“What,” Sao inquired as the smooth green car slid out of the lot, “is this blood drive you’re so interested in?”

“I’m interested in whether it exists before I go pester their buddy again. All signs pointing to no, so far.” Rai sighed and brushed snow from his hair, adjusted his gloves. “These winter clothes really get in the way of things that should be obvious. Ace is anemic.”

Winter clothes weren’t the only obstruction at work. “Okay. What does that mean?”

Rai was thoughtful. “Did you call Happy a whore?”

They stared at each other for a few moments, trying not to laugh. At least on Sao’s part - Rai was very good at holding that granite expression. Sao broke, rolling his eyes and smiling. “Not exactly. Look—”

His rolling eyes landed on a figure making its way up the hill, back to the sledding point and the northern end of the Row. An ivory spectre in a long black duster, crown of white smoke like flying about his head. He was so tall his expression was masked by the branches of the trees he was now slipping behind.

“Is that…”

“What?”

“Is that your vampire?”

Rai tore his eyes from Sao and began to run. Sao was impressed that he’d so quickly spotted the man, who had essentially melded with the shadows of the Row and snowdrifts to Sao’s eye.

For a while, the ground was level and he could see the shape again. The tall man’s movements were deceptively slow; his limbs dragged like banners caught in wind, his coat flipped like a parachute; but he was covering ground at a remarkable pace.

“Sir,” Sao called. “We would just like a word…” He was short of breath. There was no relief to be had, though, as the man only accelerated his strange gait and both he and Rai dashed past the sled marks and the path to the Alumni House, and back toward the center of campus. The giant made a sudden detour behind the row of antique stone buildings, off the main path. They passed only a small clump of students on their phones, arms full of textbooks.

Sao fell off the trail shortly after. He’d spared a look behind him at the students, wondering what they thought of the whole charade, but they hadn’t even looked up from their phones. When he looked ahead of him again, Rai and the tall man were gone.

There was no point in continuing to run, not that his efforts had been very impressive in the first place. He called for Rai, feeling slightly silly and slightly afraid. But once he’d caught his breath, he assured himself there was no real possibility that the person he’d seen was really a vampire with superhuman strength, capable of snapping a man’s neck and flying up to a tower roof with his body slung over a shoulder. He looked up. The grey stone building he’d come up behind was very tall, but wide and flat at the top - more of a fortress. He called for Rai again.

Rai came around the corner of the fortress at a sprint. “He was watching.” His teeth were bared into some corruption of a smile. “He’s definitely watching for something. Was he watching me? No, he was watching the kids.” He was upset, but for Rai, being upset was far from being demotivated.

“Wait, you think he has some interest in Happy and Zed?”

“And maybe Ace and Rip, too. It’s been two times now I caught him staring. He must have known Zed had class at the science building. Happy whacking that car horn was as good as a signal. This vam- this guy is after something.”

Two times. Sao sighed. “Why don’t we ask him?”

Rai stiffened. “He’s hiding in here again.” He rapped his leather knuckles on the rough stone wall. “Security said to call them if I want to get in, but it could be too late. And…” The thrill was thinning out, now. “Calling up security could give the wrong idea. Am I overthinking it?”

“Maybe.” Around the corner of the fortress, just across the main path, Sao could see a very old steepled building he’d never entered, but had become quite familiar with. “But if you’re worried, I believe we have an easier way in.”

—

Marsh came bounding out of the clock tower and across the snow like an oversized puppy in tweed. He adjusted his bow tie and wiped his glasses, and introduced himself as a dean who had been looking forward to finally meeting Rai. Then he pumped Rai’s hand twice with scholarly vigor.

Sao felt the air rush out of him when he saw their hands clasp together. Marsh was wearing gloves and Rai was wearing gloves, and Sao had told him that was safe, and he knew what a good listener Marsh was, and now he was overthinking when there was nothing to be worrying about, but the suddenness and smoothness of the motion came like a slap. It had taken him nearly a year to bring himself to shake Rai’s hand, with gloves.

He couldn’t bring himself to hate Marsh. Not for something so banal, with his own neuroses being the only thing at fault.

“You needed my help?” Marsh looked from one to the other, a child expecting a gift from his parents.

Sao tamped down whatever dark idiocy had risen in him. He nodded toward the set of portcullis doors that led into the stronghold building. “We’re hoping to speak to a man we saw go in there. Are you able to let us in?”

“Sure,” Marsh fished his staff card out of his inner pocket.

“But we don’t know who he is or where his office is,” Rai added. Sao wondered if finding the man was the goal at all; it might spoil the drama of a wayward cryptid loose on campus.

