Return to Dreams of Change Episode 2
Episode 3
Handcuffed. Transported. Catalogued. Scanned. Interviewed. Questioned. Interrogated.
They wanted to know what I had done with Matheson. Was he dead? Had I hidden him away somewhere? Did I know how to make a non-detection scroll? Did I know where to get one? They asked how much I hated him, how much he deserved it. I stuck to my story, stuck to the truth. Yes, I hated Matheson, but not enough to kill him. Not enough to do anything like that.
Finally, with a frustrated growl, Lieutenant Harcourt finished the session by calling the officer waiting in the hall to take me to my cell. I was glad to get out of the interview room, even if it was to get locked up.
"Alright, Stansfield," said the officer guiding me down the corridor. "You got any spells on you for medical reasons? Heart spells, kidney spells, anything like that?"
"Well, the transformation spell that makes me look like this gives me my arms and legs."
"What?"
"Without the spell I'm a triple amputee."
"Hunh. Well, you can live without them, right? 'Cause the cell's a mana-dead room."
"Right. Great. If I had known this was going to happen I'd have brought my prostheses. Can I call someone to go get them?"
"Yeah, no problem. You get a call to your lawyer anyways. Through here."
He put me in a tiny room with a desk and a telephone. A big poster on the wall had phone numbers for legal aid societies and pro-bono lawyers.
I ignored them, and punched in a number I had memorized.
"Hello?"
"Don't hang up, Natalie. It's Ben Stansfield. I need your help. You're the only person who's ever been a friend for me."
She paused for several seconds. "What do you need?" She was suspicious, but at least she didn't hang up.
"I've been arrested."
"Must have been some party."
"It wasn't a party. I'm surprised you haven't already heard."
"I'm not exactly plugged into the gossip network."
"Natalie, I've been accused of killing Matheson."
"What?"
"It's a long story, and I don't have a lot of time. I need you to find me a lawyer, and get him to bring over the arms and legs in my dorm room. They're going to put me in a mana-dead cell, and that's going to put me back in my normal form. I probably won't revert when I come out, so I'm going to need them."
"Okay, Ben. I know someone. I'll see if he's free."
I hung up the phone, and when I came out the officer had a wheelchair ready for me. "Have a seat, Stansfield. I'll wheel you in. Wouldn't want you to fall down."
I sat. "You're being cool about this."
"Yeah, well, you're being pretty cool about all this too. You make my life easier, I make your life easier." He pushed me a short distance down the hall to a depressingly heavy iron door.
"Are you sure you gotta put me in there?"
"Standard procedure. The watch wizard is busy helping the magic squad handle an unbound decay elemental down in the lower levels." He kicked a plate on the wall and the door creaked open, revealing a small cell lined in lead plates.
"Wow. Those things are dangerous. If it isn't taken care of, it could erode the foundations of a building."
"No kidding," said the officer. "That's why he gets paid the big bucks." We rolled in, and I closed my eyes, ready to go back to my natural form.
Except I didn't.
"Hunh. Well ain't that a kick. Must be some kinda spell on you, there, Stansfield. I guess you don't need the chair, hunh?"
I looked at my hands, rubbed my fingers against my thumbs. They tingled a little, but aside from that there was no sign that anything was happening. "I guess not."
"Okay, well, take it easy, kid. I'll let you know when your lawyer gets here." The door closed, and the locks engaged with a loud clank.
For a while, I just sat and waited for the spell to fade, but it didn't. That surprised me, because I had been in a mana-dead room once before, when I was fitted for my last set of prosthetics. That time, I had reverted to my usual form within seconds.
I glanced around the room. The little window in the door to look into the cell was closed, but there was a video camera in the corner. I would need to be careful not to arouse any suspicion.
Just in case the spell faded mid-stride, I moved quickly to transfer myself to the bed and sit with my back to the camera. I took the pillow in my hands, and tried a minor color-alteration spell, intending to change it from yellow to gray.
