Odin's Murder
Marcus avoids Ethan, walking down the hall, rather than taking the stairs where we’re loitering.
“What time was this?” I ask Danielle.
“Maybe eleven? Before lunch.”
“Great. So he’s interviewing professors without us? And he hasn’t had anything to eat since last night, and the dining hall doesn’t open until five—”
“You’re not his mother, Memory,” Ethan says when I check my phone again.
“Shut up.”
*
I don’t make it to dinner either. At five-thirty Zoe rushes into my room and says I need to go to Dr. Anders’ office. Immediately. I can tell by the wary look in her eye something is wrong, but when I press she shakes her head, and says Dr. A will tell me.
“He didn’t tell you anything?” I ask, when she tries to change the subject to her college sorority function.
“I’m sure everything is okay.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. I hope she’ll leave me at the door but instead she follows me up the stairs to the office. Dr. Anders’ door is open when I arrive, but his back is to us. He’s staring at the books on his shelves. There’s still a void left by the book he loaned me.
“Sir?” Zoe raps one knuckle on the door frame.
“Ah, yes.” He turns, makes a hand gesture that waves me in and dismisses his assistant at the same time. “Thank you for coming. I’ve just been informed that Julian has been taken off campus to the hospital. Apparently, he suffered a bee sting and had an allergic reaction.”
“Did he use his Epi-pen?” I ask. The bird behind the desk chirps and flaps its wings. It’s different from the one the other day. Bigger, with dark amber eyes.
“Ah, yes, there was mention of that. A very good thing, too. But they’ll need to keep him overnight for observation.”
I nod. “They usually do. Let me get my bag and someone can drive me over.”
He smiles but shakes his head. “Things are under control, Miss Erikssen. The school has already contacted your parents and they are aware of the situation.”
“How did you get a hold of them? They’re on a retreat.”
“Apparently, it took a while.” He makes a wry face. “All-terrain bicycles were used.”
“I should be there,” I insist.
“Your mother actually expressed her wish that you remain on campus.” His eyes search his messy office, looking for something. Nothing much seems new since the last time I was here, except possibly more dust, but he rummages on his desk, finds a light blue sticky note. “Her words were ‘Be his sister, not his parent.’”
I shake my head, irritated with the familiar phrase. My phone is full of them, texts from Julian, from my mother, from everyone. It’s an easy insult to throw my way when no one else is around to take care of him when he loses his head on a knowledge bender.
“Call him if you like, or send him a text.” His eyes soften. “It’s only for a day or two.”
“Will you let me know if anything changes?”
“Of course, though I’m sure he will tell you himself.”
Again the bird behind Dr. Anders protests in his cage, batting his wings against the metal bars. “What happened to the other one?” I ask.
“I never keep them caged very long,” he says. “I lure them in with their own curiosity, watch them for a day or two, and then let them go.”
“What do you feed them?”
“They like apples. This one has had two today.”
“He’s massive!” I stand and move a little closer. The crow is digging at the bottom of his cage, past the paper, marking the metal with frantic scratches. “What’s he doing?”
“Some innate habit. He’s probably attracted to the shine of the metal. Maybe he’s attempting to make a nest.” Dr. Anders tests the latch on the cage.