Rai trudged his way up cobbled streets that were both sticky and crunchy with salted snow. He shouldered through the doors into the Atrium’s lobby, which also served its open bar, took in the scent of meat on a grill from the kitchen somewhere in the back, and surveyed the college town’s night life in all its glory.

Then he spun around and shouldered his way right back out the door again.

Sao came after him audibly with a flurry of ‘excuse me, sorry, excuse me’s, so Rai picked up the pace. Back on the pavement, his foot hit a patch of ice and he almost skidded into the road.

Sao watched Rai flap his arms and grapple one of Murnau’s fancy lampposts for balance. His face was a mask of perfectly formed concern. One hand was even vaguely outstretched as if he were actually considering grabbing Rai to help him. He wasn’t even wearing gloves.

With his feet steadied, Rai waved him off. The hand withdrew, and went back to picking at the metallic thread of its owner’s brand new winter coat. It was a habit that had really begun to grate on Rai’s nerves.

“Are you alright?” Sao asked. He nodded back toward the door of the Atrium. “I suppose you didn’t see me in there.”

As if anyone could have missed him. Even now the eyes of people across the street were magnetized, since he had his pretty little smile back in place. Rai shrugged. “You looked busy.”

“Do I ever really look so busy?”

Rai shot a smirk back at that. “You shouldn’t be saying that to the guy who controls your paycheck.”

Sao only laughed. “So how did the job go? Did you recover the loot?”

“It was all there, and more. Fifty air conditioners, and the whole racket was being run by one guy. He lifted them, stored them and sold them all on his own. And ran a maintenance business on the side. Big discounts for students.” Which was how the thief had managed to secure the basement laundry room of an off-campus dormitory. “If he hadn’t stabbed the last guy he burgled, he could probably have kept on going until retirement.”

They were back in front of the Atrium’s double glass doors, but stepped back to let a couple, probably students, make their exit. The young lovers were holding hands shyly, and their faces were pink. Rai smelled wine, and the girl had a splotch of brown sauce on the sleeve of her coat. The stain reminded him of the incident that had forced Sao to part with his old coat. Rai had lost his car in the process.

Sao held the door for the two diners and smiled broadly at them. Upon seeing him both kids turned the color of burst tomatoes.

“Watch the ice,” Rai called after them.

“That was nice of you,” Sao murmured, still holding the door. “So, the air conditioner man. Was that really all he was?”

“Yeah, that was all.”

“He wasn’t using his stash for…” Sao hesitated. “... cooling anything living or suspect? Tubes for… I’m sorry, I forgot the term you used.”

Rai sighed and let his breath fade into the cold air. “Go ahead and forget. It was just a harebrained theory. Sorry to drag you all the way out of town again–” He narrowed his eyes, glanced through the doorway to the spot he knew they’d be sitting. Who they’d be sitting with. “Although if I recall, you volunteered.”

“I did, yes. I’d never been to Plaza before.”

“You sure it wasn’t to see anybody? An old friend, maybe?”

Sao let his gaze follow Rai’s into the room and drew it back. He smiled in a way that would have had anyone less accustomed flat on their back. “Rai, Give me some credit. I accompanied you to see if your theory came through.”

A master of distraction and sweetened misdirection, Sao always sounded more plausible than he most likely deserved. It was gold for the occasional interrogation, but this time he wasn’t doing it for Rai’s benefit.

“She is an old friend, though. Since we are both here, I’ll introduce you.”

Their waiting companion waved, with ruby fingernails, and even redder smile on her lips.

—

Rai had never found undue trouble in admitting Sao was one of the better looking people he knew, or had ever known, and leveraged those looks well. It was not conducive to deny a fact that smacked him in the face every working day. As Sao’s immediate supervisor, knowing when and where to deploy his particular set of skills could only come in handy. The things people would do for a smile from the guy straddled the line between miraculous and disgusting, but the two of them were in the business of wrangling out tough answers, and Rai liked to believe they covered nearly all possible bases between them. That Sao was willing to play along was another semi-miracle.

It wasn’t unbelievable, though. Sao worked for him. He had been assigned to Rai by the Central Police Headquarters a little over a year back. But it wasn’t a life sentence - he could have complained, requested to move to another investigator’s office or back to the archivist team where he was originally employed. But he stayed, he listened and sometimes even helped of his own volition. If not for Sao, Rai’s method’s would have continued to consist of knocking heads together - sometimes his own - and getting suspended every other month.

