?”

A tiny girl comes out from behind the empty desk, her dark eyes wide as she assesses me. “I did. You look very sick. I should call for someone to look at you!”

It takes everything in me, but I shake my head. “No, no. I’ll be fine. It’s probably just motion sickness from that death trap. Don’t call anyone.”

“Oh, dear,” the shifter frets as she scurries behind her desk and reappears with a bottle of water. She sniffs the air as she comes closer and frowns. “Maybe, but I doubt it. I can smell… something. I really need to get the professor.”

Just fucking great. I probably gave Morgana some ridiculous stomach virus, and she’s cursing my name as she barfs at her place.

Taking the water, I sip it slowly, looking at her as she twiddles her small hands. She’s clearly upset and I don’t know what to do with that. I’m not sure why she’s so certain, but I may have to humor her before she has a nervous breakdown. I close my eyes and let my head fall back. “Okay. Call whoever.”

“Thank fuck,” she mutters as I hear her skitter across the floor and climb something. A beep sounds as she uses the intercom, and I vaguely hear her speaking to someone who sounds jolly and exuberant. When she’s done, the diminutive girl walks back over to stand near. “Professor Shadwell and her appointment are both coming. They’re concerned, too. My kind can smell when there’s something off with chemistry and we have some resistance to poison in our bloodstream. That’s why they’re taking me seriously, if you’re wondering.”

I wasn’t, but good to know.

The sound of footsteps rushing over the carpet fills the air and before I can even open my eyes, a familiar voice gasps, “Lucas!”

Well, now I’m truly fucked—I didn’t want to see her until I got answers.