The lieutenant’s voice broke with emotion; my eyebrows went up. The suicide of a white is an extremely rare event. Well, to ruin themselves by drinking, to lose mind was typical of them, but laying hands on yourself had almost never happened before.
“What a nightmare!” Lieutenant Clarence seemed to wince in pain even thinking about those cases. “The former director resigned, a special commission worked on it, but that’s not the end of the story. I participated in the investigation and pointed out that another four children went missing. Of course, those students were rather unsociable, without close relatives and friends, but the white are not inclined to go nowhere! Then I compared these facts with my own experience. You see, Mihandrov is not that smalclass="underline" all the residents know each other, but they are not so close as to watch everyone all the time. So, according to my observation, at least five white mages who lived alone had moved out somewhere for no apparent reason. To their relatives that do not exist, to a town which name no one knows, just on business, and no one ever heard back from them. Two of them left personal items in the apartments, and homeowners still keep their stuff in the event of the owners’ return. Of course, it is my speculation, but all of this seems weird! I applied to the head office with a request to open an investigation, possibly for the presence of supernatural phenomena. Out of my three reports, they responded to one only; I was ordered to wait.”
Naturally! No bodies, no file. It was normal practice, but Lieutenant Clarence looked genuinely distressed.
“They probably have a shortage of staff,” I comforted him (I didn’t tell the man that it was foolish of him to expect help if there was no crime), “especially of the go-getters. In the last four years supernatural activity has increased, but the staff hasn’t; growth has been cut off. At Redstone, things got better only after the ghouls had eaten the former chief of the “cleaners”. I am not kidding.”
“But you’ve come!” Lieutenant Clarence snapped.
Because I didn’t know.
“My brother is a student at your boarding school.”
My Lyuchik lived in the snake’s lair! I had to take him out of here. But where to? Could there be a guarantee that another school would be better? And the chance remained that all the missing people lived happily somewhere on the South Coast… Hmm, alongside the suicides. No worries: I had two weeks to solve the problem and draw conclusions—but time was running out.
“Well, your suspicions are understandable, lieutenant. Though it does not look like the work of the supernatural. It rather reminds me a killer-maniac—we’ll work on that. Do you have any information about the missing people?”
“Of course!” he smiled again. “I have compiled detailed files.”
He took a cardboard box from somewhere under the table and started pulling plump folders out of it.
“Can I take them with me?”
“Yes.”
“Another request: let my involvement in the case remain a secret. Why scare the townsfolk in vain? The presence of a dark magician is a serious challenge to their nerves.”
I didn’t mention that I could be denied access to Lyuchik, too.
“Of course, I understand,” the lieutenant nodded with the look of a habitual conspirator.
“If people ask what I was doing at your office, please tell them that you are keeping an eye on me.”
He nodded, twice as energetically as before. And we parted. Already at the door, I asked the question that was tormenting me: “Tell me please, who works in the ‘cleaning’ department here?”
His eyes became a bit guilty. Oh!
“I understand. Thank you. Goodbye.”
To get out of this madhouse as soon as possible! I took just one folder—no time for more reading. I was curious to see what the police could dig out in principle about a person who did not commit any wrongdoing. The driver, who introduced himself as Alfred, took me back to Mrs. Parker. He could not refrain from standing up for his boss: “Do not think badly about Mr. Clarence, sir; he performs his duties with all diligence. He does a lot for the town.”
“Uh-huh. For example, in the area of animal protection.”
Alfred did not protest loudly but, apparently, he got angry. “Do you really think that if a man is kind, he will not be able to stand firm at the right moment?
I sighed and said frankly: “Lieutenant Clarence, as one of the white, is physically incapable of performing the work he has taken upon his shoulders. Successfully, I mean. You were lucky that nothing happened here! If I were in your shoes, I would buy some brochures on how to avoid the supernatural (Krauhardian NZAMIPS prints a lot of them currently), and rely on myself only. Everyone will be safer that way.”
Alfred stayed silent. I hoped that he would ponder my words, at least.
Half an hour later I was back on the veranda of Mrs. Parker’s mansion, but not in the same state of blissful indifference as before. I got further proof that there was no paradise on earth! I should not show my change of mood to Lyuchik—no need to scare little tykes. I sighed and began to recall some formulas for meditation—I was about to demonstrate wonders of self-control to the world.
Mrs. Hemul watched from the window the second visit of the dark magician, about whom pupils were whispering the entire morning. The awful monster, smiling good-naturedly, helped his brother unwrap the gifts. Given the amount of gifts, it was truly titanic work. Mr. Fox breathed heavily over the directrix’ shoulder, constantly rubbing his palms and making her feel madly nervous. Had Luciano come to the thrilling meeting alone, it would not have attracted so much attention, but the white from Krauhard (a compilation of words that hardly made sense) brought a friend along.
“Petros is not poised to talk to the stranger!” Mr. Fox whispered indignantly in his boss’ ear. “You know how susceptible he is!”
The skinny, sickly boy was thought to be a distant relative of the assistant principal and an object of his constant care.
Mrs. Hemul was inclined to disagree with her colleague: with uncanny insight, for some meager fifteen minutes, the dark managed to ingratiate himself with the child, gave him a bag of candy and a big glass ball with a Christmas unicorn. The beautiful, shimmering iridescent toy totally fascinated the kid. Taking a seat right on the walkway, Petros admired the run of the illusory horse, scooping handfuls of candy from the bag and, without looking, shoving them into his mouth. Before, the painfully shy boy took nothing from strangers! Had it not happened on the territory of the school, right before her eyes, Mrs. Hemul would have been the first to rush and rescue the child from a potential pedophile.
Luciano suddenly discovered that, when unpacked, the gifts occupied twice as much of the space, and the process went in the opposite direction.
Perhaps, if the situation with students had not been so alarming, Mrs. Hemul would have satisfied the request of the assistant principal. But there was something wrong with the school in Mihandrov, and even the best empaths weren’t able to prescribe a medication to it. The director herself left her sons (two wonderful twins) in Artrom when she accepted the job in Mihandrov. For now, the parents of her students still believed the Board of Trustees, but if the alarming events, acknowledged by the commission, didn’t come to a halt within a year, the authorities would close the school. No one wanted to be responsible for the possible death of students—and the oldest educational institution in the district would cease to exist. Less than six months remained until the end of the one-year probation.