Yes, most of Sao’s time behind his desk was spent on shameless workday naps, and he had no appreciation for the classics of horror cinema. But it was hard to be upset about any of that, anymore. If anything, kinks in the armor made him more human. He wasn’t impervious, he needed protecting too - even if that need was feigned.

He no longer flinched when Rai waved a hand a little too close.

Sao’s daily makeup and avoidance of skin contact still held, as did the lack of clarity behind the constellation of scars that called for all that coverup, but his upkeep was looser than it had once been. Rai had seen the scars on his face, the ones that made him the most self-aware, and that shock had come back when neither he nor Sao were as cooperative with one another as they were today. Sao had torn off the mask in an almost vengeful fashion, and at the time Rai had absolutely felt avenged upon.

But the secret was out. Rai had seen and there was no way to force him to un-see. He had to assume acceptance of that fact was why Sao was less guarded about patching up his face when it was just the two of them. Looking was fine. But touching? His assistant still refused to let skin so much as graze skin. The best they’d managed was a handshake while wearing gloves.

With his own hands being what they were, Rai was not inclined to push. Even non-phobic, unscarred folks did a double take when he pulled off his gloves. But who went around shaking their coworker’s hand on the regular, anyhow?

In all other respects he could not doubt Sao’s heartbreaker potential, but that aversion to touch had always served as a barrier, or even a pedestal, in Rai’s impression of him. Yet in some far recess of his memory Rai could recall Sao suggesting that there were certain people he was comfortable enough to touch, or had inexplicably been willing to concede for. An old mentor. An ex-colleague. A suspected murderer. When some special exception made itself known, it always threw Rai for a moment, and he had to admit that despite spending most of his work week with the man, he really did not know Sao all that well.

Although, he did know Sao was great with secrets. If he was scooping up and shattering hearts, he was doing it far enough away from the office that Rai would never catch a glimpse of any pieces.

So who was the woman?

—

The Atrium was not a place that invested much in novelty. Rai had seen dozens of restaurants like it, though not so many near the warehouse district where he lived, which prided itself on indie artist culture. The Atrium was rectangular wood tables, rectangular wood bar; yellowing walls and graying carpet; the dullest of chandeliers for the dining room; tacky holiday lights draped all over. Too grungy to be labeled modern and too polished to be labeled rustic. The noise of diners was trapped at a constant hum under a ceiling that was neither too high nor too low. The most interesting piece of architecture was probably the tiny circle of glass in the ceiling of the round lobby-bar, the eponymous atrium. Tiny, grimy and dark, all he could see from it was the reflection of the lights contained in the room.

The drab backdrop only highlighted the red woman all the more.

“Rai,” Sao said, when they had sidled up to the bar, “I’d like you to meet Miss Skogul. I’ll let her decide if you can take her first name.”

“Oh, you.” She tossed an long wave of black hair over her shoulder and leaned slightly over Sao, who was seated between them. Her considerable chest in its filmy silk wrap came to rest on the bartop. “It’s Prudence, but don’t go telling everyone. Skogul would be perfect.”

“Sure,” was all Rai could think to say, “Skogul.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nothing too horrifying, I hope.”

“Only that your management works you far too hard.”

“They’re his management too.” Rai glanced at Sao, who was focused on some bottles behind the bar. Or the scowling girl tending bar, maybe. “We work for the same org.”

“Actually, I work for Rai,” Sao added breezily.

Red fingers pressed up against big red lips. “Oh, you work together? All this time I thought you were just friends. Not saying coworkers can’t become friends, but I got the impression of friends first and foremost.”

“Is that so?” Sao said.

Sao was checked out, but Rai found himself grinning. “Did he tell you what brought us all the way out to a Plaza university?”

“He did mention something, but I couldn’t quite understand - well, more so I couldn’t believe it. An attempted murderer hiding out on the campus.”

“Uh, I’m not sure he intended to murder anyone. The wilder thing was how many air conditioners he stole and how far he transported them.” Before he could bury them in that conversational trench, Rai pivoted. “So, have you and Sao known each other long?”

“I’d say so. Though it’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other.” She twirled a strand of hair that had somehow flown back over her shoulder. Her hair must have been floor length, flowing with every movement, a being in its own right. “A funny coincidence. Sao and I started off as coworkers, too. That really was a long time ago.”

“And now you’re just friends.”

Skogul laughed and raised her silky self off the bar, which seemed to steam from lost contact, and slipped back to her seat. Rai looked at his hands, which made for a decent distraction. His wrists were glowing a whitish blue in the small space between the cuff of the glove and his sleeve. He considered taking off his gloves and offering a handshake. There wasn’t much space to maneuver though, especially with Sao between them.