“He’s very distinctive in appearance, though.” The face had been a wash of shadows, but Sao imagined the rest was more than enough. “Extremely tall, perhaps seven feet and very pale - white hair, too.”

The door beeped and Marsh struggled to haul it open. “That sounds like Professor Triad. I thought he was away on some personal or health leave for the semester. Thanks.” Rai helped him pull the door back. “I actually haven’t gotten to meet him yet but I’ve heard the legends. He’s a genius investor but also a great guy. He funded the opening of four hospitals in Highland with his own money. And he basically founded the college Philanthropy program.”

“That’s crazy,” said Rai, whose vampire fantasies must have been waning.

For all the effort to get it open, the door shut soft and soundless behind them.

Marsh’s continued exposition of the Philanthropy head echoed through the foyer, a high-ceilinged hall with stylings that matched its medieval exterior. The ceiling was supported by thick wooden beams, between which hung wrought iron chandeliers lit with LED bulbs. To one side was an antechamber room marked ‘Lounge’ by a sign under a bracket for a torch, though it too had been rigged with an electric replacement.

Beyond the flagstone foyer, past a row of archways separated by thick square columns; remnants of the historic abbey, Sao supposed; was a modern school hallway with an elevator and staircase.

Rai looked around with the grace of someone who had taken a blow to the head. The room was fairly dizzying, a clash of eras. The chase was momentarily off.

A man walked out of the Lounge sucking on a straw stuck into a paper cup - a vending machine slushie. The slush inside was black as coal. “You three looking for something?”

Marsh swivelled. “Yes. Someone. I heard Triad was around, have you seen him?” He swivelled again and threw an exaggerated wink at Sao.

“So that’s who that was.” The man, a staff member of some sort, looked out to the whitewashed hallway. “Thought I saw a ghost run by. But he wasn’t supposed to be back for a month or so.”

“Where would he have gone?” A wink went to Rai now.

“His office, I expect.” The man sipped his slushie. “That’s just upstairs. If you were wondering.”

Marsh blushed. “Right. I’m new here. I just started as a dean this year.”

“Oh, yeah? Where did you come in from?”

Marsh looked from his new friend to his (relatively speaking) old friends and murmured, “Well, I was leading curriculum for a few years at this small private academy in K Lake…”

Sao followed Rai into the hallway and up the wooden stairs.

—

There was still a touch of history in the decor of the upper floors. Iron lanterns hung from the vaulted ceiling and the windows were enormous, deep and arched with clover-shaped tracery. The office doors were dark hardwood and also unusually large and tall, though they’d suit Professor Triad’s frame well, from what they had seen of him.

His office was halfway down the hall, with a plaque reading C_____ Triad, Philanthropy, and there was the unmissable sound of footsteps within. The footsteps stopped when Rai knocked on the door.

“I can stand here all day,” Rai said.

The door opened, just a crack. “There’s no need for threats.”

Rai backed away like he had been threatened himself, and Sao found he’d also taken a step or two back as well without realizing. They had to stand even further away to meet the man’s eyes without straining. Triad towered. He consumed all the space between door and frame; they could see nothing of the room behind him, creating the illusion that he filled the entire office. His strained tone and posture gave the impression he was stuck in that narrow slit he’d opened.

Perhaps even more striking was his complexion. Out of the snow and cold daylight, Sao could recognize just how pale he really was, his flyaway hair wafting like spiderwebs on his shoulders, the skin of his long gaunt face a bloodless white, tinged pink around the lips and purplish-red around the eyes. In the gloom of his office, the redness of his eyes burned, and he squinted as if he could feel the embers.

“If you’re done, excuse me.” The door began to close.

“Wait.” Rai collected himself and brought out his identification, which Triad stooped slightly to look at. “I’m here about the rash of unpleasant pictures that have been taken of the students and passed around online. Can we talk?”

“What do you expect I would be able to tell you?” Triad said slowly.

“I saw you watching two of the victims. The two most recent ones. And you ran when I saw you, both times.”

Triad didn't say anything for a few moments but looked at them, or tried to. His gaze seemed to Sao a bit unfocused. Perhaps he normally wore glasses. It was hard to guess his age.

“That is true. I recognized the students. I’ve had some interactions with the Investment Club. That car horn got my attention, as did their antics. And as for you… you came at me aggressively, and I panicked.”

“It looked like you were trying to shake me off.”

“Because I was. My nerves haven’t been so well lately. I had an accident on a trip last year. But I’d rather keep the details private. Will that be all for now?”

