Page 109 of The New Gods

With each footstep, my dread built. Maybe I should have gone to the Bodleian and asked for print-outs of the books I’d requested. Same for the Ashmolean. There would be records of my visits to prove I was actually doing the work that led me to the artifacts. Then again, it shouldn’t be necessary. Each book I took out, I logged, along with the date and what I found. I even had photos of some pages.

Traffic was heavy this morning, streets crowded with pedestrians who seemed happy to amble to their destinations and weren’t pleased when I scurried by them.

Not that I was in a hurry to get to the committee, but my feet seemed to keep time with my frantic thoughts.

Soon enough, I was seated by an administrative assistant outside a board room and told to, “Wait here.” Her tone was gruff and short, and she didn’t make eye contact.

Clearly, she knew more about what I was walking into than I did.

My stomach soured, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten breakfast or had coffee. The last thing I wanted was to spew all over Dr. Merton’s shoes in front of everyone.

Our meeting was at eight, but I waited outside that room for half an hour. Inside, I could hear the ebb and flow of voices, though I couldn’t tell who was who, or what they were saying. Sliding to the edge of the seat, I listened hard, but there were too many people.

I was definitely walking into something big.

It was one of the first times I was grateful for my experience with my former advisor. Diana was the queen of power moves. She loved to make people wait, or email them an earlier time at the very last minute when there was no way they could get to her office in time.

I thought the bullshit she’d put me through was unique, but clearly it wasn’t. Rather than stew in anger and anxiety, I took my computer from my bag and organized my notes so I’d stay on track when I was being questioned. Really, everything I had would speak to my integrity, if they chose to believe me.

The door opened and a woman I’d only met a few times at the department met my gaze. There wasn’t an iota of friendliness in her eyes, and if anything, her frown got deeper.

“Miss Ophidia.” It was a direct cut, not acknowledging my title. Since we’d already started with the chess match, I could either let it go, or make my own move.

“It’s Dr. Ophidia.” And I smiled. It was brittle and forced, but I did it.

The woman sniffed, turned her back, and walked into the room. I shut my laptop, picked up my bag and followed her.

Shit.

This was an interrogation, not a meeting. One chair was placed in front of a long table where—I counted quickly—six people sat.

And my former advisor.

Diana Regan sat to the left of Dr. Merton, her smile wide and eyes alight. This was just her style.

A rout.

I only let my gaze linger on her for a moment before doing a quick accounting of the other members. Dr. Merton, Diana, Lord and Lady Elliot, Dr. Grisham—a professor I had never been introduced to, but recognized from the staff webpage, the woman whose name I couldn’t remember, and Linda Whitmore—the librarian at the Bodleian.

This panel made no sense. Drs. Merton, Grisham, and the woman, yes, since she was a faculty member. But Diana, Lord Elliot, and Mrs. Whitmore? And what about Dr. St. John? He’d pretty much promised me he’d be here.

My skin flushed with anger, and I cursed how pale I was. The red tinge to my skin could be interpreted as embarrassment, or fear, and I hated that. I was pissed.

The chair in which I was supposed to sit had no table or desk nearby to place my computer or notes. Another deliberate move to throw me off.

Well, fuck them. I could do this.

I grabbed one of the chairs from the back wall and set it next to mine. Then returned, and took another one to place on the other side. Taking my time, I set up a small work area, not bothering to ask permission or even look in their direction until I was ready to settle in place.

“Are you quite finished?” Dr. Merton asked.

The first shot.

“One more thing,” I replied, because I couldn’t allow it to stand.

I removed a notebook I hadn’t planned to use, but opened it and set it on my lap as if I was taking notes at a lecture. “Go on,” I commanded.

He narrowed his eyes. “Ms. Ophidia—”