And their little gathering was drawing enough nosy looks.

Still, by idiotic impulse, Rai hopped off his stool and began to slip off his glove. He was rewarded with a collision against a couple who were trying to slide by behind them at that exact moment.

The girl yelped, not outrageously, but enough to make Sao turn, nearly hitting her with his elbow, but backing off just in time. Unfortunately this led him to push Skogul’s hand that was holding her drink as she turned simultaneously. There was a splash and Skogul gasped, and Rai felt like the biggest idiot alive.

“Hey, watch it,” the presumed boyfriend snapped. A charitable reaction, all things considered.

Skogul and Sao got to work with the napkins. Skogul’s burgundy silk was dripping and Sao had lowered his voice to the soft discreet murmur that always seemed to make bystanders want to lean in closer.

“Is it always so crowded here?” Sao asked.

“This is actually a peaceful evening,” Skogul said, shaking the upper half of her dress. She didn’t seem upset. “There are several on-campus parties being held tonight by the big clubs, that’s where most of the kids would be. Alright, I think you got it all - can’t even see any stains, can you?” She turned all the way around to bestow Rai with a good look. “No harm, no foul.”

“Good thing you were wearing red,” Sao said with a smile.

“I always wear red.”

Rai grabbed the pile of wine-soaked tissues. “I’ll order you a new glass. And you.” He nodded at Sao. “You prefer something without alcohol, right?”

“If you’re willing.”

“I’ll treat,” Rai said.

They both smiled. He left feeling a little better, bolstered further by the “what a sweetheart,” from Skogul that came when he turned his back. He resisted the urge to listen to what Sao would respond with.

Circling a group of drinkers who had decided to sit on the floor, Rai pulled himself up to the corner of the bar where the bartender was deeply engrossed in a video on her phone.

“Hey,” Rai said, “There was an accident. Mind if I toss these?”

There was no answer. The damp red tissues slopped down in front of her like a wad of gore. No reaction.

“Could I have a menu? I’d like to order for my friends, over there–”

His hand on his wallet, Rai paused as it occurred to him: that this oily-haired girl might have been the only person in the room who had not flung so much as a curious glance at the bombshell couple down the bar. She had a good view, too. He was prepared to begrudgingly respect the coolness she had maintained where all (including himself) had failed, but when his wallet came out she seemed to leave her trance. The first thing she did was glance over the friends he’d gestured at, brace her large white teeth and scoffed.

“What the hell is your problem?” Rai snapped.

Her muddy, dark gaze dragged over him without a word.

Rai scowled and pushed himself off the bar. “Forget it. You’ve obviously got your hands full.”

“Vee,” the unhelpful bartender called into the small window behind the bar that led to the kitchen, “there’s a guy asking for a menu. You’d better get out here. Oh, and bring a rag.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A short girl in a spattered apron came through the crowd after him. Her earnest protests reminded him of Sao, and he stopped, accepting the menus she thrust at him. “Sorry. We’re, uh, we’re a little shorthanded tonight.”

“Yeah?” Rai looked her over. She was fresh faced and shivering a little, with excitement or fear. She was probably a student. “A lot of the staff call out sick when there’s campus parties? Some things never change.”

She shook with giggles, vibrating so vigorously he wondered if she was having a seizure. “Kind of. But they’re not really my thing, I mean, I need the extra hours. Did you come from one of them…?”

“Nah. I haven’t been a student in years. When I was, I went to a National U in Mainline.”

“Oh! Is it nice there?”

The niceness of his alma mater wasn’t something Rai had ever been forced to consider. “It’s a lot bigger.”

“I’ve heard. Never been to Mainline, but yes, everything around here feels so… so close.”

She took his order politely, and it was when she was carefully lettering the words ‘lime soda’ he noticed her hands were now steady. There was just a small spurt of shaking when he pointed out his companions at the far end of the bar, which made her blush and clutch her notepad so hard it folded in half. He followed her back to the bar with a grin that faded as she wedged behind the counter and past the surly bartender.

Who looked like she might be student-aged too. He hated to admit that she reminded him a little of himself, at that age, even up until recently. What had changed recently was mostly owed to Sao. There just wasn’t any point in choosing to be bitter, chewing out every little annoyance like he used to, when Sao was watching. Although, he wasn’t watching now.

“Do you mind,” the girl said. It wasn’t a question.