I forced myself to mull over the transformation problem. If my own magic was nonfunctional in the cell, then the spell that made me into this shape couldn't be coming from me, could it? That certainly put a new angle on it, and as the idea occurred to me I had to chuckle. All those psychiatrists and experts who told me that it was basically all my fault could go jump off a skyway. They were wrong.
A few hours later, the door opened with a reverberating series of clanks and swung away.
"Mister Stansfield?" The man at the door was a seven foot tall bat 'morph wearing an impressively tailored gray suit. His high pitched voice seemed oddly misplaced with his great barrel chest. He had a briefcase in one hand, and a large sack under his arm bulged with familiar-looking knees and elbows and feet and hands.
"Yes, that's me."
"I'm Nathan Grace. My daughter Natalie said you could use my help. Sorry it took so long for me to get down here for you. There's always so much paperwork involved in these things." His voice took on a slight note of puzzlement. "I was told you were going to be needing your prostheses…"
"Didn't turn out that way." I got up from the bed. "I hope this wasn't any trouble."
"Happy to help a friend of Natalie's. Will you come with me? I've got an interview room reserved for us."
The firs thing mister Grace had me do was tell him the story, from the beginning. I left out the part about the masturbation, that was clearly in the "too much information" category. He made notes in several places, and asked questions to clarify along the way, but mostly he just listened.
When I was done, he put his notebook back in his briefcase. "Mister Stansfield," he said, "I don't think the police have much of a case against you. If you spent the night in John Randall's dorm room, then there will be plenty of evidence to that effect in his room. I'll have them look for fingerprints and magical traces. That will at least help corroborate your story."
I hoped he couldn't see my blush through the dark color of my cheeks. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"
"There is the question of whether you were conspiring with John Randall…"
"I wasn't!"
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Because that's what they'll fall back on when the evidence proves that you were in John Randal's room last night. They'll say you convinced him to threaten him, or assault him, or whatever, and that it led in part to his disappearance."
"I'll submit to a truth-spell."
"Are you sure you want that? You told me that you cast a spell over John Randall to make him look like you. If that came out in court, that could get you suspended or even expelled."
"No, I guess not."
"Alright. Don't worry, I think your chances of a satisfactory conclusion are quite good. The evidence of an actual crime is somewhat circumstantial at this point. They don't have a body, don't have a ransom note. I just wanted to warn you that it may be a little bumpy." He packed up his briefcase, moved to the door, and knocked. "I'll talk to the judge about getting you out. I've dealt with Judge Toccaro on many occasions, he's an eminently reasonable man. Just take it easy. One thing at a time, right?"
"Right."
True to his word, after a short hearing I was released. I had my arms and legs in a sack over my shoulder, and the rest of my belongings in my pockets.
"You didn't need to post my bond, too, sir," I said as we walked out of the courtroom and into the parking garage.
"Did you have anyone else who could pay it?"
"I guess not." My phone beeped and I took it out and read the text message. I groaned. "Oh, that's just great."
"What's wrong, Ben?"
"It's from my R.D., Miss Kennedy. My room has been declared a possible crime scene, I'm not allowed in." I took out my phone. "I'll call her and find out where I'm supposed to go."
He shrugged. "Don't bother. Come with me. I can put you up for a few days until the police finish their investigation."
"You've been so kind already, I couldn't ask for that."
We stopped at a sleek black skimmer. "You're not asking, I'm giving. Besides, if you disappear, I'm out twenty thousand marks. I'll rest easier knowing where you are, and if you hear from John Randall, I'll be there to coach you on what to say to him." He spoke a quick codephrase in a language I didn't recognize and the car door popped open.
"You think he'll call?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
We slid into the dark, luxurious interior of his car. I had never been in a vehicle as fancy as this. "Whoa." My gaze slid off of the glossy wood panels of the dashboard.
The electronics flashed to life and a quiet feminine voice said, "Good afternoon, Mister Grace. Where would you like to go today?"
"Home, Vee."
