Any residual laughter he might have had in him was eradicated when he stepped into the Alumni House. No, the decline started before then; the realisations had been an accumulation of discomfort, like a crab in a waterbath slowly brought to a boiling death.

When they met Marsh on the walk up into the pine grove, a handful of students were already milling around with their burgers and sausages and chicken wings. All eyes silently shifted their way. Sao thought they were watching Skogul, which was understandable, but found they were also watching him. Marsh had been holding two lemonade cans, and giving one to each of them, found himself with none. He laughed and the stares intensified.

Right behind the front door of the house, a girl sitting by a makeshift reception desk took their names. Not exactly a decadent welcome; but then the house had always seemed more cozy than grand. Almost sedate. It was foolish to have expected a royal banquet.

They moved toward the back of the house. Sao let Marsh and Skogul walk ahead to look for a seat.

There was no banquet hall but there were plenty of tables, all for two, and innumerable twos to occupy them. There seemed to be a woman for every man, and Sao imagined that, like the girls on the pamphlets, most had come in from elsewhere. He saw Ace’s white-streaked head looming over a short and rather muscular brunette and wondered if she was his fiance, come all this way. He also spotted Zed at a table, but the person he was trying to impress couldn’t be seen.

Some women, the older ones, mostly standing at the edge of the clearing looking uncomfortable because there were so few of them, were likely professors' wives or girlfriends. There didn’t seem to be many professors, though, or maybe they blended in with the students.

At least a third of the guests were standing. The indoor seating was limited; most of the tables were set up outside in the garden under the glass canopy. Several cloth canopies had been set up too, extending the shaded area to nearly cover the lawn. The covering trapping smoke from the line of grills, as well as the voices of at least a hundred people and the acrid smell of sweat.

No, it wasn’t sweat. But he wouldn’t realize what it was until later.

—

Rai was on his second plate of fried cheese sticks when he saw Skogul and Marsh grabbing one of the tiny two-seater tables, all the way at the edge of the dining space, with half the table stuck out in the snow which probably accounted for its availability.

The whole layout was pretty slapdash. He was surprised at the lack of heart-shaped or bat-shaped decor, there were no streamers or statues or chocolate cupids, and if there was music, he couldn’t pick it out over the chatter. Aside from the sign at the front door and a scattering of flowers brought in by the guests for their partners, there wasn’t much indication of what day they were here to celebrate. Rai found minimalism a fascinating design direction, a classy one even, until he remembered that Tinsel had been busy helping Jin run the police in circles all night. It probably hadn’t been a decision at all.

Rai had arrived early in the festivities and caught Tinsel in the kitchen, an ordinary home ensemble that was completely inadequate to handle the volume of guests that would soon be flooding in. She was in blocky heels and a sleeveless carrot-colored dress that made her look younger than ever, like a child wearing her mother’s clothes. The effect was amplified by the huge tub of chicken wings she was struggling to unwrap. Her face was dripping with sweat and the straps of her dress kept slipping down her shoulders.

Giving her a hand would have been the perfect excuse to strike up a conversation about their third suspect. Rai had questioned a drowsy Jin earlier that morning and come out with nil; Jin denied seeing anyone but Tinsel. He had his drowsiness as an excuse and while eyeing that smug pillowy face Rai wished he hadn’t used up his trump card - of Jin’s feelings for Ayer - so early.

So Rai stepped into the kitchen and leapt back out when Saki materialized by the wall next to the door (where she had probably been leaning until the perfect moment to make everyone uncomfortable). She hoisted the tub against the fridge and with one swoop of her arm, whipped the cellophane off. “Get it together.” She rammed a stack of foil trays into Tinsel’s chest. “Spread these out. I’ll unload the wings.”

Tinsel did as she was told. “I can handle this, really,” she said. “You should go get a burger before everyone arrives. I feel back making you–” Her stomach gurgled.

Rai almost winced when Saki turned, looked Tinsel in the eye and then slowly, like a steamroller working its way down, lowered her gaze to the waistband of the orange dress. “Skipped breakfast, huh? Well, you could do with skipping a few more.”

Tinsel shriveled.

