The Patient Wolf (Wicked Urban Fantasy #1) (3 page)

Chapter 4

Ana worked as
an administrative assistant, or admin for short, in the history department of the university. When she got to work her friend and fellow admin, Monica, was just as ready to gossip as Mrs. Andres had been. But, of course, it wasn’t about anything that she had heard on the local news. Monica didn’t believe in listening to the news. “It just starts your day off wrong to hear all that bad stuff about murder and rape and the economy,” she was fond of saying.

Maybe Monica had a point, Ana thought as she neared the office. Hearing about a man killed by a dog just a short time after, presumably, the same animal had attacked her, had definitely put a damper on her day. She really needed to get hold of Chris, she thought to herself. She had dropped him at home. She was sure he hadn’t planned to go out again, but she wished she had gotten his phone number just so she could reassure herself he had not been the victim.

She had little time, though, to think about the dog attack, or the victim, because Monica began talking as soon as she got inside the door.

“Dr. Fontaine is in Tormisano’s office. I can’t imagine what he wants with the old coot,” Monica said, making a face toward the office door of their boss, the head of the history department.

The contrast between Monica and Ana was so great, not only physically but also in their personalities, that people who had just met them often wondered how they managed to be such good friends. Monica was short and curvy with blond curls, and blue eyes, while Ana was tall and slender with straight, dark brown hair, and brown eyes, and a complexion that lent truth to the family rumor of Native American ancestors somewhere in their background.

Monica loved make-up, the latest fashions, and the highest heels. Ana had never had much time for fashion, even before her budget as a single mom had made thinking about the latest fashions all but impossible. She leaned towards simple basics that could take her through the many roles she played in one day—admin to a dean at a small, conservative university, student, and mom. Monica’s irrepressible sense of humor often got her in trouble with Dr. Tormisano. Ana was more quiet and thoughtful. Friends of the pair knew she often kept Monica’s impulsiveness in check.

“What’s Dr. Fontaine doing in here? He’s anthropology. And you know how Dr. Tormisano feels about those people,” Ana said.

The dean’s condescending views on any department that wasn’t history were well known to everyone who was the least bit familiar with him.

“It doesn’t matter to me why he’s here. I just like looking at him. My god, he is so hot,” Monica fanned herself exaggeratedly. “And the word is he isn’t married.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he’s married or not. I’m sure no full professor is going to look at a lowly admin, Monica. To them, we’re just the help. They’re the masters. Just ask Dr. Tormisano.”

“Well it doesn’t stop me from looking—or dreaming.”

At that moment the office door opened and Dr. Tormisano, a stereotypical college professor wearing a rumpled dress shirt, bedraggled tie, and stained khakis, ushered his guest out. “I think this event will belittle the stature of both our departments,” he was saying. “We are academics, sir, and our subjects are serious. We are not here to entertain the students, but to teach them.”

“But if we engage the students as they are learning, they are more likely to be interested and retain what they are taught. And besides, Dean Chassin agrees with me. He has personally approved the plan.”

“Yes, yes. I’m well aware of the dean’s feelings on the subject. He always has liked his publicity. That’s why they hired him, as far as I can tell. It certainly wasn’t for his academic expertise. So I suppose I will have to go along with this, but my disapproval is on the record.”

As the two men entered the room Ana and Monica quickly made themselves busy at their desks, which faced each other, the door to the chairman’s office centered on one side of the room and the door to the hallway on the other. At Dr. Tormisano’s words, Monica rolled her eyes and made a face at Ana, who had a difficult time not giggling. They had each spent many an hour typing up Dr. Tormisano’s letters of disapproval of everything on campus from the quality of the menu in the faculty cafeteria, to the placement of his faculty parking space, to increasing the budget for athletics—or, for that matter, of any department other than history.

“I will need some assistance from the history department. I would very much like some of your professors to participate. They will give the historical counterpoint to the legends I would like to discuss. And can you spare one of these ladies?” Dr. Fontaine waved his hand casually toward Monica and Ana. “Anthropology is a much smaller department than yours. We have only the one admin, and she is quite new to the department. As we talked about earlier, I will need someone who is familiar with the resources of the university and the community.”

Ana silently acknowledged the astuteness of the younger professor’s tactics. He had stroked Tormisano’s ego by praising the history professors as well as pointing out the larger size of the history department, all while simultaneously asking for the assistance—and the time—of one of Dr. Tormisano’s admins. It was a combination sure to ingratiate Dr. Fontaine with the crotchety department head. Even as Ana admired the strategy, she had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming next.

“Yes, yes. Ana, you are assigned to Dr. Fontaine for the rest of the month. But you only get her ten hours per week, Fontaine. No more, Ana, and no overtime because of this. I expect you to get all of your regular work done.”

“But, Dr. Tormisano…” Ana began, ready to protest the unfairness of being expected to get her regular work done in less than the usual time and take on additional unknown duties as well. But before she could go any further the professor had already headed back into his office and slammed the door shut.

“Ah, Ana is it? I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you additional work.” The very handsome professor did manage to look contrite, even though he’d just gotten exactly what he obviously wanted.