Swallowing the bitter words he could have spat back, Rai set his elbow down on the sticky counter. “I got three drinks coming.”

She rolled her eyes and, incredibly, swiveled on her chair behind the counter to leave her back facing him. Their standoff held firm, and might have lasted the rest of the night (as Vee was not particularly adept with the mixers) if not for the phones.

The girl with her back turned broke the silence first. So softly and dismally he thought it was someone else speaking at first, she muttered, “Not another one…”

And Rai heard the clinking of glasses and the hiss of a grill in the kitchen. Except for one or two voices, the restaurant - bar and all - had gone silent. With an unplaceable sense of dread, he stared out over the lobby. The scene made him recall a movie he’d seen about possessed puppets. When the puppet army wasn't being moved by the spirits of dead factory workers (who had been forced to produce the puppets, incidentally, by a vicious blood-sacrifice cult) they were stored in a room where they drooped lifelessly, in chaotic rows, some on tables and some on the floor, heads down and eyes to the ground.

Although, everyone’s eyes tonight were down on their phones. Skogul and Sao began to notice too, and peered around in confusion, both meeting Rai’s eyes for a moment. The tension was electric; he was sure, and was nearly determined to make sure, that something horrific was going to happen.

Sao might have seen that flicker in him because he was getting off his seat and trying to sidestep a group of boys in blazers which had stopped right behind him to gawk at whatever miracle was occurring on their tiny screens.

Rai pounded the counter which made the unhelpful bartender exhale, but didn’t stop her from glaring at him. He glared back; and leaned over her shoulder. She picked up faster than he expected, and pressed a hand over her screen, but it was too late.

He left her to go hover over the group on the ground, looming over the most possessed-looking of the squad. “Hey. What are you all looking at?”

“It’s nothing,” said one of the nervous kids, which was a fatal error.

“No, I definitely saw - it’s a picture of someone, right? Actually, I think I might have I recognized him, why don’t you just let me-”

“Rai,” Sao warned. Skogul slipped along beside him with interest, a whirl of fabric and legs and dark hair.

The puppets were settling back to their regular level of activity, the air slowly filling with whispers and snickers. Rai motioned Sao and Skogul along the bar to pick up their drinks, then toward the emptier side of the room, near the doorway. “I wasn’t kidding. They’re all looking at a picture, on a Neocam account, or something. I saw it over the shoulder of that girl at the bar.” Rai rubbed his chin. “It was just for a second, but it looked like a guy covered in blood, lying in a corner.”

Sao looked pained. “Surely someone would call for help, if it were an emergency.”

“If it was just a piece of performance art, why is everyone getting all cagey?”

“Maybe they know you’re a cop.”

“But I’m not really a cop,” Rai said, a little too loudly. Sao arched one of his well-trimmed eyebrows, but Rai went on. “The bartender, when she saw it, said ‘not another one.’ What do you think that means?”

“Well, that such a thing has happened more than once. And I gather she wasn’t happy about it, though the others seemed amused. It is odd they all stopped to look at the same time.”

“For that, I can make a guess. They’re mostly students. My college had a private Neocam channel. Anonymous posting and all. Scandalous pictures spread like the flu.” Rai snapped his fingers through his gloves. “One person sees the latest post, tells the person next to them and then the whole room’s on it.” “Do you know if Murnau has one?”

Skogul shook her head in apology. “I hate to say it, but I really haven’t been here long enough to know. I actually just moved here last month. But my boyfriend might know a little more than I do.”

Rai just barely avoided letting his jaw drop open.

“I moved here with him - he was recently hired as a dean. Some teachers might be in this online group, wouldn’t they? I can ask him. He’s supposed to meet me here in fifteen minutes. Well, it was supposed to be half an hour ago, but his meeting ran late. But that did mean our paths were able to cross.” She smiled at Sao, who smiled back. The air where their eyes met them could have vaporized anyone witless enough to get in between them.

“It’s been lovely,” Sao purred.

“Go see if her boyfriend knows anything,” Rai said.

It wasn’t too often he managed to send Sao reeling. His assistant’s face took a while to register what he’d been told; the smile was like a fish frozen in ice. In that moment of madness, Skogul leapt right in, clasped her hands together and swooned. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’m sure Marsh would love to meet you, especially when he hears who you are. He’s been looking for an excuse to play host with the new place, and well, we don’t know too many people in the area yet. You know, you two really have a lot in common.” She was courteous enough to include Rai, or try to. “And of course, you’re invited. I’m sure you’ve got fascinating stories…”

He saved her the trouble of coming up with anything else. “I’ll hang around here a while.”