“Hey,” Rai said.

Saki glared at Rai like she intended to disintegrate him. She was also in a dress, a smooth black number that shared the same oily sheen with her hair, which today was pinned back so she could scowl at him full-force. She actually looked good in black, and deadly.

Rai chose to look at Tinsel instead. “I need to talk to you. Later. Since you’re hungry, should I get you anything from the grill?”

She shook her head and continued to lay out the rattling metal trays, eyes red. At one point Vee, the waitress from the Atrium, scrambled in, managed to utter one syllable before taking in the scene, and scrambled back out. She had better instincts than he did. For all he knew, if she were in charge, Vee would have had the case closed by now.

“We can catch up later,” Rai told Tinsel. She didn’t answer, setting down the last tray and sniffling - it may have been from the growing cloud of barbecue smoke.

“You want a waspy waist, you watch this guy real close,” Saki said, jutting her chin toward Rai. “Coffee and salad all day long.”

“Thanks,” he shouldn’t have replied.

Saki slammed an armful of chicken into one of the pans. “Watch, I bet this pantywaist will go through the whole day without touching a piece of meat.”

Rai left for both his and Tinsel’s sakes, before Saki could line up another barrage that would hit them both. He was pretty sure he had just been bullied, but wasn’t feeling bullied enough to line up and put a medium-rare clump of meat in his mouth. He had no issue with fast-food burgers, but had never been a fan of red meat. Maybe he had been inoculated by his imitation of that fratboy experiment, almost a decade back, with the piece of raw liver on a string down his throat.

So Rai had a plate of cheese sticks while waiting for Sao. After seeing Skogul and Marsh, he considered pushing his way through to them but made the wiser decision to go back in the house, find a place he could set down his plate and shoot a few messages to Sao. Dee, another familiar face, was frantically washing cutlery in the kitchen, but Tinsel and Saki had moved out to supervise the grill.

The incongruously homey dining room outside the kitchen had a dozen or so loose diners milling around. Even as far in as the living room, the house stank of meat.

Rai was reaching for his phone when he found Sao on the staircase, a few steps up, propping himself up on the bannister with the air of a lord surveying his hall. He was talking like it too.

“It’s almost a corruption, isn’t it?” Sao said. “To see a perfectly fine home hollowed out then overstuffed like this. I can’t help but feel unsettled…”

—

In his defense, it had been a long time.

In his defense, that meant life had been going well. He was right to try and forget the smells and tastes he’d left behind.

What was not in his favor was the fact that he did not walk out of the Valentine’s day brunch the moment he sensed something amiss; the first ghost of memory glancing off the back of his mind; the first twist in his stomach. He was still thinking of food, and he had no desire to step back out into the cold and walk back to Marsh’s house. Sloth and gluttony struck him down once again.

So he loitered a little way up the square staircase, hoping his mind and stomach would settle, and hoping nobody would talk to him. He was annoyed with himself; these sorts of events usually fascinated him; and for all the trouble encountered in Murnau, he trusted the people enough not to be grabbing and touching, not in front of their lady friends at very least. He should have found someone interesting to talk to, asked what they knew about Triad or Tinsel. He should have gone up to the second floor, to the sitting room, taken refuge with the poppies. But he didn’t, and soon enough Rai wrestled his way into the house and found him.

Rai was picking at a plate of battered and fried fingers. Watching him chew, Sao began to jabber brainlessly. “This was probably built as a home for someone, once. What would they have thought, to see it used like this? But then, perhaps to have so many guests is some homeowners’ dream…”

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Rai asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Just people-watching, then?” Rai poked at the fingers on his plate. “I can get you something. Here, you should at least have a cheese stick.”

Sao smiled. He could always count on Rai to reel him back to reality; hook him like a fish and yank him back by the jaw. The stick looked like a roll of sandpaper. “I actually feel a little off today,” he admitted. “I’m not sure why. You should enjoy them.”

“Think it’s something you ate?”

“I haven’t eaten since our meal at the Atrium last night.” Saying it aloud made him hungrier, yet he still wasn’t quite ready to face the crowds. “Were you able to talk to Tinsel about last night’s third intruder?”

