The Woodward Academy, Year 6

Chapter 9: February

"Shit, did you guys leave anything in the house?" David asked, looking at the piles and boxes of items in the room.

"No," the magical examiner replied.  "Everything that wasn't nailed down, we brought here.  We need to find hard evidence of this man's guilt.  Right now, all we have is circumstantial evidence, which he will claim could point to anyone."

"Except it couldn't, because he's the only one who meets every piece of evidence."

"But he'll try not to let you hammer that point home.  He'll try to break it up, show that any one piece doesn't necessarily point to him.  He'll try to confuse the issues.  Unless we've got something solid, it's going to be tough."

"But the only really solid evidence we could have had would be DNA on the bodies, and he didn't leave any," David objected.

"True.  So we need the other kind of hard evidence."

"Such as?"

"Trophies from his victims.  If he kept anything of theirs, then that's a pretty clear indication he's the killer."

"Right.  And you're hoping it's somewhere in all this crap."

"Yes."

"So... what did you need me for?"

The man pointed to the computer.  "The person we had in the lab who knew how those things worked moved back to Earth.  I can turn it on, but I don't have enough knowledge to search it for information.  I'm told you have a decent familiarity with them."

"I can look through his files, sure.  If he's put in any kind of serious security software, though, I won't be able to get through that.  If it's that bad, we can send it to the FBI, though."

"Right."

"Okay, I'll look through this.  Let me know if you find anything."

The examiner nodded, and David turned the computer on.  As the examiner was a Rimohr, David was still able to operate in his Rimohr capacity.  Joe was on his way to Mirelia.  After notifying the Mirelian government, they had contacted the nearest Rimohr office to Hewakaya, the Temple of the Air.  They had gone and arrested Simon Atherton, and Joe would bring him back to Callamandia for trial.  It would be nearly the end of the week before Joe would return, and he'd told David to continue doing the investigative work while he was gone.

David started digging into the computer files.  The man had a fair collection of porn, which wasn't terribly interesting to David.  He was as interested in naked girls as the next guy, but since he could see one of several girls naked at any particular moment, and then interact with them, photos just weren't that captivating.

There were letters to Simon's brother in prison, and David read through each of those carefully.  There was mention of a "project", but it went into no specifics, just saying that the project was continuing, or that it had hit a snag.  David made note of each time the project was mentioned, and in what way.  The letters had nothing else that appeared useful, being mostly about frustrations at work and with his landlord.

Looking at the list of comments concerning the project, David flipped to another page in his notebook, which contained the dates of the murders.  He flipped back and forth between the two.

"Son of a bitch," David murmured.

"You got something?" the examiner asked, having heard him.

"Nothing conclusive.  Just another of those, 'I know you did it, but this doesn't really prove it,' kind of clues."

"Oh, yeah, I hate those."

"Tell me about it," David grumbled, then went back into the computer files.

It took several hours of digging before David ran across the important directory.

"Bingo," David said.

"What've you got?" the examiner said, walking over.

David pulled up a graphic.  It was a unicursal hexagram, marked up with distances and angles.

"How does that really tell us anything?" the man asked.

"These are the precise measurements of the relative positions of the victims' bodies, down to the foot.  He would need to know these angles to orient the bodies the way he had.  Plus, this isn't all."

David flipped to another graphic in the directory.  In it was a map of Winding River.  The travel gate was marked on it.  So was another spot, with a line between it and the travel gate, along with a distance indicator, and a compass direction.

"What would this be?" the examiner asked.

"The center of the pattern," David said.  He quickly opened up the man's graphics program, copied the two images to a new one, and then overlaid the one on top of the other.  "See how this fits?  You put these two images together in this way, and they mark the exact location of every victim."

"You're sure he couldn't claim to have gotten this from news coverage?"

"We've never released any information to anyone.  Even the FBI doesn't have this positioning information.  On this case, we've been a black hole.  We've taken lots of information in, but we haven't really given anything out.  No, the only way for him to know this shit is for him to have planned it."

"But could he make that claim?  That he only worked out the details for someone, and they did the killing?"

"I suppose."

"Did any of this tell you why he's doing this, anyway?"

"Actually, yeah.  There's an essay in here.  Apparently, he is trying to turn someone into a wizard.  I would guess probably his brother, the one in jail."

"You can do that?" the man asked incredulously.

"I doubt it, but that's what the essay claims.  But you have to use the life energy of some twelve other people to do it.  See, he intended to kill each one, then he casts an enchantment over their dead body when it's in exactly the right spot.  Once he'd had all twelve, supposedly he would stand at the very center and cast another spell, which would then absorb the life energy of those twelve and turn it into the ability to control magic in the targeted individual.

"If it worked, of course, then his brother could have simply used magic to get out of prison."

"That's crazy," the man said, not meaning the killer was insane, but that such a thing might be possible.  "If that actually works... people would try it.  I know they would."

"Atherton did."

"Does the essay say that the people had to all be the same?"

"No.  I imagine that was simply Atherton's doing.  Probably they looked like a woman who had royally pissed him off at some point."

"Old girlfriend, maybe."

"Or a woman who rejected him.  Or, hell, who knows, maybe they resembled his mother when she was younger, and his mother abused him.  It could be anything."

"But, back to the case... we still can't prove he killed them.  Only that he was definitely involved."

"Yeah.  I think I'm going to go back out to the house.  I know you guys went over it thoroughly, but maybe you missed something.  Did you look for secret hiding spots?"

"Within reason.  We didn't break open walls or anything."

"Okay.  That's what I want to focus on.  Maybe he has a secret stash there in the house.  The police in Springfield are still trying to find out if he has a storage locker of some kind where he might have kept stuff.  I have a feeling this guy would have kept it all closer to home, though."

"Good luck," the man said.

"So, what are we looking for?" Vivian asked.  Joe was still on his way to Mirelia, so Vivian was acting as his supervising agent.

"Hidden spaces."

"How do we do that?"

"Honestly?  We're going to cheat."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to ghost myself and walk back and forth through the building."

"But that will invalidate whatever you find."

"Only if we don't back it up with another method.  I'm trying to save us a lot of time.  We could go around and carefully measure every single room's dimensions, comparing it to how big the house is, and find the place where the numbers don't add up.  It would take hours.  This way, we take maybe a half hour of me looking through the building.  If there's nothing here, then we've saved a day.  If I find something, we can take the relevant measures of the particular area, and come to the same conclusion we would have, anyway."

"Okay, I can buy that.  I hope the magistrate can."

"He shouldn't have a problem with it.  Since I can outline, standing here now without having looked through the building, a way to find the information without me fading, he can conclude inevitable discovery, and what I'm doing simply becomes efficiency."

Vivian nodded.  "I'll wait here for you."

David faded to his ghost form, then aligned himself with the outer wall of the house.  He walked carefully along it, much as he had to find Kristen Bullock, the kidnapped girl from the previous week.  Slowly he walked the length of the wall, then turned the corner and continued.  He made his way along the entire perimeter of the house without finding anything.

This didn't surprise him much.  A hidden room was best located nearer the middle of the house, where its missing space could get lost among various rooms.  He had drawn a diagram of the house, and he marked off each wall as he moved through it.

The house was very old, and had many rooms.  Nevertheless, it was inevitable that David would eventually find the hidden space, if there was one.

And there was.

It wasn't much of a hiding place, as it was beneath the stairwell.  There simply wasn't any access to this space readily visible.

David called Vivian in.  "We wouldn't have even needed to measure to find this one," he said.  He gestured to the wall before them.  "Behind that wall is the space beneath the stairs.  Most houses would put a closet here, but there's not a door to be found."

"There's got to be a way in, if he's hiding stuff in there."

David kept his mouth shut.  He knew there was plenty of stuff in there, but to keep the investigation clean, he had to pretend he didn't know that yet.

The two looked around the walls, pulling and pushing on anything that looked different.  They moved along the wall that ran alongside the stairs, finding nothing there, either.  They stopped to rest at the bottom of the stairs.  Vivian was leaning against the wall.  David was leaning against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

"There's got to be something we're missing.  Did you see anything in there?" Vivian asked.

"You know I can't answer that," David said.  "It taints the investigation."

"Okay... do you think we should continue to spend energy trying to find a way beneath the stairs?"

"Yes."

Vivian sighed.  "Okay, where do you want to look?"

David looked up the stairs.  There was no way to get to that space from the second floor; it was entirely beneath the stairs.  Maybe from the basement?

