When Jenna suggested to her best friend that they move off-campus together, Mallory was all for it. Their dorm had become a party palace full of constant distraction, not to mention fire alarms going off at 2 AM. They had met as first-year psychology students, and Mallory hoped Jenna’s good study habits would rub off on her and they could finish their four-year psychology degrees together next June.

But things changed quickly when Jenna met Gavin, a grad student who casually mentioned he was working for the hottest new talent on campus, Professor Theodore Starr.

Gavin admired Professor Starr. “He’s so smart—and his research is so original. Rumor has it he’s on the cusp of curing blood diseases.”

Jenna was all ears. Her little sister Ruby had a rare blood disease.

“I’ve always dreamed of making a difference,” she told Mallory afterward. If she could be part of the efforts to cure Ruby and save her folks from the distress of a chronically sick child and an empty bank account, she was determined to do so.

To Mallory’s horror, Jenna abandoned her psych degree and switched majors completely—to chemistry. She stuck a photo on their fridge of sweet little Ruby, laughing and bouncing, years before she fell so sick.

The transfer gave Jenna no end of trouble. She did not have scientific leanings. Memorizing chemical reactions, learning the Krebs cycle and all that kind of stuff—it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Mallory saw her struggling with her flash cards and self-quizzes. Jenna had occasional meltdowns when she couldn’t fully grasp a concept.

Mallory checked out Professor Starr online; his webpage was out-of-date, as you might expect from a super-busy person, listing his office in the stodgy old Chem Building, not the flashy new Curie Building. Other reports online said he was the youngest full professor on campus and his research group was “actively growing.” “Everyone wants to hitch their wagon to a shooting star,” she said.

Professor Starr appointed a former football captain to be his full-time research associate, directing multiple research projects all connected to iron: Magnetism, iron salts, conduction, and bio metallic compounds. Jenna was assigned to the hemoglobin group. Professor Starr’s sub-group studied the effects of chemicals on the iron in hemoglobin.

Mallory thought it was weird that they were studying blood in the chemistry department. You’d expect such research to be in biochemistry, or some medical research institute, but what did she, a lowly psych major, know?

It was a rite of passage to donate one’s own blood to the group. “Had I known this in advance,” Jenna chuckled, “I might not have switched majors.” She used to be terribly squeamish about needles. Blood, she could handle; but the thought of an air bubble being accidentally injected into her bloodstream, causing a deadly air embolism, sent her into a panic. She went to the student health center and the first time the nurse withdrew blood, Jenna hyperventilated and passed out. After she came to, she barfed on the nurse’s shoes. “All this for ten milliliters of blood, less than half a tablespoon!” she wailed to Mallory.

It turned out the researchers did not even use Jenna’s sample. Another group member had volunteered to donate. Jenna felt ashamed and angry that her sacrifice was wasted. She would toughen up, she vowed.

And she was.

The next time, she asked the nurse to show her how to withdraw her own blood. “With a sharp, thin needle,” she told Mallory, “it’s virtually painless.”

Mallory nodded. “Reminds me of Gramps and his self-administered insulin injections.”

Every week Jenna brought a new test-tube of her blood back to the lab where she would centrifuge the sample, collect the red blood cells, then lyse them to get the hemoglobin for the experiments.

Jenna threw herself into work—to the point that her boyfriend (and now lab-mate) Gavin took her aside. He said, “You look exhausted. Science is not like hammering a thousand nails. We progress by finding which two nails are truly needed to hold up the piece of wood. A sharp, well rested mind will help you discover which are the critical nails.”

“The worst part?” she said to Mallory, “It’s working in the building late at night. It gets so spooky there. I hear strange noises. Sometimes I hear chanting. And the lights flicker.”

Mallory laughed to herself. Ah, these science majors mocked ghost stories, yet they would turn around and tell you to beware of the lab where someone was poisoned—or a closet where a guy hung himself. So, she did wonder about the Curie Building… but what did she, a lowly psych major, know, anyway?

***

Every Monday Professor Starr’s people had a group meeting. Sometimes they ran experiments on the weekends just so they had “lots of yummy things to talk about” (geek speak, Jenna learned). There was a wide range of research interests, and Jenna, still new to chemistry, understood very little. Monday evenings she came home tired and a little shellshocked.

One Monday Professor Starr pre-empted the students’ reports with an overview of his research. When he got to hemoglobin, he said, “Let me step back a moment… People who have rare blood diseases live highly circumscribed lives. They are unable to run and jump as children, like this little girl.”

He clicked to the next slide. It showed Ruby’s full poster.

Jenna shrieked. “That’s my sister!”

The room fell silent.

Jenna explained that ten years ago, “Ruby was indeed the poster child for rare blood diseases. Although now, at age 14, she looks haggard and bruised.”

