Professor Kelly Barnes lost no time in getting back to me, but her email said only that she wanted to discuss my work. I wrote back and suggested a meeting the following day after her last class. She agreed.

I needed to figure out how to make up several weeks worth of laboratory time without encountering another student, and hopefully convince the professor to help me with my side project. I had no idea if I'd be able to develop a cure for the girls, I barely knew where to start, but my chances increased exponentially with Miss Barnes on my team.

In contrast to the days immediately following Stewart Hall, the girls had begun to avoid me apart from the affection required to keep them sane. I understood why Katherine might need some time to herself. I had mishandled our last encounter badly, and she was the kind of person who needed to process things in private before opening herself up to group therapy. Becca remained lost in the Glim, which I understood, but I didn't know why Rachel went out of her way to avoid spending time in my company. I could only guess that she couldn't face me, that she believed I was responsible for what happened to Gloria. I couldn't argue with that—so did I.

By the time Friday evening arrived, along with my appointment with Miss Barnes, I was looking forward to getting away from the quiet loneliness of the island. I pulled into the parking lot thirty minutes after her last class, marched past Tory Hall's huge glass doors, and into a world that had grown unfamiliar. I'd become accustomed to the loamy smells of earth and green, growing things, cold stone, natural wood, and warm, flickering lights. The lab's shining metal and glass seemed exotic by comparison.

Professor Barnes sat behind her desk as usual, wearing a business shirt and jacket under her lab coat, and looked up when I knocked on the door frame.

"Come in, Mister Corwen," she said automatically, scanning the document in her hand one more time before setting it aside, "Take a seat." She indicated a lab stool in front of her desk.

"Thanks for meeting with me, Professor" I said, trying to sound conciliatory. She tented her fingers and peered over them, cutting straight to the point.

"As of today, you are more than forty hours behind in your laboratory work."

"I know."

"There are only five weeks remaining—"

"Seven," I corrected without thinking, "I have no plans for the winter break." I blushed as her eyebrows shot up.

"And does that mean you expect me to forego my plans so you can make up your time?"

"N—no, that's not what I meant."

"Five weeks," she said again, "and I'm not confident even a model student can pull that off."

The disappointment in her voice cut deep, but I tried to steer the conversation toward my prefered solution. "I'm hoping..."

"You're going to ask me, again, if I'll stay late and allow you to work in the evenings." It wasn't a question, but I nodded. "Forty hours, and another fifty before the end of the semester, unless you miraculously begin to show up in class. That's nearly three hours every weeknight and every Saturday for more than a month. What makes you think I'd be willing to donate that much of my time?"

"I only need the lab for the equipment," I pleaded, "If I come prepared, I can cut that in half."

She almost smiled, but her eyes remained stoic behind her tortoiseshell frames, "That still commits me to nine hours a week."

"I could—"

"This isn't a negotiation, Tom." Vague lights began to swirl, faintly tinged with red. She smelled like apples. I brushed those impressions aside.

"I know, I'm just stating my case. I'll accept whatever you decide."

"You shouldn't be putting me in the position to make a decision on your behalf at all." Her tone wasn't harsh, but I felt the reprimand. "Why can't you attend like every other student?"

I bowed my head, and it was only partly for show. Despite events that fell outside my ability to influence them, I felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, Professor Barnes, It's personal..."

"Please, Tom, just Kelly," she sounded weary more than upset, and sat back in her seat, losing a little of her formality.

"You know I have a condition," I began, "and the school officially classifies me as a risk." I didn't need to tell her that the nature of my problem had changed, at least not yet. She acknowledged and gestured for me to continue. "There have been... complications lately, and I'm afraid I could cause problems for the other students." That was putting it mildly. I congratulated myself on being deceitful without actually lying.

She raised an eyebrow and watched me through heavy lids, "Tom, you and I both know that's horseshit."

Her choice of words stunned me. I'd never even heard Kelly Barnes hint at an expletive, mild or otherwise. "No, it's—"

"Please don't insult my intelligence." She held up her hand. "If you don't want to tell me I wont push, but you are in full control of your faculties or you wouldn't be sending me flawless reports. I have seventeen grad students in molecular biology, and you're blowing the curve so badly I have to reconsider how I distribute test grades. I don't want to explain to the rest of them, who, incidentally, have managed to attend classes and maintain their labs, why they received B's and C's on perfectly acceptable term papers."

