Coven

Lydia nodded. “They knew exactly which ones to hit, too.”

“But who would want a bunch of files?”

Lydia didn’t answer. She breathed on the metal cabinets. “Will you take me back to the station for a minute? I need some things. I’ll also need you to help me, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing to do.”

She got the janitor’s name and sent him on his way. Before they left, she stopped to examine the door. The doorknob was gone. Knocked off, Wade guessed. “Hey, here it is,” he said, looking in.

“Don’t touch it!” Lydia exclaimed.

They both stooped over. It hadn’t been knocked off, it looked crushed. Wade glanced at the door frame itself. “Take a look,” he said.

It was hard to see at first. A palmprint had been embedded in the wood. Closer inspection revealed more. It wasn’t a print—it was an indentation. But this was a solid wood door!

Lydia exhaled on the impression, checking for a ridge pattern. When Wade stepped back to give her light, he stepped on something. He could feel it under his shoe.

He looked down and flinched.

It was a beer cap.

He picked it up quickly, careful to conceal it from her. He knew it was tampering with evidence, but the cap provided a disturbing giveaway; he knew it at a glance. It was gold with a trademark: a malt shovel and the red Gothic letters “Munchen Spaten Oktoberfest.”

««—»»

Tom poured back the rest of his Spaten Oktoberfest. Damn, it was good! Malty but not harsh. Smooth, and a pleasant aftertaste. Prime stuff, that was for sure.

Rebirth, he thought. The night was his home now, his sanctuary and his power. What more could a natural man ask for? Good beer, a good car, and…immortality. He drove the Camaro through quiet campus roads, looking around, seeing, feeling. Everything was new, and everything old was behind him. Forever.

Who are they? he wondered. Or what?

Tom laughed out loud. His laughter trumpeted, and cracked echoes into the night. It sounded like cannon fire.

“Rebirth!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

It didn’t matter who they were, really, or what.

Did it?

“Destiny!” Tom shouted.

He swigged his beer and opened another.

The Camaro roared off back to the sciences center.

—

CHAPTER 15

Jervis sat in darkness before the open window. The yellow quarter moon barely cleared the flat roof of the opposing eight-story dorm, Lillian Hall. Jervis smoked, drank, and waited.

Waiting for the truth, he pondered. It’ll be arriving soon.

Czanek’s phantom brand receiver came with the price. Jervis extended its antenna. To his left stood the telescope, already focused on the black second story window. It was a Bushnell 400x refractor; he bought it that afternoon for $220 at Best Buy.

Czanek’s bug would let him hear, and the telescope would let him see. A full window-shot at this distance only required the 40x eyepiece. Seeing was important to him. He needed to see, not as a voyeur, but as a seeker. Why did he want to hurt himself by witnessing what he already knew? Why did people do that? To see, he thought. To see the truth with his own eyes and be caressed by its finality.

Then he heard something. A spark of static. Voices?

He heard: “He’ll be here soon. Be patient.” A man’s voice.

Jervis held the small speaker to his ear. More: —We mustn’t waste time! We only have a few more days!

That was a woman’s voice, but clearly not Sarah’s. It sounded silly with excitement like a little girl’s. Then: “I’ll be going over these while you’re gone.” A second woman’s voice.

Jervis looked into the telescope. Sarah’s window was still dark, and there was no sign of Wilhelm’s love van in the parking lot. The dorm, clearly, was empty.

Then where were these voices coming from?

“Goddamn!” Jervis sputtered. He realized then that his receiver was picking up someone else’s bug. Czanek must’ve inadvertently planted another bug for another client in range of Jervis’ receiver.

The voices crackled on from the box. So far Jervis accounted for two women and one man. Then the first woman said, even more excitedly: —I can’t wait to begin! It’ll be so much fun!

And the man again: “I just hope it works out this time.”

Jervis shook his head in the dark. Just wait till he got hold of Czanek. He hadn’t paid six bills to hear someone else’s goddamn bug! Yet something distant bothered him. Something…

The man’s voice sounded familiar.

It sounded older, more mature than a student. But then he heard another man, a second man. What was this?

“Sorry I’m late, boss. I’m all ready.”

First man: “Excellent!”

Second woman: “Damn it, Dudley! I told you not to bring that thing in here!”

The first woman seemed to giggle.

First man again: “Bring the box to the car. Use your key. We’ll meet you at the labyrinth.”

That finished it. Only static followed. Labyrinth? Jervis puzzled. Key? And the second woman had said Dudley. Dudley Besser? That must be where the other bug was, in Besser’s office.

This bothered Jervis. But one thing bothered him more—the second man’s voice. It had sounded just like Tom.

Lights blared outside. Everything Jervis had heard cleared from his mind. Wilhelm’s white van pulled into the lot.

The truth had arrived. Jervis’ heart skittered. He smoked down the rest of his Carlton and waited. A minute, or an oblivion, later, Sarah’s window came alight. Jervis pressed his eye to the telescope.

They walked in clear as day. Sarah picked up the cat, named Frid, and cuddled it. Wilhelm was dressed in brown Euromod yuppie shit. His cropped blond head was equally plain, his broad neck, his sturdy arms and legs. He took a beer out of the fridge, a Kirin from a six pack Jervis had forgotten to reclaim after the breakup.

“Scheiss!” Wilhelm exclaimed. “Das bier?

“Oh, it’s something Jervis left,” Sarah apologized. “I forgot it was in there.”

Wilhelm put the rest of the six pack in the trash.

Next they were kissing. Wilhelm grabbed Frid by some scruff and lobbed the animal aside. As they embraced, Sarah’s hand went unhesitantly up the crack of Wilhelm’s ass, while his hand, frightfully larger, plowed down her pants front.

Wilhelm was pulling her toward the couch. Sarah was tee-heeing, feigning reluctance. Wilhelm peeled off his jacket and shirt. Then he peeled off all her clothes as impassively as skinning a piece of fruit. Jervis quailed.

Wilhelm had an upper torso like a Mr. Olympia contestant. He wore black briefs which bulged, and the size of