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“It might be, and it might be the opposite. Either way, Bianchi is one of the founding members of Corium, so we can’t tell him no. I need you to be careful. I never had a problem with Bianchi, but we are not close allies either. I don’t know as much as I’d like about him, especially not about this suddenly appearing son.”
“I’ll be careful, but like you said, we never had an issue with them before. Why would they start something now?”
“You are probably right, but it won’t hurt to be cautious.”
“Okay, well… I got to go… do stuff…”
“All right, call your mother when you get a chance. She misses you.”
“I will.” I close the laptop before he can say his goodbye, not that I was expecting anything heartfelt. My father is not that person, and I guess neither am I.
I make a mental note to call my mom tomorrow, but right now, I have something else to do. Something that’s been overdue.
Getting up, I grab my phone and stuff it in my pocket. Slipping into my sneakers, I head for the door and make my way to the library. On my way, I wonder if Aspen is going to be there. I don’t normally like surprises, though the thought of seeing her in person excites me.
When I get to the library, I find it completely silent and empty. A ping of disappointment hits me, but I shove it away and concentrate on what I came here to do.
It takes me a few minutes to find the librarian between two heavy oak shelves on the second floor. I casually lean against one of them, my face inches from a plaque with the engraving Fiction C-E. She is sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and a thick book in her lap. Her long blue hair covers most of her face since her head is bowed.
“Oh, that’s juicy,” she murmurs to herself.
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
“EEEEKKKK!” she shrieks. Her whole body jerks, and the book goes flying into the air before landing with a thud a few feet from her. She scrambles off the ground, clutching her chest with one hand. “Fucking Christ! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
I can’t help but laugh at her accusing tone; the accompanied outrage is just too comical. “Why would I want you dead? I need you to get me what I want first. Speaking of, you don’t look very busy. If you are not working, and you are not searching for the information I want, you must have already found it.”
“It’s not that easy, Quinton. I can’t just go around and hack like I used to. I need to do it a little at a time, change my pattern, let numbers run, and programs do their job. It takes time. More than normal because I can’t let Phoenix find me. If I’m not super careful, he can trace me here.”
“All I’m hearing is a bunch of excuses.”
“It’s the truth. I’m sorry it’s not what you want to hear, but this is going to take time.”
“Fine, take your sweet time. I guess I’ll just have to find something else to keep me busy. I’m sure I will find something orsomeoneto entertain me.” I look down at my short fingernails as if I’m looking for a treasure in my cuticles.
“Threatening me is not helping, and we both know you won’t hurt Aspen.” Brittney crosses her arms over her chest and tips her chin up.
Squaring my shoulders, I take a step toward her, eating up the space between us. “In my experience, threats are the best kind of motivation, and don’t believe for a second, I wouldn’t hurt her to get what I want. I will do whatever it takes to get this information.”
She visibly shudders, but continues to stand her ground. “Like I said, I’m working as fast as I can.”
“I’ll be back soon. Have fun reading your smut book.” I glance at the shirtless guy on the book cover.
“I will,” she huffs defensively and picks up her book like it’s a prized possession.
I definitely understand why she and Aspen get along so well.
Spinning around on my heel, I take a few steps before the librarian calls after me, and my steps falter.
“You might not believe me, but I actually want to help you. I’ll do whatever I can.”
I can hear the promise in her voice, and though I’m not sure why, I believe her.
Making my legs move, I don’t turn back or answer her. Making my way back through the library and to the tunnel connecting to the base. Going from the lavish antique castle library into the plain concrete tunnel is almost depressing, and I wonder why more students don’t spend time up here.
Those thoughts disappear into thin air when I see one particular student walking down the corridor. Her gaze is glued to the floor in front of her, her step quick and precise, like she’s memorized the way to the library to a tee. Only when there are less than five feet between us does she look up.
As soon as she sees me, her feet stop moving, and her body comes to a sudden halt. “Quinton.” My name falls from her lips hesitantly, like she is not sure where we stand right now.