“She’s been swamped. And it’s not just to weasel out of answering questions. Last I saw her in the kitchen, Saki called her fat, then told me to man up and eat a burger.”

“And you instead chose cheese sticks.”

“This is my second plate.” Rai crunched loudly, a thread of melted cheese landing on the front of his jacket. “You know I don’t like eating drippy red stuff. I don’t even like barbecue sauce.”

“And you aren’t one to be pushed around, even by the likes of Saki.” That felt rather patronizing. “You don’t have to convince me. I’ve seen you try good steaks and red sauces. You simply know your tastes.” Sao wondered if he knew his own. “Did you see Skogul and Marsh come in?”

“Yeah, they got a table. One with a view.” Rai finished his last stick. “They’re on the outer edge, practically out from under the canopy. Marsh’s socks are probably soaked.”

“Clever, though. They’re not being smothered by the crowd.”

Rai wiped the mounting sneer from his face. “I guess so. Look, here’s a tip: if you wanna meet up with them, walk out the front door and circle around. No need to shove through all that.”

The grill smoke was beginning to pervade the living room, a grey fog clinging to the ceiling. A moment of fresh air sounded good. “Perhaps I just need something to eat after all.”

“I bet you have a headcold. That can kill your appetite, but you have to eat anyway.” Rai wiped his gloves on his pants and turned to face the mass of guests who had overflowed the yard and begun to push into the house. “You can wait at their table. I’m gonna go try to catch Tinsel by the grill - I’ll get you something light while I’m at it.”

Sao thought about this and started down the stairs. “I’ll see you, then. At that table with a view.”

Rai must have liked that because he immediately dashed off into the maelstrom of smoke and bodies. Sao watched him go, smiling absently.

Just how damned lazy was he, that he let such an exchange comfort him, comfort him enough to stay?

—

Rai waded to the front of the line, looked up and down the serving counter and began to worry. Tinsel wasn’t there. And now he was being pressed along by the queue towards the big grill covered in patties. The foil spat embers at him as the meat dripped onto the coals. Saki was there, oily as ever. She saw him coming and clapped her metal tongs.

The crowd was too thick for escape. “Hey,” Rai said. “Where’s Tinsel?”

“Medium or rare?”

Like she was preparing to throw Tinsel on the grill. “How late does brunch go?”

“You’re holding up the line.” She snatched up a particularly rough burger patty. “Until six, or until we run out.”

She was winding up to pitch it at him. There was nothing to do but hold out his plate and take it. “Can I have some of the corn too?” Rai asked, but she was done with him. He managed to pick up one malformed piece of bread before being funnelled along and ejected from the end of the line.

He inspected what he was holding. A bloody brown puck with half a bun.

The line had spat him out at the edge of the canopies. He gulped oxygen and walked further out, into the snow, to survey the scene.

The yard was dangerously overcrowded. The tables were pressed tightly together, people shoved up to the very edges against the wall. But - wait - the house didn’t have a surrounding wall - at least, not by design. He could see the black lines of the iron picket fence sticking up at least a meter or two further out. But the barrier at his shins was made of snow, piling up anywhere that wasn’t covered by a canopy, and closing in.

And edging along the snow wall where it extended behind the serving counter was Tinsel, tripping on her heels and fighting to keep her cardigan and dress on her shoulders.

Rai plowed through the snow to reach her before she could get back to her post. “Tinsel, I need to ask you a couple things.” And before he could be pelted with the usual excuses, he pulled her a little further out and murmured, “We know there was a third person in the building with you and Jin. You must have let them in. Who was it?”

Her face went white as the snow, freckles standing out like pinpricks or blood drops.

Rai readjusted his plate and incomplete burger, which was dripping onto his shoes. “The door opening was caught on camera - someone coming into Eggers Hall after you, and leaving last, too.”

“But… who was it?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone.” Her cardigan slipped as she staggered toward him. “Did this other person kidnap Triad? Maybe they were waiting for us to leave…”

“This person did not scan their ID to get in. The only person besides you three in the building at the time was the janitor, who I caught up with today, and he doesn’t recall. That’s why I said, you must have let the mystery man in. Jin says he called you for help once Triad was incapacitated, and you were already inside once this person came rolling up.”

