The Angel Stone

a little too close. The memory made my skin crawl. “If you’d paid attention and read Wheelock’s footnote, you would have learned that the one downfall of the adulterina clavis spell is that it leaves a trace of its user—a sort of caller ID, if you will. If you like, I can show you how to block it.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, leaning against the doorframe and folding my arms over my chest. “You’ve made your point. Did you have anything else to say?”

“Yes. I want to apologize for the behavior of the Alpha Delta Chi brothers last night. It’s come to my attention that some of them behaved rudely to female students. I’ve reprimanded them, as you suggested yesterday, and suspended their party privileges for the rest of the semester.”

“I saw the flyers,” I replied warily. “It sounds like you’re prohibiting all parties for the rest of the semester.”

“Well, yes, that seemed the most expedient course of action. If I permitted other parties on campus, the Alphas would no doubt cause trouble.”

“So expel them,” I said. “It’s not fair to punish the whole student body because the Alphas can’t control themselves.”

“It’s the safest course of action for now. You do agree that the priority should be keeping the students safe, do you not?” He smiled, showing a lot of white teeth. I shivered, feeling the implied threat behind his words.

“Yes, so why not expel the Alphas?”

Laird’s mouth remained stretched in a smile, but his eyes darkened. “That would be premature. They need to learn to assimilate to … college life. As part of their rehabilitation, I’ve ordered them to perform community service. And if all goes well, we can reinstate social gatherings in time for a Christmas party.”

“Christmas?” I repeated. “What about the Halloween party? It’s a Fairwick tradition—”

“A pagan tradition,” Duncan cut me off, all trace of his smile disappearing. “It’s time Fairwick gave those up. I would think that after your experience with monsters and ghouls you’d be the last person to want to celebrate Halloween.”

“I have a fondness for candy corn,” I replied.

“I’d get over it,” he suggested, moving toward the door. “There’ll be no Halloween party, and,” he added, tapping the lock on my door as he walked past me, “in pursuance of our mutual goal of making the campus safer, I’ve ordered all the locks to be changed to spell-resistant ones.”

When Duncan Laird was gone, I closed the door and sagged against it, my anger and outrage leaving me drained and deflated. I didn’t have time to recover, though; I was already late for my class. I’d have to talk to Frank later. I rushed down the stairs and into the lecture hall …

 … where I was greeted by a round of applause.

The last time that happened was when I’d canceled the final after being attacked by a liderc.

When the clapping stopped, I smiled and gave the students a puzzled look. “Gee, I’m excited about today’s reading, too, but I really think Bruno Bettelheim deserves the lion’s share of the praise.”

“No, Professor, that’s not why we’re clapping,” Scott Wilder objected. “It’s because you schooled those Alpha dudes. Epic!” Apparently epic was the new awesome. I kind of liked it, but still …

My eyes flicked guiltily toward Adam Sinclair, who was leaning back in his seat, surrounded by empty desks. His ostracism was no doubt a result of my stink-bomb spell. His eyes were hidden by Ray-Bans.

“Did something happen at your party last night?” I asked innocently, taking out the folder of corrected papers.

“Nah,” said Adam. “Some girls got scared because they saw a mouse.”

“Ah,” I said. “Rodent infestations can be bad around here. That must have been the odor I detected coming from Alpha House this morning.”

“No worries,” Adam said, showing a lot of white teeth as he smiled. “We’ve put out traps.”

I smiled back at Adam, despite the chill I felt at the implicit threat. I’d have to keep Ralph from going over there.

“Well, if that’s all, let’s turn our attention to Bruno Bettelheim. What did you think of his assertion that the Little Red Riding Hood story reflects Oedipal conflicts during puberty?”

Nothing galvanized students more than a good sex-symbolism debate. Half of them thought that reading sexual content into their favorite bedtime stories was heresy. The others were delighted to be talking about sex. The lively discussion took their minds off my supposed heroic exploits. Ruby Day took part enthusiastically, declaring that she liked the Little Red Riding Hood in Roald Dahl’s version, in which Red takes out a gun and shoots the wolf. Adam Sinclair remained quiet through most of the class period, until it was nearly over, when he said, looking straight at Ruby Day, “Little Red Riding Hood got what she deserved. You don’t go walking in the woods alone if you want to avoid wolves.”

I was about to say something in response, but Nicky Ballard did it for me.

“You could say that about the wolf, too. If you go around attacking defenseless girls, you can expect payback.”

A good note to end class on! I saw that Nicky wanted to hang back to talk to me, but I told her it would have to wait because I needed to go see Professor Delmarco.

“Sure, Prof,” she said with a sly smile. “I think it’s really great you guys are, like, fighting the man together.”

“We’re doing no such thing, Nicky!” I said sternly, but she just kept smiling.

I went upstairs to talk to Frank. I found him in his office, feet up on his desk, the sports section of The New York Times spread in front of his face.

“Hey,” I said without preamble, “did you know that the whole campus knows about our exploits at Alpha House last night and they also think we’re a couple?”

Frank lowered the newspaper and looked at me over the rims of his reading glasses. “Let me guess, you tried a memory-expunging spell on Ruby Day?”

“Yeah, how’d you … I mean, it had the opposite effect.”

“Don’t you remember what Soheila said about what happened when Dean Book tried to erase the tunnels from campus memory? It drove the memory into the subconscious, where it became lore. You and I are legends now. Frankly, I would have preferred to have become mythic for my athletic prowess, but being a badass counterrevolutionary’s not bad.”

“But how are we going to protect the students if Laird knows what we’re doing?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Frank replied, folding his newspaper. “And as much as I hate going to them, I think we need to enlist the help of the creatures with the most practice in keeping a low profile. It’s time we went to the vampires.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Frank was right: the vampires were our best bet for protecting the students from the Alphas. Still, it felt wrong somehow to entrust the welfare of a bunch of young people to bloodsucking creatures of the night—even if they were tenured college professors. Maybe especially since they were tenured college professors. Frank assured me, though, that in the eight years he’d been at Fairwick and keeping a close eye on the three Eastern European Studies professors, Anton Volkov, Ivan Klitch, and Rea Demisovski, they had never fed from a student or an unwilling adult. And even though the vampires had secretly joined the Grove, they had not supported closing the door to Faerie. Anton had explained to me that the upyr, the ancestors of the vampires, had originally dwelt in Faerie, but had become so enamored of humans that the Fairy Queen banished them and commanded a witch to curse them to an eternity of darkness and living off human blood. (A story not unlike the nephilim’s origin story, it occurred to me now.) Anton had admitted that his kind had taken their anger at the fey out on humans but that a few more-enlightened vampires had come to Fairwick, seeking a different kind of