She was also courteous enough not to look too grateful. Or had she really been hoping he’d join them? He’d probably never know.

Sao pondered over the last of his lime soda. Rai wanted to believe that Sao was just dying to tell him he’d stick around too, to watch Rai bulldoze his way through another investigation that would by morning be confirmed solidly pointless. Or was he itching to protest, though he never would in front of the lady, that he didn’t want to go play third wheel to a happy couple? Sao was another pretty face Rai would never be able to fully parse.

No. He could make a better guess. Sao was disappointed that they weren’t catching the earliest bus home so he could indulge in his favorite pastime, snoozing on his couch.

“If you finish early,” he told Sao, “don’t wait up. I’ll catch you back in the office tomorrow.”

The look he got when he took their empty cups made him doubt his guess. Sao hesitated before handing over the glass and spoke quietly, for Rai’s ears alone. “Do you really think the photo’s anything serious, or…?”

“Or what?”

Sao stared at him. Unreadable again.

So Rai grinned back with force, an expression he knew Sao found unpleasant but was too polite to mention. He even held the heavy glass doors open for the darkly shining duo. As Skogul’s banner of hair floated under his chin and into the icy night, he was sure he smelled roses. “Have fun.”

—

Rai’s enthusiasm could be touching, but hardly reassuring. His energy that evening had been volatile, but he’d held together admirably enough in front of Skogul; surely he’d be able to maintain civility among a handful of students, taciturn as they were.

Of course, Sao had never had to worry about Miss Skogul’s sense of discretion.

Somewhat more comforting was the mood of his host, the newly inaugurated Dean of Undergraduates, Professor M. Marsh. After a quick curbside introduction, Marsh drove them quietly and carefully to his modern cinderblock-and-glass home just outside campus. Once inside, shoes kicked off, he burst into effervescent action, turning on lights and plumping pillows and unrolling mats for the dining table. When they were comfortably seated he dove into the kitchen, a marvel of polished marble and chrome, to heat the oven. And sometime in between, he brought out a bottle of champagne and a pair of balloon glasses.

“Why don’t you sit down and have a glass yourself?” Skogul suggested.

“Later, for sure. I need to finish preparations. The oven–” and off he went.

Sao noted that all throughout, he had not removed his vest or tie.

Marsh had cultivated a perfectly professorial image that extended from his costume to his home. He looked to be in his forties, though Sao mentally pegged him younger. The house had a spread of comfortable couches and reading lamps, and a massive study across from the dining room in which Sao found a desk hedged with papers, and the walls lined with books on economic theory, business management and how to communicate properly with young adults. The books were read; their spines were lined with cracks. Sao was impressed.

“You’ve done well,” Sao told Skogul.

She flashed a ruby-red smile. “I didn’t have to tell him to do anything. He’s a smart one - a natural scholar and doing great, even before we found him.”

“But it would have taken me years to get a place in a university without you,” Marsh said, setting down a dark roast for them on the table after an appetizer of sweet glazed vegetables. He smoothed down his puff of short, charcoal coloured hair and readjusted his glasses to get a good look at Sao. “And in a place like this. You work in Mainline, don’t you? The schools there are ugly modern lumps. You never get a really good brick library or clock tower. My office here is a tower, with a bell. The rope hangs down right in the hallway, and senior students ring it when their exams finish. Isn’t that exciting?”

He was genuine, which Sao found fascinating.

“Our friend Sao’s thinking something cynical,” Skogul whispered to Marsh, and batted her lashes innocently.

“I’m just stunned. This is the first time I’ve met a professor in our ranks.” Sao laughed. “And you seem to have been made for the job, too. You’ve put in time to earn real degrees and connections - it must have taken considerable dedication.”

“It’s a lot of reading and writing. But I like that type of work. The business you have over in Mainline,” Marsh stuttered, suddenly unable to form the words. “Th-the boss, dealing with hunters, acquisitions - all the serious stuff is centered there. I could never have survived it. At times I wonder if the family punted me east to get rid of a liability. Of course, I respect you more than anything–”

Skogul smiled and set a slim hand on his shoulder. “At ease. Sao’s not an enforcer.”

“Even so. I didn’t even last a week in acquisitions.”

“I started in acquisitions too,” Sao said, swirling his glass which was still nearly full. “I can’t boast about my performance there either. Skogul hinted that we have a mutual acquaintance in that department.”

“No,” Marsh gasped. “Not Freenet. Is it?”

“So you were assigned to him too. My condolences.”