Rai glanced at Sao. Lord knew what he was expecting. But now Triad was also looking Sao’s way, with his narrowed red eyes.

“Um,” Sao said. “One more question, have there been any medical events, like a blood drive, on campus lately?”

“No. There never has been. Though that’s an excellent idea.” Triad’s face crumpled abruptly. His voice became strained, like a whine. “Excuse me. I have an awful headache. Perhaps we can speak another time, if you need...”

“Absolutely,” Sao said. “Take care.”

Timely as it was, Sao had to admit the man’s sudden affliction didn’t seem like an act. Even Rai did not protest. Triad receded like smoke into the shadows of his curtained and unlit office and shut the door with a bone-white hand which, Sao noticed, was quivering.

—

Sao had never put much thought into the hour he took his tea. He tended to have that or coffee in the morning, and one late in the day to soothe his nerves before bed. Between the ages of six and twelve, he had attended - lived at, in fact - a school in the countryside that had designated tea time at 3:00 in the afternoon. The children sat at long tables in a dining hall with velvet curtains and lace-trimmed tablecloths, and a ceiling that seemed high enough to be touching heaven. The tea poured into their miniature cups and saucers were made with real leaves filtered into the pot through a small mesh ball, though in retrospect, there was no way they were given the real, caffeinated thing, as their pots were separate from those of the adults. But the sugar and honey was real, and they were allowed as much as they pleased, as long as they didn’t slurp the spoon or touch anything with sticky fingers. There was lemon and peppermint too, for the daring. A mouthful of those taught restraint.

Again, in retrospect, the whole orchestration was clearly an etiquette exercise for the kids, and perhaps a chance for the tutors in their starched black dresses and perpetually serious faces to fuel up on caffeine.

He often wondered what those straight-backed women would have thought of his present slovenly ways.

They were meeting Skogul at a bakery in town for tea and it was very close to 3pm, but they’d never catch her dressing in a tutor’s black smock.

It was a very plain shop taking up the ground floor of what had probably been a townhouse. The tables were tin and there were no flowers or frames on the walls. Any sense of ornament lay in the composition of dough, frosting and fruits. Skogul had already ordered a tiered tray of pastries. The special tea set, though the place smelled much more strongly of coffee than anything else.

She was also dressed apologetically, hair pulled up into a bun, wrapped in a layered gray trench that covered all curves - though the bun was boulder-sized and the coat ended above the upper thigh. She still retained some pride.

For a moment he worried she had bad news, that something had happened to her. But, as she flourished him with a menu and gushed about the tea, it dawned on him that the meeting was an apology to him for the prior night. She was appealing to his sense of nostalgia. And what she was apologizing for was more of a mood than any single event which could be spelled out in words.

Sao sugared his tea. Skogul’s apologies were rather difficult to digest.

Luckily they had relief in the form of Rai. “You were at one of the college parties last night,” he said, hand gripping his mug of hazelnut coffee like it would flee if he let up. “The Neocam posts have you hanging out with one of our — let’s say he’s a person of interest.”

“I was.” With Rai, apparently there was no need for riddles. Skogul heaved a deep sigh and sank in her seat. “Sao showed Marsh and I the pictures. Those poor boys and girls were subjected to public humiliation, and the whole place acting like it’s just… inevitable. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was hoping to catch someone in the act and give them a piece of my mind, stupid as it sounds. What if I’d have been the one caught and drugged?” She sighed again. “The boy last night. He was cute, but a bit aggravating. Clingy and loud. Maybe that warded off the real creeps, maybe I should thank him. But tell me first - what’s he done?”

“Nothing, but he’s linked to two of the victims. Did anyone else take a special interest in him that night?”

“Are you insinuating I was interested?” She laughed, a rich sound that eased Sao into a smile. “Sounds like you’re expecting him to be targeted.”

“I’m still trying to figure anything out. Okay - try not to laugh at this - did you happen to see a seven-foot tall albino professor at or around the party?”

Diligently, she did not laugh. “No. I’d say I would have noticed for sure, but I was in something of a rage when I started the night and then I was slightly drunk. I’m sorry. I’m not much of an investigator or a witness.”

The hand Rai was using to grip his coffee finally rose and he took a quick sip. He set the cup down cautiously, like the liquid within was explosive. Sao realized he had never really seen Rai put down a half-finished cup - he never picked one up without intent to finish it, and usually did so in three gulps maximum. Sao had been impressed with how naturally Rai spoke and moved around Skogul, something men and women of any persuasion often found difficult. But Rai had his pride too.

Why had Skogul invited him along?