I sighed and nodded, certain she'd already made up her mind, and leaned forward in my seat, intending to stand.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"I'm sorry, Miss Barnes, I'll withdraw from your class on Monday and register a hiatus with the school office."

She rolled her eyes, exasperated, "Oh sit down, Tom, nobody asked you to quit. And call me Kelly."

"But you—" I stammered, confused.

"I said sit down. I asked if you were fully aware of what you were asking me to do, I never said I wouldn't help you." I took my seat again and nodded vaguely. The lights returned, insistent, and I had to blink them away. "If I do this for you, I expect you to perform beyond expectations."

I sat dumbly and she stared at me until I acknowledged her terms, "Uh... yes, Miss Barnes."

"You will arrive at six thirty every evening and work until eight."

"Yes, Miss Barnes."

She leaned over her desk and narrowed her eyes, "You will bring me a small coffee from the commissary with one cream."

I was dumbstruck for a few seconds because her posture gave me a clear view of her neckline. It wasn't indecent, I just never noticed how well—endowed—Professor Barnes was.

"Well?"

"Um, yes. Yes, Miss Barnes."

"And you will stop calling me Miss or Professor unless we're in front of other students. I'm not considering this because I'm your teacher. You are a rare talent, and the scientist in me will be damned before she lets you throw away your future over a few hours of class time. Since my reasons are personal, you will call me by my name, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Miss... uh, Kelly."

"Good," she sat back, smugly pleased, "We can start tonight if you like, or tomorrow if you didn't come prepared."

"Tonight's fine, Prof... I mean Kelly. I can get started right away."

She nodded, satisfied, "Good. I'll be monitoring your progress, and if you fall even one minute behind the deal is off."

I smiled my gratitude, and she returned it warmly. "Thank you," I told her as I pulled the lab stool to one of the workstations.

"Thank me by graduating Summa Cum Laude."

I'd received that honor as an undergrad and I worked my ass off to do it, but the accreditation of a community college was rarely notable enough to mention in my chosen field. To pull that trick a second time at a school like BAU might require more effort than I could spare.

Well before eight, I cleaned up, passed her my microbiology notes and she signed off on my other course requirements. "Thanks again, Kelly" I said on my way out, energized by the familiar sense of rising to an impossible challenge. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

She sat on the edge of her desk, arms crossed in front of her, and smiled. Miss Barnes really did have a nice body, even hidden beneath that shapeless lab coat. I had to work harder at filtering those thoughts. Being in the same room with her every evening for a month didn't leave me room for mistakes or compromises.

"Don't worry about it," she said, "I'm rarely out of here before eight-thirty anyway."

"Then—what was all that about wasting your time?"

Some of the satisfaction left her expression and she seemed distant, almost sad, "There are no rules against it, Tom, but I wouldn't do this for just anyone. It doesn't look good, for me or for the school, to be alone with a student."

"Right. Yeah, I suppose it doesn't," I replied quietly. I had dismissed the fairy lights all evening, even though they were unusually persistent, because her demeanor suggested nothing more than casual comfort, but her concern amplified mine. I didn't want to get her into trouble.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about our arrangement," she finished.

"I won't, I promise," I turned and left with a wave, silently reminding myself to bring her a coffee the following night.

The parking lot outside the E.W. sciences block was lit by modern LED lamps, a contrast to the orange halide street lights that illuminated the dorms and most of the school. For the first time, the lifeless, blue glow felt impotent, void of nuance and empathy, like surgical lamps in a barren hospital room. The impression was amplified by the lack of people and cars, and even as I crossed the short span of asphalt, the feeling of loneliness returned.

As I was about to back Rachel's Jeep out of its parking space, someone rapped on my window, startling me in my seat. I'd been too lost in introspection to notice another body wandering the campus after dark. Penny's face, framed between her jacket's fur collar and a knit beanie, peered back at me. She wasn't smiling. I rolled down the window just far enough to speak through it and she gripped the glass with a mittened hand, staring at me through the opening.