“It’s been almost ten years but I still have nightmares.” Marsh shuddered. “I dreaded our meetups. He always had some kind of... exhibition prepared. And that’s not even accounting for the bottles…” He nudged back his plate of meat.

“The bastard blew through Mainline a few months ago,” Skogul murmured. “I missed him. We should have grabbed drinks, I’m dying to know what he’s been up to overseas. If you can catch him with other people around, he’s not so bad.”

“He’s changed a little.” Sao smiled at their dumbstruck faces. “I did see him - he was entangled in a case of ours. Of Rai’s, I mean. The zombie pills scandal, I’m not sure if you’d have heard of it, the military put a lot of resources into shutting down witnesses. I suppose Free helped break the case and get the word out as best he could. Though, he didn’t make it easy.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Skogul laughed. “So, you two are buddies now?”

Sao remembered Free’s sneer, his knives, the cigarette lobbed at Sao’s shoe, the liquid metal sunrise of the morning seeping into the carpark where they’d said something resembling a goodbye. “You’ll have to ask him the next time he graces us with his presence.”

“I plan to,” Skogul said, tossing back her champagne.

Marsh was looking from one to the other with more reverence than Sao thought was called for. Cursing Free for whatever he’d done to the poor man, Sao scooped a forkful of roast into his mouth and prepared a compliment - the meal really was tasty and he was sorry he hadn’t done so sooner - but Marsh rallied his courage before Sao finished chewing. “You won’t get in trouble with your partner for discussing cases with us, will you?”

“Partner?” Now Sao was the one looking from face to face.

“Your boss,” Skogul said.

“Oh. Hardly. Rai thought the zombie coverup was an injustice. If he were here, he’d be egging me on, commanding that I tell you every last detail. He’s not one for subtlety.” Sao saw Skogul’s knowing glance and took the tiniest sip of his champagne. “I won’t fault him for it, though. Rai’s efforts often go underappreciated. Every night is an all-nighter for him. He doesn’t sleep. He plays it off as effortless with his aura, but let me tell you, I’ve met a decent few Life Fountains now and none are keen to use their energy to keep them awake whole nights to write audits.”

“A Life Fountain,” Marsh echoed.

“Just in his hands, actually,” Sao said. “His hands contain aura, the rest of him doesn’t. He’s only half – his dad was a human. That’s why he didn’t take his gloves off tonight. He’s self-concious.” His mouth seemed too keen to run away without him; he made a mental note not to touch the champagne again.

“It’s brave of you to work alongside a Life Fountain,” Marsh said. “And a cop. I didn’t know they let Life Fountains into the force.”

Sao startled, dropping a glob of gravy on the woven placemat. “He’s not exactly a cop.”

“I spoke to the boss about your situation when I was in Mainline,” Skogul sighed. “I’m surprised the family would put you in a position like that. Rai himself is sweet enough, I can tell he likes you. But the sort of work you two are in, with zombies, the military, I don’t know. I was surprised.” She jabbed one of her lacquered nails into the pad of her bottom lip.

“I may have been a little dramatic,” Sao said. “I’m not in any danger, Skogul. Least of all from Rai.”

“Well, after meeting him today, I’d say that’s true enough.” Skogul polished off the last bite of her roast. Strange, he hadn’t seen her take a bite before then. “Just be careful out there, okay?”

“Always.”

—

Since Marsh had done the cooking, Skogul had dishwashing duty, a domestic arrangement Sao found rather tasteful. It should have been unnecessary for them to keep up appearances in the privacy of their own home, which amused him further.

When he offered to take his own plates to the kitchen, Skogul cut him off and ushered him into the thickly carpeted living room. The amber lights were low, and the sunken crescent of couches enticing, but Sao’s eye was drawn to the window. Through the glass sliding door he was treated to a view of expansive lawn, patchworked with snow, and beyond it a thin line of trees. From somewhere even further out flowed an aurora of lights, seeping between the branches and rising above the treetops in puffs of pastel colors. The lights began in sunset hues, then shifted to a cool mint then cotton-candy pink. Sao paced from one end of the glass to the other, and stopped mid-stride when he saw Marsh in the reflection, behind him.

He slid aside to let Marsh join him, but his host slowed and backed away when he did.

Sao turned and leaned against the doorframe. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.” Marsh finally sidled up next to him. He didn’t seem interested in the view. “Can I tell you something? Man to man? I feel like I’m really out of my league with this dean business. What if the kids don’t feel they can talk to me? Do you think students would prefer if I said I had a PhD or doctorate?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten the job if the school and the family didn’t have faith in you. And if I may confide something, I never graduated middle school.”

