Chosen by Desire (41 page)

Then it was Trevor. Or someone else, but Trevor seemed most likely.

“You don’t deserve him.” Francesca looked down her regal nose at Carrie as she opened the door. “He needs someone who helps him and understands his needs. Someone who doesn’t care more for herself and her own career than him. Someone who’ll sacrifice everything for him.”

Like me
was implied, and Carrie heard it loud and clear. Francesca shot her another venomous glare as she left. Carrie figured she probably should have set the woman straight, but she didn’t have time. She had to fix this mess she’d made. If Francesca didn’t do it, Trevor was the top suspect again.

If Trevor had taken the list of Guardians, he was probably already blurting out all the Guardians’ identities to get himself the attention he always craved. She had to stop him.

Hopefully, she wasn’t too late.

Grabbing the bag of clothes Francesca brought, she rifled through it until she found a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt. Underwear—she grabbed some random panties and the first bra she came across. Quickly, she got dressed and put on the socks and shoes she found at the bottom of the bag. She wrote Max a note to let him know where she was going, grabbed her wallet, and headed out the door.

Forty-five minutes later, after a brisk walk to the Embarcadero BART station, she was on a train headed for Berkeley. Hopefully Trevor wouldn’t be around so she could snoop in his office.

She walked out of the Berkeley BART station, up Center Street, and through the campus. Her heart thumping with nerves, she kept her head down, afraid anyone would be able to see she was about to break into someone’s office by looking at her face.

She rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs and told herself to calm down. If she acted suspiciously, she’d attract more attention. As she walked, she practiced saying,
I’m looking for some papers I was supposed to pick up from Trevor. He said they’d be right here,
just in case someone caught her going through his stuff.

She made it to Dwinelle Hall without incident. She walked through the maze of hallways, down to the bowels where the faculty offices were.

Thursday afternoons were pretty dead—most professors didn’t have to be on campus Fridays, so things shut down early. Fortunately. She didn’t want to chance someone discovering her, but the emptiness was creepy. Her shoes squeaked as she walked down the hallway, and the sound set her on edge.

She got to Trevor’s office and tried the door. Locked. She hadn’t considered that. No one ever locked their office doors.

Maybe it meant he had something in there. Only how was she going to get in to check?

She snapped her fingers. Janitor. Turning around, she headed for the custodial closet, hoping someone would be there—preferably someone she knew.

Luck was on her side, because as she rounded the corner she ran into one of the janitors. She smiled, big and relieved. “Hey Bob.”

“Professor Woods.” He doffed his hat at her. “You’re here later than normal.”

“I had to pick something up from Trevor Wiggins’s office, only his door is locked.” She tried to look innocent, which meant she opened her eyes wide. “Is there any chance I can get let in there?”

“Don’t see why not.” He left his cart and began to shuffle toward Trevor’s office. “You know, I picked up that book you mentioned to me.
The Man Who Loved China.
”

“Have you started reading it?” she asked, walking faster in hopes that he’d pick up his pace.

Only he ambled as slowly as ever. “I’m just on the third chapter, but it’s real interesting.”

“I thought you’d like it.”
Almost there.
She craned her neck, seeing the door and feeling a wave of relief.

“I like how the author makes history come alive.” He pulled out his key ring and began searching for the right one.

Come on.
She looked behind her to make sure they were still alone. “Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, if you come across any other books like that, let me know.” Bob tried a key, but it didn’t turn. “Wrong one.”

“Do you need help?”

Bob didn’t notice the impatience in her voice. He shook his head and kept sifting through his keys. “I think it’s this one.”

Carrie held her breath as he tried another one.
Please work. Please open.

It did.

“See. Just lock it up when you’re done, honey.” Bob beamed at her and waddled back toward his cart, whistling merrily.

She looked around. Seeing no one, she slipped inside, locked the door, and surveyed the room. “Where to start?”

The desk, of course.

It was piled high with papers waiting to be graded and other random bits of minutiae. It took her precisely one minute to decide there could be an elephant on Trevor’s desk and it’d be impossible to find, there was so much stuff.

She lifted an ungraded paper dated from last term. Shaking her head, she set it aside, wondering what kind of grade the kid ended up getting.

The top of the desk yielded nothing, so she started going through the drawers. Still nothing. She even thought to check for hidden compartments—Trevor seemed the type to go for that kind of thing.

Sitting back on her heels, she looked around the room. It’d take forever if she went through all the bookshelves, and the books on them. Dejection wilted her.

But she couldn’t just give up. She started to get to her feet when a piece of paper in the trash next to her caught her eye. Leonora’s handwriting. She reached past an old coffee cup and a banana peel to pick it out.

“Strange.” Leonora usually e-mailed anything she needed to say. It was a big joke with all the doctoral students, that Leonora’s e-mails were even more to the point than she was in person. Carrie shook off a random bit of garbage stuck to it and read the note.

“
What?
” Carrie read through the note again. And again. But even the third time through, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

The position was
Trevor’s?
She dropped down abruptly into the chair. How could that be? Had he told Leonora about the scroll he’d stolen?