"Yes, Mister Grace." Without touching the controls, the car lifted from the deck and glided out towards the skyway.
"I guess you don't just defend penniless college kids," I said.
"You're actually my first," he said. He folded a screen and keyboard out of the dashboard and started writing a document.
I took it as a cue that his time for idle chatter was done, and I turned my attention to the window. I tried to get my bearings, but I had taken very few rides this high on the skyways and I didn't see any landmarks I recognized.
Would John Randall call me? I didn't know, and I kicked myself for it. How could I have gotten involved this way, with someone I barely knew? It was stupid. I took out my phone and checked the screen. No messages. Of course he wasn't going to call me. I was just a pawn in his scheme against Matheson.
Or maybe it wasn't a scheme. Maybe there had been a fight, and Randall had killed Matheson in self-defense, and then panicked and run off. Or something like that. I hated not knowing.
The skimmer negotiated the afternoon rush-hour traffic with ease, and after only a few minutes we were approaching a large open garage in the side of a building. The car's voice said, "We are arriving, Mister Grace."
He looked up, checking the chronometer in his displays. "Vee, show me my appointments this afternoon."
"You have three appointments between now and dinnertime, Mister Grace." A new document appeared on his screen.
"Looks like I don't have time to show you around, Ben. I'll send a message ahead for Harrison to get you settled in, but I'm going to have to leave you here, I'm afraid."
"Is Natalie here?"
"I don't know. Vee, is Natalie at home?"
"Miss Grace is not currently in the residence, Mister Grace."
"There you go."
The skimmer settled to a stop in the garage, and my door opened with a hiss. "Thanks again, Mister Grace."
"You're welcome. Give my regards to Natalie."
I climbed out. "I will, sir."
The door closed again, the turbines spun up, and the skimmer returned to the streets.
A doorway opened, revealing a tall, thin figure dressed all in black. He was a theriomorph of some kind, but I couldn't place the species. Something with large eyes and dark fur. "Welcome to the Belfry, Mis…ter Stansfield." He stumbled a bit over the word "Mister," probably unsure whether to just stop with "Miss." "I am Harrison. Please allow me to get your bag."
"I've got it. Thanks." Bats. Belfry. It was nice to know my host had a sense of humor.
He strode closer and took the bag from my shoulder, hefting it with surprising ease, given his frame. "Nonsense, Mister Stansfield. You are a guest of Mister Grace, and I am Mister Grace's butler. This is my job. If you would follow me?"
Through the elaborately carved door I found a huge living room, two stories high, with a marble staircase curving up to a balcony on the second level. Expensive-looking works of art hung from the walls, looking down on leather sofas and chairs in conversation clusters. A desk of dark wood sat in one corner, devoid of papers or clutter.
Through a grand archway I could see a dining table with chairs lined up on both sides. There were no place settings, but the gold-edged tablecloth and crystal candelabra looked fit for a state dinner.
"I'm sure you're hungry, sir. What should I have the kitchen send out?"
My brain seized up. I had no idea what to ask for. "I don't know, a burger?"
"Of course, sir. Please have a seat, lunch will be served presently."
Harrison took my laundry bag full of spare limbs up the stairs and disappeared down a side hallway. A few minutes later, a silver tray floated into the room with fat hamburger sitting on a roll with sautéed onions and mushrooms dripping off of it. It was delicious. When I had to stop halfway through because my belly felt like it would burst, I set the remainder on the tray with regret.
Harrison appeared at the balcony. "I have taken the liberty of querying your instructors at the University for notes and classwork you have missed today, and sent them to the terminal in your room. Feel free to work there if you desire privacy, or you can use the guest office here if you prefer."
"Thank you, Harrison." Ugh. Schoolwork. My professors would probably have snarky comments on my absence, especially if word had gotten to them why I wasn't there. Still, it needed to be done, and if there was anything I couldn't afford now it was to lose my scholarships for bad grades. "I suppose I'll use your guest office." If there was anything I didn't want, it was to be shut up in a guest room. Too much like the holding cell at the police station.
