At nine on Thursday night, the east wing had the strange emptiness of a place built for hundreds of people and currently occupied by almost none of them.
Adam's footsteps came back at him from the stone walls as he walked toward the central atrium, the heating system humming behind the grilles overhead and pushing dry warmth through the corridors. Beyond the tall windows, snow moved sideways through the dark, striking the glass in hard bursts while the wind found some gap in the old building and complained through it.
The school had always looked like someone had taken two centuries and decided they could share the same floor plan.
A carved stone arch framed a sliding glass door ahead of him, its biometric sensor strip sitting flush against the medieval stone as if somebody had installed it there three hundred years ago and simply forgotten to mention the technology.
Adam glanced at it, then looked toward the chemistry section.
The lab lights were on.
Who's in the chem lab at 9pm.
He pushed through the door.
The chemistry lab was almost aggressively bright compared to the corridor. Fluorescent panels washed the benches in white, catching on glassware and metal clamps while the air carried the sharp chemical smell of reagents beneath the faint metallic scent of the equipment.
Along the walls, supply cabinets stood closed and numbered, and at one of the center benches sat Abigail Thorne with enough equipment arranged around her to suggest she was either conducting an experiment or preparing to overthrow the faculty.
She hadn't noticed him.
Her hands moved between the vials with practiced economy, lifting one, measuring, returning it to exactly the same position before reaching for the next. Several test tubes sat in a rack beside three beakers, each containing a different colored solution, and handwritten labels ran neatly down the sides of the containers.
Adam leaned against the doorway.
"Trying to blow the school up?"
Abigail jumped.
Her hand stopped halfway between two vials, her shoulders drawing tight as her head snapped toward him. For one clean second her eyes were wide, then recognition reached them and the tension broke into a startled laugh that sounded like it had escaped before she could decide whether it was appropriate.
"God, Adam."
He grinned. "Damn, that bad?"
"I didn't hear you come in." She looked down at the equipment and adjusted one vial that hadn't actually been out of place. "I'm just running an experiment sequence."
"At nine?"
"Club exam practice."
"Didn't you guys already do the exams?"
"We did." She picked up a glass dropper. "I made a mistake."
"What kind?"
"One drop."
Adam waited, "That's it?"
"One drop too many."
He looked at the spread of equipment again. "And that brought you here at nine at night?"
"It cost me the A plus."
He stared at her.
She looked back.
"I got an A minus," she added.
"You're practicing chemistry at nine on a Thursday because you got an A minus?"
"I could've gotten an A plus."
Adam shook his head, a little bewildered. "Saying you're blowing up the school would sound a whole lot normal compared to this."
"I know."
There was a small silence after that. Adam was still standing by the door, and Abigail held the beaker in both hands while looking down into it. She glanced at him once, then back at the glass.
"You can stay, if you want," she said. "Keep me company."
Her eyes returned to the beaker immediately after the words left her mouth.
Adam smiled. "Only if you want me to."
"I would love to."
Her hands slowed around the glass.
Only for a second.
Then the old rhythm returned.
Adam pulled out the stool on the other side of the bench and sat down. He looked over the labels, the rack of test tubes, the small bottles arranged in a precise line, and the colored solutions sitting side by side like somebody had organized a very boring rainbow.
"So what are you actually doing?"
Abigail's expression changed when she started explaining.
It wasn't dramatic. Her shoulders relaxed, and her fingers settled against the edge of the bench as she looked at the equipment with the quiet confidence of someone who understood exactly what every piece was for.
"It's a titration," she said. "I'm determining the concentration of an unknown acid solution using a standard sodium hydroxide base."
Adam nodded like that meant something.
She smiled faintly.
"You add the sodium hydroxide to the acid, drop by drop. The acid has phenolphthalein in it, so it's colorless while the solution is acidic. When you reach the equivalence point, when the moles of base match the moles of acid, it turns pink."
"Sounds easy."
"It would be if the endpoint gave you any warning."
She picked up the burette and pointed toward the solution beneath it. "It doesn't. The color change happens almost instantly. One drop too many and it goes from a temporary blush to a permanent deep pink. Then your volume is wrong, your concentration is wrong, and your calculation is wrong."
"So you went one drop too far."
"Exactly." Her mouth tightened in concentration. "I was watching the indicator change while moving my hand, and my timing was off by a fraction of a second. So I'm repeating the final approach to the endpoint until my hand and my eyes stop disagreeing."