As David's eyes trailed down the staircase, they stopped.  He wasn't sure what he saw, but it was some sort of anomaly in the construction of the staircase.

David moved up the stairs a few steps, and bent down to look.

"Gotcha, you bastard," he said.  He moved back to the bottom of the staircase.  He reached down and tugged on the bottom tread.  Nothing happened.  He repeated the process with the next two treads, with the same result.

Looking around, David realized the newel post had a squared post cap.  He tried to turn it.  As he did so, he heard a click.  Reaching down to the bottom tread, he tugged again.  This time, it lifted.

"Holy shit," Vivian said.  "A real-life, honest-to-god, hidden passage.  I've never seen something like this before."

"This house is old enough, maybe it was used to hide runaway slaves or something."

"Well, what's it hiding now?" she asked.

David pushed the stairs up as high as he could, and then lowered his hands slowly.  The stairway stayed put, so he dropped his arms.  Inside the cavity was a bunch of boxes, neatly stacked, and two large plastic tubs.

Using sem, David pulled all of the material out of the space.  He didn't want to chance the stairway falling while one of them was inside, or worse, under it.  Vivian cast lux to make sure that they'd gotten every last item out of the space.

Once they were sure the space was empty, David pulled the stairs back down, and then locked them again by twisting the post cap back the way it had been.

"This is a whole bunch of new stuff to go through," she said.

"Yeah.  Let's get it into the glidecar and back to the examination lab."

"Think there'll be anything useful in this stuff?" she asked as they were sliding the last plastic tub into the car's trunk.

"One can hope," David replied.  "We need to prove he killed those girls without any doubt.  Right now, we can't do that.  We've got enough to put him in jail, but not enough to keep him there for a really long time."

"Well, let's see what we can turn up."

"How do you manage to keep this place so organized?" Gwen asked David while she was scratching Jailla's head.  He was leaning into her hand strongly, but that didn't stop her from conversing.  "I mean, I know the brownies will clean up, but they won't put things back on shelves if they're on desks or counters.  My room looks like a tornado hit it."

"I... have help," David admitted.  The truth was that Olissa made a point of coming in every night and picking things up for him.  It made him vaguely uneasy, but since she apparently wanted to do that, he was trying to get used to it.  "In any case, I have so much stuff going on that I'm not here a whole lot to make a big mess."

"Yeah, I know.  We haven't seen you guys much since the semester started," Gwen said.

Flo put in, "Yeah, you haven't even been here the couple times I've dropped by to say hi."

David smirked, knowing it wasn't "saying hi" she wanted to do.

"Sorry.  First I was wasting my time with the Child Safety Board, then I had to go rescue a kidnapped girl.  Lately, it's been the damned serial murderer.  And let's not forget the lovely idiots that are infesting our campus."

"Geez, you've got too much going on," Gwen said.

David shrugged.

Just then, Olissa, who was on the kitchen side of the room making dinner, spoke up.

"Dinner's ready, sir."

David flinched.  It still didn't sound right to him to have her talk that way.

"Sir?" Flo asked in shock, staring at David, rather than Olissa.  Gwen was busy eyeing Olissa for her.

David would have blushed, if he could.  "The answer to the question on your face is part of why we invited you to dinner in my room.  That, and Olissa wanted to try her hand at making lasagna.  Let's sit at the table, and we'll explain."

Right.  Just as soon as she explains it to me in a way where my head doesn't hurt...

"Okay..." Gwen said.  "Back you go, Jailla," she said to him, setting him on his perch.  He chirped a thank-you to her.

The three got up and moved to the table, taking their places.  Olissa moved about, preparing the plates.  Apart from it being her self-appointed task as his slave, there really wasn't room on the table for serving dishes, so she dished out the lasagna and the garlic bread, and put them in front of the diners.  David's plate, of course, went down first.  Once she'd served the others, she got her own food and sat down, then turned to David to wait.

David sighed.  "You're both aware, I assume, of the... what the hell would you call it?  The 'tension' between Olissa and me in our relationship over the last five years?"

Flo and Gwen both nodded.

"Over Yule break, that got resolved."

"So you two are together now?  Great!" Gwen said.

"But that doesn't explain why she'd call you 'sir'.  It's not exactly a term of endearment," Flo objected.

"It is in her mind," David said with a smile.  "You'd better take over from here, because my mind still isn't wrapped around things," he said to Olissa.

"We are together, but not as boyfriend and girlfriend.  We tried that for a week, but it made me very uncomfortable, because it's not the place I'm supposed to occupy in his life."

"So... you're together, but not his girlfriend... so what are you?" Gwen asked.

"His slave," she said.

"What?" Flo asked in shock.

Olissa raised a hand to prevent either of them from further outbursts.

"The summer after our third year, David and I went on vacation to Mirelia.  We went and saw all the public temples, all five of them.

"In two of those temples, I had a vision.  It was the same vision in both of them, which I found a bit strange.  I had to talk with one of the priestesses about it to help me understand things.

"At the Temple of Fire, you're supposed to learn your darkest nature.  At the Temple of the Spirit, you're supposed to learn your highest calling.  I couldn't understand how those two things could be the same."

"What has this got to do with..." Gwen started.  Olissa interrupted her question.

"Both visions showed me serving David."  Olissa took a drink of her juice, then continued.   "As the priestess explained it, it is my darkest nature because I have tried to deny it.  Yes, I like being helpful to people.  I actively seek out opportunities to help my friends and partners... but committing yourself to servitude is a step beyond that."

"A great big whopping step," Flo confirmed.

"But I knew that I loved David, even then.  I just couldn't admit it, because I was afraid of losing him like I'd lost every other guy I'd ever been in love with.  I knew he was different from them, but fear is a very big obstacle.

"Anyway, when I saw that my serving David was also my highest calling, I couldn't figure out how that could be.  I mean, I wouldn't be achieving any great thing or changing the world...

"But the priestess pointed out that not everyone is destined to change the world.  Sometimes, your highest calling is simply to help someone else to be their best.  I don't want to get into details, but I believe that, by being David's slave, I will help him help others.  A lot more 'others' than I could ever help myself.  It won't work if I'm his girlfriend, because I'm not the... I'm not the whole solution, I guess you'd say.  There's another half to this.  She'll be his real girlfriend."

"And you're okay with playing second fiddle?" Gwen asked.

"Gwen, I've been playing second fiddle, as you call it, for five years now.  I'm quite used to it.  And even that was my choice.  David has asked me more than once to be his girlfriend, and I said no repeatedly.  I watched him dating Amanda, Prof. Fibblebitz, and Anne... the only part that was hard was the thought that he would leave me behind.  He's promised not to do that now, so no, it doesn't really bother me."

"And you're okay with having a slave?" Flo asked David.

"Not really," David admitted, "but in order to make her happy, I'm trying to learn.  You both know how I've felt about her for years.  If this is what it takes to keep her around, then this is what I'll do."

"But you made her call you 'sir'," Gwen said.

"It was either that or let her call me 'Master' all the time," David replied.  "Again, her insistence, not mine."

Olissa said, "Servants don't refer to their owners by their first name."

"How do your parents feel about this?" Gwen asked.

"We're not telling them," Olissa said.  "As far as they're concerned, I'm living with David and leading my own life.  When we go back to visit, I will, unfortunately, have to act as though I'm his only girl.  They wouldn't understand this, and I don't want to try to explain it to them.  I've had a hard enough time trying to explain it to you in a way that might at least not make you think I'm a complete lunatic.  My parents don't know what's gone on between me and David."

"I don't think you're a lunatic, Olissa," Gwen said, "it's just very strange.  But then, like you said, it's not really a lot different from where you've been for the last few years.  If it's what you want, and he's not forcing anything on you, then that's your business.  If it makes you happy, I'm all for it."

"Thanks, Gwen," Olissa said, relieved.  David smiled his own gratitude at her.

"Flo?" Olissa asked nervously.

Flo shrugged.  "You just surprised me.  I think you're nuts, but that has nothing to do with wanting to be his slave.  I just can't imagine tying myself down to one guy for the rest of my life."

"It's more fun if you let the guy do it," Olissa quipped.

David choked on his drink, and both Flo and Gwen blushed strawberry.

"Is that the voice of experience?" Gwen asked coyly.

"Eat your lasagna," David ordered Olissa.  She smiled at him.

"Yes, Master."

David left early the next morning to go down to Bolmont.  Joe would be back in late morning, and David wanted to have all the evidence laid out in a logical fashion so that Joe could see it and they could plan their interrogation of the suspect.