"Very good sir." Harrison descended the stairs and met me by the desk in the corner of the room. "Just sit down at the workstation, and your controls will appear. I assume you are familiar with illusory interfaces?"
I sat, and a transparent keyboard and monitor appeared on the desktop. "Recognized: Ben Stansfield" appeared on the screen.
"I have created a guest account on the network for you."
"I see." The screen faded to a familiar desktop setup. All the tools I could possibly need were there, clearly labeled: word processor, spreadsheet, encyclopedic reference, everything, alongside folders for each of my classes.
"Will there be anything else, sir?"
I looked up from the workstation and smiled. "You've been very helpful. No, thank you."
He gave me a slight, deferential nod, and disappeared. I took a deep breath, and dived into my studies.
* * * * *
Natalie arrived a few hours later.
"I owe you an apology."
I looked up from the terminal. Natalie's face wasn't terribly expressive, but I could see regret in her eyes.
"Anyone could have made that mistake."
"No, please. Ben. I mistook your intentions. If I had gone with you to meet with John Randall, you'd have a witness, and you wouldn't be in this trouble. This is…" she swallowed hard. "This is all my fault."
"No!" I stood up and came around the desk to take her shoulders in my hands. "This is John Randall's fault. He's the one who drew me into this. He used me. You did what you thought was right. If I had explained better, you wouldn't have misunderstood. Don't blame yourself."
She nodded.
I realized how close I was to her and pulled away.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
I looked back at the workstation, with everything it represented, and felt the weight of the hamburger still in my gut. "Starved," I said.
I picked at the little pile of steamed vegetables and the big slab of rare steak on my plate. Instead of eating in the big formal dining room on the main floor, Natalie had our dinners brought up to a smaller room on the upper level. This one was a lot homier, with family portraits on the walls rather than abstract art.
"So why isn't someone like you going to Brightleaf College, or Madison, or someplace like that? Howcome just regular old Empire U.?"
She shook her head. "I don't fit in, in a place like that."
I glanced around the room. "You're next door neighbors with the Majestrix, and you don't fit in at Brightleaf?"
"It's not like that. We didn't always have money like this. I went to a public high school, until Dad got this new job." She waved her fork vaguely. "All of this doesn't really feel like home. Not yet anyways. Probably won't ever. Better than prison, though, eh?" She plastered a smile on her face.
There was a melancholy in her voice, some hidden pain associated with their home, but I didn't want to pry.
I welcomed the change of subject. "Oh, much more comfortable, but I'm actually kind of glad I got arrested."
"What?"
"Well, their wizard detected my transformation spell, and like anyone else who's tried, couldn't remove it. So they put me in a mana-free cell."
"Well, yes, they… wait. You're still transformed."
"You noticed!" I gave her a wry smile. "There's something very odd going on. I can't make sense of it. Everything I've learned in manology classes tells me that it shouldn't have happened. The energy for any spell, even long-term spells, comes from the environment. Take away the mana, and the spell fades away."
"Maybe the room wasn't as dead as they said it was? A leak, maybe?"
I shook my head. "No, I tried a spell. There was nothing, nothing at all to draw on."
"That is weird."
"Yeah, I'm going to see whether my professor has anything to say on the topic. Maybe she'll listen to me this time." I looked over in the direction of the front door. "So when do your parents get home?"
"Dad's with a client. He'll be out late. My mother… doesn't live with us anymore."
So much for not prying.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"No, it's a fair question. I'd like to say that I'm over it, but…" She shrugged.
"You'll remember her forever." I felt my throat tighten and I swallowed hard to keep from choking up.
"You lost your mother?"
"Both parents, actually. The accident almost killed me too."
"I'm sorry."
We sat in silence for a while, and then Natalie got up from the table. "I'm not really hungry, and I have some studying to do. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"Yeah, good night. Thanks for everything you've done."