Professor Starr did not lose a beat. “How fortunate for us that Ruby’s sister now works in our lab,” he said. “We’ve been experimenting on ordinary blood for years. I wonder if… some day… we could ask for a sample of Ruby’s blood?”

Jenna was bowled over to be singled out from so many clever, ambitious students. She agreed immediately.

She ran home to share the news with Mallory that night. “I can make a difference,” she squealed. “I could get the extraordinary case sample. The one to crack the mystery!”

Mallory gave her a hug—but envy seared her soul. The new Jenna had such purpose, such clarity in her life. It propelled her to work with passion and purpose, day in, day out. Sometimes they’d both be working at the dining table, Jenna humming over her infrared spectra and Mallory yawning over dusty psychology readings on group dynamics.

After that group meeting, Jenna was treated differently. Professor Starr paused at her desk every day to say hello. In the hemoglobin sub-group, a lab partner became jealous of her. “She can’t help it,” Gavin warned the jealous one. “You know how Starr is. If we support Jenna, we’ll also benefit. It’s win-win. After all, we don’t want to end up like The Pensioner.”

The Pensioner was a graduate student who had been with Starr’s group since inception. He had gray hair and, although he rotated between six sub-groups, he still had not had a single publication. Yet he remained loyal and optimistic.

***

The day came when Professor Starr wanted an experiment run on the diseased blood, a sample that could only come from Ruby. Jenna came home in high gear. She decided a smidgen of local anesthetic would help her get the sample “totally painlessly” from Ruby.

Early the next morning, Jenna put a new, sharper syringe in her purse and went to the care home where Ruby lay semi-comatose in her bed. Recently an opportunistic infection had knocked her low. The doctors planned to re-admit her to the hospital if she didn’t respond well to the latest antibiotic.

Her mother was there already, singing a hymn while she massaged Ruby’s feet. “Jenna, how wonderful to see you.”

“Oh. Hi.” Jenna gulped. “Saturday morning… I thought you’d be at the market.”

“No, I wanted to check on Ruby first…. I came by car today, so I’ll drop you off at your place soon’s we’re done our visit.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Now Jenna had to figure out how to get the blood sample from Ruby without her eagle-eyed mother noticing.

To Jenna’s relief, the doctor stepped in and asked to have a word with the mother alone.

Jenna said, “You go see what the doctor wants, Mama. I’ll keep an eye on Ruby here.” She took over massaging Ruby’s limp, clammy feet.

She closed the door two minutes later and quickly drew the blood sample. Ruby made no reaction to the blood being withdrawn. She tingled with pride, knowing the sample was crucial to the entire project.

Within hours, Jenna’s mother dropped her off at the Curie Building, and she rushed inside, ready to start extracting hemoglobin from the special sample.

Professor Starr entered the hemoglobin lab, talking to Gavin. Their faces lit up when they saw the precious test-tube in her hand.

“Whoa, Jenna,” Gavin said, reaching over to turn off the centrifuge.

“Jenna, take the rest of the day off,” Professor Starr said firmly. “We’ll take it from here.”

She looked from one to the other and back. Their body language said: go away.

She went home and described the whole strange morning to Mallory, who said, “Something doesn’t add up. I think we should head over to the Curie Building after sundown.”

***

With a sinking stomach, Jenna McPhee sat in the office of Detective Sergeant Knute Rundquist as he explained the case to her. How could she have been so blind?

“You were taken in by a campus cult,” he said. “They’re very sophisticated, very slick.”

“A cult? It can’t be,” she said. “I’m a scientist. I’m the opposite of religious. I don’t even practice Zen meditation.”

“It’s a neo-pagan group, Worshippers of Artemis,” he said. “A reboot of the ancient Greek cult that included human sacrifice.”

“What! Human sacrifice! This is all wrong,” she protested.

“You’ll know them by the prayer they chant at the spring equinox.” He read aloud from a printed card:

‘Artemis, daughter of Zeus, slayer of wild beasts, you that spin the silver light at night, receive this sacrifice which we offer to you. We, your loyal followers, offer to you the pure blood that flows from a virgin’s throat.’

He put the card down and narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you hear this prayer when you and Mallory returned to the lab that evening?”

“Yes—the Pensioner—.” She blushed. “The longest-term student—and I thought he was just being theatrical.” He was chanting it aloud in the conference hall while Gavin entered, holding aloft the vial of Ruby’s blood.

Why had the entire research group been so agitated? Could this cop be onto something?

“The Worshippers of Artemis keep popping up near campuses,” Rundquist said. “Their operation is wanted for fraud, coercion, extortion—and now, aggravated assault.”

“What!”

“There were a few red flags you missed,” said Rundquist. “One, the blood donations. Didn’t you think it was unusual to donate your own blood for science projects?”

