Sao was rooted in place. The field was transformed. The trees were threaded not with vines but wires, filled with tiny lights, wound around the trunks and slung over branches, ends hanging down. They weren’t traditional holiday lights with dark rope and pointed bulbs, but glowing streamers, woven together into a sort of lace or magical lichen. And the colors weren’t bold red and green and white, but peach and baby blues, lavender and cream. Shell colors, soft pastels.

This must have been the source of the glow beyond Marsh’s backyard. As night drew close the snow of the great octagonal field soaked up the colors like massive sponge, the hues growing more distinct as shadows closed in around them, but never so brilliant as to make Sao feel he needed to look away, to rest his eyes.

Nobody interrupted him as he watched the ebb and flow of the lights. Not even Rai, who had ditched him a second time to see the campus police with a few questions. Sao found it hard to care and wondered if he was being hypnotised. At each phase, every tree took on a different color, luminous vertical bars forming a glowing wall that stretched down the length of the campus. The shades were moving through some sort of predetermined sequence, but it wasn’t the order of the rainbow, nor were they all compositions of warm or cool.

“Do you know what they’re supposed to be?”

Sao looked around, then down beside him. A shape had materialised. Wrapped in a huge muffler and a coat of puffed down, they were nearly as wide as they were tall. A thick knitted cap was pulled low over the face, nearly meeting the muffler’s edge, and all he saw were a pair of pinkish lips. From the voice, he guessed a woman.

Were the colors supposed to form a picture? Perhaps from an aerial view? There wasn’t quite enough fidelity for video with two rows of trees.

“School colors,” he said.

She was amused. “I would have, but school colors are black and dark blue.”

Like a bruise. Sao was glad it wasn’t, then. “Some sort of celebration, then. Am I close?”

“Basically.” The ends of the sleeves brushed together. “I set it up for anyone who needed it. But it’s also supposed to be a message for a… a good friend of mine. Although, I’m not sure he’s seen it yet.”

“You’re the mind behind this installation?” Sao whistled appreciatively. “I’d say I needed it. Something about the colors puts my mind at ease. It’s been a strange day.”

“I’m glad to hear it. About you feeling better, I mean.”

They stood in silence for a while, students in their little packs filing by. The winter sun had bid farewell for the day.

“Are you going to the Valentine's brunch?” she asked, breathy, with sudden force.

“It’s a few days from now. I don’t know if I’ll be around. I’m only visiting.” He smiled, applying a little force of his own. “Besides, I’m lacking the prerequisite partner.”

Two sharp green eyes emerged from under the rim of the hat.

“And I’m not presently looking,” he said, feeling guilty the moment the words left his mouth.

The eyes vanished. “I didn’t mean anything. Sorry to sound pushy. I’m studying marketing, maybe that’s why…” she giggled. “All the talk’s gotten me shaky. Valentine’s Day is big here. They say the saint it’s named after was from this district, although I guess the district lines were a little different, back when there were saints.”

“Must have been before the vampire warlord.”

Was she laughing or whimpering? The trees had reached a step in their arrangement where they closest resembled a standard rainbow.

“I’m not sure whether the school’s crazier about vampires or Valentine’s. Actually, I’m not sure why it’s got to be one or the other. The old count they pulled out of the bell tower, before Murnau bought the school - he wasn’t alone. He was found with his five wives. They were down there, still alive, starving alongside his corpse. You would have thought they’d—” she stopped. “It’s a little romantic, isn’t it?”

In context of a movie, Rai might think so, and that was the most optimistic assessment Sao could give. But he said, “in a way. So, are you going to be at the brunch yourself?

He must have disappointed her because she drooped, and her voice lowered. “Of course. I have to be.”

They stood in ambiguous silence as the Row cycled through its colors, and when it returned to the rainbow Sao turned to check on her, but she had vanished. He was being compensated with Rai, who was stomping his way through some of the only remaining untrammelled snow left on the field.

“Did you drop something?” Rai asked.

“I was just looking for — I was just speaking to someone.”

“Were they seven feet tall and wearing a black trench?”

Sao smiled. Rai had briefly told him about the escaped vampire, who might have just been a curious professor. “No, my monster was a small one. She also happens to be the artist behind this light show. She must have walked off while I was daydreaming.”

Rai came up next to Sao at the mouth of the Row and looked down its length, hands jammed in pockets. His gloves were off, and the glow of his wrists was visible against the layers of dark leather. “It’s nice, huh? Must have taken forever to wire it up.” He appreciated the show for thirty seconds before the phone was out. “I was planning to chase Ace and his pals around, but it turns out I have to go back to the office tonight. I’m supposed to help HQ finish putting together paperwork for a court hearing tomorrow. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back tomorrow. But if I’m not, take the day off.”