"Um, hi—?" I began.

"What did you do to me?" she interrupted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, too quickly, and I knew it made me appear suspicious. Instead of forcing it, she changed the subject.

"Did you hear about Gloria?" Her eyes took in Rachel's vehicle as if noticing it for the first time. My chest constricted and I almost didn't answer.

"Yes."

She hardly moved, but her journalist's eyes darted everywhere, absorbing details, assembling evidence. "I've been by your apartment. Did you move out?"

"A few weeks ago."

"Where's Rachel?"

"My car died, she's letting me borrow Willy."

"That's not what I asked."

I was getting tired of fending her off and more nervous by the second. "No, it's not. If she wants you to know what she's doing, she'll tell you herself."

"Did Katherine move in with you?"

"Yes. Are you about finished?"

"Who's Rebecca?"

My reply caught in my throat. Penny and Becca had never met, and they weren't part of the same social circles. The only thing they had in common was me. What else did she know? Had my father gotten to her too? With effort, I calmed myself and tried to brush her off.

"Penny, I don't know what your problem is right now, but I can't help you. I need to go."

She didn't argue or fight, she just let go of the window and stepped back. I waited a second in indecision before backing out. Escape wasn't the best option because I needed more information that only Penny could give me, but I couldn't afford to go into it alone or without careful consideration the way I did with Gloria.

The only comfort I took with me was the fact that under Caratacos' influence, both Rachel and Gloria had been invisible to my new senses. As I drove off, Penny's fairy lights danced in faint echoes across my mind, accompanied by an afterthought of cinnamon.

Back at the warehouse, the girls were playing cards in the living room. They waved as I approached and Katherine gave me a smile I didn't deserve. I acknowledged them but didn't stay. Nobody followed me up the stairs to the office.

I was already second-guessing my success with Professor Barnes, wondering if I should have registered that hiatus instead. Forcing life back to normal after less than a week seemed too soon, as if I had to suffer further or rob Gloria's death of what little meaning it had. Of course I was being irrational, and I knew that I'd have bad days even after I could consider myself emotionally stable. There were no shortcuts through grief, and though the day had ended on a high note, I felt close to tears that I didn't dare shed.

I opened the door to a deep, fruity aroma with the distinct, biting undertone of strong liquor. After a moment searching for its source, I spied Amy sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, her back against a small cask. She glanced briefly at me as I entered, and rather than interrupt her thoughts or ignore her completely, I chose the middle ground, lowered myself to the floor nearby, and waited for her to speak.

"Want some?" she said without looking back, and held up a thimble-sized cup.

"What is it?"

"Blueberry mead. Callum's recipe."

"Does it help?"

"Not really." She shrugged and took a sip, then nudged another tiny cup toward me with her foot and leaned forward so I could pour myself a swallow of the nearly-black liquid from her cask. I sampled a drop before committing, and understood in an instant the intrinsic value of beer fairies as a dark, moody flavor exploded across my tongue.

"Wow, that's—I don't even know how to describe it."

"Yeah, it's pretty good. His is a lot better though. He's got an in with a family of sylphs who provide him with the best honey you've ever tasted. This is all supermarket ingredients."

"You made this?"

She nodded. "It's just a hobby, but I try to keep some on hand. Finn holds on to my kegs. Grimble won't let me store them in the warren." Her tone was flat, without emotion.

"How are you holding up?" I asked cautiously before I could think of a reason not to. Just because I needed to talk didn't mean she would.

"Okay, I guess. Even as a kit, you'd hear about warrens getting wiped out back home. It goes with the territory."

"I imagine it's different when it's yours."

"No," she turned to look at me with dry eyes. "It's not even that. If it was up to me, I'd have walked away from them years ago. It's just—" she sighed and took another drink. "I used to think crossing the Veil was the worst thing that could have happened to me. I came through alone, and I missed my family for years."

"How old were you?"

"Eight."

"How did it happen?"

She snorted a laugh into her cup. "I was too curious for my own good and left the stead where our clan took refuge. Got caught in the open by a—well, picture a psycho mutant badger, but super-sized, with a long neck, a split jaw, and hundreds of jagged teeth. I ran, found a cave, followed my nose, and came out in the wrong world."

