making jokes, paying compliments, asking questions… lots of questions.
Caeco and I held back and watched. Our brother-sister roommates didn’t partake either, but much of the class was quickly charmed, almost as fast as I could have charmed them with magic. Except the weres. They kept to themselves, which is why most of them ended up next to our table at lunch on Tuesday. Matthew, who had moved past the nodding acquaintance stage with most of my friends, was quietly talking with Mack, although his eyes strayed to Jetta more than anywhere else. Delwood and company were mostly quiet, their slightly tilted heads telling me they were listening in to multiple conversations around the dining room.
“Ah Miss Sutton. What a fascinating coincidence to find you and your brother here,”
a female voice said.
The speaker was a solid-looking Asian woman in a dark suit, a second woman following behind her.
“Agent Krupp. Following us around the country?” Jetta asked, her tone cold as ice. “And your shadow, Agent Mazar.”
Mack straightened up and narrowed his eyes at the newcomers.
“I find it incredibly interesting that you and your brother are part of this… program,” Agent Krupp said, eyes on the Sutton kids but visibly aware of the rest of us. The woman behind her was slightly taller, with black hair and dark eyes, her skin a Mediterranean olive tone.
“As equally fascinating as finding you and Mazar here, at a Vermont college,” Mack said, his voice the most unfriendly I’d ever heard it. “Shouldn’t you be investigating unsolved murder cases, like, say, our parents’?”
“Your parents’ case was labeled as a wild animal attack,” Krupp said evenly.
“Right. Giant dogs that tie up their victims first,” Jetta said.
“Well, in light of recent revelations, you might be right, but all my suspects either died of homicide or disappeared outright, like Simon Masten. Interestingly enough, it was your parents’ case that brought me to my new unit and ultimately here. With the existence of Lycanthropes and true vampires proven, we’re going back over unsolved cases with an eye toward the supernatural. Director Stewart billed this event as a chance to learn more about those species, but so far I haven’t met a single one,” Krupp said, taking a moment to meet all our eyes, one by one.
“Well, darling, you’re standing in the middle of a bunch of them,” Delwood said, grinning insolently.
Krupp ignored his tone and studied him carefully. Agent Mazar chose that moment to tap her shoulder. When Krupp looked her way, she nodded at the rest of the room. Every kid in our class was watching the exchange at our table, their own conversations with federal types forgotten. That caused the other agents and analysts to watch as well.
“That’s a little creepy in a children of the corn way,” Krupp muttered.
“Ouch,” my mouth said without checking with my brain. She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. I charged blindly ahead. “No more creepy than the divide and interrogate session your fellow investigators are currently conducting on law-abiding college students,” I said.
“And just who might you be?” she asked.
“His roommate,” I said, nodding at Mack.
“Aww, don’t you know that’s the famous Duckling gone Caroling,” Delwood said.
“And over there, you have the mighty Dillweed Swinger,” I shot back. He waggled one hand to show his ambivalence at my insult. What can I say—not my best work.
Our little exchange confused Agent Krupp and she opened her mouth to ask a question but our two resident potheads, Jack and Larry, chose that moment to step into the room, high as kites. Jack took one look at the agent and exclaimed, “Whoa, she’s gonna tase Declan!”
Agent Krupp was standing with her hands on her hips, her jacket pushed back, which displayed her service pistol on one hip and a Taser on the other. She instantly dropped her hands, letting her jacket cover her arsenal, but it was too late.
“Either tase him or shoot him, bro. Cool!” Larry said.
“I say you skip the taser and just shoot him,” Delwood said.
“She doesn’t have to shoot you, Smellwolf, but she can tase me any day,” I said.
“No!” Caeco interjected. “No Tasers. He’s been doing so well lately. Just shoot him.”
“Et tu, Caeco?” I asked.
“The first step to managing your addiction is admitting you have a problem,” she replied.
“Hi, my name is Dikeling O’Carousel and I’m addicted to tasing. I keep going round and round with it,” Delwood said, standing and addressing the group like an addict at rehab.
By this point in