Natalie let out a little hum under her breath, presumably at that very smoothly delivered bit of bullshit. The navy woman flashed a sucked-lemon smile back. “And…you have an ending for that narrative in mind?”
“I hope so,” Athena said. “But we’ll see.”
There was a beat of silence. The tension roiled like a summer storm. At length, the navy woman said, “Just take care to devote as much time to your own studies. Dr. Conners said it’s not too late if you’d like to rethink taking on a senior project.”
Something shifted in Athena’s polite, closed-lipped smile. It looked more genuine, but not more friendly. The smile, maybe, of someone who knew she’d won.
“Thank you, Dr. Horne,” she said. “But I think my schedule is all set this year.”
Dr. Horne turned slightly toward the door. She didn’t look at Lucy or Natalie fully, but she clocked, at least, that she was being watched. That seemed to be enough to force her surrender.
“I’m always here if you need to talk,” she said.
Athena’s pleasant front didn’t waver. “Of course, ma’am.”
Dr. Horne squeezed Athena’s shoulder just a touch too forcefully—muscle tension apparently had a sound, and it scraped unpleasantly at Lucy’s ears. Maybe Lucy didn’t manage to hide her grimace quickly enough when Dr. Horne swept out of the room. When her gaze flicked to Lucy and Natalie, her own nose was crinkled with slight distaste. She clicked briskly down the hall in her heels, and eventually out of sight.
Athena didn’t look very pleased herself as Lucy and Natalie stepped into the suite. There was an uncharacteristic sharpness when she spoke. “Dammit,” she said. “She made me miss a call.”
Natalie glanced around as Athena strode over to the phone, as if there might be someone else hiding in the room that they could have missed. She shut the door before she asked, “Who was that?”
“Dr. Horne. The Vice Provost of Student Events and Activities.” Lucy wouldn’t have thought that Athena’s gentle voice was suited to sarcasm, but the title dripped with it. “Even though I have this grant now, she’s still here every other week trying to find some new way to derail me.”
“How is that her business?” Lucy said.
“She thinks I’m using fiction to run away from the trauma of my attack. Which, even if I was, wouldstillbe none of her business. I thought getting my own funding would help. The grant is through a campus life nonprofit. But the money gets sent to me through the student activities office. Which means I have to smile and nod every time she decides she wants to climb up my ass.” Athena audibly took a deep breath to steady herself. “Sorry, Lucy. Can I listen to this voicemail really quick? I’ll be with you in a second.”
“Take your time,” Lucy said. Athena looked like she wanted to seethe for a few seconds longer. And as someone who’d spent most of her life keeping a lid on her frustration, Lucy recognized one of her own.
Athena took another beat before keying in the PIN on the ancient campus landline. There was a brief silence as the message loaded. And then there was a cheery voice, a little tinny through the speakers.
“Ms. Pallas Radio!” said a lovely, lilting voice. It was a man’s voice: probably older than an undergraduate, but not too old. A graduate student, maybe. “Sorry I missed you. I should probably know better than to call the nocturnal among us during the day, right? I know you’ve told us not to mention names on the air, but I wanted to run one by you. I don’t really have anything definitive to report, but the guy really had avibe, you know? Kind of spooky. And it was near Falls Quad on Friday night. That was where that party was, right?
“Anyway: the name. The guy introduced himself to me as Ivan Volkov. V-o-l-k-o-v. Sorry I don’t have more than that, but I hope that’s of some help. You stay safe out there, Ms. Pallas. Bye.”
Athena let out another breath as the message shifted. This time, it sounded far more tired than tense. “Well, I’m glad Dr. Horne didn’t overhear that,” she said. “The last thing I need is for her to think I’m about to whip up an angry mob on a man withspooky vibes.”
“You don’t think it’s real?” Lucy said.
“I get a lot of pranks,” Athena said with a shrug. “It was a calculated risk, setting up the show as a piece of fiction. I needed campus resources, and the admins needed to think that I wasn’t having a break with reality. But I’ve never said on the air that the show isn’t real. The people who don’t know, or don’t believe, can assume that I don’t break character, or whatever else makes sense to them. And the people who need the show find it. Just like you.”
“This one might be real, though,” Natalie chimed in. “Vanya is a nickname for Ivan, right? I took a year of Russian.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ll look into it,” Athena said. “But even if itislegitimate, all this tells us is that our friend was in the vicinity of Falls Quad on Friday, possibly using an alias that he’s used before. Helpful confirmation, if it’s true. But unfortunately not any information that we didn’t already have.”
Lucy watched as Athena flipped open a notebook on the desk, logging the call before casually flipping the pages closed. Mila was right: Athena didn’t seem at all convinced that the Vanya identity was any closer to the truth than the philosophy PhD student lost at sea. Or maybe the truth of who the vampire was didn’t matter all that much to Athena to begin with.
What would change just by having his name? What was his name other than a person he once was, but wasn’t anymore?
Lucy understood all that. It didn’t stop her from wanting to know anyway.
“Nice security out there, by the way,” Natalie said.
Athena shrugged a little sheepishly. “I told the building admins that I’ve been getting harassed since my attack,” she said. “It’s close enough to the truth, anyway. And the university’s given me accommodations. My dorm is unlisted, though I don’t go there anyway. The residence staff are under strict instructions not to tell anyone that I live there. I know half of them think I’m neurotic. But they can think whatever they want as long as it keeps me alive.
“Now,” Athena said. The single word seemed to shift the tenor of the conversation. They were no longer talking to Athena—they were talking to the voice of Pallas Radio. “Sit. Why don’t you tell me what you can remember about last night?”
A little awkwardly, Lucy folded herself downward. There were a few thick cushions on the wood-paneled floor, as well as a longer one in the corner, twin mattress–sized and outfitted with a pillow and blankets. That must have been where Athena slept.