It was around eleven o'clock when the carriage pulled up out front.  David was there, having been alerted by a mirror from Joe.  Joe stepped out, and then Simon Atherton stepped out behind him.

The man didn't look like a monster.  He looked like a caged cat, his head swiveling left and right and his eyes wide.  His dark blonde hair was tousled, his coat was rumpled, and his appearance was generally one of dishevelment.

David and Joe escorted the man into the Quiet Room.  He would be there for a while, during which time Joe and David would discuss a strategy.

"Did you find anything good while I was gone?"  Joe hadn't bothered David while he'd been traveling, instead letting him work things out himself.

"Come on, and I'll show you."  They went into the larger meeting room, where David had laid out all the evidence.  First were the E-ZPass records, showing Atherton's travels.  Next, the piece of the menu found in the victim's hand.  After that were David's maps of the victim locations.  All of this was data that Joe had already seen.

The next two items were maps similar to David's.

"What are these?"

"Maps that were found in his computer.  Note the measurements on his map, and compare them to the measurements we made.  All of them are either dead on, or off by a single foot.  That could be due to the resolution of my measuring device.  In any case, it's far too close to be a coincidence."

"Right.  And this one?"

"Shows how he measured the distance from the travel gate to the center of his pattern.  If you overlay the map of the victim's bodies on top of this one, you'll find that the hexagram crosses itself right on top of this central dot."

That's pretty strong, but still not absolute proof."

"No, but this stuff is," he said, pointing to the items arrayed on the table.

"What are these?"

"His trophies."

"What do you mean?"

David looked at him funny.  "Don't you know about serial killers?"

"Never had to deal with one before."

David rubbed his eyes for a moment.  Finally, he said, "Serial killers will often take a... a souvenir.  They call them trophies.  Something that the victim has on them.  It allows them to relive the event in their head, to get the rush again."  David pointed to each one.  "Here, we have a piece of jewelry from each and every victim.  I've already positively identified every item as belonging to a victim.  Vivian and I drove over to Albany on Wednesday."

"And where did you get these?"

"In a hidden room inside his house."

"Did you find this room... legally?"

"Let's just say that before anything in the room was touched, it was discovered by someone in solid form, yes."  David explained what he'd done.

"Okay, that will hold up, because you made sure to find a 'human' way to find the room."

"I figured it'd be something like that," David admitted.

"So, how do you want to handle the interrogation?" Joe asked.

"He looked shaky.  Like, really shaky."

"He's been jittery and frankly scared since I picked him up."

"In that case, maybe we let him sit in there for a little while, and then we nail him with all of this evidence, all at once."

"The purpose being?"

"To scare the living shit out of him.  Basically, we tell him, 'We know what you've done, we know who you did it to, and we know how you did it, and we can prove all of it, so either you come clean, or you go to court, but either way, your ass is ours."

"Under those circumstances, why would he confess?"

"Confession allows for a choice of sentences.  If the magistrate has to put up with a trial, you get whichever sentence he chooses."

"Wait, what do you mean, he can choose his sentence?"

"Why don't you already know this?" David asked.  "You're supposed to be training me, remember?"

"I'm... testing you," Joe said.  It was an obvious lie, but David just smirked and carried on.

"Let's say we take him to trial, and he gets convicted.  Due to the nature of his crimes, there are two ways the judge can punish him.  He can either execute him outright, or he can sentence him to a very, very long time in prison, after which he will get out and live out the rest of his life in Earth.

"Now, if he confesses, he can choose which of those he'd prefer.  He also has the option of going to prison, but refusing life-sustaining magic.  This is the only 'life sentence' in the Callamandian prison system, and the only way to get it is to choose it after you've confessed to a capital crime."

"Why would anyone choose that over execution?  All the misery of long-term imprisonment, with none of the hope for a life afterward."

"Either they're hoping to be exonerated in the near future, or they're just not ready to die yet," David said.  "It's a rare choice, but it is a choice."

"So, if he doesn't want to risk execution -" Joe started.

David interrupted, "Which is a fair certainty in this case, given the nature of his crimes."

"- then he needs to confess to take away the magistrate's choice in the matter."

"Right."

"Greetings, Mr. Atherton," David said calmly as he walked into the Quiet Room.  "I hope you enjoyed your lunch."

"I didn't get lunch," the man said.

"Oh?  Well... we'll fix that in a little while.  In any case, let's get started, shall we?  Your name is Simon Atherton, you live at 626 Catskill Road in Hartford, Connecticut, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You have one brother, Joseph, who is currently in the Great Meadows Correctional Facility in New York State, in Earth, correct?"

"Yes, look, you know all this."

"I'm sure you've been interrogated before, Mr. Atherton.  You know that there is a process here.  First we have to make sure we have our information correct before we go asking you questions.  Now, you own a Pacific Blue 2003 Honda Accord, registered in Connecticut with license number 645-MNS?"

"Yes," the man said, almost settling into things.

David could see that, and he didn't want the man getting comfortable.

"And you have, within the last year, murdered nine people, correct?"

"Y... what?  No!" Atherton cried out.

"Hmm.  I have to wonder why you almost said yes to that, Mr. Atherton."

"I was expecting another stupid question about my address or something."

"Now is probably not the best time to be anticipating my questions, Mr. Atherton.  Pay attention, as things are going to get very sticky for you, very fast."

"Right, right," the man said, now even more nervous than he had been.

"So, let's try again.  Have you murdered nine women in the last year?"

"No!"

"Eight women?"

"No!"

"Seven women?"

"No!  Look, I haven't murdered anyone!"

"I have a hard time with that, Mr. Atherton.  Perhaps it's the terminology I'm using.  Maybe you didn't see them as murders.  So.  Did you cause the death of nine women in the past year?"

"That's the same damned thing!  No, I did not!"

"It's not a good idea to lie to me, Mr. Atherton," David said.

"I'm not lying!"

"Hm," David said shortly, then closed his file folder.  He stood up, then walked to the door.

Turning back, David said, "Get up."

"Where are we going?" Simon asked nervously.

"You'll see."

David took the man's arm and led him out of the Quiet Room and into the meeting room.  He felt the man flinch when he saw what was on the tables.  Joe was already here.

"See, here is where I have a problem, Mr. Atherton.  You claim that you haven't murdered anyone in the last year.  So, how, then, do you explain having in your possession things that belonged to nine women who are now dead?"

David watched the man's face closely.  He could see cracks appearing in the man's confidence.

"Let me walk you through it, Mr. Atherton.  I'll tell you everything you did, when you did it, and how you did it."

For the next hour, David did exactly that.  Halfway through it, Atherton had to sit down.  He couldn't look away as David picked up each piece of information, showing it to him as he talked.  He related the events of every crime as much as he could.  The autopsies had given him enough information to spin a good scenario about each death.

By the time David was finished, Simon Atherton was quaking in his chair so strongly that the chair legs were actually rattling against the floor.

"Now," David said, "Are you sure you haven't killed anyone in the last year?"

David's tone, which was one of utter confidence and disdain for the suspect, was the straw that broke the camel's back.  Atherton began to sob.

"Yes!  Yes, I did it!" he screamed.  "I killed them all!"

"You get that, Joe?" David asked.

"Clear as day," Joe said, motioning to the recorder on the table.

"Now, Mr. Atherton," David said coldly, "we're going to go over each and every one of these crimes.  You are going to relay to me, in explicit detail, exactly what you did.  Your words will be recorded, and will be used in court, if you make us go that route."

"What... what do you mean?  I can avoid court?"

David explained the man's options to him.  "If you confess to everything you did, you have a choice.  It's easier on you and us.  If you make us go through a trial, chances are that the magistrate will sentence you to whichever punishment he thinks you'll find worse."

Simon was shaking again.  "I don't want to spend hundreds of years in prison.  I'd rather be dead."

"The only way to assure yourself of that outcome is to make an official confession, Mr. Atherton."

"Okay," the man said, full of despair and resigned to his fate.  "What do I have to do?"

"Start talking."

"So, will anyone question his confession?"

"You mean, like whether we coerced him into it or not?"

"Yeah."

"Any official confession has to be reviewed by a junior magistrate to make sure it followed the legal policies.  Don't worry, in this case, we didn't even approach breaking the rules.  He was an easy target, once we had him in custody."

"That would worry me, if our case was weaker.  He seemed almost too easy."