"Don't mention it. I usually leave for class around eight-thirty, is that early enough for you?"
"That's fine. My first class is at ten."
She left, and the room felt just a little bit colder, just a little bit darker. I decided that my studies were calling me, as well.
* * * * *
In the morning, Harrison woke me carrying a tray with coffee, an orange, peeled and sectioned, a boiled egg, and two pieces of sourdough toast with butter and jam. He set it down on the bed next to me and straightened up.
"Good morning, Mister Stansfield. I hope I was not amiss in waking you. Miss Grace informed me that you would be traveling to school with her this morning."
I blinked, looking down at myself. My body hadn't changed overnight, which was a good thing, I supposed. I didn't have any of my extra clothes handy.
"I took the liberty of laundering the outfit you were wearing yesterday. If you like, however, we have some clothes here that might fit you, and I have gotten permission from Miss Grace for you to borrow them, if you like."
After I had eaten, showered and taken care of the other morning necessities I looked over the clothes Harrison had laid out for me. Alongside my tee shirt and skirt there was a business suit with a skirt well below knee length. The blouse was conservatively cut and when I tried it on, it helped conceal my body's decidedly un-conservative curves. I decided any identity confusion would be a good thing, especially with everything that had gone on. What did it matter if anyone knew who I was? I put on the business suit. Everything except the bra fit well enough, but I didn't have much choice on that score, so underwire or not, I went with it.
I looked at myself in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel the urge to mutter 'Freak' under my breath.
Natalie knocked on my door. I let her in and held out my arms to show off the outfit. "What do you think?"
"It looks good. Lots better than that tee shirt did. I understand why you wore it, but…"
"I know. It seems a little silly, doesn't it?" I went back to the mirror. "I was holding on so hard to my identity I was hurting myself. Maybe loosening my grip a bit isn't so bad."
When I turned back, instead of Natalie's spindly, dark-furred body, she was a petite human, with a cute turned-up nose and long black hair. Her huge brown eyes held my gaze with warmth and sympathy. Her dark blue tunic had changed into a simple knee-length dress. "If anyone knows that body isn't self, it's the Cursed."
There was definitely something vulnerable about her, standing there, showing me an aspect of herself that as far as I knew, she generally kept hidden. The fact that she would have to spend as much time in complete bat form as she did in this human form heightened my appreciation.
"You didn't have to do this," I said.
"I wanted to." Then, a twitch and a shake later, she was back in half-bat form. "Come on. Coffee's ready. If we hurry we can drink it here before we have to leave."
* * * * *
I thought I was an outcast before Matheson's disappearance. I had no idea. The University gave me an education in anathema by the time my last class was over. Everyone had heard what happened, and everyone assumed I had done it. When I sat down at tables, people got up and left. When I took my seat in class, there was always a gap around my chair, even if someone had to leave the room to make it happen. People whispered behind my back, and in front of my face. Instead of looking at me with scorn or derision, I saw contempt.
Then Conrad, one of Matheson's friends, came up and stood over me as I waited in the Student Union waiting for Natalie. "You've got a lot of damn nerve, coming back here after what you did."
"I didn't do anything."
"Bullshit!" He slapped the soda cup out of my hand, splattering it all over the empty seat next to me. The room went silent.
I shook off my hand and stood up. With as much sincerity as I could muster, I looked him in the eye and said, "I did not do anything to Herb Matheson."
"Oh yeah? Then who did?"
"If you boys are done butting heads…" Both of us turned to see Lieutenant Harcourt standing by the coffee machines. He stirred in a couple packets of creamer and threw the stick in the trash. "Came by to let you know in person. Lab tests came in. No one in Matheson's room but him and John Randall. Warrant's out for Randall's arrest."
I pushed past Conrad to get another drink. The room was instantly abuzz with conversation again, no doubt digesting this newest bit of gossip.
The cop handed me a business card. "Stay in touch."
I took it and stuffed it into the pocket of my jacket. "Thank you. And thanks for telling me out here, where folks can hear it."
