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I ducked and it shattered on the ground.
She was grabbing another one by the time I stood upright again. I ducked once more. “Nygaard—”
And again.
Someone’s footsteps neared, and she must’ve heard it too, because she stopped, her hand poised above her head with another beaker in her grip. She set it down quickly and smoothed back her hair as a slight man appeared in the doorway.
He surveyed the situation and seemed unsure of what to make of it. “Hello,” he said uncertainly.
His dark eyes darted from me to Aura, and she blanched. There was broken glass all over the floor, and she was noticeably sweaty. At least the tenting situation in my pants had abated, but an explanation was lost on me until my sight fell on a cage of rodents. “Hello. I’m from the Ministry of the Occult,” I hurried to offer. “Sylvan De Lacy. I’m assisting Professor Nygaard with some research, but it seems one of the mice escaped overnight and caused quite a mess.”
“Oh!” the man exclaimed. Spellcaster by the smell of him.
My eyes flicked briefly to Aura, who looked at me as though she couldn’t quite figure out what to make of me. “I’ll help clean up and be on my way. If you could just point me in the direction of a broom?”
“No, no,” said the spellcaster. He approached and extended his hand. “Guo Shan,” he introduced himself, and I shook his hand. Aura was tense and unmoving behind me. “I’ll take care of the mess.”
“Oh, well thank you. If I may just borrow Professor Nygaard to discuss something before I go?”
“Of course,” said Guo Shan.
I smiled at him. “Nice to meet you.” I started to walk out of the workshop and realized I was alone. “Professor Nygaard?” I bent to pick up the books I’d discarded on the floor.
Reluctantly, she followed me out of the room, but the moment the door closed behind her, she shoved me out of the way and hurried down the corridor. “Just because you helped me with my injection doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”
“Back in Sublune Creek, you’d said that I should’ve killed you. Why?”
“Stop following me.” She continued onward.
“You are a Primal Born, aren’t you?”
“Stop following me!”
Naturally, I kept following her. “What does your draft do?”
She spun to face me, her right eye faintly glowing. “We are not talking about that here.”
I sighed. “Then where can we talk?”
“In your fucking dreams.” We were at the door of her office. She unlocked it and stepped into the room, but I shoved my arm out to keep her from shutting it in my face. I leaned close to her, meeting the ferocity in her eyes.
“I know what Lobofebris looks like when I see it,” I said, keeping my voice low. “And I know that disease only infects those with lycan blood. Your eye glows lycan gold when you’re losing control—I’m assuming fighting your shift. Vampire. Lycan. You’re a bloodwolf.”
Her fear pierced the air.
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” I assured her.
Skeptically, she lifted a brow, but her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths while her pulse raced. She released the door and stepped back, her eyes softening and shoulders slumping.
“But I’m not leaving until you tell me. What was in the syringe?”
18
OVER A MORBID POEM
AURA
I turned away and walked to my desk, plopping down into the chair. “The draft is a concoction of ingredients that slow down the effects of the disease. And you might be happy to learn it’s becoming less and less effective. So, even if you do report me …” I shrugged, leaving my sentence unfinished. “Your turn to answer a question. What do you mean you know what Lobofebris looks like? Have you seen it in person?”