"I don't think he was cut out to be a serial killer.  A serial rapist, maybe.  That seems to be the part he was enjoying.  The killing he was doing strictly to try to get his brother out of jail."

"Yeah.  Anyway, will we have to go to court for this one?"

"Not so long as the confession holds up.  If the junior magistrate signs off on the confession, then Atherton'll go before a magistrate, choose his sentence, and that'll be the end of it.  Only if we have to do an actual trial will we need to go to court."

"Good.  What about that kidnapping case?"

"That one is being handled by the king, because it was aimed at the King's Council.  I don't think we'll be seeing Terry Benedict again."

David snorted.

"So, the next couple days are probably just paperwork."

"Yeah, I'm going to bundle mine up and take it home with me.  The school would probably appreciate it if I was actually doing my job from time to time."

Joe chuckled.  "Okay.  See you for the next one."

"Yeah.  Say hi to Zyla for me."

"Will do."

David had finished up his paperwork for the Rimohrs, and he was now wandering the school grounds.  It was nearing sunset.  The DIRT wasn't out yet, and the one security patrol currently roaming was on the other side of campus.

As David passed the cafeteria on his way toward Alton Hall, he saw three guys beating up on one smaller guy.  David headed in that direction.

Before David got there, the smaller guy broke away.  He blasted one of the three with a pretty hefty energy ball.  The victim was tossed five feet and rolled on the ground in obvious pain and suffering.

Both of the remaining toughs formed huge energy balls in their hands, and it was clear they were going to seriously hurt the smaller guy.

David grew angry.  He yanked his wand and blasted away at one of the attackers, using a massive lightning bolt spell.  The boy was thrown thirty feet, and the spell continued to attack him until David decided to switch to the other one.  The guy tried to duck and dodge, but David had far more than enough practice, and he nailed the other guy, sending him even further along the ground.

David let up on the spell and walked over to the smaller guy.  As he approached, the one who'd been hit by the energy ball rose shakily to his feet.  He was about to attack when he finally saw David.  He considered running, until David leveled his wand at him.

"You so much as twitch and it'll be the last thing you do for the next two months," David warned him.  The guy raised his hands, the fight leaving him.  David knew the guy wasn't more than a second year, and he had no chance of standing up against a full-blown sorcerer.

"What's going on?" David asked the smaller guy, who looked like he was trying to calm himself down.

"These three have been hassling me since the start of the semester," he said shakily.  "My parents are rich, so I've usually got a fair amount of pocket money, you know?  I guess I let the wrong person know that.  They told me if I didn't pay them a hundred granas each - every week - that they were going to put me in the infirmary."

"That's a lie, you fucking asshole," the one conscious suspect said.

David walked over to the man, grabbed his arm, and pulled his sleeve down.  The Clan tattoo there was plain as day.

"Shut the fuck up," David said to the man in contempt.

"Are you hurt?" he asked the victim.

"A little bruised is all.  They punched me in the stomach a couple times before I was able to break loose."

"How did you do that?  They're quite a bit bigger than you."

"Judo.  If they hadn't had magic, I might have been able to take them, but... you know, I'm just a first year."

"Damned nice energy ball for a first year."

"I study hard."

"Good for you," David said.  "I'll need you to come to see the dean with me.  First we'll have Healer Hall check you over, though."

David called Annie, who told him she'd be on her way shortly.  David walked over to each of his victims, just to make sure they were still breathing.  Neither of them would be conscious anytime soon, but that didn't trouble David too much.  He checked them, and found a Clan tattoo on both of them.

These seem to be popping up more frequently lately.  Are they really so stupid as to try to come back here?

When Annie arrived, David directed her to look over the victim first.  She gave him a pain potion and a curative potion, but there wasn't anything seriously wrong, so she didn't have him come to the infirmary.  The two unconscious ones were bundled up for transport.  Annie checked the third, but he didn't have any injuries, he was just a bit sore.  David refused to let her give him a pain potion, telling her he deserved to be in pain.  She frowned at that, but wasn't willing to go against David on these matters, since the student's pain wasn't debilitating.

"All right, let's go," David said to the two once Healer Hall and her assistant had departed with their patients.

"You can't touch us, man.  I don't know why you keep trying."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" David asked in exasperation.  "I have 'touched' every last one of you assholes that I've come across.  In most cases, that's meant you've spent a nice stay in the infirmary followed by time in either detention or prison.  How much more, exactly, do you want me to touch you?"

"Man, you just don't get it.  You can touch me, sure, but you can't touch us."

"Oh, good lord.  Is it really as stupid as that?  You think you're winning because I can't bring down the entire Clan?"

"We're like ants, man.  You take out one of us, there's still hundreds more to fight."

"No, you're like roaches, feeding off the garbage of humanity.  And like roaches, you won't stand in the light.  Also like roaches, I will eventually crush you under my foot.  You think your stupid little gang is going to outlive me?"

The guy looked up at him, realizing how unlikely that was.

"I will bring your sorry asses to justice, one way or another, trust me.  You killed friends of mine.  The only thing that prevents me from just ripping your fucking head off is that I believe in the law."

"I didn't kill anyone," the guy said.  "I wasn't even a member last year."

"I don't care.  You're a member now.  In my mind, that makes you just as guilty as the 116 people who were in that battle.  I hold The Clan responsible for those deaths, and that means you, too."

The guy didn't talk after that.

Dean Lengel was waiting in her office, alerted by a mirror from David.  The victim explained the situation, and the Board of Discipline was called in.  The victim went through his story one more time, then the gang member was given a chance to tell his side of the story.

"Hey, no matter what we might have done, this bastard tried to kill us!"  The guy was referring to David.

"Explain," Dean Lengel said evenly.

"He used some kind of freakin' lightning bolt on my buddies!  They were tossed like twenty, thirty feet!  I'm surprised they're still breathing."

"David?" Dean Lengel asked.  "Care to comment?"

"If I had been trying to kill his gangmates, they would be dead, and so would he, and there would be no one standing here to bitch about it."  David's voice was cold and dark, and Dean Lengel flinched.

"The spell?" she asked.

"Valk sur," he replied.

"Not tohuto?" she asked.

"That would have killed them.  They should wake up in a month or so from what I did."

"And why didn't you hex him?" the leader of the Board asked.

"Because he was not attempting to blast someone with a very dangerous energy ball.  Had both of those shots hit Mr. Baldwin here, the chances are he would not have survived.  One of them, he would have lived through, though been very seriously injured.  Both of them would almost certainly have killed him in a matter of seconds.  Since this guy was lying on the ground writhing in pain at the time, he wasn't a threat."

"Would you have hit him, if he'd been standing?"

"Yes."

To the gang member, the Board leader asked, "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

"What's the point?" the guy replied.

The Board leader just looked at Dean Lengel.  "There's nothing to be decided.  He's not refuting what happened."

Turning to David, Dean Lengel said, "May I assume you're requesting expulsion for all three of them?"

"They all have a Clan tattoo," David replied simply.

The dean nodded.  "As we have already established that Clan membership turns any violent offense into an immediate expulsion, the three of you will be expelled.  David, if you would have security escort him to his room so he can pack?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I need you to stay for a moment, however, so get someone else."

"Right."

David headed out to the outer office to make his mirror call and wait for the roaming patrol to come up and collect the gang member.  Once they'd done that, he went back into the dean's office.  The Board of Discipline had already gone.

"What's up?"

"David... I'm a bit concerned about the aggression you've been showing lately."

"They were going to kill that kid."

"Yes, I understand that.  But you know as well as I do that you know a dozen ways to have prevented that without hurting them as badly as you did, and just as quickly."

"Maybe," David allowed.

"I would like you to take a few days off.  If possible, I want you to take a few days off of all of your jobs, even your schoolwork."

"What for?"

"To relax.  To de-stress.  You're wound up so tight right now that if you were a clock, your springs would have already torn loose.  I'm afraid of what's coming if you don't get a grip on your anger soon.  I'm not saying you're not justified in being angry, especially at The Clan.  I just don't want you getting into serious trouble over it."

David sighed strongly.  "Is this an order?"

"No.  I'm not suspending you.  I won't even put anything down in your personnel file.  I'm asking you, as a friend, to take some time for yourself for a change.  You've been working your ass off for a year and a half straight now.  I know you were doing Rimohr work over the holidays... and even some security work.  That rapist that Tanya caught, I know you were involved in that.  You need to cut loose and let out all that frustration in a good way.  Please, do this for me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said in a long, drawn-out, entirely faked subservient voice.  She smiled at him.