Tinsel squeezed the edge of her cardigan’s sleeve. “Maybe the janitor forgot that he let someone in.”

“Or maybe Jin will remember before you do.”

Her expression went dead and he wondered if she was going to slap him. But instead, and even worse, her lips curled into a small smile. “He can’t remember something that didn’t happen. Don’t try to use him to threaten me, please.”

The accursed burger was dripping again, the paper plate saturated with pink liquid.

“I should get back to my spot before someone spikes my drink or something,” she muttered.

And if that didn’t make him feel bad enough, Saki noticed them. “Stop blowing that cop! Get back here and do your job!”

Stares. Tinsel squirmed past him. He waited until she had reached the counter, and only when she had her plastic gloves on and tongs readied did he dare to move. He kicked his way to the other side of the snowbank forming around the yard and walked on the outer edge until he was in the rough vicinity of Skogul and Marsh’s table. The table had been pulled under the canopy, but a different couple was sitting in it.

The pathetic plate sagging in his hands, Rai looked up and down the rows of tables, but didn’t see them. He didn’t see Sao, either.

—-

He didn’t see them.

Minutes earlier, Sao had finally wandered into the garden and looked up and down the row of tables at the very edge of the canopied lot. His head might have been fogged with hunger or headcold (or both, according to Rai), but he’d never had trouble spotting Skogul in a crowd before.

He could easily pick out Rai, wedged into the conveyor line to the grill.

Sao searched the tables again. A few were half-exposed to the snow, which was coming down harder now. It couldn’t have been later than one o’ clock, but the sky was dark as dusk, except where the thick mist was being lit up in dreamy unnatural tones by the Row. He pushed the tables under the canopy as much as he could and shuffled his way back into the house.

Even more guests had filed into the entryway and living room, and a new queue was forming, snaking down the hallway. The line did not seem to lead out the glass sliding door to the food and tables, but to somewhere inside the house. Perhaps most bafflingly, everyone in the line appeared unaccompanied - all singlets.

“What’s this line for?” Sao asked.

“The bathroom,” replied a twitchy man in a blazer. “I might just run down to Fisher Hall or something and use theirs. This is ridiculous.”

“Is there only one in the house?”

Another student put in helpfully, “Two. But a couple’s duking it out in the one upstairs.”

Sao waited but there was no tittering, no snorts or innuendo.

“I think it’s a professor and his date.”

Sao excused himself and made his way back to the stairs, a good fifteen sets of eyes watching him go.

The second-floor lounge was empty, unless he counted the sacks full of unused decor piled on and around the couches like silent guests. Outside the wide arched window was the bed of poppies, an obscenely cheerful line of yellow against the almost-blackness beyond. From behind one of the doors at the other side of the lounge, he heard frantic whispering.

Sao tapped on the door. “Hello, Marsh?”

The door whipped open. He found himself facing a spacious bathroom, with two sinks, a huge white tub and baby-blue tile. It was more than large enough to accommodate three people, which was fortunate as Skogul ushered him in to join her and Marsh around the toilet.

“The rumors are flying downstairs that you two have caused a clog,” Sao said. He looked down, then looked back up quickly. The toilet really was jammed.

“Don’t worry. It’s only a burger.” Skogul folded her arms. “Marsh panicked. But there might be good reason for that. Go ahead.”

“No, you’re the one who needs to explain!” Marsh hissed. He locked his watering eyes on Sao. “You said there weren’t any of… anyone like us around. You said it was confirmed. This place was supposed to be secure.” He pointed at the toilet as if it answered everything. “But then I smell this!”

“Smell?” A paralyzing sensation began to seep through. Sao felt his scars itch, his fingers prickling with numbness. The smell, the nauseating, appetite-destroying odor that he thought he’d left behind. He began to remember what it meant.

“My sensitivity has always been low,” Skogul muttered softly. “But when he said it, I was convinced too.”

“You’re the one who approached me, when you found me,” Marsh whined. “How is it that your sensitivity is that bad, and you still found me?”