“Don’t worry, Ana, I’ll help you get everything done,” Monica told her, before turning her attention to Dr. Fontaine. “Dr. Fontaine, my name’s Monica Garos, and this is Ana Dugan. Your new assistant.” Monica said mischievously, as she smiled flirtatiously at the professor and gave her curls a little flip.

“It is good to meet you, Monica. Ana, I’m sorry if I have caused a problem for you,” Dr. Fontaine said, holding out his hand.

Ana felt a little thrill as she took his hand. Dr. Fontaine was truly as gorgeous as Monica had said. In his late thirties, he was well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his perfectly-cut dark grey suit. A deep blue tie matched his eyes, his hair was black with just a touch of grey at his temple, and the hint of his French accent only made him more attractive.

Ana stared into his eyes for a moment before recovering herself. There was something about this man. She had never met him before, but still, she felt she recognized him. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Fontaine. I’ll be happy to help you with your project,” she stuttered, feeling suddenly awkward.

“I feel badly, however, that you will be imposed upon. That was not my intention. This is only the start of my second semester here. I hadn’t realized that Dr. Tormisano would be so strongly against something that has the potential to bring so much good publicity to both of our departments. Not to mention the academic benefit to the students. I hope I can persuade some of his professors to participate. Possibly, you can suggest a few that I should approach. I’m sure the goodwill of the dean would be conferred onto any professor who decides to participate.”

“What exactly is it you’re planning? I heard you say something about a seminar?” Ana cut through the pleasantries. She pulled out a yellow pad and a pen and prepared to take notes about her new assignment.

“Yes, of course. You haven’t heard the details yet,” he said, pulling up a chair and making himself comfortable next to her desk. As he leaned toward her she sniffed appreciatively. He wore a subtle woodsy cologne she found very attractive. She glanced over at Monica, who was making no pretense at all of trying to work. She had one hand under her chin and was listening, and ogling, intently.

“With Halloween coming soon I want to plan a joint seminar between the history and anthropology departments,” Fontaine began.”

“Here it goes,” thought Ana. The new professor seemed very nice right now, but that didn’t mean she could forget he was now, essentially, one more boss.

Technically, Dr. Tormisano, as head of the department, was the only person who could give assignments to Ana and Monica, but they had both learned that all of the professors in the department expected their own work to be the priority of the two admins. And now here was one more “boss”—no matter how pleasant and understanding he seemed right now.

“We will look at the history of the supernatural in this region,” he continued, “Of course everyone is familiar with the Salem Witch Trials and the New Orleans Voodoo traditions, but this part of the country has its own traditions, even if they are not as well-known. In fact, I understand that Rivelou has quite a few traditions of its own. That is one of the reasons I wanted to come here to teach. To study the traditional culture of the area and look at how it has changed, and yet remained the same, in the modern world.”

“You mean the werewolf stories?” Monica broke in.

“Yes. I’ve heard of them, and also several other legends and traditions of the supernatural. While all towns with a long history, such as Rivelou, have their share of stories of hauntings or witchcraft, or just strange occurrences, this area seems to be particularly ripe with such traditions.

“That is where anthropology comes in. History is the study of events and how they shape people. Anthropology is the study of the people themselves. It is the study of humans and how their societies work. My specialty is the study of supernatural beliefs: ghosts and hauntings, vampires and werewolves, witches and magic. How do these beliefs affect humans in their daily lives? What is the scientific evidence for these beliefs?

“Similar stories exist in every culture and in every time in history, yet scientific theory continuously refutes such evidence. I collect these stories wherever I travel and…but I am boring you with my lecture on my own specialty. It is a habit of professors, no?”

“Oh, we weren’t bored a bit, were we Ana?”

“Of course not,” Ana smiled. “But I do need more specific details on the seminar if I am to help you with it.”

“Yes, certainly. As I said, the seminar will touch on the superstitions and tales of this area. And of course, Halloween is the perfect time to hold such an event. With the right planning we can gain some excellent television coverage for the university.”

“But Halloween is only four weeks away! We need to reserve a hall, get out press releases, set up a schedule…”

“Yes, of course. And that is why I need your assistance. I realize that it will take quite a bit of work. But the potential benefits for the university and the students far outweigh the short-term inconveniences. That is what I explained to Dean Chassin, although Dr. Tormisano does not agree.

“Let me see,” he added, looking at the elegant gold watch on his arm. Patek Phillipe, Ana recognized. Her ex had always wanted one. Rolexes, he used to say, were ostentatious. Patek Phillipe was understated elegance. And that, Ana thought, describes Dr. Fontaine to a tee.

She jerked her attention back. What was getting into her? She never daydreamed about men this way. She didn’t have time for romance.

“My next class ends at 11:45,” Fontaine was saying. “Can I take you to lunch at noon? We can discuss details then.”

“Oh. Lunch. Of course,” she said weakly. It was becoming quite clear Dr. Alexander Fontaine was used to getting his own way.

“Good, good. I’ll meet you in front of the faculty dining room.”

“Oo la la. The faculty dining room,” Monica exclaimed when the professor left the room. “You get all the best assignments.”

“And all the extra work,” Ana reminded her glumly.