"Good.  You once told me that you never saw me relaxing and just taking time for myself.  Well, you work far harder than I ever have, so it's time to take your own advice."

David nodded.  "Okay.  I'll let Tanya know that the department is hers until Friday."

Dean Lengel nodded.  "And if you want to chat or have lunch together, feel free to stop by."

"Thanks, Emile.  I'll keep that in mind."

"Go on.  Try to have a good evening."

"You, too."

"Could you pass the corn, Professor?" David asked.

Cat and Prof. Phillips both reached for the corn at the same time.  Everyone laughed at that.

"This is going to get very awkward in conversation," Prof. Phillips said.  "David, why don't you just call me Charlie.  I think we're at a point in our friendship where that'd be okay, don't you?"

"Whatever you say, sir," David replied.  Charlie grinned at him.

"I have noticed that, despite being on staff now, you still refer to the faculty as 'Professor' for the most part," Cat said.

"It's just respectful," David said.  "I'm still a student at the school.  It seems inappropriate to refer to my teachers by their first names."

"Even Sam?" Cat asked with a grin.

David would have blushed, if he could.  "She's different.  As are you, Professor."

It was Cat's turn to blush this time, and Charlie chuckled.  He knew about the joke, and he also knew that, despite its undertone, David was no threat to his relationship with Cat.

"So, how is your internship coming?" Charlie asked as they got back to eating.

"Up and down.  A lot of frustration, but it's satisfying when you bring down a really big bad guy."

"Like who?" Charlie asked.

"Well, we just arrested a serial killer last week."

"Wow."

"We've been after him for months.  He's been killing girls since early last year."

"How many?" Charlie asked.

"Nine, before we caught him."

"Maybe we shouldn't be discussing this in front of the kids," Cat said.

"Aw, mom, really?  I'm eleven years old," Garrett complained.  "I'm not a kid."

David smirked at the boy.  "I wasn't going to talk about the details, anyway.  I have enough nightmares about it for all of us, there is no reason to spread that kind of horror around."

"You said it was frustrating, though.  Why frustrating?" Cat asked.

"My boss is kind of a..." he looked at the kids and said, "jerk.  He doesn't like the way I do things, and he loves yelling at me."

"Aren't you worried about getting in trouble?" Charlie asked.

"I would be, if the Academy had once backed him up.  See, the thing is, while I work directly for Agent Wilson, my actual 'boss', if you can call it that, is the Academy Commission.  I'm still a trainee.  Wilson can only file reports.  Obviously the Commission doesn't seem to care about what I've done.  Either that, or they're just going to wait until my next review to kick me out."

"That would suck for you, wouldn't it?" Cat asked.

David shrugged.  "I have other avenues I could pursue if the Rimohrs turn out to be a dead end.  Ultimately, I just want to help people.  I don't have to worry about making a living; Jacob took care of that for me.  That means I get to choose what I want to do, that I get to be picky and look for work that will make me happy.

"If I have to give up the Rimohrs, I can do other things.  Hell, I could go to Earth and help people there as an investigator, or as a troubleshooter for 'personal problems'.  The police there are even worse off than the Rimohrs, so that's not really an option, but I do have things I can do.  I like the idea of getting the bad guys away from the good guys, but I'm well aware that the way I do it may not sit well with everyone."

"A little harsh, are we?" Charlie asked with a grin.

"Well, there are two Clan members who will be in the infirmary for the next month or so, if that's any indication for you..."

Charlie nodded with an amused smirk.

"Anyway, that's my life.  How are things going for you guys?"

"Things are great, thanks to you," Charlie said.  Cat nodded in agreement, smiling at him.

"All I did was keep my mouth shut," David said.

"No you didn't.  You opened it at the right moment.  I'm not sure I'd have ever gotten up the courage to approach Cat if you hadn't forced the issue.  For that, I'll always be in your debt."

"My pleasure.  I'm just glad Cat found someone who would care for her the way..."

"That you do?" Charlie asked quietly.

David jolted in shock.  "Uh, that is not what I was going to say.  I was going to say the way that she deserves to be.  I never did give her that."

Charlie smiled.  "You gave her what you could."

"Yeah," David agreed.

"I need you to give me one more thing," Cat told him, taking the opening that had been offered.

"If I can," he said.

"Just a bit of your time, is all," Cat said.

"A bit may be all I have available.  What did you need?"

"Well," Charlie said, "Sometime this summer, we're going to need you to do a job for us.  Shouldn't take you too long."

"Okay, summer's good, as it means no security job to worry over.  What's the job?"

"The title is 'best man'," Charlie said with a grin.

David took a second to process that.  "You two?  Married?"

"I asked her last month.  She said yes."

"Well, hot damn.  Er, sorry about that.  You didn't hear that, you two," he said to the kids with an embarrassed grin.  The two kids giggled.  "Congratulations."

"Thanks, David," Cat said seriously.

"You planning a traditional wedding, or a modern one?"

"We haven't decided yet."

"Honeymoon location?"

"Also still up in the air."

"Well, let me know if I can help with any of the planning details.  This is kind of the... I guess you'd call it the resolution of the problem you came to me with a few years ago," David said to Cat.  "I'm happy for you."

Cat blushed, and Charlie also looked embarrassed.

Finally, Cat asked, "Who wants dessert?"

When David arrived at Imahara Hall, he didn't need to ask what the problem was.  The front doors were shattered, several of the windows were blown out, the covered entryway was collapsing, and the plantings in front of the building were all burnt away.

Tanya was waiting for him.

"Do we have any clues?" David asked her.

"We haven't started looking yet," she told him.  "This is a major issue.  This entryway is unsafe.  As it is the primary entrance to the building, it's going to affect classes."

"We'll just post signs and have people go to the other doors," David said.  "We're going to need to seriously barricade this, though, to prevent the lazy from trying to go through here anyway."

"Right."

The two began sifting through the rubble.  It was clear that this had been done with spells, not something simple like rocks or even sledge hammers.

David stepped back and concentrated.  The spell he was about to try was almost above his level for spellcasting.  He held his wand up and moved it in the now-familiar hexagram symbol.  As he did, he intoned, "Sena galdra".  The entire area was suddenly suffused with a dim green light.  For a moment, there were sparks and sparkles within the light, and then it faded.  After the field was gone, a list of spells suddenly appeared in mid-air, right in front of David.  He quickly took an image of it with his wand.  He would write them down later.

"Nothing else to find here except destruction," Tanya told him.

David nodded.  He mirrored the head of the Maintenance Department so they could get started on repairs.  He asked the man to let him know how much the damage was likely to cost to fix.  That would, in a lot of ways, determine the way they handled the student or students who had done this.

As Tanya returned to the security office, David made his way up to Beckett Hall, to inform the dean of the problem.

"How do you want to proceed?" she asked him.

"I have a list of the spells that were used to do the damage.  The easiest way for us to investigate this is to find the wands that cast those spells."

"How did you get that list?" Dean Lengel asked.

"The damage was apparently done within the last four hours.  There is a spell, the Rimohrs use it, to reveal recent spells done in an area.  It has a limit of about six hours, though."

"So why do you say it must have been within the last four?"

"The further back in time it has to go, the longer the spell takes and the less likely it is to get results.  Given the time it took the spell, I'm estimating about four hours."

"I see.  So, if we just brought together all of the students and tested their wands..."

"Yes, but you'll need someone other than me to do the testing."

"For objectivity purposes?"

"No, because I can't do the spell.  I was barely able to do the revelation spell."

"Then are you sure this list is correct?"

"The spell never gives false results.  If you do it wrong, it simply doesn't tell you anything."

"Okay.  Well, I'm sure one of the Charms instructors can handle this for us.  Do you want to bring everyone together at once?"

"It would be the easiest.  And I would suggest at lunch time, since there are no classes between 12:00 and 1:00."

"But won't the spells on the wands have faded too much by then?"

"That spell doesn't work that way," David said.  "The spell on wands can, with a strong wizard, read every spell a wand has ever performed, in order, and then tell you how long ago it happened.  I'd suggest either Coach Hall or Prof. Phillips perform the spells for us.  As far as I know, they're the most powerful wizards in the Spells department."

"Two thousand students... this could take all afternoon."

"There are versions of the spell that can be used on groups of wands at a time.  Up to I think about twenty.  The professors would know this better than I would.  But you're right, it's still going to take a while.  Perhaps if we had both professors performing the charm."

"Twenty... that's a hundred groups... Two professors doing fifty groups each... How long does the spell take?"