Flickering over his phone screen, his hands were also a spectacle in the growing dark, their glow not a pastel sunset or puff of rainbow but a slice of bright blue, cut from a different sort of sky.

Sao inclined his head to try to see Rai’s downturned face. “You’re assuming that I’m staying.”

“Unless you wanna come back with me.” Rai lowered the phone. “You can, if you want. You’ll get the day off either way if I screw up my deadline.”

“And that wouldn’t be like you, would it?” Sao smiled. “I’ll be staying.”

Like the girl and like Rai, he had something he had to do. He turned over the nature of the phrase, the feeling of having, and having to. He’d had to do a lot of things he didn’t want to in the past, but had also been compelled to do things entirely for himself. Sometimes he had to lie, or had to be selfish to live, or reach out and smile to live with himself. Sometimes he just had to know.

Rai said something he didn’t hear, and left him for the third time that day.

And the trees waved goodbye with their undulations of periwinkle and gold.
---

Skogul had returned from the city with a new wardrobe, and she meant to share. She had Sao posed with arms slightly raised, and held a v-necked sweater up at his shoulders to evaluate the size. The color was a very regal navy blue.

“It would look better on you,” Sao said.

She laughed and reached into a bag for a slim white turtleneck. “You pair it with this.” Of course the outfit was for him; Skogul wasn’t one for high collars.

“I really like it,” Marsh said, sipping a seltzer he’d mixed himself. “The whole look.” Sao wondered if he’d spoken for fear of being left out, but saw the eyes behind the glasses brimming with genuine admiration. A sweater and a vest. Marsh was indeed an implacable fan of the academic aesthetic.

Skogul had bought Marsh long thermal underwear.

“This guy’s always been a snappy dresser,” Skogul told Marsh. “But you’ve gotten more down-to-earth by the looks of things.” That was addressed to Sao. Her lips, that night painted a bright tangerine, curled up at one corner. “Looking comfy is always hip.”

She would know. Skogul wore even the most convoluted designer dresses like a second skin. Pieces that looked like scraps of ribbon on a hanger became real clothing when hanging off her. Even her huge banner of hair seemed infallibly under her control. He’d never seen her suffer a single tangle.

He accepted the armful of clothing and stroked the material of the shirt. “True enough. I used to overdress something terrible. Ruffles and buttons all over.”

“You were holed up with that awful house of hermits for, what was it? Way too long.” Skogul graciously did not force him to state the years himself. He wasn’t sure he remembered or wanted to. “When I first started out on my own, you should have seen the rags I ran around in. At least you had some class.”

“I looked like a vampire.”

Even Marsh laughed at that. They were seated in the sunken living room, the very soft segmented couch arranged in a loose doughnut around the coffee table. The lights were turned up and the television, even bigger than the one in Sao’s (borrowed) apartment, was providing some low-volume commentary on the weather. Sao was glad that Marsh hadn’t exiled himself to the edge of the room again, like he felt he needed to make an escape in his own house.

His perspective was going to be useful. Sao was just sorry the topic to come would have to spoil the mood.

“Something on your mind?” Skogul asked. She wasn’t even looking at him, instead casually pulling out and inspecting a package of new tights she’d bought for herself.

Sao sighed. “Yes. Something of a matter for the family.”

Marsh got up to leave but Sao motioned him back. “You’re one of us too. And you know the school best. Tell me - have you ever been aware of any shapeshifters on campus?”

He showed them the pictures on his phone, pointing out what he had been told were bite marks. He avoided emphasis on any other element, but there was really no missing the more vile details.

Marsh became awkward and couldn’t quite look straight at the stripped girls’ photos. His face was slowly turning beetroot, like he was being strangled. Skogul’s judgment was less clear. She stared them all down coolly. Her ambiguity rattled Sao more than a raging tantrum might have.

She finally spoke. “We’re been here for about a month. Before that, we checked it out with a few other members of the family. I didn’t get the impression there were any shifters in the area.” Her tone was strangely lilting. “That’s why we were setting Marsh up here. It’s a safe hub. But…”

“But a solo shifter could go undetected, couldn’t they?” Marsh was quaking and, to Sao’s dismay, edging off the couch. “It could be a pervert - or a collector saving up the forms for later - Free used to be like that, didn’t he?”

