Page 50 of Glass
“I run this lab, and I oversaw all of the university’s plans for the building. I ran a lab a few blocks over before this one was built, but now I have a state-of-the-art facility. Most employees work in the labs downstairs on whatever projects strike the university’s fancy.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, clearly no love lost for the work that’s been done above-board.
I don’t care about the university or what they’re working on, but I nod along sympathetically and let Arnoult continue to do all the talking.
“My lab here is where the real work is done.” Arnoult glances at my bare legs beneath the black pencil skirt I borrowed after sweet-talking the apartment complex’s employees into loaning me one of the employee uniforms. I skipped the valet vest, but the pencil skirt and white button-down seem to lend me an air of credibility.
I try not to focus on how my skin crawls as Arnoult looks his fill before looking me in the eyes again.
“Normally, I don’t let anyone in to see, but you look like someone who appreciates the kind of work I do. Would you like to see the lab?” He winks. “It will give you something extra to brag about to your business partner Frank later.”
It’s almost too easy.
For a moment, I wonder if maybe Arnoult has figured out the truth somehow, but then his gaze moves to check out the cleavage exposed by my top. He really is just a disgusting excuse for a mad scientist. Too full of himself to imagine this could ever possibly be a trap.
He disgusts me. And more than that, I hate this man down to his rotten core.
“I’d love to see your lab,” I pretend to gush. Arnoult’s face lights up as he gestures for me to walk with him toward the oversized doors facing the elevator I came up on. I hold my purse close to my body as I move with false confidence.
Arnoult uses a keypad, entering a long string of numbers for the door to open to us. I’m not surprised when he waves me ahead of him, likely because he’s planning to get a good look at my ass.
Let him look. Let him remember the short woman in the tight skirt who ruined his career and a decade of his life all in one fell swoop. I know he’ll never come back from this.
There’s only one fate worse than death for a man with this much pride in his work—destroying everything.
“This is millions of dollars in equipment,” Arnoult brags, waving his hand like a game show hostess, ensuring I take in the lab in all of its glory. The equipment probablywouldbe impressive if I knew what I was looking at. Instead, all I feel is a chill working its way up my spine as we stroll down a center aisle with workstations on either side.
I can feel the ghosts that haunt this place, spirits waiting to be freed to a final resting place. There’s unimaginable pain trapped in this building, never having been released because shifters only leave this earth when their spirits are at peace.
Legends say that for the shifters whose stories are cut short, or their legacies left unresolved, they become stuck in the in-between. A place that’s no longer for the living but isn’t quite the afterlife either. It’s a cruel place to leave a person’s spirit.
“There used to be more scientists up here who worked under me, but the university reallocated resources a few years ago.” Arnoult grunts unhappily, then seems to catch himself. He’s trying to impress me, likely trying to sway me in favor of his cause. Admitting the university has little to no interest in his work certainly won’t accomplish either of those things.
It’s cute that he still believes the ruse at this point.
He keeps talking. I stop pretending to listen.
Arnoult is forced to follow me around like a desperate pet as I abandon his tour for one of my own. My eyes sweep over every inch of the building, taking in sample storage, computers, and paper documents. Truthfully, I’m looking for the most concentrated part of the lab, the area where Arnoult most likes to work himself.
And because the man is so blinded by narcissism, he proudly points out the exact spot I’m looking for. “This is where I do most of my work. I like to keep my workspace in the center so I have easy access to all our documents and the results as they come in.”
“Results?” I look around shrewdly, no longer worried about keeping up appearances. I already have what I need. “It looks to me like this place isn’t producing any results. When’s the last time this lab saw any kind of actual science? It looks more like a history museum with a technology exhibit.”
He splutters for a second, face reddening with each insult I throw in his direction. “How dare you!”
“No.” I step closer, refusing to be intimidated by the inches of height he has over me. He might be bigger in stature, but I have a lifetime of pain on my side that lends itself to my heightened adrenaline. “How dareyou, Doctor. Living creatures aren’t your own personal science experiments to do with as you will. And you won’t be getting any more shifters to use as test dummies in this lab. You’re retiring abruptly, and your work unfortunately is all gone.”
“My work is perfectly safe here.” He snorts, having not caught on quite yet. Ignorant, arrogant fool. “The room is temperature controlled. And I’m not retiring, you bi—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” I warn him, pulling a matchbook out of my purse. His eyes flicker nervously between the matches and me.
“What are you going to do, light a candle? A little flame could hardly damage everything I’ve built in here.” He crosses his arms over his chest as if he’s unconcerned, but there’s a flicker of discomfort in his eyes that gives him away.
I take my time lighting the match knowing the man is too much of a coward to do anything until it’s too late. I thought of plenty of contingency plans on the way here in case my assumptions were wrong, but Arnoult has proved to be nothing but a harmless garden snake. He hired someone else to do the hard work because he wants the glory. Too bad he doesn’t have any guts.
“I took into consideration that you would have a considerable body of work that needed to be dealt with,” I explain carefully. I hold the match up high in the air as I cross the few steps needed to bring me right to Arnoult’s filing cabinets. One of them is slightly ajar.
I use the match to light the edge of a file on fire. Arnoult sucks deep breaths in through his nose, but I haven’t done enough damage to devastate him yet.
But that small flame is good for one thing.