"The simple yes-or-no version, just a few seconds."

"So.. maybe ten or twenty minutes... Okay, that sounds like we can do it without too much trouble.  I will have the students and the professors notified."

"Thanks."

David, Tanya, Prof. Phillips, Coach Hall and Dean Lengel were standing on the stage area in Byron Hall, waiting for all of the students to arrive.  A pixie was keeping a record of arriving students for them, so they would know if anyone was missing.

Once everyone had gathered, and the pixie confirmed there was no one absent, they began.

David stepped forward and used amplivocis so he could be heard.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remove your wands and set them on the table in front of you."

Most students did so immediately.  A few did not.  One demanded, "Why should we?"

"Because if you do not do so, you will spend the rest of your semester in detention for violating lawful school authority.  Do as you're told.  Now."

The remaining students, understanding that David was not bluffing, put their wands on the table.

David said, "Sometime early this morning, some person or group of people in this room vandalized Imahara Hall, causing over six thousand granas' worth of damage.  We have recovered a list of the hexes used to perform the vandalism.  Professors Hall and Phillips will now go to each table and cast a spell.  If your wand has performed any of these spells, they will be revealed, and you will be called aside for further questioning.  If your wand is not revealed by this spell, you may put your wand away and continue with lunch."

"This is illegal search and seizure," one student complained.

David looked down at him coldly.  "Two things.  First, you are not in the United States.  This is not a democracy, it is a monarchy.  You haven't got the same protections from search and seizure here as you do in Earth.

"Second, even if the Fourth Amendment applied here, the contract you signed with the school upon admittance explicitly gave us the right to search you, your room, or your property, at any time, for any reason."

David stood on the stage as the professors walked down the tables.  They would stop briefly, cast the charm, and wait a few seconds.  In the vast majority of cases, no wands were revealed, and the professors moved on.  Thirty-three people, however, had cast at least one of the spells at some point in the past, and they were directed to take their wand and go up to the stage.  Tanya kept an eye on them while David continued to watch those in the hall.

Once the tables had been fully searched, the professors returned to the stage area.  David now turned to the students there.

"Hold your wants out, pointed toward the ground.  If you raise your wand above waist level, we will assume you are being hostile, and you won't have time to explain your actions before you're unconscious.

"Now that we have narrowed this list down, the spell will become more specific.  Though all of you have cast at least one of the spells in question, at least once, at some point in your life, that obviously doesn't mean you necessarily had anything to do with damaging Imahara Hall.  Each of you will now be tested for each spell specifically, and to indicate when you cast the spell.  If the professors tell you that you're cleared, you may go back and eat lunch.  Otherwise, you will surrender your wand to Miss Sahar.  Should you be considering fighting it out, I wouldn't.  Attacking any one of us is grounds for immediate expulsion... that is, when you get out of the infirmary."

The professors worked side by side, so that it was easier to cover the students.  Slowly they moved down the row, until they had finally reached the end.  Ultimately, six students were identified.

"Professors, will you avow, and testify, if necessary, that these six students did cast one of the spells in question, at the appropriate time to have been involved in the vandalism of Imahara Hall?"

Both professors acknowledged that they would.

"Ma'am," David started, turning to Dean Lengel, "where do you want us to take them for questioning?"

"Let's meet in the security office.  There's more room there."

David motioned Tanya to lead off, and he and Dean Lengel followed the students out of the cafeteria and over to Fensterman Hall.

Each student was settled into a separate room, and watched over by one of the on-duty security officers.  David and Dean Lengel interviewed each person, one at a time.

David's last "question" to each person was to have them lift up their sleeve.  In two cases, he found Clan tattoos.

Once they'd finished, David, Tanya, and Dean Lengel met in David's office to discuss what to do.

"Are you convinced all six were involved?" Dean Lengel asked David.

"Aren't you?"

"I'm not the professional."

David snorted.  "I'm only even slightly apprehensive about the one guy, but I'm still pretty sure he was involved.  He may not have actually done any damage with his spells, I don't know.  He seems like he was there as a tag-along.  But he was there.  The rest, I have no doubts about."

"I assume you're going to request explusion?"

"I don't think you're actually going to get a say in that one this time," David told her.

"Why not?"

"Well, this note here on my desk says that the Ministry of Education has already reported the incident to the Rimohr office in Bolmont.  I'm assuming they're looking to make a case out of this one, which means all six of them will be arrested, and so whether you expel them or not, they're not going to be in school."

Dean Lengel frowned.  She didn't like having decisions taken out of her hands by those above her.  "What would you have recommended?" she asked.

"The two obvious Clan members should be expelled.  The others should, at the very least, have to pay restitution, and I don't mean their parents, but they should have to pay for the damage, and spend the rest of the semester in detention."

"Why are you more lenient on this than the other cases, where you've just about demanded expulsion?"

"This is a building.  It's a serious crime, but no one got hurt.  Other incidents involved people."

"I see.  Okay, well, I'll leave them here for now.  When the Rimohrs make their decision, you'll let me know?"

"Of course."

After the dean left the room, David went back to the holding room of one of the tattooed Clan members.  He walked in, let the security guard close the door, and then he sat down across from the student.

"What the fuck do you want?" the student demanded.  He tried to be defiant, but it was very hard to look David in the eye.

"You're going to tell me who the new leader of the Woodward cell of The Clan is."

"Fuck you."

David leaned closer.  "You're not my type.  But pay close attention.  You think you've got nothing to lose, but you're very, very wrong.  I can completely fuck over the entire rest of your life.  After you leave prison, you may be exiled to Earth.  And once you're there, I can make sure that you never work as more than a ditch-digger.  You won't get into college, you won't get a well-paying job.  You won't be able to work as manager of a McDonald's.  I will strip you of every possible opportunity for a good life.  I will make it my mission to make you suffer.  Do you understand me?"

The student looked into David's face, and swallowed hard.

David was in his office, filling out paperwork concerning one Willard Yenmore, the alleged new leader of The Clan at Woodward.  David couldn't remove him on the say-so of two Clan members, but he had gotten Yenmore's background file from the Rimohr office, and he was also having the man followed.  Unlike Kendall, Yenmore was a fifth-year student, and looked like he had the skills to be impressive to the younger Clan members.  That had probably been necessary to convince them to go up against Woodward's upgraded security force.

David was interrupted by Sheila knocking on his door.  He smiled up at her.

"What do you need, Sheila?" he asked.

"There's a young lady out here who says she wants to file a complaint."

"Okay, bring her in."

David set aside his files and focused his attention.  The girl looked shaky and frightened.  David directed her to the chair across from his desk.

"Sheila, could you ask Tanya to join us?"

"She's not in right now.  She had something to deal with across campus."

"Okay.  Bring the lady something to drink, would you?"

"Certainly."

After Sheila departed, David looked to the young lady.  She was clearly scared and nervous.

"What's your name?" David asked.

"Kella Snootfort."

David raised an eyebrow.  "Dugerran by birth, I assume," he said.

"Yes," she nodded jerkily.

"Try to relax, Kella.  What has happened?"

Sheila came back in with a glass of juice.  She nodded to her boss, and departed, closing the door behind herself.

Kella took a drink of her juice, and then she softly said, "My date last night tried to rape me."

David withheld the growl that wanted to escape his throat.  He took a deep breath to try to calm himself.  "Okay, first thing's first.  What was your date's name?"

"Bradley Tisdell."

David nodded, then pressed a button on his desk.  A small mirror slid upward, and Sheila's face appeared in it.  This was the Dugerran version of an intercom.  "Sheila, get me the school file on Bradley Tisdell, please."

"Certainly."

David turned back to Kella as the mirror disappeared back into his desk.  "Okay, now, slowly, tell me what happened."

"We'd gone out for the festival.  He'd taken me down into town to hear the concert at the stadium.  After that, we'd come back to the school and wandered around, enjoying the festival stuff, you know?"

David nodded.  He had done exactly the same thing with Lydia the previous night... though she had not complained when he'd made his advances on her.  To Kella, he said, "Go on."

"Well, he walked me into this dark set of trees.  I got pretty nervous at that point, and told him I wanted to go back out to see more of the festival.  He said we couldn't get 'all freaky' - those were his words - in the middle of the festival.

"I didn't want to have sex with him.  It was basically our first date, and he'd turned out to be a bit of a creep.  I didn't walk away from him earlier just to be polite.  But I sure as hell didn't want to have sex with him in public.  I've never done anything like that in my life."