“My sensitivity is also pretty poor,” Sao said, squeezing his hands one in the other to try to stall off the numbness. A Tinsel-like habit. He pressed his hands down. “And I haven’t encountered any kind of processed bodies in a while. It’s lucky that you were here.”

“Oh, sure. Teamwork makes the dream work." Marsh’s tone was sarcastic, but his eyes were fearful. He seemed fixated on the door. Skogul checked the knob, and although she confirmed it locked, Marsh lowered his voice to near inaudibility. “Okay – I don’t actually sense a shifter directly. But this meat has the… feel of a human body. It’s not usable, but this might be a way of getting rid of the rest of a used-up target.”

A seven-foot man’s worth in hamburger meat. Sao resisted the urge to lurch over the sink.

“Triad’s been acting differently and withdrawn recently, right? He abandoned all his old commitments, might even have been planning to stage his death. Maybe he’s been replaced.” Marsh removed his glasses, wiped his brow. “I never got to meet him. Did you get the sense he was a —?”

Sao tightened his grip on his own fingers and thought. “No. He couldn’t be. Definitely not the last we saw him. Rai touched his bare arm - he would have been burned.” The scars on his hands were itching now. “You said the meat didn’t smell viable to you.“

They sat in silence, the toilet gurgling painfully.

“That usually means— well, it doesn’t bode well for Triad,” Skogul muttered, since nobody else would. “But a small part being cut off and cooked can give that impression. The smell of meat gets stronger, and so does the smell of death. It doesn’t necessarily mean the owner is dead.”

“And it’s hard to pinpoint the source,” Sao said. “It could have been an accident at the burger factory, or some such…”

“You can speculate,” Marsh said with a sudden acidity. “But I have to be realistic. Remember, you didn’t have the sensitivity to pick up on this at all. Both of you. The meat isn’t viable, and there’s more than a finger in there, that’s what I can say for sure. Don’t be upset with me. I moved halfway across the continent for this, I just want to live out the rest of my life here in peace, without any more of that macho king and concubine bullshit –”

“Marsh,” Skogul said flatly. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“I won’t. I won’t pick any fights.” He began to fasten the buttons on his coat. “I’m going home.” But he hesitated, tried and failed to not look at the toilet. “But what do we do about this?”

“There’s a plunger behind the tank,” Sao said.

They both looked at him as if he had sprouted antlers.

“The food,” Marsh said. “They have to stop eating it. That’s your potential evidence. But we can’t just run down there saying we recognize the smell of a human on the grill. Not with your boss here. If he’s the guy you say he is, he’s going to know what we are, right away.” He wiped his brow again, this time dropping his glasses. From the floor he moaned. “What do we do?”

—

How could it be so hard to find some napkins and a trash can? Rai grappled his way through the living room one-handed, the other occupied with the dripping paper plate, only to find that the queue growing inside the house was the line for the bathroom. In the kitchen was an explosion of cling film and paper tableware, but not a napkin in sight and if there had been a trash can during prep time, it wasn’t in there anymore.

He considered dumping his plate in the sink but Dee came in looking for more cups and shooed him out. There was no recognition in the man’s eyes when they passed over Rai - no time to indulge in the tedium of customer service. Rai stepped out, plate still in hand.

He saw a cluster of kids stacked on the corner staircase, looking up. A couple of toothless smirks, nervous glances, whispering. Rai stopped at the base of the steps. Tinsel had said her bedroom was on the second floor, so this crew was more than likely up to no good. Rai snapped his fingers (something he was good at, even in gloves) and caught one kid’s eye. He glared at the young red face so hard the kid hopped down and scampered away. The others didn’t even notice him.

Rai pushed through the space left by the fleeing kid and went up to the Alumni House’s sitting room.

He jumped at the bulky black shape sitting on the couch, but it was just a garbage bag, full of streamers and fake flowers. And sets of plastic teeth, probably. He considered putting the plate down on the coffee table, but that was Tinsel’s workspace. Sao’s little spiel about invasive guests kept coming back to him, and kept the unpleasant greasy pile in his hands.

Maybe there was a trash can somewhere upstairs.

