The Good, The Bad and The Undead. Ким Харрисон

gave me a quick, suspicious glance. “All right. Witches’ honor.”

       Seven

      “Rache,” Jenks said from my earring. “Take a squint at that guy. Is he trolling or what?”

      I tugged my bag up higher onto my shoulder and peered through the unseasonably warm September afternoon at the kid in question as I walked through the informal lounge. Music tickled my subconscious, the volume of his radio set too low to hear well. My first thought was that he must be hot. His hair was black, his clothes were black, his sunglasses were black, and his black duster was made of leather. He was leaning against a vending machine trying to look suave as he talked to a woman in a gothic black lace dress. But he was blowing it. No one looks sophisticated with a foam cup in his hand, no matter how sexy his two-day stubble is. And no one wore goth but out-of-control teen living vamps and pathetically sad vamp wannabes.

      I snickered, feeling vastly better. The big campus and the conglomeration of youth had me on edge. I had gone to school at a small community college, taking the standard two-year program followed by a four-year internship with the I.S. My mother would have never been able to afford tuition at the University of Cincinnati on my dad’s pension, extra death benefit aside.

      I glanced at the faded yellow receipt Edden had given me. It had the time and days my class met, and right down at the lower right-hand corner was the cost of it all—tax, lab fees, and tuition all totaled up into one appalling sum. Just this one class was nearly as much as a semester at my alma mater. Nervous, I shoved the paper in my bag as I noticed a Were in the corner watching me. I looked out of place enough without wandering around with a class schedule in my grip. I might as well have hung a card around my neck saying, “Continuing Adult Education Student.” God help me, but I felt old. They weren’t much younger than I was, but their every move screamed innocence.

      “This is stupid,” I muttered to Jenks as I left the informal commissary. I didn’t even know why the pixy was with me. Must be Edden had sicked him on me to make sure I went to class. My vamp-made boots clicked smartly as I strode through the windowed, elevated walkway connecting the Business Arts building with Kantack Hall. A jolt went through me as I realized my feet were hitting the rhythm of Takata’s “Shattered Sight,” and though I still couldn’t really hear the music, the lyrics settled themselves deep into my head to drive me nuts. Sift the clues from the dust, from my lives, of my will./I loved you then. I love you still.

      “I should be with Glenn, interviewing Dan’s neighbors,” I complained. “I don’t need to take the freaking class, just talk to Dan’s classmates.”

      My earring swung like a tire swing, and Jenks’s wings tickled my neck. “Edden doesn’t want to give Dr. Anders any warning that she’s a suspect. I think it’s a good idea.”

      I frowned, my steps growing muffled as I found the carpeted hallway and began watching the numbers on the doors count up. “You think it’s a good idea, do you?”

      “Yeah. But there’s one thing he forgot.” He snickered. “Or maybe he didn’t.”

      I slowed as I saw a group standing outside a door. It was probably mine. “What’s that?”

      “Well,” he drawled, “now that you’re taking the class, you fit the profile.”

      Adrenaline zinged through me and vanished. “How about that?” I murmured. Damn Edden anyway.

      Jenks’s laughter was like wind chimes. I shifted my heavy book to my other hip, scanning the small gathering for the person most likely to spill the best gossip. A young woman looked up at me, or Jenks rather, smiling briefly before turning away. She was dressed in jeans like me, with an expensive-looking suede coat over her T-shirt. Casual yet sophisticated. Nice combination. Dropping my bag to the carpet tile, I leaned back against the wall like everyone else, a noncommittal four feet away.

      I surreptitiously looked at the book by the woman’s feet. Noncontact Extensions Using Ley Lines. A tiny wash of relief went through me. I had the right book, at least. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I glanced at the frosted glass of the closed door, hearing a muted conversation from inside. Must be the previous class hadn’t let out yet.

      Jenks rocked my earring, pulling on it. I could ignore that, but when he started singing about inchworms and marigolds, I batted him off.

      The woman beside me cleared her throat. “Just transfer in?” she asked.

      “Beg pardon?” I asked as Jenks flitted back.

      She popped her gum, her heavily made-up eyes going from me to the pixy. “There aren’t many of us ley line students. I don’t remember seeing you. Do you usually take night classes?”

      “Oh.” I pushed myself away from the wall and faced her. “No. I’m taking a class to, ah, move ahead at work.”

      She laughed as she tucked her long hair back. “Hey, I’m right there with you. But by the time I get out of here, there’s probably not going to be any jobs left for a film production manager with ley line experience. Everyone seems to be minoring in art these days.”

      “I’m Rachel.” I extended my hand. “And this is Jenks.”

      “Nice to meet you,” she said, taking it for an instant. “Janine.”

      Jenks buzzed to her, alighting on her hastily raised hand. “Pleasure is all mine, Janine,” he said, actually making a bow.

      She beamed, utterly delighted. Obviously she hadn’t had much contact with pixies. Most stayed outside the city unless employed in the few areas pixies and fairies excelled in: camera maintenance, security, or good old-fashioned sneaking around. Even so, fairies were far more commonly employed, since they ate insects instead of nectar and their food supply was more readily available.

      “Uh, does Dr. Anders actually teach the class, or does she have an aide do it?” I asked.

      Janine chuckled, and Jenks flitted back to my earring. “You’ve heard about her?” she asked. “Yes, she teaches, seeing as there’s not that many of us.” Janine’s eyes pinched. “Especially now. We started with more than a dozen, but we lost four when Dr. Anders told us the murderer was taking only ley line witches and to be careful. And then Dan went and quit.” She slumped back against the wall, sighing.

      “The witch hunter?” I asked, stifling my smile. I had chosen the right person to stand beside. I made my eyes wide. “You’re kidding…”

      Her face went worried. “I think that’s some of the reason why Dan left. And it was a shame, too. The man was so hot, he could make a sprinkler spark in a rainstorm. He had a big interview. Wouldn’t tell me anything. I think he was afraid I’d apply for it, too. Looks like he got the job.”

      My head bobbed as I wondered if this was the news he was going to tell Sara Jane on Saturday. But then a slow burn started in me that perhaps supper at Carew Tower had been a dump dinner, and he chickened out and left without telling her anything.

      “Are you sure he quit?” I asked. “Maybe the witch hunter…” I left my sentence open, and Janine smiled reassuringly.

      “Yes, he quit. He asked if I wanted to buy his magnetic chalk if he got the job. The bookstore won’t take them back once you break the seal.”

      My face went slack in sudden, real alarm. “I didn’t know I needed chalk.”

      “Oh, I’ve got one you can borrow,” she said as she rummaged in her purse. “Dr. Anders usually has us sketching something or other: pentagrams, north/south apogees…you name it, we’ve traced it. She lumps the lab in with the lecture. That’s why we meet here instead of a lecture hall.”

      “Thanks,” I said as I accepted the metallic stick and gripped it along with my book. Pentagrams? I hated pentagrams. My lines were always crooked.