A wave of frustration swept through Sao, not unlike the one he’d felt when Marsh had shaken Rai’s hand. He wondered what it meant about his ego that he was so bothered when others put up facades better than his.

He finished the strawberry meringue he was working through and pulled out his phone. He skimmed through attachments from Rai to the picture of the thin girl with the freckled chest, zoomed into one word, and showed it to the table. Rai and Skogul recoiled slightly.

“Surveillance camera data,” Sao said. “That’s what Zed’s project was about. He wrote it on his folder cover. Does this not look a little similar?”

“No kidding?” Rai inspected the picture.

“I can’t say for certain, of course. And the way he writes the letter ‘a’ is unusual, with the loop at the bottom. I might not have made the connection if not for the ‘cam’ part.” Sao looked out the window. A sudden crowd was passing by the front of the shop, looking in and pointing at the carrot cake stand. He pulled his phone close again. “Zed’s the second most recent victim,” he told Skogul. “The blonde boy.”

Skogul was reasonably sceptical. “So you believe he was involved with what happened to this girl. And after that he became a target.”

“Zed thought his own friends might have been pranking him,” Rai said.

“At least one friend of his might have written on the girl too. Happy.” Sao frowned, and wished he’d been more direct with that one. “I hinted that I suspected he’d written Whore or Hooker on the girl here - well, actually I asked ‘which was it?’ He at least pretended to understand, when he could have played ignorant. What he replied was ‘hooker, someone messed up.’ He might have been referring to the fact that Ace was photographed with the word written on him - when Ace wrote a different word on the girl.”

“I mean, if I had to guess which of their foursome wrote which line, I would have guessed Ace wrote Hooker or Whore.” Rai flashed a nervous look at Skogul for his language. “Cam Girl makes sense for Zed, now that we know a little about him. Cameras on the mind. And Rip…” Rai smiled, slightly sour. “Yeah, ‘waitress’ might be the biggest insult he was willing to throw down.”

“I haven’t met him yet.”

“He’s not much.” Rai panned through the words again. “So the four of them might be targets because they messed with that girl. But why?”

“The pattern changed with her.” Skogul murmured. “Excuse me for sounding emotional once again - but it looks to me like someone’s avenging her honor.” They were both looking at her now. “This string of drugging-biting-writing has been going on for how long now? It’s embedded in the culture. Going against it directly seems out of the question. But turn it into a big enough threat, a big enough scare, that could come back to bite you when you thought you were the one in control…” She smiled at the crowd outside the window and sent them blushing and scattering. “Maybe this is what will solve the problem once and for all. Sorry, that’s a little cruel.”

“It’s all cruel,” Sao said. “But I was thinking about something you said last night, about how the pictures, the little unnecessary details and meanness, were likely serving a statement.”

“Revenge,” Rai said. “That makes sense. More than my blood thing…”

“Will you finally let me know what that blood drive talk was all about?” Sao asked with a smile.

“Yeah, sorry. It might not even be relevant.” Rai took another forceful, tiny sip of coffee. “You know how the two male victims have words written in blood on them, and suffered fatigue, dizziness and the like after their attacks? I thought it was just the blood loss of the bite marks. But the other day, when I followed Ace out of the Atrium, I happened to see a big bruise on the inside of his arm. Have you ever gotten blood drawn? That’s where they stick the needle in, usually.”

“That’s why you asked Zed if he’d had blood drawn too. And motioned at your arm.”

“And he didn’t really give much of an answer. But then, maybe he didn’t notice. He got a little tired after his attack, he said, and other than the bite mark he came out unscathed. But a bruise isn’t a guarantee, Apply pressure to the place where the needle went in for five minutes-ish and it won’t leave a mark. But Ace is anemic. I learned that because he was involved in a lawsuit in Core - courtesy of his parents - when a neighbor gave him a bunch of roses to hold and he ended up in hospital — anyway. Anemia makes him a little more prone to bruising where the needle went in, and a lot to fatigue after that blood loss. But the weird thing is, I think a lot more was taken than just the drops used to write the word ‘Hooker.’ Zed got lightheaded too.”

“That leaves blood unaccounted for, then,” Sao said.

“Maybe the attacker took a little extra in case they messed up their writing, and dropped what wasn’t needed down the sink,” Skogul chimed in. A touch dark for her, Sao thought. But Rai grinned at that.

“As long as you’re not suggesting it’s for drinking,” Rai said. “Like I said, this blood stuff could mean nothing. Maybe Ace wound up in the campus health center after a night of boozing and got hooked up to an IV and doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe they’re all just tired from nights of partying. I don’t know. It’s hard to make a pattern out of two guys.”