This only plunged Marsh further into anxiety. With his vest undone and hanging down on either side under his arms, he looked like a ragged moth. “Were you ever assigned to help one of us integrate, like Miss Skogul?”

“No. I have a sort of skin condition. I don’t get partnered like she does. And there’s the matter of her tastes.” Sao glanced over Marsh and smiled. “She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have faith in you, too.”

Marsh went red and fluttered. Sao had to wonder if the creature he was looking at was even younger than he’d thought.

Sao smiled. “Get her to meet you on campus a few times a week. Have dinner in town. Let your students see her, have her talk to them. She’ll wow them. That’s what she’s here for.”

“What happens when our time together ends?”

Sao didn’t like the question, he knew it was going to be one that lingered, no matter how well-composed his answer. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen until you’re ready.”

From the kitchen came a melodic whistling. They listened, then winced in unison as Skogul began manoeuvring the pans. The clatter was tremendous.

“That reminds me. Miss Skogul said that you were interested in some private online clubs that might be going on, on campus.”

From the way he put it, Sao could guess what was coming, but he nodded.

“I don’t know any of the kids yet, and I don’t really have high hopes they’ll let me into their clubs. But she said that your partner saw some kind of scandalous photo on some of the kids’ phones tonight. That does have me worried. One of the points that came up constantly during onboarding was that we were to look out for the girls. Apparently there’s a pattern of behavior, that’s what they called it, of sexual harassment or humiliation, you know…”

Sao nodded.

Marsh took a seat on the very tip of his sectioned couch and began to play with the end of his tie. “Murnau lives and dies by its business school. You’d probably hear from a layman that Murnau is a business school. Unlike Ridley and the Mainline campuses it takes its stylings from the businesses of C-East, I suppose because Plaza is just over the mountains from the Eastern capital. Perhaps it’s improper to say but the influence is felt, hard. So many boys died in their inner wars that the eastern families came to put a lot more value on them. And those that lived, lionized. Feudal mindsets, property passed down to sons above all - and because of all their warring, the movements in Central skipped the deep houses of the east. Of course, money had a much easier time going in and out, as it always does, and in the last fifty years, we’ve been getting more of the boys from these deep east families in our schools. I can't blame them for how they were raised, they’re from magicians with money - some literal magic lineages - but there’s an awful lot of flash. Too much weight on confidence and image. And the campus is 80% men. It’s a pressure cooker.”

Sao took a seat on a nearby ottoman. “Is there discussion about this among staff?”

“None. Or they don’t want to include me yet. I’m inferring from the silence. They chirp about diversity and equality in public, but admin goes silent when the topic arises from the inside. I got distant references to some ‘tabloid rag’ or ‘carelessness’ they’d rather forget. They’re trying to distance it all but it’s obvious there've been incidents in the past.”

“I see. So you worry tonight’s photo might be indicative of this particular… culture.”

“Exactly. It’s also made me a little nervous about bringing Miss Skogul on campus. Although I’m sure she can fend for herself. Still, if you find anything out, will you let me know?”

“Of course.” Admirable as Marsh’s intent was, Sao couldn’t help but wilt a little upon realizing they had flipped in position. They would both be relying on Rai and his haranguing of the students, then.

Marsh asked if he wanted wine, which he turned down, and after lingering a while longer on his couch corner, his host padded away, steps muffled on his plush cream carpet. Sao shifted onto the middle couch of the large modular arrangement, and inspected the papers laid out for him. He let his thoughts wander. He’d been a touch cruel for casting Marsh away so easily. It was apparent that Marsh saw himself as a friendless newcomer, and Skogul was too daunting of a starting point. He was attached to her, certainly. The question of when their time together would end had come heartfelt enough that Sao was still feeling its weight.

Maybe that was why Sao had pulled away. Marsh didn’t need to be entwining himself with anyone else who might soon be gone.

Sao hauled himself upright and picked a paper off the table. It was a leaflet for the student Equestrian Club. Under the warm, sleepy light, he inspected the spread of smiling young men and women who beamed out at him over the heads of two glossy chestnut horses. The next paper was an advertisement for the Data Visualization Group. Another set of varied, blissful members, this time positioned before computers. The thickest article was a whole booklet celebrating the Investment Club. There were fewer photos in that one, but a group shot at the back presented the council members, another varied bunch. One standalone sheet was advertising the upcoming Valentines Banquet to be held at the alumni house, sponsored by the Investment Club and several more.