She adjusted the apparatus with careful fingers.
Adam watched her.
"You're a genius."
She glanced at him.
"I mean, I've technically known you since before I transferred," he said. "I never knew you did all this."
A small smile appeared, "You weren't interested enough to find out."
Her chin dipped immediately.
Her eyes returned to the solution, and the next adjustment she made was so precise that Adam couldn't have said what she'd corrected. The pipette moved into position with a careful little click.
"So," she said, "did the principal call you about tomorrow?"
"About what?"
"The full moon."
Adam's eyebrows lifted, "You get calls about that?"
"All registered werewolves do."
"I didn't."
"For me and my sisters, it's never really an issue. We're experienced so we can stay on campus." She reached for another vial. "I figured they'd call you because you're newer to all of this and make some arrangement."
Adam thought backward through the day.
"Oh."
"What?"
"I think I know why."
Abigail looked at him.
"Luna."
The test tube in Abigail's hand snapped.
There was a sharp, clean pop.
She had been pouring from a beaker with one hand while holding the tube in the other. The moment the name left Adam's mouth, her fingers tightened around the glass, and the tube broke into two pieces between them. A thin red line appeared across her palm.
Adam straightened.
"You're bleeding."
"I'm fine."
"Your hand just broke a test tube."
"It was an accident." She put the broken pieces down carefully. "It'll heal."
She was right.
The cut drew itself closed beneath Adam's eyes. The thin line of blood stopped spreading as the skin knitted together, pink tissue sealing over before the remaining blood dried against her palm.
Adam watched.
That never got old.
"Okay. Carry on." Abigail wiped her hand with a cloth and looked back at him, "What did Luna do?"
"She told me she talked to the principal about tomorrow. She said she wanted to spend the full moon with me so I don't lose control."
Abigail's fingers settled on the bench.
"The principal agreed," Adam continued. "So I guess that's why she never called me. She probably considered it handled."
Abigail didn't answer.
She began putting the equipment back together.
Her movements were faster now.
Not careless. If anything, they were more precise, but there was less of the relaxed rhythm she'd had before. She placed each piece down exactly where it belonged, picked it up again, adjusted it, and moved to the next without looking at him.
"I had the same idea," she said eventually. "I thought sneaking out would be simpler than requesting it formally."
Adam looked at her, "You thought about sneaking out?"
"Briefly."
"Yeah, that would've been my plan too. But things are different now that we're all registered. Well, I'm registered. You guys and Luna were already known."
"Yeah." She lowered her eyes to the bench, "It's a shame, though."
"Why?"
"I'd hoped to spend some time with you." She moved another vial into place. "See your wild side."
She didn't look up.
Adam smiled, "Maybe next full moon."
"Maybe."
"You've been really busy lately, anyway. I didn't want to bother you."
Her hands slowed, "I waited for you to make the first move."
The pipette stopped above the bench.
For a moment, she simply held it there.
Then she set it down.
The silence that followed was comfortable for Adam. Abigail filled it with work, though the work had become far more deliberate than the chemistry required.
After a while, she spoke.
"Are you and Luna dating?"
Adam laughed.
"No."
Abigail laughed too.
Hers came out quickly, almost like she needed to move the question somewhere else before it settled between them.
"Does it look like that?" Adam asked, abit embarrassed.
"A little."
Adam looked down at the bench, "I wish, though."
Her hands paused.
"I really don't understand her."
"You must really like her."
"I do."
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the stool.
"There was this girl I've been dreaming about for years."
Abigail kept working.
"Since I was thirteen, I think. She'd show up in pieces. Sometimes she'd have white fur, sometimes white hair. I never really saw her properly. I thought maybe she was a guardian angel or something."
The pipette slowed.
"Or a soulmate."
Her hand stopped completely.
One beat.
Then she picked it up again.
"I was thirteen," Adam said. "That seemed like a reasonable explanation."
Abigail's chin dipped.
"I only found out she was real after I came here. It was Luna."
The pipette moved again, controlled and steady.
"Apparently we'd met when we were little. She tried to kill me during a full moon."
Abigail's hand became very still.
"I survived, but I got amnesia from it."
She looked down at the solution, "And how do you know that?"
"Luna told me."
The pipette remained motionless above the test tube.
Adam was looking somewhere between the two of them now, not really seeing the equipment.