“If Ace had some embarrassing story, I suspect Happy would have been willing to supply,” Sao said, wishing he was not putting his faith in someone who would scrawl HOOKER on an unconscious girl. “Maybe the job fair list will give us a third to look into.”

“There’s been another victim?” Skogul asked.

“No. But the girl with the four words, the only big event the day her picture was posted was this evening ‘job fair’. We’re going to meet the organizer.” Rai checked the time. “If they’re not coincidentally out for another grocery run.”

“May I see that photo again?” Skogul looked over the girl one final time, with gentle but unmistakable pity. “Some organizer. To let something so ugly happen under their watch. The girl in the picture, we think she’s a student here?”

Rai finished off his coffee while her attention was pinned elsewhere. “Yeah. Ayer - the guy who saved the photos - said he’s seen her at events before.”

“Saved the photos, you say?”

“I know how it sounds. But he seems like the only person we’ve met so far who doesn’t see the whole biting thing as harmless.”

“It’s more than biting.” Skogul touched the photo with one red-nailed finger, as if reaching for the girl, to put her out of her impending misery. “A job fair, and they write these things kinds of jobs her?”

—

Skogul wanted to drift home, Sao could tell, to brood. She was capable of sparkling in any circumstance and would never let down an audience, but she enjoyed her solitude. Though Sao was sure he’d let down plenty of audiences, they were similar in that last aspect. He suddenly wanted to be home, in his immaculately white apartment, in his own bed. Cameras be damned - be welcome, even.

Skogul had declared him crazy when he first told her about the cameras all over his ceilings and shelves, with the ‘landlord’ always at the other end. They both knew his landlord.

“Do you have no sense of self preservation?” She had laughed as she said it. They were just starting to get to know each other and laughed a lot more in those days. Laughter was a wonderful defensive play.

“In truth, I feel safer with them there,” he had said.

Maybe solitude wasn’t really what his heart was after.

But here on the cold cobbled streets of Murnau that had somehow in the last half hour become packed with people in huge coats toting huge bags, he wished he was somewhere, at least, with fewer moving bodies.

“They’re here for the train,” Skogul said. “It goes to Mainline, if you’re ever in the mood.”

“Isn’t the bus faster?” Rai asked. “And way more frequent. I read the rail doesn’t connect to the new subway either. It’s only good for freight.”

Skogul laughed. “Yes. But the train is historic. You just need to be in the mood.”

The train arrived and Sao understood; the mood turned the air electric, the excitement was infectious. The locomotive surged into the open-air station, a mass of steam and churning pistons and screeching brakes. The leading car was a handsome black carriage with white pinstripes and a smooth head with one large cyclopic light at the very front. With a dozen additional, simultaneous pneumatic hisses the doors opened to reveal a small steep flight of steps into carriages filled with little amber lights.

And the passengers were hugging and laughing and fretting and crying and saying goodbye, the passengers even waving goodbye with both hands through windows they were allowed to open as the train rumbled away. The windows were what Sao found most appealing. The city subway cars were a sealed tube.

And in a moment, the havoc had subsided.

They said little else until parting with Skogul when they reached the front of the campus. Once she was gone, Rai let out the breath he’d been holding onto as well as the tense little rant.

“Did you see how many people got on that thing? Are they tourists? It’s not a real steam engine, all the rails changed over to electric years ago. A ticket’s not cheap either. Yeah, the train is neat to look at from the outside - but getting on is just not practical.”

Sao looked to the sky, a wall of cottony grey over the wall of stone that surrounded the campus. Some of the electric lanterns attached to the wall were lighting up. He wondered if the Row’s coloured lights would be switched on soon.

“This is a place that loves vampires and Valentines, Rai. Maybe we’re the ones looking at things the wrong way.”

—

They were almost upon the sledding slope when the Row sparked to life, painting the path ahead of them with strips of orange and pink light. The alumni house in its yard of cloaking pines was a little beyond the reach of the pastel glow, but was itself in some stage of celebration.

In the dimness of the afternoon, the crimson red brick and black wood were softened and the glow coming from within took center stage. The arched window above the porch gleamed like a half moon. A very bright light was coming from the back of the house, as well as the clattering of plastic and when they came up to the front door, now sans its paper sign, Sao heard the twang of strings, the tap of drums.

The door was answered by a woman wearing a colourful embroidered wrap over a short sleeved shirt. The air inside smelled like fruit.

“You’re the sound guys?” At their mystified faces, the woman clarified, “You’re here to help set up the band for the M Island dinner?”

“No. We have an unrelated appointment. Are you Tinsel?” Rai asked.