And what bit of research? She crumpled the note and tossed it back in the trash. Why hadn’t Leonora said anything to her? She knew Carrie was working with that myth. Unless—

“No.” Carrie shook her head, but the suspicion took hold and wouldn’t let go.

She stood up shakily and marched out of Trevor’s office, down the hall to Leonora’s.

The office was dark, but Leonora didn’t always turn the lights on. Without knocking, Carrie twisted the knob and opened the door.

No one was there. She drooped, at a loss. Her stomach churned with betrayal. Now she knew an iota of what Max probably felt. She’d rested her dreams on someone who deceived her, too.

But she wasn’t going to roll over and take this. First, she’d recover the scroll. If Leonora stole it, she could appeal to the board and maybe get the decision to give Trevor the tenure repealed.

With renewed purpose, she strode to the desk. The woman was so tidy, it was immediately obvious it wasn’t on the desktop.

“The drawer.” Carrie snapped her fingers, knowing without a doubt that it was in there. She opened it and—

The scroll lay right in the middle, as if waiting for her. She picked it up, closing her eyes in relief.

“I should have known you would turn up.”

Gasping, Carrie jerked back and looked up. “Leonora.”

Her advisor walked into the office, locking the door behind her. “You always showed tenacious spirit. I should have known you wouldn’t give up. But, as the proverb says, there is no never-ending banquet under the sun.”

Leonora reached to her left and took one of the swords off the wall. “Your banquet is about to end here, Carrie.”

H
er thesis advisor.
The proof was in front of her, and still Carrie couldn’t believe it. She blinked. “You’re going to take me out with a
sword?
”

Leonora held the steel in her hands level, her face calm. Determined. The steady light in her eyes said she hadn’t even lost it—she was doing this fully compos mentis. That chilled Carrie to the bone.

Think.
Trying to breathe past the thundering of her heart, she bit her lip and tried to come up with a plan to escape. It was kind of hard, seeing as how Leonora was guarding the only exit route with a three-foot blade.

Get her talking.
Until she could come up with a way to get out, she’d be okay if she kept Leonora talking. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. You
are
an expert on ancient weapons, after all. You probably know how to use them, huh?” she asked, hoping she was wrong.

“You could say that.” The woman twirled the sword on either side of her body, a deadly figure eight that had Carrie taking a step back.

Okay, she was in trouble. She moved the chair in front of her—the more barriers between them, the better. “Nice. I always wanted to learn how to fight with a sword.”

“Unfortunate that you’ll never learn now.” Leonora took a step forward, the blade wavering with purpose, like a snake about to strike. “You should have seized the day.”

“Uh, yeah.” Carrie felt the bookshelf behind her. Out of room. “You know, you don’t need to do this.”

“Oh, I do.” Holding the sword straight out in front of her, she moved around the visitors’ chair. “You don’t know how badly I have to do this.”

“Uh—” She stumbled over the trash can but quickly righted herself. “I don’t understand why that is.”

Leonora advanced again, head lowered, gaze intent. “Oh, I’m happy to tell you.”

She edged around the side of the desk to put space between them, relieved to get her talking. The woman wasn’t normally chatty, but maybe she felt so wronged she’d go on for a while.

One could hope. It’d give her the opportunity to find her cell phone and call Max.

“Do you know what it’s like to be me?”

Carrie shook her head absently, patting her bag with her free hand. “I’ve imagined it.”

“A highly romanticized version, I’m sure. Nothing like the reality.”

“You’re a successful woman who heads a history department for a major university.” Where was the freaking phone? “The reality can’t be that bad, can it?”

Leonora brought the blade down in a slicing motion, and the air hissed. “You know nothing about me.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” Okay, Leonora was crazier than she’d originally thought. Calling Max wasn’t going to help—he’d never get there in time.

“Do you know how long I’ve been here?” her advisor said. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am? I’ve fought for everything I’ve accomplished.”

Carrie pictured a trail of people killed by sword, lying in her wake, and shuddered. She had to save herself. She glanced left. If she could reach the door, maybe she could get away. Or make enough noise to attract Bob.

She edged to the left. “You totally deserve it, too.”

“Of course I do. I’m the most qualified.”

“Uh, I’m not as smart as you, so you’re going to have to explain what this has to do with taking me out.”

“The Scrolls of Destiny.” Her voice was a dark hiss. “All these years I’ve been searching for them. Imagine my surprise when a young upstart student of mine discovered them first. Imagine my dismay.” She spun the sword, neatly decapitating a figurine on the bookshelf.

Swallowing a yelp, Carrie jumped to the side, her spine colliding with the shelf. With her free hand, she steadied herself.

“Imagine my
anger.
” Leonora advanced around the desk, slow and menacing, her concentration as sharp as the tip of her blade.

Carrie glanced down at the figurine. Hope flared in her chest. If she could knock Leonora out, she’d be able to run. Keeping an eye on Leonora, her fingers groped for it blindly.