“I moved halfway across the continent for this…”

He heard Marsh’s voice, coming from behind one of the closed doors. This must have been what the staircase audience were waiting for, because two heads appeared over the top of the railing. Rai stared them back down, then moved to the doors at the back of the sitting room. He heard Skogul answer Marsh in a small, hushed whisper, then someone else, even quieter. Marsh answered back quietly, but his voice rose again before long.

“I’m going home.”

Then he said something else, but it was more a sob. The reply that came was definitely Sao’s. Rai could recognize the tone Sao used when he wanted to calm someone down, the low burble that made people stop so they could hear him over their own wheezing, but the words were unintelligible. Sao didn’t want to be overheard.

And Marsh whimpered back, “Your boss… He’s going to know…”

Rai backed away from the door and into the hallway beside it. He was surrounded by closed doors now. Were they all bedrooms? Would a bedroom in a house this size have its own bathroom? A bathroom with a trash can…? He leaned out to try one of the knobs when his burger, melded to its soggy half-bun, fell to the floor with an unappetizing splatter. Swearing silently, he knelt to pick it up. When his hand closed around the slimy clump, Skogul opened the door she’d been behind and walked out. Sao emerged next, right on her heels.

They were staring dead ahead and didn’t see him. They disappeared in the direction of the stairs.

Rai stood up and padded his way back to the sitting room. The newly opened door revealed a wide blue bathroom. Marsh was inside, holding a plunger and looking tearful behind misty glasses.

“Are you alright, Marsh?”

They faced each other for an eerie, interminable moment. “I couldn’t really hear what you were talking about,” Rai said. “But she looked upset.” He saw some of the initial fear dissipate from Marsh’s face, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I’m fine. We’re fine. I just need a minute.” Marsh said. He moved a few steps forward, smiled blankly, and closed the door.

—

They were being watched.

The revelers became appropriately subdued when he and Skogul descended, pressing to either side of the stairs like waiting attendants. It wasn’t their intention to look that way, but Sao knew they’d be of some service, in the end. Appearances were going to be important.

“You know what they’re thinking,” Skogul said when they were in front of the house. She spoke almost soundlessly, mouthing the words. “Are you sure you can handle this alone?”

Sao saw a curtain in one of the front-facing windows drop. Another voyeur. “I’m not really alone. You’ve both helped immensely. I just need to find out…”

“Find out what happened to Triad. If it’s him in the food.” Skogul smiled splendidly at the window and the curtain dropped again. “If he’s still alive, then what you need to do goes without saying. But you must keep the family out of this. This is Marsh’s new home.”

“Of course. I remember when I was just starting out in a new place.” Sao looked up at the second floor, the planter full of poppies, the amber half-moon of window. A few golden petals rained down with the next icy gust. “I’ll find some ‘inspiration’ that will let me break the news to Rai later, somewhere else. And I’m not going in blind - I know approximately what the conclusion is, it’s just the starting point I need…”

“You make it all sound so simple, when I know it isn’t.” She belted her coat and wound her hair into a bun, tucked it into the collar. “We should go back in, then.”

Sao went up to the door to hold it for her. As he did, he examined his sleeve, the loose threads sticking up like wires where he’d picked at them. “A shame it has to end this way. But I suppose I’ve done enough to ruin this coat already.”

Was he being too supercilious? The lightness of her expression blinkered out briefly as she passed him and she asked again, “Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?”

“I’m not alone.” He thought about it. “You forget Rai. He’s a bit of an obstacle here, I know, but he’ll make sure it’s okay.”

Even if it would have put him at risk with the family, Sao wished that Rai were the one who had been lingering by the window, there to see her face break into the most brilliant smile one could ever hope to encounter.

—

From the upstairs lounge, over the windowbox of poppies, Rai watched them talk for a while. A sudden wind ripped the heads off a few of the flowers and sent them showering over the two, and a minute or two later they turned around and re-entered the house.

Rai hopped off the windowsill and, with a parting look at the door that Marsh had closed on him and still not reopened, headed downstairs.

There were kids relaxing all over the stairs now, sitting and chatting about the drama they had just witnessed. Some had their legs stretched like roadblocks across the width of the stairs, and one was eating a hot dog. Rai hadn’t even seen hot dogs at the grill counter.