“No.” She shook her head and called for Tinsel, who must have been in the back room. A reedy voice called back, “One second!”

It was a voice he knew. Then came the face. Sao’s heart sank.

Tinsel came into the room. She was small and slim, spiky reddish hair styled forcibly into waves. She was wearing a gauzy red scarf and a precariously low-cut dress, patterned with red hibiscus.

“They’re here for you. I’ll finish setting up the tables,” the woman in embroidery said, with a parting look at Tinsel that Sao could only read as resentment.

“No, no, this will only take a couple of minutes,” Tinsel assured her. Then she looked up at her visitors and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“It’s you,” Sao said, trying to smile, trying not to start things off painlessly, at least. “We met by the Row. Rai, she’s the one who set up the light show. Tinsel - I almost didn’t recognise you.

Rai’s eyes moved down over her neckline, over her bony freckled clavicle, and quickly snapped his gaze back up when her hands moved to her scarf. “It’s you,” he said, making no effort to smile. “You’re the one in the picture.”

—

She took them to the second floor of the house, and sat them in front of the arched half-moon window that took up most of the wall. Aside from the branches of the nearby pines, the house had a direct view nearly straight down the Row, the lightshow flowing like fluorescent curtains on a breeze. At the base of the window was a wide planter of yellow poppies. From the ground, Sao had found them sweet, but now he knew just how many there were, overflowing from their little patch, soft heads bent over the edge of the planter as if on lookout, others pressed against the window as if looking in.

The upper floor was surprisingly homey - thoroughly lived-in. It had radiators on the wall, which Sao had always enjoyed the look of. They were directed to a slightly dated but fully furnished sitting room complete with a shag rug and a beautifully carved walnut coffee table. There was a laptop on the table as well as a stack of books, with sacks of streamers, fake flowers, fake fruit, neon letters and balloons lying against or under the table. There were even more bags and boxes piled in the corner.

“Will you still be needing the list of Job Fair attendees?” Tinsel asked, picking up the laptop.

“Yea, we still need it,” Rai said. “Is your neck better now?”

She froze as if he’d struck her, then ripped the scarf off and threw it down on the table. On the left side of her neck was a purple and brown bruise a few inches wide. The only scabs left were where the sharp canines had bit in. “It’s almost gone,” she said. “Yes, it was the night of the job fair. And if you’re going to ask if I remember anything, I don’t. If you’re looking for the person who made the mark—”

She leapt off her chair and threw open one of the drawers in the corner, pulled out a huge, rustling black bag. “It could have been anyone. Having all this stuff makes me look pretty guilty, doesn’t it?” The bag came down on the table and out fell a handful of white plastic objects. Sao picked one up, then put it down. Dentures - with extra-sharp fangs. Vampiric party favours.

“I saw a bunch of these at the one pre-Valentines party I went to on the ninth. When the air conditioner thief was arrested.” When Tinsel only seemed confused, Rai went on. “So I already suspected they were being used instead of someone actually biting people’s necks.”

Sao blinked in surprise, but Rai wasn’t looking at him.

“And you’re right. It could have been anyone. But a couple reasons I don’t think you’re behind any of it is, one, you were a victim yourself; two, the latest victims were moved around, and they’re pretty big guys; and three, you seem pretty decent. Anyway, there’s a lot more to the pictures besides the bite.” He looked at the ceiling, bouncing a foot on the carpet. “They always look like someone knocked them out. Do you remember anything like that? Think you might have been drugged?”

“It’s likely. It wouldn’t have been the first time.” She shrugged. “I don’t drink very often, either, so that could have been what got me. It might have been that I wasn't a target, that I was just… available. I was supposed to be hosting the fair, maybe I deserved it for slacking.”

Sao wasn’t sure which was worse, to think of oneself as a convenience or as deserving of punishment, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Did you go to a hospital afterward?” Rai asked.

“No. I did pick up some tests. You know, pharmacy ones, to make sure nothing happened because, well, since you’re here I guess you saw the picture.”

“Your clothes were removed.”

She nodded but did not embellish.

“Did it take more than a day to recover? Any fatigue, dizziness, any bruises on the arm, like needle marks or a thing in the elbow?”

The sudden switch of topic puzzled her, but also put her a little more at ease. “No, I was kind of hungover, and of course I didn’t feel great, but… arm bruises?” She glanced at Sao, perhaps hoping he could make sense of it. “I just had the neck thing. And the writing, but they washed off. Do you think I was injected with something? Were the others?”

“Kind of the opposite. But it might have been a coincidence.” Rai paused. “The words written on you.”