David nodded.  "Excuse me for asking this.  Are you a virgin?"

"No, hell no.  I've had a half-dozen boyfriends over the years, but I'm not into getting too wild about it."

David nodded.  "Okay.  So, you told him no.  What did he do?"

"He got this ugly look on his face, and then shoved me back into a tree.  He said that we were going to do it, or he'd make me regret it.  I told him I already regretted being with him.  He slapped me, then I kicked him in the shin.

"I tried to run away at that point, but he was able to grab my arm.  He told me we were going to have fun whether I liked it or not, and if I told anyone, he would kill me."

"Did he use those words?  Did he actually say, 'I will kill you,'?"

"Actually, he said, 'I'll slit your fucking throat and leave your ho-ass corpse at the foot of the mountain."  She blushed after she said it.

David made notes, and nodded in understanding.

"What happened next?"

"He kept pawing at me.  I shoved him away, and he had to take a few steps back to get his balance.  At that point, I kicked him in the groin and ran.  He didn't chase me."

"I imagine not," David said, smiling slightly at her.  "Have you seen him since last night?"

As David was asking the question, Sheila came in with the folder containing Bradley Tisdell's file.  He thanked her, and she left again.  David returned his attention to Kella.

"No, but I'm afraid of him.  If he finds out I talked to you, he's going to hurt me."

"Oh, he's going to find out.  I'm going to have him picked up right now.  But I wouldn't worry too much about him hurting you.  Tell me something.  I can't ask this officially... I mean, I can't actually even ask this question, but would you be willing to take a truth potion in regards to this?"

"Yes," she said.

"Okay.  See, the problem we're facing is that this is a he-said/she-said situation.  There's no evidence of anything.  I believe you, don't get me wrong, but there's a difference between what I believe, and what I can prove.  And without proof, we can't really do anything to him."

"So what's the point of picking him up at all?"

"To interrogate him.  To see if he's going to say something stupid during questioning.  Also, to let him know we're watching him.  If anything happens to you, he's going to be our immediate suspect, and he needs to be aware of that."

David flipped open Tisdell's file, and then mirrored the on-duty security patrol to pick him up.

"You seemed very nervous when you came in here," David asked after completing his call with the team.  "Is there something more to this?"

"No.  I was worried about what he might do to me if I told you.  I guess actually telling you took away that worry.  Or maybe it's just being here in this office.  Anyway, once I started to get it out, I felt better."

David nodded.

It didn't take too long for the team to bring in the suspect.  David took him into an interrogation room and talked to him for over an hour, without any admission.

David left the interrogation room, and then had Sheila call Dean Lengel for him, and have her come down to the office.  He went back in to talk to Kella.

"He didn't confess, did he?" she asked.

"No.  Neither of us really expected that, though."

"No," she agreed.

"Because I cannot prove anything, I have to turn this over to the dean's office for possible disciplinary action against him."

"But isn't she just going to depend on your investigation?"

"Well, yes, but she is allowed to apply her own judgment to the situation, whereas I am not."

"Oh."

When Dean Lengel arrived, David explained the situation to her.  She spoke to Kella, and then she interviewed Bradley Tisdell.  She left that interview highly dissatisfied.

"He's an awfully arrogant young man," Dean Lengel said.

"Well, he's a Tisdell, what do you expect?"

"Excuse me?"

"His older brother is Aaron Tisdell, former School's Biggest Asshat?"

Dean Lengel grinned.  "I see.  Apparently criminal behavior runs in the family."

"Apparently.  Emile, I'm technically not allowed to ask this question of complainants, but Kella is willing to take a truth potion."

Dean Lengel nodded.  "I'll keep that in mind.  Why aren't you allowed to ask?  We've never said you can't."

"Coming from a law enforcement official - or a chief of security - it's felt that the question carries too much pressure behind it.  The thought is that even asking someone if they're willing is a coercive question when coming from an investigator."

"I see," she said.  "Did she seem hesitant when you asked?"

"Not in the slightest," he assured her.

She nodded.  "Okay.  Transfer Mr. Tisdell to detention until I resolve this matter.  Kella can get on with her day.  I'll call for her later if I need her."

"Yes, ma'am," David said.

Once again, David was stuck in his office doing paperwork.  Dean Lengel had decided to leave Bradley Tisdell in detention for a month or so, after which time she would re-evaluate his attitude.

He was looking over reports of the activities of Willard Yenmore, as observed by various security and DIRT personnel, when the alarm sounded.  It was a standard klaxon noise, accompanied by a flashing red glow that came directly from the ceiling.

David got up and grabbed his coat, then headed to the outer office.  The alarm was an idea of Tanya's.  A simple spell, cast by any security member, would alert the office and pinpoint them on a wall map.

"Santana Hall.  Let's go," David said to the other security officers in the room.

The team hustled across the terrace, but it still took them minutes to arrive.  David once again considered getting them some kind of transport vehicles.

As they approached, they saw a scuffle in progress.

"Break it up!" David shouted as he and the other security officers arrived.  The DIRT, who had signaled the emergency, were off to one side.  One of them looked to be injured, the others, simply out of their depth.

"What the fuck is going on here?" David demanded.

"These assholes attacked us for no good reason!" one guy said.

"No good reason my ass!" one of the others snarled.  "You were trying to extort money from a first-year!"

"Bullshit!"

"Shut up, both of you," David snapped.  Turning to the one, he asked, "Where is this alleged first-year?"

"He ran off when the fighting started," the guy said.

"Uh-huh.  Stay put."

Tanya kept an eye on the fighters while David walked over to the DIRT.  "What happened to you?" he asked one of the girls on the team.

"Stray energy ball caught me in the arm."

"When we're done, go to the infirmary and have that looked at."

"Yes, sir."

"So, what happened here?"

"We don't know, sir.  We came upon the fight already in progress.  We tried to stop it, but there are three times as many of them as us.  After Nikki got hurt, I decided to pull back and wait for help."

"Smart man," David said.  "Okay, you don't know why the fight started?"

"No, sir."

"All right.  Escort Nikki up to the infirmary, then go make out your report."

"Yes, sir."

David turned back to the groups.  He noticed there was now another student present.

"Who're you?" David asked, returning to the group.

"He's the first-year," Tanya said.

The student nodded.  "I saw you guys running to break up the fight.  I figured I should come back and tell you what happened, so these guys don't get in trouble."

"Trust me, they're going to get in trouble," Tanya said.  "One of those guys is unconscious and bleeding."

"Shit."  David made his call to the infirmary, then turned to the first-year student.  "So, tell me what happened."

"Well, I just got paid a few hours ago.  I have a job working in the snack bar.  Anyway, I got paid, and I guess these guys knew somehow, because as I was walking to go down to the bank to deposit it, they jumped me.  They were standing all around me, demanding the money or I'd 'get a beatin',' is what they said."

"You lying sack of-"

"Shut your damned mouth," David snapped angrily.  The man kept quiet after that.

"Well, then these guys came from somewhere... I didn't see them until they jumped the other guys.  They pushed them away, telling them to leave me alone.  Someone swung first... I really couldn't tell you who... and then it was like everyone else swung at the same time.  Once the fighting started, I got the hell away from things."

David nodded.  "Okay, we'll need you to come with us to talk with the dean."  Turning to the extortion suspects, he said, "Pull up your sleeves."

"No," the annoying one said.

David decked him, and he fell to the ground.  David then grabbed his arm and yanked his sleeve up.  Oddly, there was no tattoo there.

"Idiot," David snarled, then  moved over to the others.  There was only one Clan tattoo present.

"Okay, the lot of you are coming with us to the dean's office."

"Hey, we were just trying to help the first-year!"

"Then you should have gone and gotten the DIRT team, which was obviously close by.  Or called security.  OR simply waited until someone had thrown a punch."

"He has to get hurt before we can help him?" the guy asked incredulously.

"As it stands right now, buddy, you started the fight.  Your group got physical first.  I do not need vigilantes running around my campus."

"You damned well need something," another one said.  "These Clan bastards are back and they're all over the place."

"And we are dealing with them.  But you are no better than The Clan.  You do whatever you want, with no regard for the rules.  Who gave you the authority to decide who is right and who is wrong?"

"Who gave it to you?  You do the same damned thing!"

"I was given the authority to do so by the dean of the Academy and the Ministry of Education.  I don't remember you being on my list of authorized personnel."

There was grumbling among the group, but they didn't resist as the security team prodded them toward the nearest rock lift.

