Coven

and very black. Insentient, he made his way along trails once familiar but now forgotten, past buildings and halls dark and blank as gravestones.

The sky seemed depthless, a slate void. Phantom reefs of clouds roved past a darkled moon. Far and away, the chapel bell tolled, signaling 4 A.M. The monotonous, dull peals incited him, chipped cracks into his shock. Then he saw the lighted sign: “Campus Police.”

Wade stepped in unnoticed. Leaving the hot night and its murder behind him was like stepping into paradise…

Porker was eating microwaved cheese dogs at the booking desk. He was eating them with his fingers, without rolls. Sergeant Peerce sat at his own desk, intent on a magazine called Babes with Big Boobs.

“The dean is dead,” Wade announced.

Porker’s immense face floated up. Babes with Big Boobs lowered to the desk, unveiling Peerce’s typical hillbilly smirk.

“You heard me,” Wade said. “The dean’s dead. Murdered.”

“Probably dumped his fancy car in a ditch,” Porker surmised, “and wants us to tow it out for him.”

“Just another daddy rich smart ass,” Peerce added.

Wade could not believe this response to his announcement. “Are you guys deaf? I just got done telling you the dean is dead!”

“You mean Dean Saltenstall?” Porker inquired.

Wade slumped. “No, Dean Dick. Is there any other dean on this campus, you fat jughead? He’s been murdered.”

Peerce and Porker stood up at the same time. They looked at each other. Then they looked at Wade.

“Just like that, huh?” Peerce asked. “The dean’s been murdered?”

“Yes! You understand English! Praise God!”

“And just how did he come to be murdered, boy?”

“Well, I don’t actually know,” Wade admitted. “But—”

“Ya hear that, Porker? He don’t really know.”

“What difference does it make, you brickhead? I saw him in the closet! and I saw the…I saw the… blood.”

Peerce and Porker chuckled. “St. John,” Peerce said. “This is just another one of your practical jokes.”

“You must think we’re pretty dumb,” Porker added.

Dumb? Wade thought. Naw.

“We been bustin’ our tails all night. We got one missing security guard and two dormitory break ins. We ain’t got time for your practical jokes.”

“Look,” Wade said. “All that stuff you just said—missing persons, break ins—it’s all part of this. A lot of crazy shit has gone on tonight, and it all starts in the dean’s closet.”

Chewing cheese dogs, Porker inquired, “What would the dean be doing in a closet at four in the morning?”

“Getting murdered,” Wade answered. “Don’t believe me? Go check.”

Peerce made a contemplating face. He got the dean’s number out of White’s directory. He paused. Then he dialed the number.

“You’re wasting your time,” Wade declared. “He won’t answer.”

Peerce listened and waited, tapping his foot. He waited some more and hung up. “He didn’t answer.”

“Of course he didn’t answer, you crawfish for brains Cajun moron! How can a dead man answer a fucking telephone?”

Then Porker said, “It can’t hurt to take a look, Sarge.”

“Shee-it,” Peerce agreed. “All right, punk. Lead the way.”

Wade felt a shimmy of panic. “Not me, fellas. You guys go, I’ll wait here. But before you go, you have to lock me up,” He pointed to the station’s jail cell. “In there.”

“Why?”

“For my protection.”

“Protection from what?”

Wade gulped. “From them.”

Peerce squinted. “Who’s them?”

“Look, Sarge, just pacify me, okay? Lock me up and go check.”

“We can’t lock you up,” Porker informed him. “There’s no probable cause to believe you’re in danger.”

“But I’m telling you I am!”

“We cain’t lock you up unless you commit a crime,” Peerce said. “And unfortunately, bein’ an asshole is not a crime.”

Wade was getting desperate. “In other words, you won’t lock me up in that cell unless I commit a crime?”

“That’s right, boy.”

Crime, Wade contemplated. Okay. With impressive reflexes, he kicked Porker square in the belly as hard as he could. Porker bent over, howling like a gelded walrus.

“There,” Wade said. “Is that crime enough?”

Peerce, snarling, jammed the butt of a nineteen ounce blackjack into Wade’s solar plexus. Wade folded up, bug eyed. He was then thrown into the cell. For good measure, Peerce rapped Wade another one—between the legs, this time—and locked the cell door.

“Thank you, Sarge. And my future children thank you too.”

Peerce’s eyes blazed through the bars. “This is the end for you, St. John. We’re gonna check out this harebrained story of yours, and then we’re gonna come back here and kick your ass so bad you’ll shit shoe polish for a week. Assaultin’ a police officer will get you kicked off this here campus forever.”

“I hear you, Sarge. Just go to the dean’s. Check it out.”

Peerce called White and told him to meet them at the dean’s mansion. Then he left, followed by Porker, who limped along cradling his elephantine belly.

In spite of his pain, Wade smiled.

Go ahead, super cops. Check it out.

««—»»

A half hour later keys rattled in the station door. Peerce, Porker, and Chief White tottered in, their faces drained.

Wade leapt up. “Well?”

“The dean is dead,” Peerce iterated.

“I told you so.”

Sweat glazed Porker’s pasty white face. “The closet,” he mumbled. “The dean—” Then he staggered to the john, to vomit. “Poor bastard never could stand the sight of blood,” Peerce said.

The memory blared back. Blood, Wade thought. So much blood.

Chief White’s beshocked eyes looked like big flat coins. “It was pulled off,” he said.

“What?” Wade asked.

“The dean’s head. It was pulled off.” White steadied himself, flinching. “Not cut off or chopped off. Not sawed or blowed off. I mean somebody grabbed onto that man’s head and pulled on it till it came off.”

“They’re a rough bunch, Chief.” But that was only the tip of the iceberg; there was much more to tell, but Wade dared not. These hayseeds would only swallow so much at a time.

Peerce stared cross eyed straight ahead. “Took his wagger off too.”

“His what?”