Her face flushed red. “There are always words.”

“We might know who wrote them. And probably inflicted all those other things.”

“Does it matter?”

“We’d like to at least discourage any of this from happening to anyone else by making an official report.”

“No.”

Rai frowned. “Even if we know who might have drugged and photographed you against your will?”

“Would I need to make a statement? Make an appearance in court, decide on charges?”

“It can just be a piece of signed writing. Identity, say it’s you in the picture and who the attackers were.”

“No. I won’t do that.” She gripped the hem of her dress, scrunching the flowers into balls. “I have few enough friends left, and I can’t afford to go somewhere else. Especially now. Others have gotten past this, everyone’s already forgotten, and I’m fine, so why would I go kicking up a fuss now…?”

Rai shot one of his searing stares into her downturned face. “Do you already know who did it? Is that what’s worrying you?”

“No. It doesn’t matter who it was, I don’t want to report anyone.”

“There could be more of these incidents. There already have been.”

“But why me? Why do I have to be the one to fix things for everyone? What do you really want?”

A lump formed in Sao’s throat. There was no fight in her tone, there hadn‘t been the entire time, even when she tried to rally herself with the display of the scarf or the dentures, even when she’d been holding off Rai. It seemed all she had energy for - simply, barely, holding things off.

“I guess I wanted a fight.”

“You can do what you want. But don’t bring my name into it. Please.”

“It’s alright.” Rai went to his phone. He poked around it for a moment and hesitated. Sao knew what he was looking at and held his breath. The heat in the upper floor was beginning to smother. Finally, Rai placed the picture of Ace down for Tinsel. “Do you know two other students, Ace and Zed? They didn’t care too much about hiding it, so I can tell you they’re the last two victims who were knocked out and photographed, like you were.”

“Yes, I know them. They’re in the Investment Club. That’s the club that held the Job Fair.” As if she’d misspoken she jammed her knuckles against her mouth. She stared at Ace’s slack face and her eyes welled with tears. For him or in fear of him? Sao moved a box of tissues off the sideboard to the table, brushing aside a pair of vampire dentures.

“So they were at the fair,” Rai said.

“Yes. It doesn’t matter, though.” She scrubbed her eyes and, to Sao’s surprise, looked again at the picture. “I haven’t been checking Neocam. This is terrible. Is he - are they alright?”

“Yeah, he rested up today. His friend’s fine too.” Rai paused. “But the weird thing is, we think they and two of their friends were the ones who attacked you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s to do with the handwriting.”

And without missing a beat, she replied “Then if it was he’s clearly learned his lesson.” She stood. Sao detected a sudden burst of resolve in her - for her potential assailant. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or pity her. “I really need to get back to setting up dinner.” Apologetic once again. “The M Island culture club is going to be here soon, and it’s been so cold I have to get the grills warmed up as soon as I can. And there’s the sound guys, if they aren’t here I have to call them.”

“You take care of the Row and club events?” Sao asked.

The sound of his voice seemed to ensnare her just before she hopped down the stairs. “Yes, that’s why I was put here.” Again she blushed and pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Um, I mean I live here. There’s so many events this time of year, and I always volunteer to manage them, and they’re almost always held here and it’s a house so I thought…”

“A moment - you live here?”

She pointed at a row of doors with brass knobs, across from the sitting area. “That’s my bathroom. And down there’s a couple of bedrooms, the far one’s mine. Don’t actually look in. It’s a mess.” She was grabbing at the dress again, re-wrinkling the already crushed fabric. “I’m super grateful the school let me live here. I actually got kicked out of my old place suddenly...”

Sao wondered in which room her bloodied photo had been taken, and regretted it. “On the contrary. They’re lucky to have you here.”

She smiled at him, the spray of freckles bright and distinct against her pale face. Though he hadn’t seen much of her under her winter swaddle when they had first met by the Row, he felt like he was seeing that person, with all her childish wonder, again at last.

“Is it any more likely you’ll be at the Valentines brunch?” she asked. He liked the tilt of her voice when she was teasing.

“That’s not also on your plate, is it? Ah - that’s why you said you ‘had to be there.’ You’re hosting.” Sao slapped his forehead lightly. “I’m afraid I still can’t promise we’ll be in town.”

“Don’t forget your scarf,” Rai said. He picked it up. Against his heavily gloved hand it looked frail as a petal. She approached him but seemingly unwilling to get close, reached her hand out to him from a distance. Rai, apparently respecting the distance, reached out awkwardly on his end. Tinsel pinched the end of the scarf before Rai could teeter over.

“Do you know,” Rai said, wanting for anything else to think about, “a Professor Triad?”

