Free ShiftingHeat by Lynne Connolly Page A

go. Is this
an exploratory meeting, the kind clubs have at the beginning of term that lets nonmembers
come in for free?”
    “Sort of.” She tugged at the sleeve of her pullover. As yet
the days were still mild, but perhaps she felt the cold. Or maybe he’d marked
her T-shirt and she was using it as a cover-up. Whatever, that color suited
her. A mid-green, like a shamrock. Brought out the red glints in her silky
hair. He still wanted to wrap the swath around his wrist and use it to drag her
close for a kiss.
    He must be going insane.
    Instead, he snagged his crutches and shoved his forearms
into the cuffs. The action had been so familiar until relatively recently. A
few months since his conversion, that was all. It still came naturally to take
the stance, making sure he balanced his body properly between the supports,
avoiding any strain on his back. “Shall we go?”
     
    The Fairness Society met in one of the smaller lecture halls.
Andros wasn’t familiar with this building—the center of the humanities faculty
and the Victorian edifice he’d recognized from the fleeting mental image Faye
had unwittingly sent him in that crappy hotel room—but one lecture room was
very much like another. The covered sockets on the floor, the chairs with the
attached elbow desk, the central lectern and the whiteboard standing to one
side all gave him a sense of security he knew was an illusion today.
    Talents abounded at this meeting but Andros sensed humans
too. Nice of them to support the cause, even if they were wrong. They weren’t
to know that.
    As they stood just inside the entrance a tall, handsome man
with touches of gray at his temples approached them. From the stir around him,
Andros guessed he was Nordheim. He met his gaze. The tall, strong mortal stared
him down and Andros learned something else. This man was arrogant to the
extreme and accepted adulation as his due. Had STORM turned him down once, to
give him an excuse to spread so many lies? Or maybe he wanted to set himself up
in opposition, parlay himself a political position. Andros quirked a brow at
Faye. Hint, hint.
    She took it. “Andros, this is Professor Nordheim.”
    Andros nodded and smiled. Although he felt disinclined to
take the man’s proffered hand, he managed it.
    Nordheim indicated his crutches. “You’re not a Talent?” The
guy sent a probe into his mind, none too subtly, and Andros, a little more
subtly, showed him only what he wanted to—a seeming jumble of emotions and
reactions, like a picture made of words and images with no form. Johann had
helped him create the illusion a while back, said it might come in useful if he
went out into the field. Was Johann ever right about that.
    He shrugged. “As you can see. Faye suggested I come with
her.”
    Nordheim glanced at Faye then back at Andros, and his
supercilious expression said it all. Eyes half closed, a curl to his lips,
everything asked her what she was doing with this loser. Andros wondered the
same, but he didn’t refer to himself.
    “Hope you enjoy the talk. Although I’d guess you have enough
on your plate without adding another campaign.”
    “Talents are like me, on the edge of society, marginalized,”
Andros said. “I want to see if I can pick up any tips. Maybe an ally or two.”
    Nordheim raised a brow. “You might.” Though he looked at
Andros as if he was a worm, something inferior. In Andros’ experience, Talents
didn’t behave like that, but he supposed there had to be a few bad apples.
Maybe more than a few. At any rate, he disliked this guy.
    And although he couldn’t send out his psi for fear of losing
hold on his cover, everything about this man raised his hackles, told Andros
that Nordheim would bat him aside as if he were a fly. Because the other thing
he noticed was Nordheim wanted Faye. It was clear in his proprietary glances at
her, in the way the man broadened his stance in an attempt to block Andros’
proximity to her while also invading her space. Once