Ultimately, the vigilantes were sentenced to detention, the Clan member was expelled, and the other instigators were sent to detention as well.  David then had a security member escort the victim to the bank, just to make sure he didn't have any more trouble that day.

"This is becoming a problem," Dean Lengel said, referring to the vigilantes.

"I know.  While the sentiment is nice - they really want to help - the method sucks.  Perhaps if we expanded DIRT into the lower grades."

"You want to sanction their behavior?"

"Sanction and regulate their behavior.  But I think you'd also find that most of them would drop out fast, once they realized what it's really like to run security patrols."

"So... a temporary program, then?"

"A 'trial' program," David offered.  "You might even find it is actually useful."

"What about the fact that they don't know as much as the older students?"

"The third- and fourth-years can hold their own fairly well.  We would need to have them accompanied by either a security officer or an older DIRT member, though.  Just to be safe.  But you'd need to do that, anyway, to supervise them."

"Right.  I'll talk it over with the Minister."

David nodded.  "I have to go get some work done."

"Have fun," Dean Lengel said with a grin.

David grunted.

"David!  Nice to see you!  How has your semester been so far?" Prof. Rutherford asked cheerfully.

"Busy," David said.  "But productive."

"Well, if it must be busy, then productive is the only good outcome.  Now, you've been working on aeromandy this semester.  Have you even had much chance to actually work with it?"

"Yes, ma'am, I've made a point of it."

"Okay, so what do you have to show me?"

David reached over and grabbed a handful of dirt from the bin.  He focused his mind, and he slowly blew outward.

A wind rushed around him and forward.  David took hold of the wind, twisting it and shaping it to his desire.  Once he'd gotten things the way he wanted them, he raised his hand and began to let the dirt fall free, a few grains at a time.

The dirt was caught up in the current of air.  It followed a helical path, and as David sprinkled more and more dirt, the outline of a coil, floating in mid-air, became apparent.  The coil was a foot wide and about six feet tall.  It was discernible, because of the dirt, but quite transparent.

"Oh, very nice," Prof. Rutherford said.  "Can you make the coil tighter?"

David focused more intently, and drew his mental image of the coil tighter.  The real coil followed suit slowly, its speed increasing and so the dirt tended to float more toward the top of the coil, making the bottom portion invisible.

"Very good.  Okay, you can let go."

David didn't quite let go.  Instead, he rearranged the image in his head so that the wind would blow the dirt back into the bin.  Only when all the dirt had fallen back where it belonged did he terminate his aeromandy.

"Thank you.  I could have cleaned up the mess, but nice of you to prevent one in the first place."

David smiled.

"So.  Obviously you went right to fine control with aeromandy.  You didn't think you could go any larger?"

"I'm not sure what 'larger' to do with it, frankly."

"Well, we didn't really do much in class.  We moved some pinwheels, caused small vortexes.  Have you tried something large?  Like a dust devil?  I would think, no offense, that an actual tornado would be beyond you, but I'd expect you could produce a dust devil."

"I hadn't thought of it.  I'll give it a try."

"Good.  I want you to keep pushing yourself with these things.  Spend the next couple of weeks going bigger.  Then you can get back to the smaller things."

"Yes, ma'am."

"In any case, you're doing well.  Just keep it up, and I'll see you in a couple weeks."

"Okay.  Have a good night, Professor."

"You, too, David."

David was, once more, in his office at the school.  He was beginning to wonder if Wilson was forcing Joe to not call him in on cases.

He didn't realize that his next Rimohr case was walking in the door.

"David?" Sheila said from the doorway.  David looked up.  "There's a student here to see you."

"Show him in," David said.  The student walked in and sat down, and Sheila closed the door.

"What seems to be the problem?" David asked.

"Do you know a guy named Dan McCoy?"

David looked up as he tried to think.  Finally, he said, "Not that I can recall."

"He used to go here.  He got his license a few years ago.  He lives in Earth."

"Okay... not ringing any bells, sorry.  What's this about?"

"He's my cousin.  He sent me a letter the other day.  I'm not sure what to do about it."

David cocked an eyebrow.  "Can I see it?"

The student handed over the letter.  David read it quickly until he got to the third paragraph.  After that, he absorbed every word very intently.  It took him a long moment to finish reading.

Setting the page down, David asked, "Why didn't he go to the authorities with this?"

"He's an anxious guy.  The thought of talking to police, or Rimohrs... heck, even having to come talk to you... makes him very nervous."

"So he made you do his dirty work," David said with a smirk.

"Something like that.  He also wasn't sure who to tell.  I'm not, either, which is why I came to you."

"Okay.  I'll take it from here.  Thank you for bringing it in."

"Yes, sir."

David waited until the student left, then re-read the letter two more times.

Has to be a mistake, David said to himself.

Nevertheless, he picked up his mirror and dialed.

"Joe?  I just had something come across my desk... you're going to have to see this.  Wilson, too.  I'll be down in a half-hour."

"Wilson's in a meeting with our district chief..."

"Then he'll want to see this, too.  Joe, I'm not kidding, this is important.  Like, major important.  I don't want to discuss it over the mirrors, I don't know how secure they are.  Like I said, I'll be there shortly."

David had thoroughly expected to have this particular problem yanked out of his hands by Wilson, due to its significance.  The district chief, however, had insisted that David stick with it, as the case had been brought to him.  Besides, he was familiar with Earth, and that was apparently going to be important to the case.

At the moment, David was walking down an apartment building hallway.  He was joined by Joe and Vivian.  The case demanded more than just two people.  It would probably consume the entire division before all was said and done.

Before they'd reached this point, they had done an extensive background check on Dan McCoy, to see if he was crazy or prone to flights of fancy.  All of that had come up negative.

David stopped in front of door 24, and then looked at Joe.  Joe motioned him to proceed, so David knocked.

The door opened after just a few seconds, and the face on the other side was the expected one.  It also bore the expected look of surprise and a bit of fear.

"Dan McCoy?" David asked.  The man nodded.  "Rimohrs.  Can we come in?"

The man stepped back to let the three of them in.  David introduced them, and then they all sat down in the man's living room.

"You know why we're here," David said.

"My letter," he said.

"Yes," David confirmed.  "How did you come by this information?"

"I was sitting in a restaurant having lunch.  There were two guys at the booth next to mine, and they were talking about it.  They were speaking in really low tones, but I have really superb hearing, like, way better than normal, so I could still hear what they were saying."

"Can you describe them?"

"Only one of them.  The other always had his back to me.  I can only give you height and build on him.  Well, and his hair color, since he didn't have any..."

Joe was taking notes furiously, so David didn't bother.  "How do you know they were talking about Callamandia, and not the United States?"

"They mentioned Senesty and Bolmont.  I Google-mapped both of those names, and came up blank, so they had to be talking about Callamandia."

"Okay.  Now, what exactly were they talking about?"

"They were discussing the best chances they might have to 'hit their target'.  They discussed a few ideas, but rejected them.  I don't think they came to any kind of conclusion.  At least, not one I heard.  There were portions of the conversation that were too quiet even for me to hear."

"Okay," David said.  "I need for you to walk us through the conversation, as much detail as you can, from beginning to end.  Everything you remember."

The man nodded, and then began to relate as much information as he could.  When he'd finished up, he said, "I'm sorry I can't fill in those missing parts.  In both cases, trucks went by outside, and it just made it too noisy for me to hear them."

David nodded.  "I need you to give us a view of the guy you did see."  David taught him the charm for displaying an illusion of the man, and Dan did so.  Joe made notes on the appearance, while David took an image of the illusion.

"You have no idea who these two men were?"

"No.  I've never seen them before that I'm aware of."

"Do you eat in that restaurant frequently?"

"No.  It was the first time.  Good food, though."

David nodded.  "What was the name of the restaurant?"

"Sharky's Diner.  And yeah, I had seafood."

David chuckled.  "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Only that they really seemed serious.  You know, this wasn't like a joke or some kind of wishful-thinking exercise.  They really sounded like they were planning this."

"Right.  Okay.  Thank you for your time, Mr. McCoy.  If we need more information, we'll be in touch."

"Yes, sir," the man said.

David led the others out into the hallway.  He immediately turned to Joe.

"You think he's telling the truth?"

"Undoubtedly," Joe said.  "He was too scared of us to lie about it."

David nodded.  "And do you think he really heard what he thinks he heard?"

"Unfortunately, we have to assume he did."

"But... who the hell would want to assassinate the King of Callamandia?"