She was looping the scarf around her neck. “Yes. I haven’t had any classes with him but he’s famous, I’ve seen him around. Although…” she paused, pulling the ends of her hair out of the translucent fabric. “I don’t think I’ve seen him since my first year. He does a lot of travelling, like, starting projects around the world. Probably opening another hospital in Highland. You don’t think he’s..?”

The tired fear was seeping back, but Rai shook his head. “Just curious. We saw him today. We didn't talk much, and he seemed sick.”

“Oh. I hope he gets well soon.” She made for the stairs again.

“How about a student, guy named Ayer?”

“Come again?” She frowned as Rai repeated the name. “I don’t think I know that name. I don’t remember everyone who attends dinners and stuff, though. He’s not another victim, or…?”

“No, he’s not. Just a friend of ours.” Rai folded his hands on his lap. “That’s it. Thanks for the list. Sorry to nag you for so long. We’ll head out soon.”

“Please — let us know if you have any further thoughts,” Sao added.

She nodded and smoothed out the flowers of her dress. Then, as if that had been a reminder, she made one more return trip to the sitting room and opened a low pane of the arched window. She leaned out into the late noon chill and drew back in with a handful of golden poppies. “For the tables. And a few extra.” She handed Rai two. “I’ll see you, then. I hope so - at a better time.”

The doorbell rang and she hurried down, a flurry of scarlet. This time she did not return.

—

The sound crew were creating a racket in the back room when Rai and Sao showed themselves out. The scent of grilled meat and fruit wafted throughout the house and lingered to their clothes even after they had left the yard.

“I guess we didn’t get anywhere. But she was nice enough.” Rai twirled the two poppies by their stems in his padded grip.

“Perhaps one of those was for me?” Sao asked.

Rai looked at his flowers smugly. “I wonder. You were basically suggesting to her last minute to ‘call if she changed her mind.’ Doesn’t seem like she will.” But he gave Sao one anyway, dropping it onto his outstretched hand.

“You didn’t push her.” Sao said, smoothing the petals that had curled.

“She didn’t even want to know. And she’s kind of right. Why does she have to be the one to take the stand, especially if she has no one backing her?” He huffed. “There will be others.”

“Ominous. I know you don’t mean it that way, though.” Sao inspected his flower. “This one’s stem is a little bent.”

“Are you planning to put it in a museum or something? Fine, take the other one. On second thought, you can have both of them.”

“I only need one,” Sao said, sticking the poppy into the buttonhole of his coat. The stray silver threads held it nicely in place.

“What am I gonna do with it?”

“Put it in a museum.”

Rai was poised to throttle him, but Sao knew he wouldn’t. Rai scowled. “You have more than one buttonhole. Just take it.”

Sao laughed and strolled ahead of him slightly. “Two flowers in a row, hanging off the front? Criminally tacky.”

They were startled by round black mass rushing by. Rai shouted, ‘hey’ and raised a gloved fist that would have looked more menacing without a little yellow flower poking out. Sao realized it was a person with a backpack who had rammed past them.

“Sorry,” Sao began, but his apology was utterly overpowered.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” the person bleated at the top of their lungs, their hands up over their face on both sides as if surrounded by obscenities. “Sorry!”

Sao saw the familiar black hooded sweatshirt that hung almost to the knees. “Jin? Is that you?”

“I said I’m sorry!” Jin plowed ahead through the snow without looking back.

They watched him go, then in mirrored motion, they looked in the direction he’d come from. Besides Jin and themselves and the specks of falling snow, the path was devoid of movement.

“Maybe he mistook us,” Sao said.

Rai gave Sao a hard inspection for madness. “We don’t really look like a lot of other people.” He was twirling the flower again, the bud looking worse for wear with each rotation. “Maybe he’s just having a bad day.”

“I suppose we were moving slow and blocking the footpath.”

“I’ve wanted to scream at people who do that myself.” The flower went still as Rai bit off one of his gloves by the finger so he could check his phone, which was vibrating. “Looks like I have to get back to the office again tonight. The court case got an extension for some new discoveries. They’ve got a prehistoric detective running this show that needs me to present things in person.” He clicked his tongue. “Well, looks like we’ve finished early here. There’s just one thing I want to check in town and then I’ll be going. Are you…”

“I’ll be here another night.”

“You might really get your day off, then.”

Sao offered to join him on the walk to the town, partly out of curiosity and partly because he felt he needed the noise of a good crowd to get the rattling cry of Jin out of his head, the call of sorry, sorry, sorry, ringing like a siren to the blinking of coloured lights.