BRIARGATE SCHOOL FOR THE GIFTED

1857

Clifford Dent had only ever been here for police business. It was getting a little tiring. Honestly, he wasn't sure how the school managed to stay open with the amount of students that had died inside its walls.

He knew the way to Patience Lea's office; it was where he always ended up when he came here. The difference was he was alone this time. Every other time he'd come he'd been with Strickland or one of the other officers. This time he'd been asked here specifically, by Patience Lea herself. He did not understand this world very well, but it didn't take an expert to figure out that that couldn't be good.

She was sitting solemn-faced at her desk when he came in. Her hands were folded delicately in front of her. Shadows danced across her face, making her look ghoulish. Cliff Dent cleared his throat uncomfortably and stepped further into the room, trying to swallow his discomfort.

"Officer Dent," Lea said, face lighting in recognition. "Thank you for coming. I apologize for the short notice."

"That's all right," Dent said awkwardly.

"Won't you sit?" Lea gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. "I'm...I'm afraid we have a lot to discuss."

Dent sighed and nodded, taking a seat. To his further discomfort, he found that the shadows on Lea's face only got worse the closer he got; she looked ghastly.

"Officer Dent, I don't see any use beating around the bush," Lea said gravely. "Another student was found murdered this afternoon."

Dent let out a long exhale that very nearly became a whistle. He'd expected something like this, but he'd been praying to hear otherwise. This game of secrecy that they were playing was getting a bit old. He had a whole town that he had to worry about; he didn't need this wild card always on his mind.

"We didn't hear anything at the station," Dent said.

"No, no," Lea replied, shaking her head. "No, I...we thought it best if the Administration handled this one."

Dent nodded, his vague knowledge of the Administration telling him that that was the next best thing to supernatural police. He supposed he couldn't make an argument for jurisdiction either way; how the hell was someone supposed to figure out who should be in charge in a case like this?

"I didn't want to keep something like this a secret, however," Lea continued. "Not exactly, anyway. I thought it...prudent to keep you aware. This is your town after all, as much as it is mine."

Oh, it may have been his town, but it surely wasn't his world.

"I see," Dent said lamely.

"I wasn't...I'm not exactly sure how to deal with this, truth be told," Lea said, sounding more like she was talking to herself than him. "But if the Administration is dealing with this, no one can know. The normal civilians...they'd never understand."

"I'll do my best to keep the station out of this," Dent said, "but if word gets out...I don't know how much I'll be able to do." He looked her in the eye. "Frankly, I'm not sure how much I'll want to do."

Lea smiled crookedly. "I suppose I know."

Dent thought, not for the first time, that his wife should be the police officer. She'd know what she was doing in situations like these. She was the one who had spent her childhood in a magic school, not he.

"Can I...can I ask...what is being done about this?" Dent asked, watching Lea's face carefully.

"There is...a hunt for the parties responsible for all this carnage," Lea said. "I don't think I have to tell you that there's a good chance it's supernatural. The experts at the Administration are pulling out all the stops."

"And if nothing comes of it?" Dent asked before he could stop himself.

"Oh, I daren't think," Lea said with a sad shake of her head. "I don't know how long this school will last. Or anything else, for that matter."

She said the last sentence so quietly Dent thought she probably hadn't meant for him to hear. He certainly hadn't wanted to hear, but he'd been thinking the same thing himself.

"Hopefully we don't find out," Lea said quietly. Dent nodded slowly in agreement, but in his head he could not banish the doubt that was settling in.

Neither he nor Patience Lea could've predicted how this school year would reach its end.