Sao laid the pamphlets in a line. At the corner of nearly every advert was a logo, a mascot of sorts, for the club or organization. Though none of them were exactly identical, they all shared similar characteristics. Wings and fangs.

“God, my feet are killing me,” Skogul crooned, coming down the steps and throwing herself across the couch. She kicked off her slippers, laid out her long stockinged legs and sighed. “You’ve got Marsh all psyched up.”

“I told him he was going to do fine. But he didn’t know anything about a student Neocam group.”

“Work talk! I can’t believe you’re still working at this hour. You must be exhausted. You know, you’re welcome to stay. Marsh won’t mind. He’s too shy to speak, but he’d actually really like it if you…” Frowning, she pulled a leg against her side, dress riding up, to inspect a run in her dark stocking. “I thought I felt a draft.”

Sao had to smile at her own derailed attempt at an offer. “I couldn’t. I have work in the morning. Back in Mainline.”

“Well, if you change your mind, this place has rooms to spare.” She kicked her leg back out over the cushions. “The Mainline express bus only runs every half hour in the evenings and it’s just past ten now. Why don’t you, I don’t know, nap an hour or two and catch an empty one closer to midnight?” Her smile was devilish. Sao could just about make out the fangs and wings. “Marsh stays up late being productive. He can drive you to the station. Both of you, if your boss finishes up what he’s doing.”

Sao demurred. “I do love a nap.”

“Aha! It’s good to know Rai hasn’t squeezed all your passions out of you yet.”

“It sounds like you’re underestimating me.”

Her devilish smile persisted. But, Sao thought, glancing over the school leaflets, it wasn’t a devil that was in the emblems. The ears, and they all had ears, that implied something more animalistic. A bloodsucker, a bat.

Skogul crept off the couch with exaggerated daintiness. “I’ll give you some space. Need a blanket or anything? Not too cold, too warm?”

“As before, you underestimate me,” Sao hummed. He slouched slightly into the cushions and was out within minutes.

—

It was just a muffled ping, but it woke him.

Sao freed his arms, dislodging the cashmere blanket that had been placed over his shoulders. Finding he didn’t much like the cold air, he slid back under it. The lights had been dimmed further. He thought he could hear Skogul’s voice somewhere upstairs.

He rummaged in his pocket under the blanket.

“I cracked ‘em. Or, I got the picture I was looking for, at least.” Rai paused and swore under his breath. “Were you sleeping? Shit, forgot to check the time.”

It was half an hour to midnight, which was more considerate than usual for Rai’s late night updates. Sao yawned. “Shall I come meet you?”

“No, we can catch up tomorrow. Hold on, are you still in town?”

“I was planning on the midnight express bus.”

“So you could catch a nap in between.”

“I’ve never claimed to be unpredictable. Well, Skogul and her friendly dean did offer me a room…” He found himself smiling, he couldn’t quite help himself. A sleepover. Was that a college activity?

“Great. If the offer’s still on the table, take it, and we can meet up on the campus somewhere tomorrow. I’ll find something to do. It’s a party night so the place is still pretty lively. You know, I was going to give you the day off tomorrow if I couldn’t make it back to Mainline.”

Sao led the bait slide by. “I’ll see you, then.”

Once Rai had rung off, Sao realized he’d let another thing pass him by - the alleged photo that had silenced the Atrium, the bloodied man, so Rai had claimed. But Rai hadn’t forwarded it to him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask for it.

Sao stretched his legs and propped himself slightly upright. The cushions were dense but soft as taffy. He saw that the school pamphlets he’d laid out on the wide marble coffee table had gone untouched by his hosts. Maybe they thought he was in the process of deep deduction; the investigator’s assistant hard at work. He thought of Skogul’s warnings, Marsh’s utterly honest praise, and pulled the blanket back up to his chin and tried to think of something else.

Dozens of tiny winged, fanged creatures sneered at him from the papers, eerie monocolor blotches amongst the faces of real, live, warm-blooded students and their horses and computers. Eventually he slid the blanket down and hunched forward to re-stack and stow the papers where he wouldn’t have to see them.

And now he was up, feet sinking into the welcoming fleece of the carpet. He would have to speak to Skogul and Marsh. No doubt they’d have questions; perhaps it was best he didn’t have the picture on hand yet.

Before he left the golden glow of the sunken living room, he tossed Rai a morsel of thought.

Do you know any good vampire movies?

He ignored all subsequent pings until the morning.