"No problem. And I mean it. Stay in touch. Let me know if Randall contacts you." He turned and ambled out, a crowd of students parting in front of him like he had lights and siren going.
Natalie came in just as he was leaving. "What was that about? Is everything okay?"
"He said I'm cleared. No longer a suspect."
"Ben! That's wonderful!"
"Let's go," said Natalie, "Suddenly I don't have much taste for the coffee here."
Outside, we made our way to the parking garage and the little two-seat skimmer that Natalie used for getting back and forth to school. It was the type with a stylish exterior that looks like it goes about two hundred, and a couple of anemic hamsters under the hood.
While we were driving back to the Belfry, my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Ben Stansfield? This is Marjorie Kennedy. I'm calling to let you know that your room has been released by the police, so you can go in now to get your things."
"To what?"
"You can get your things. I make myself clear, do I not?"
"You seem to be implying that I'm supposed to move out or something."
"That's exactly what I'm saying, Mister Stansfield. By your own admission, you broke the rules against spellcasting in the dormitories. Given the history of trouble surrounding your residency, I have no choice but to remove the University's offer of housing."
"No, listen…"
"Are you claiming that you lied to the police, Mister Stansfield?"
I groaned. "No, I'm not."
"Very well then. I expect your belongings to be out by the end of the week. Good day, Mister Stansfield."
Click.
I growled and practically threw the phone out the window.
"What happened?"
"I'm being thrown out of the dorm."
"Do you have anywhere else to go?"
"Orphan, remember? I've got an uncle out in the Flatlands, but I'll be damned if I'm going to there until all my other options are spent. I'll sleep on the streets if I have to."
She looked over at me briefly. "You could stay with us until you find a place."
"Won't your dad mind? I mean, he hardly knows me."
"He knows I'm a big girl. I make my own choices. Besides, if he… well. He won't object." She pulled the skimmer out of traffic and up into the garage.
"Thank you," I said. "I should probably go around there tonight, and pick up my books and stuff." We got out of the car.
"I'll help. You need a truck?"
"No, it should all fit in here. I don't really have that much."
Harrison met us at the door. "Welcome home, Miss Grace, Mister Stansfield. Mister Grace will be dining at the office tonight, so dinner can be served whenever you're ready."
"Now's fine, Harrison," she said. "I'm starved."
We sat in the informal dining room again, and were immediately served barbecue ribs, a few small potatoes, and broccoli. It was the finest meal I'd had in a long time, or at least since the night before.
When I had taken the edge off my hunger I wiped my fingers off and looked across the table at Natalie. "You and your dad. You're not fruit bats, are you?"
She paused. "No."
"Not bug bats, either."
"Insectivores."
"Right. You're not insectivores."
Natalie looked down at the huge plate of meat in front of her, and then back up at me. "Is it that important to you?"
I kicked myself. How could I have been so stupid? The whole thing came out completely wrong, like some kind of accusation. "Do you… drink blood?" I winced. That hadn't helped any.
"Only when I'm all the way bat. Like this, I'm just mostly carnivorous." She waved a fork over the meal. "If you want more vegetables, I can…"
"No, no, please, this is fine." The pause stretched painfully long.
"That's the reason I stay halfway, most of the time. I don't like drinking blood."
"I'm sorry," I said. "That came out really bad, and…"
"No, I understand. The vampires haven't got a great reputation, and some of it rubs off on people who share the name. But you know, you can't judge someone by that. Dad told me about a vampire police officer, Morgan something-or-other. One of the good guys."
"Yeah, I know, we had a unit on Vampire rights my senior year. Lots of shining examples of peaceful coexistence and all that." I put my utensils down and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry. Will you forgive me? I spoke without thinking, and it was insensitive of me."
"Apology accepted. Now. Are you done eating?"
I had eaten one rib, and started on a second. "No."
"Good. Neither am I, and this is delicious. So let's get back to it, hm?"