“Is the professor out of the bathroom yet?” one asked Rai.

“No,” Rai grunted.

“He was talking about that prettyboy cop sleeping with his wife.”

“His girlfriend,” corrected the hot-dog eater. “What a day to find out.”

“Though, did you see them together? The professor never stood a chance. And I heard the cop’s a top level detective from Mainline–”

“He’s not,” Rai said, stomping over a pair of outstretched legs. “Did you see them come back in?”

An uncomfortable girl on the bottom step pointed at what looked like a solid wall of humans in the dining room. It was starting to smell boozy over the smoke, but at least the noise level was low. It seemed to have gotten quieter, if anything. No, they were listening to something. An argument, coming from the back.

Rai shoved the remains of a burger at one of the kids on the steps and hoped they would take it as a thank-you. He began to swim through the crowd. He couldn’t see or hear much besides elbows and shoulders rubbing and calls of ‘hey, watch it’, but he could tell he was getting closer to the door to the yard by the smell, and the drop in temperature. The forecasted cold front must have been getting close.

There was a crash, a rattle of metal, and a high-pitched scream. He stopped for a second, wondering if the tides were about to turn, and he would be smashed in a stampede. But the crowd went still, and actually became more navigable. He scrambled forward a few more feet and tumbled from the wall of bodies and into the chilled air out of the garden patio.

He regained his balance in time to avoid falling on his face and when he raised his head, he saw desolation. The tables nearby had been pushed back, and its occupants were standing even further behind, using the space as a shield. To his right, the serving tables had also been forced back, except for the one that had fallen forward. At the center of the disaster were a fallen grill, turned completely upside down; Skogul, towering her heeled boots; and Sao on the floor, his coat slathered in hot oil, looking as scattered as the coals and oil and burgers around him.

Whatever conversation they had been having was clearly over.

“Do you know what you–” Saki began, but Skogul’s glare, and the hair that came flying out from her collar like monstrous tendrils when she turned, was enough to silence even her. On another day, in another situation, Rai would have laughed.

Skogul continued to turn, until she was facing the glass sliding door. She looked over Rai’s head and walked past him. A long arm swept across the row of tables as she passed, sending a few more burgers (and an elusive corn cob) flying to the ground. The heel of her boot speared through one of the plates, burger and all, as she made her way back to the house. The crowd at the doorway parted briefly and closed behind her.

The staff behind the counter settled a little. Rai heard Vee squeak, “at least no one got hurt.” Dee and another sweating male server quietly poured themselves each a paper cup of wine. Tinsel collapsed onto a chair.

And then there was Sao, still on the ground, with a corny smile plastered on his face. Rai watched him, equally stupefied, as he tried to brush uncooked mincemeat off his coat. It was completely futile, he was just rubbing the crap in. To make matters worse, Saki had recovered and had him in her sights.

Rai shuffled up to Sao and whispered, “Get up.”

“Drunk skank ass.” Saki was upon them. The crowd at the door scattered like leaves, clearing the way for them, but it was too late to run. “You stick your dick in crazy, you get what you deserve. But who’s going to pay for this, hm?”

“I will. Here, just put in a report.” Rai unfolded his badge wallet, with his ID. “It was an accident. We’ll cover it.” Sao was getting to his feet now, as sluggish as humanly possible.

Saki slapped the wallet, but Rai’s grip was hard enough that it didn’t go flying. “We’re halfway through lunch, you won’t be able to cover shit. And really, an accident? You didn’t even see it happen. Didn’t look accidental.”

Bracing himself to have his jaw broken, Rai straightened his spine and leveraged the few inches he had over her. “So what do you think was the big insidious scheme here?” He whipped the wallet out again. “Take my number and leave a complaint. You have witnesses.” He gestured over at the door – which had become almost completely empty. “You’ll be compensated. That’s all I can do.”

“Sorry,” Sao said, and for a second Rai wished his jaw had been broken so he couldn’t have uttered anything.

“Worthless,” Saki muttered. “Fucking worthless, ever since you got here.”

