The Isis Collar

The only other interesting message was from Bruno. He was back from the East Coast! For the moment he was staying in the Graduate Student Apartments, but they were kind of a dump. He said he’d be moving out as soon as he found a house he liked.

I grinned. He was back. Bruno and I have our issues. I trust him with my life, just not with my heart. He’s broken it twice. I’m not sure I’ll ever get past that. But he’s more than my former fiance. He’s my friend. He’s also a world-class mage and a great guy to have around when things get hairy. Which, sadly, happens a lot in my life. Too, he makes me laugh and that means a lot.

The first two letters in the stack of mail wiped my smile right off my face. All of the doctors I’d been visiting insisted on getting insurance information to file claims even though I was willing to pay cash.

I have my insurance through the university—part of a special alumni package that gives full benefits provided I pay and pass at least one class per semester. Letter one was from the health insurance division. It ever-so- politely denied any and all of my health insurance claims incurred since the vampire bite that turned me because, as an Abomination, I was part vampire, and therefore dead and the policy clearly states they do not pay claims postdeath. They offered their sincerest condolences and indicated that the appropriate paperwork had been forwarded to the life insurance division to pay out my death benefits to my beneficiary.

The second letter, from the life insurance division, regretfully denied said benefits on the basis that as I was an Abomination; I was part human and therefore not dead.

Typical. Throwing the letters onto the desk in disgust, I returned to the stack of phone messages. After all, I’d made a lot of calls the past couple of weeks. Surely Alex, or the principal from the school, or Harris …

I flipped through the little pink slips of paper a second time to be sure.

Nada.

Now that was just weird. Almost as weird as how fast the incident had disappeared from the news cycle. Just a couple of days reporting on a “failed attack” on a local school, with the culprits apprehended on scene. Congrats to the police and fire departments on a job well done, yadda da yadda da. But no word about repairs or moving students to different schools or anything I’d expected to see.

Still, it might not be any sort of cover-up. After all, news moves on. And the hottest Hollywood power couple’s filing for divorce and the assassination of the British prime minister had taken over the headlines.

The last specialist I’d spoken to had very specifically asked me to find out if anyone else at the scene of the “incident” was having similar symptoms. But how could I find out if no one would answer my calls and the news wasn’t covering it anymore?

Of course it’s easy to ignore a phone message. It’s not nearly so easy to ignore someone standing on your doorstep or, in this case, in your waiting room. Perhaps it was time to make an in-person visit. Not to the police station. They’d stonewall me, or throw me out on my ear. Better to go back to the grade school. Principal Sanchez owed me one. I wasn’t above playing the guilt card to get information, not if it would help me get rid of this damned headache.

* * *

The magical barrier around Abraham Lincoln Elementary had not only been reinstalled, it had also been amped up considerably if the pain I felt crossing it was any indication. It hurt, the pain almost driving me to my knees. It did cause me to stumble, which made my already-pounding headache that much worse.

Striding up the walk to the main entrance felt … surreal. It looked so normal. There was the flagpole Harris had cuffed the first caster to. The classroom window I’d crashed through with Willow had been replaced. I could see children sitting at their desks, studying.

Walking through the entrance, I suppressed a shudder. The floor was fine. Solid as a rock. What I’d seen inside the school—the dissolving tiles—had it been some sort of illusion? I felt strange walking on it. My pulse sped up, and I found myself stretching my abilities to the limit trying to find any trace of magic.

Nothing. Everything was just as it should be. Which was just freaking weird.

I hurried toward the principal’s office, the click of my high heels echoing oddly in wide corridors lined with metal lockers. I made it all of the way into the office without spotting the school security guard, or anyone else in authority. It bugged me. It shouldn’t be that easy just to stroll in like this. Of course putting in more security would be like locking the door after the thieves: too little, too late. But still, I didn’t like it.

I didn’t run into a single adult until I reached the office door. Once I was there, though, there was quite a fuss. The school secretary jumped up from her desk. Short, stocky, and middle-aged, she threw her chubby arms around me in a huge hug that made my injured arm throb. “I’m Marjorie Jacobs. I can’t thank you enough! None of us can.” Her thanks were so loud, and profuse, that closed office doors were opened, revealing the school counselor, the assistant principal, and, finally, the security officer Jamisyn. The one person who didn’t show up was the person I’d come to see.

“Principal Sanchez will be so disappointed she missed you.” The secretary shook her head sadly. “She’s so grateful. We all are! If that bomb hadn’t been a dud, we could’ve all been killed.”

“They’ve decided it was a dud?” I was surprised to hear it. It sure hadn’t felt like a dud. And the bomb squad psychic had definitely said we needed to clear the building. And what about the illusion of the dissolving floor? That had to have taken a fair amount of magic. How could the authorities not have found anything? That made no sense at all.

“Had to have been.” This from a man standing beside an office sign reading: Vice Principal Colin Parker. “They did a thorough investigation. Complete sweeps of the building. Nobody could find evidence that the bomb in the basement went off. And these were top mages brought in just for this project. We did a complete cleansing—just in case. But there’s no sign anything was wrong. Which is why we felt no need to let the press start a panic. After all, no harm done.” His smile was a little slick for my taste, his words just a bit rushed. It was obvious that he was more than willing to sweep the whole mess under the rug. Something about him bugged me. It took me almost a full minute to figure out what it was. He reminded me of Ron, the attorney who rents space in my office building. He’s a pompous ass with delusions of adequacy. This Parker was just like him.

“Did they even find residue of the spell that kept everyone frozen in place?”

“You know, they didn’t,” the secretary admitted. “Which is just odd. But no harm seems to have been done. And they’re still investigating. I’m sure the authorities will figure it out sooner or later.”

“And in the meantime,” Parker said, giving a pointed look at the clock, “we need to get back to work. If you’ll excuse us?” He phrased it as a question, but it was an order and the secretary scurried back behind her desk. “I’ll be sure to let Principal Sanchez know you stopped by.”

I wrote my cell phone number on the back of one of my business cards and passed it across the desk to Marjorie. “Have the principal call me. Please?”

“Absolutely.”

I could feel Parker’s eyes boring into my back as I walked through the door Jamisyn held open for me. I hadn’t come here to be treated like a hero. But I hadn’t expected a three-minute brush-off, either! Jerk.

“Parker’s an ass,” Jamisyn said as he followed me into the hallway. “Don’t pay any attention to him. None of the rest of us do.”

I found myself smiling. “I guess that’s why he’s the assistant principal.”

“Oh, yeah. And believe me it chapped his hide when they brought in Ms. Sanchez above him. He was so sure he had a lock on it. But half the staff would’ve quit on the spot if they’d given him the job.”

We’d reached the outdoors. This was my last chance to make this trip more than just wasted time. It was so frustrating. Damn it anyway. I really needed some information. Something was off about this whole thing; something tied to my not being able to heal. But I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I wouldn’t if I couldn’t get someone to tell me what I needed to know. “So, Jamisyn, do you think it was a dud?”

He looked uncomfortable, his eyes shifting from the glass doors behind us to the gulls that had begun circling overhead, and out to the street. “I think there’s more going on than they’re telling.” He forced a smile, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “But what would I know? Nobody tells me anything.”

“I wish I could’ve talked to Ms. Sanchez.” I didn’t bother to hide my frustration.

“Yeah, well, she had a meeting with the principals from the other schools.” His eyes widened for a second,