Abigail finally moved again.
"You shouldn't believe everything people tell you," she said. "That's naive. People take advantage of that."
Adam looked at her hands.
"You've got blood on your hands too."
She looked up.
"Shouldn't I trust you?"
The question caught her.
Her fingers remained curled around the pipette.
"No," she said honestly.
Then she laughed, dryly.
"For all you know, I could be part of some crazy family trying to get your power by sleeping with you and having your child, then killing you afterward."
Adam stared at her.
Then he laughed.
Abigail laughed with him, but hers came out awkwardly, too high at the beginning and too quick to last.
"I didn't know you came with jokes too."
"Right."
He smiled.
"You're my friend, right?"
"Yeah... Why?"
"I need a girl's opinion on something."
"Okay."
There was a slight wariness beneath the word.
Adam leaned forward.
"When a girl is into you, how do you tell?"
"Oh."
The syllable landed softly.
Her hands stopped.
She picked up the pipette and stared at it as though it had suddenly become fascinating.
"Why are you asking?"
"Well... I'm not sure what Luna sees me as. Friend, maybe. Or some little-brother thing. Or someone she feels guilty about because of what happened when we were kids." He shrugged. "I don't know if she's actually into me. I want to know the difference."
Abigail was quiet.
Then she began explaining.
"A girl who's into you finds reasons to be near you that don't need explaining." Her eyes flicked toward the door. "She's there before you've given her a reason to be."
Adam nodded.
"Okay."
"She slows down when you talk. Even if she's busy, her attention goes to you."
Her pipette hovered above the test tube.
She hadn't squeezed it.
She was looking directly at him.
Adam nodded again.
"Right."
"She asks questions that aren't really about the topic. The topic is just an excuse to keep talking to you."
Adam thought about the full moon.
"That makes sense."
"She does things she doesn't have to do. Makes space for you. Offers help. Stays when leaving would be easier."
She glanced at the clock.
Then at him.
"She tells you things about herself she doesn't need to tell you, because she wants you to know her."
Her fingers tightened around the pipette.
"And she gets specific around you."
Adam frowned slightly.
"Specific?"
"Smaller reactions. More controlled ones. She knows she's reacting to you, so she tries to keep you from seeing what her face is doing."
Adam leaned farther across the bench.
He was listening carefully now.
Abigail's voice had become almost textbook precise.
"Sometimes the more controlled she gets, the more obvious it is. If you know what you're looking for that is."
Adam nodded slowly.
"That's actually really helpful."
She looked down.
"I'll keep an eye out."
He stood.
"If anything happens, I'll give you the tea."
"Adam."
He stopped.
Abigail was holding the pipette in one hand, "Wait."
She wasn't looking at him, "Do you trust me?"
"You just told me not to trust anyone."
"Yes."
"But?"
She swallowed.
"Just this once."
She kept her eyes on the bench.
Adam considered it, "Okay. What's up?"
"I can't fully explain it."
Her fingers shifted around the pipette.
"But I'd really appreciate it if you'd be careful with Anissa."
Adam blinked.
"Anissa?"
"Yeah."
"I mean she has been acting abit weird around me lately."
Abigail made a small sound that might've been a laugh.
It wasn't.
"Yeah," she said awkwardly.
She looked down again.
"You don't have to do much. Just be careful. That's all."
Adam considered that.
"Pretty vague."
"I know."
He nodded. "Okay. I'll be careful."
He headed toward the door.
"Thanks for the advice."
"You're welcome."
Adam stepped into the corridor.
The door shut behind him, cutting off the hard white light of the lab and leaving him under the dimmer nighttime fixtures. The blizzard was still hammering the windows somewhere beyond the stone walls, a low rushing sound underneath the heating system.
He walked. replaying the conversation while turning down the corridor.
Then he stopped mentally halfway through a step.
Wait a minute.
His eyebrows drew together.
Does Abigail have feelings for me?
He kept walking.
The thought lasted perhaps three seconds before the absurdity of it caught up with him.
"Her?"
A laugh escaped him.
He shook his head as he walked, the sound carrying softly through the empty corridor.
Abigail Thorne?
One of the three most capable people in the school?
Fall for him?
He laughed again, quieter this time, and kept walking toward the dark end of the hall.
Behind him, the chemistry lab door remained closed.
Abigail was still at the bench.