Flustered, she said, “It’s a little unusual.” But, as other group members had explained, there were two good reasons to roll up your sleeve. One, the red tape requesting perishable, living-tissue supplies was onerous. And two, regular blood donations were needed by sick people. She worked with small amounts, easy to obtain from a grad student’s own arm.

Rundquist gave a light snort. “Red flag number two. According to our sources, Professor Starr took you into the group quickly, without even a Chem 101 credit.”

“I worked hard to catch up,” she grumbled.

Rundquist continued. “And according to our sources, the prominent ‘accidental’ mention of your little sister. That was the third red flag. It pressured you into doing something you would never have dreamed of doing a year ago—harming your own kin.”

She slowly shook her head.

“The one they call The Pensioner?” Rundquist said, “The one who was chanting? He was an elder in the cult, keeping an eye on everything the ancient religion required. Paramount to their ritual is ‘blood from a virgin.’ They prey on young girls.”

“But I didn’t hurt her!” Jenna cried. “And that’s not why I—”

“Where you crossed the line,” the detective said sternly, “was taking blood from an unconscious person. She did not give consent.”

“She was too ill to do so, but I know, I just know she would have consented. The blood samples contribute to research that eventually will save lives.”

He gave a dry laugh. “You fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“This is research,” Jenna dissented. “If there’s any chance of furthering knowledge, I know Ruby would take it.”

The detective sergeant eyed her in silence, pursing and unpursing his mouth as if deciding what to say next. “Jenna, during the time you were at your sister’s bedside, our officers raided the lab of Professor Starr. He’s a charlatan. He’s no longer a professor on this accredited campus, although his website cleverly mimics the real thing. He’s a VIP in the Worshippers of Artemis. Most of his so-called research group are cult members pretending to be graduate students or postdocs or research associates. The cult of Iphigenia began in ancient times in Greece. They have modernized. They no longer require human sacrifice. Just ‘the blood of an innocent virgin’ such as you brought them today.”

Her mouth opened and closed without words coming out. She backed up against the wall, as if a firing squad was assembling before her. “But we’re in the university,” she said weakly.

“The building you worked in was actually outside the westernmost boundary of the university itself. The Worshippers cleverly designed it so that their premises look like the university, and the name, Curie Building, seems like a nod to famous scientists.”

“Starr said his group was growing so fast,” Jenna countered, “that the regular chemistry building couldn’t contain them, not with all their humongous equipment.”

“Have you ever seen the cyclotron?” Rundquist challenged her.

“It was in the basement, behind a door with radiation warning signs plastered all over,” Jenna said. “I had no interest in going inside. I would have to wear a lead shield.”

“How convenient to deter anyone from going inside to check,” scoffed Rundquist.

Her puzzlement wouldn’t budge. “But the other professors spoke highly of him.”

“He’s a brilliant man, true, but somewhere a screw is loose. He did win coveted scholarships when he was younger. He did get to a certain level. Starr was, once, hired here as a non-tenured professor.” Rundquist shuffled his papers, frowning. “And then he fell in with the cult. His uncle had been very high up in the cult and when he died, he passed along his library and the cult’s artifacts to his nephew. Starr saw all the striving academics around him and realized he needed a leg up.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Starr wanted recognition and prestige. He would stop at nothing, even if it meant resorting to bizarre, occult practices.”

“In this country,” Jenna argued, “we have freedom of religion.”

“Yes, but we also have laws against fraud, extortion—and in your case, aggravated physical assault. That’s why my team and I are pursuing the Worshippers of Artemis. They have bilked others out of millions, and coerced vulnerable, impressionable people.”

“So… you’re saying they deliberately misled me.” Jenna shuddered. “I wasn’t getting this blood for an experiment; I was getting it for… for what?”

“For nothing,” the detective said somberly. “Week after week, they got you accustomed to drawing blood. Then, last night, for the special, hallowed spring equinox ritual, they had you primed to go get the ‘blood of an innocent virgin.’”

“So they didn’t—. They weren’t—.” She frowned, rubbing the veins on her forearms that she once tapped for blood. “They tricked me,” she seethed. How odd to think she used to be afraid of needles. And definitely too squeamish to take another person’s blood. And always so protective of little Ruby. How had Professor Starr and his band of phonies, the dozen members of his “research group,” managed to brainwash her into changing her major? Into working her butt off in bogus “experiments”? How had they convinced her that she fit into this odd world of research? How had she had descended so completely into uncharacteristic behaviors?

Jenna sat back suddenly. She raised her eyes to gaze at the acoustic tiles.

It sounded like a great psychology research topic to her. Tomorrow she would call her old psychology supervisor—and ask for re-entry to the program. She could hardly wait to talk to Mallory, the one who’d seen her, day by day, get lured into the cult. The one who’d been grumping about not having a “hot topic” for her final project. Jenna had a suggestion for her… a suggestion for a new line of research in psychology.

She smiled at Rundquist. “I always say, live and learn.”

The End