“I already have his number,” Tinsel said. She was sinking lower and lower into her white folding chair, oblivious to her dress bunching up and foot resting on a pack of buns. “Just go.” She might have been speaking to all of them.

—

They went.

Sao kept his head down, eyes averted shamefully. At least, he hoped he looked shameful. Nestling his chin against his coat filled his nostrils with the smell of half-cooked meat. He was still hungry. His mind was racing, but he still felt as if he could do with a burger. The shame became real.

They came away from the Alumni House and exited the campus through the nearest archway.

He watched Rai’s heavy shoes scrape through the snow accumulating on the sidewalk a little ahead of him. Rai walked slowly, a couple of times threatening to slow down and walk beside him. So Sao walked slower. And so did Rai.

A sudden metallic crack under Rai’s foot brought them both to a stop.

Sao finally brought his head up. They had walked along the outer edge of the campus and were nearing the town.

“So that was a sorry excuse for a party,” Rai said, kicking the crushed can onto the road. “Let’s go to the cake place and get some coffee. I’ve had nothing but fried cheese all morning, I feel like a sack of grease.”

Sao’s silver coat had become such a sack, quite literally. But it was too cold to remove it. “That would be wonderful,” he said.

They shuffled on. The breadth of the task he’d been handed began to dawn on him, to take shape, stretching out before him in a thousand branches that each led to their own thousand possibilities. But no, he hadn’t just been handed this - he had volunteered. And it was breadth; not length. He recalled what he’d told Skogul; he had an answer close hand, he only had to pave the path. He knew Rai well enough, knew how to lead him. Unfortunately, Sao was more used to leading him away from the truth rather than to it.

Well, the conversation was going to have to start with a white lie, anyhow. Rai would be too distracted by the scene he’d just witnessed for any progress, otherwise. Sao closed his eyes and shook off the snow crystals gathered in his hair. He kept his eyes shut to collect his thoughts, following only the sound of footsteps crunching just ahead.

“I won’t ask what you two fought about,” Rai said. “So don’t feel like you need to say anything.”

Sao stumbled on a piece of uneven sidewalk and opened his eyes. “But you deserve an explanation.”

“I don’t need to hear some excuse. You have a cold and aren’t thinking straight, so it will probably be nonsense.”

Gratitude tugged Sao’s heart one way, and loathing yanked it another. He smiled, mostly for his own sake. “You think I’m going to lie?”

“And you should.” Rai turned and he was smiling too. He looked almost apologetic, and for what? “It’s your personal business, on your day off. If you’re really going to tell me, do it when you’re ready.”

They stood there, beaming empty smiles at each other like clowns. A car flew by, the rush of air bringing Rai back to his senses.

“At least wait until your head is clear, if you’re gonna make something up. Or if you decide to tell me for real.” His face fell back into his usual frown.

“Thank you.”

The words tasted like bile. Sao wanted to scream that his head was already clear. He didn’t have a cold, and he was seeing all too clearly how treacherous the pit he’d landed himself in was. If Triad was alive and not reduced to mulch in the stomach of a hundred drunken lovebirds, if he was alive in a basement or closet somewhere waiting for a rescue, then he was still doomed, because Sao was the one responsible for saving him. Skogul had been right. He really was alone.

Sao saw his breath piling in the air in front of him. What he needed to do was simple, actually. He had to lunge and fasten his fingers on the collar of Rai’s beaten leather jacket and shake him and bellow directly into his face, to let him know the urgency of the situation. What had happened. Triad in deep trouble. Cannibalism.

Oh, and to simply ignore the covert meeting he’d had with Skogul and Marsh just before the revelation.

Once it was over, oh yes, they’d take that lovely charming train back to Mainline, and Rai would tell headquarters to look into that suspicious couple, and Skogul would tell the boss exactly whose loose lips had brought all that attention upon them, and Sao would find himself barred from his apartment (which had never really been his), and flung back on the street, looking over his shoulder for the family enforcer that would separate his head from his neck, but not before removing a few other choice cuts while he was still breathing.

And Rai, well, the family had always been willing to overlook him, but…

Sao sneezed, shivered, and walked on in silence.