Skogul sidled over so she could put a hand on his shoulder and still keep an eye Sao’s phone. “It doesn’t make sense to put on a show like this, though. A survivor who knows what they’re doing, who has the know-how to knock out someone and go undetected, would take a bite somewhere discreet and definitely not spread photos of their work. I don’t want to brush this off, but these pictures, the stripping, the words on them…” she pursed her lips. “It feels to me like someone trying to make a very human statement.”

“You have a guy who can check, right?” Marsh was back bin the ring, but trying very hard not to look at the screen Sao had open. “Your colleague is a Life Fountain, right? They have a biological reaction to shifters. Shifters outside the family don’t know about that yet. Could he try to—”

“No.” Skogul reaffixed her soothing smile. “I’m sure there are less destructive ways to go about this.” She rotated Sao’s phone away, having had her fill. “You and Rai can continue to do what you’re doing. Find who it is, human or otherwise. I’m guessing human, but of course, we’ll keep an eye on the shifter front for you.”

“Thank you.” Sao returned the smile, and he meant his thanks. He wasn’t sure how much Marsh had been told, but Rai’s hands with their Life Fountain aura did have the ability to mark shapeshifters permanently - an ability he utilized almost horrifyingly well when the situation called for it. Sao could all too easily recall the sounds and the smell of the shifter he had caught in their first case together; Rai and put a hand on their face and they were, essentially, shifter no more. Aura, even the thin light of Rai’s hands, removed the flesh’s ability to shift. Rai himself had been a little shaken by what he had done, though back then he’d tried a little harder to maintain a facade of gruff objectivity, especially since it was in front of Sao.

Yes, it was for all their sakes, including his own, that Rai wasn’t directed on a shapeshifter-hunting crusade.

Skogul had resumed unpacking her day’s haul. She drew out a glittery slip that couldn’t have covered more than a bathing suit. Not for him, then. His relief was short-lived.

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Almost nine. Do you have to meet another friend?” Marsh said, innocent as a baby.

“I might meet some new ones.” With a swift yank, she tore open the plastic wrap of her new tights. “College kids stay up late.” Noticing Sao rising to his feet, she held out an open hand, like a prince in a faerie tale. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“You don’t need to start inspecting the student body this instant.” Sao tried to keep his voice upbeat. “And that’s a show stopping outfit. Any party you walk into, any vampires you meet won’t be able to think straight.” No, that would make her more determined to go. “The pictures were never taken on consecutive nights. I don’t think there will be any incidents tonight.”

“Then I’ll just enjoy myself. Marshie?”

But Marsh wanted to settle into his office early to study the names and faces of the students on his dean’s roster.

“How did I get saddled with a couple of homebodies?” She shook her head. She was already in the foyer, picking through the shoe rack. She pulled out a pair of thigh-high and very high heeled boots.

“Look,” Sao said quietly, “you need to take care of yourself.”

The look she gave him, despite the tangerine smile, made him feel decrepit.

It wasn’t until later in the night, when he found himself sitting in one of Marsh’s many extra rooms, one fashioned into a laundry room, that he saw it. The pictures had enraged her. She couldn’t sit still, turn in for the night, pretend to be at peace. She couldn’t bear to look at him, doing nothing.

His own face, its mask of creams and concealers washed off, stared lazily from its fisheyed reflection in the washer’s glass porthole. Behind the glass his clothes were dancing in suds. The machine was pleasantly quiet; it merely hummed as its engine churned away. His scarred body was wrapped in a borrowed robe of terrycloth soft as clouds.

He watched his pants spin and worried. Like him, Skogul was not much of a fighter when it came to knuckledusters and low kicks. She was in fact frailer than he was, which was a rarity.

Yet Sao had never known her to change her form, to shift, as it were known. They were alike in that respect, too. But unlike Sao, she wasn’t trapped and talentless. She simply seemed to love what she was, what she could do in her present body. She lived in a way that did not require her to change. She was good at her job, and it was a much more important job than his own. She was very human. Maybe that’s why she immediately saw the human touch on the vampire victims.

Which wasn’t to say one species was crueler than the other. She knew that too. Beauty protected her in a way, but it also attracted a whole spectrum of unpleasantness. From both sides, there were always snide whispers.

Not unlike the crass words in the photos. He didn’t have to open them, he remembered them now, and ran over the letters in his head. No revelation to be had with the handwriting but he noted that no words marked onto the men were not also scrawled on the women. He was struck by how unfair it was, for all of them.

The warped face in the glass offered no comfort.