"Wow. Welcome to Narnia," I said without thinking and her answering laugh was a little less cold.

"If the kids in Narnia pissed themselves, cried for a week, and nearly starved to death before someone came along and rescued them, then sure."

"Finn took you in?"

"Not right away. I was on my own for almost a year. When Finn found me I was nearly feral and heavily traumatized. She didn't introduce me to a clan for almost ten years."

"And that's when you lived with Callum."

"Most of the time, yeah. I learned English, started screwing around with tech, and he taught me how to brew..." she took another sip.

"That doesn't sound like a bad life," I said and finished my drink. It wasn't even a mouthful, but it immediately began warming me inside.

"It wasn't a family. I still missed mine and I needed the social environment. And I wanted to mate someday. Callum is nice enough, but he's like my grandpa, and cluricauns are a lot different from hobs. I'm sorry, Tom, I didn't mean to give you my life story."

"I'm interested as long as you're willing to share. How did you find your clan?"

"Most of the free brunaidh families work for Finn. I found out later that she didn't find a place for me sooner because she wanted me to claim adult status."

"I take it that was important."

"As an adult I can refuse a mate. Hob children are usually paired off and mate as soon as they're old enough. We live almost as long as humans, but not many of us see old age in our native worlds, so lots of kids means a strong family, and strong families survive. It's a good arrangement except for two things."

"What?"

"Hobs mate for life. It's not an instinct thing, a hob's body won't function for anyone but their mate unless one of them dies. Sexually, I mean. It usually works out fine. Clans are extremely protective of each other so there's almost never any abuse, and obviously nobody cheats on their partner."

"I sense a 'but.'"

"But, I was a stray in a different world. I'd have been paired off with the first eligible male, spending my fertile years trying to bring a litter to term."

"I don't see you happy in that kind of life."

"With the right person, someday, but not right now, and Finn saw that even before I did. When she placed me with Aarun's people, she made sure I had full status."

"Aarun? I thought Grimble was your leader."

"Aarun died in an accident just a few months after I joined them and Grimble was next in line. That's when the problems started. There weren't enough females to go around and Grim saw the opportunity to get a mate. I said no, and he didn't handle the rejection well."

I sat quietly, staring into the fire with her for several minutes. "What will you do now?" I asked at last. She didn't answer for a long time, as if she had to work up the strength.

"I don't fit in, Tom. I haven't been comfortable anywhere since I came through the Veil, and I won't ever adjust to any normal clan. But I need a family. I want to believe I can just ignore that, but I can't refuse my nature. I'm afraid I'll lose myself completely." She drained the rest of her cup and set it aside, then levered herself unsteadily to her feet. "I've been sitting up here trying to think of a way to ask you if I can stay."

"Of course, Amy, you can stay as long as you want."

She shook her head. "No, I mean permanently. I want to be part of your family."

I gaped at her vacantly.

"There's a stronger bond between you and those three girls than in any warren I've ever seen. I want that. I need it. I'm asking you to be my clan chief."

"But—but how? I'm human, the girls are human—"

She took a step closer but respected the distance between us. "That doesn't matter as much as I thought it would. It's at least as hard being with my own kind and mating isn't exactly a high priority right now. I feel safe here, at peace for the first time since... I don't know when. I don't think I can function anymore without that." Her voice broke with suppressed emotion, but it never showed on her face.

"Would that even be possible? I thought there were rules—"

"Finn will figure out the how, whether there are any formal steps we'd need to take, but for now all you need to do is say yes. I can clean for you, keep the place in good repair. I still work for Finn so I'll have to travel once in a while, but most of what she'll need I can do from here."

I silently cursed myself before answering. It sounded foolish, even dangerous, but I couldn't reject her after what had happened. The damage done to her family—and her heart—was because of my father, and her pain too closely matched my own.

"Yeah, ok," I said at last.

"You will?"

"Of course, Amy, anything you need."

I jerked my hands out of her way when she rushed forward and grasped my torso in a miniature hug. "Thanks," she whispered as the tears that had no outlet in sorrow found freedom in her gratitude.