Time ticked far too slowly in a place that had never seen true light. The only illumination in this place came from rivulets of molten earth that ran like trickles of water down dark stone walls and pooled in cracks and crevices on an uneven floor. Here, in the dark, the scent of brimstone and ash, of char and hot stone permeated everything—had anything of flesh and bone ever set foot in these labyrinthine tunnels, its throat and lungs would have burned from both the heat and fumes in the air. It was a place most unpleasant…

Behind a heavy door, sealed within a chamber where not even magma spilled its ruddy false-light, the shadows were so thick that they were more suffocating than the foulness of the air. The only light in his prison—if one could call it light, for it was not, not in any sense of the word—was the far wall, a wall of obsidian, whose surface was fractured and spider-webbed like a cracked window, its smoothest sections polished by sheer determination and countless hours of touch from powerful hands.

He languished in the dark, the air silent and still, with even the voices of the shades contained in the cell muted to a distant murmur. Each breath pulled in sluggish air that felt unnaturally thick and heavy as it coiled in his lungs; it was a never-ending conscious effort to inhale and expel the fetid miasma, leaving mouth and tongue coated with a noisome residue. The figure’s face twisted into a scowl, his carefully contained rage fueling raw determination. Soon. He would be free of this cell soon, and all would be as it should be. That which rightfully belonged to him would once more be his.

With that thought in mind, he rose from his seat and paced to the obsidian wall, staring at the flickering images he could dimly discern in each broken facet, more shifting shades of black that only countless hours of dedication had allowed him the ability to read. One taloned hand lifted, hovering just above the stone, and he inhaled, drawing a deep breath and focusing his anger to overcome the way his prison pulled on him. He forced his shadow to meld with the wall, and with it, his very sense of awareness.

It was like forcing his way through a thick, viscous, tar-like medium, that tore at mind and body alike, and with honed determination he seized on that pain, using it to fuel his anger, his rage, and demanded of the shard to do what he wished. Slowly the image took shape, detail and muted, twisted color spilling across the fragment, til he could perceive Itheadair addressing a girl colored in greens and browns…

The world skewed, and with a sound like rushing wind, he could hear and see as if he were standing right next to them, watching from a crystal column’s polished surface.

As he watched, the sidhe let the barest hint of a predatory smile curve the corners of their lips upward. Most would not notice it, of course, but he had observed his servant long enough to know, and with that smile came a hint of borrowed power, sending mortal drudges skittering out of the way through some primal fear they could not place.

With the obstructions removed between Itheadair and the girl, his servant prowled forward at a measured pace, eyes beneath the glamour fixated on their target with a basilisk-like gaze. While the sidhe lacked the ability of the king of serpents to actually turn its victims to stone, it still caused the rumpled figure to freeze in place, fear fluttering anxiously in the mortal child’s mind at what had been done to draw the attention of the stern faced ‘Principal.’ His servant’s pleasure at this mock hunt was evident, as was the way they savored the same fear he could sense in the way some mortals savored a glass of fine wine.

Coming to a stop just inside the girl’s personal space, the sidhe looked down their nose, and in a tone that managed to be sharply condescending and more than a little dismissive, said, “Ah. Just who I was looking for…Miss…Cabbage Rose, is it not?”

Fear fizzled in favor of sour indignation that flashed across pale green features. “Wallflower, Principal Cinch,” she corrected in a voice carefully devoid of inflection. “Wallflower Blush.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” One hand twitched in an even more dismissive gesture, casting aside the correction as one might a soiled napkin. Itheadair’s eyes glittered, and they continued, “You are Miss Sparkle’s little…assistant, yes? Because that is why I require your attention.”

Increased indignation made pale green skin darken to an unpleasant shade, and the girl-child once again corrected her superior. “I’m Twilight’s friend and I sometimes share laboratory space with her for projects, if that’s what you're asking about, Principal Cinch.”

Itheadair’s lips twitched into more of a smile, albeit a dangerous, predatory one. “Is that so?” the sidhe purred, a spike of power making the human suck in a sharp breath as magic set off a reaction of primal unease and a prickle of fear. “Whatever you wish to delude yourself into calling it, I desire your attention now in your capacity as Miss Sparkle’s assistant.” That shark-toothed expression stretched further into a mockery of a smile, each word driven home with the precision of a knife.

The human child swallowed, cowed to a sullen, bitter silence. When she offered no retort, the fae nodded, and continued, issuing instructions in a firm, exacting tone, expecting nothing but complete and immediate obedience. “There is an assembly being held in the auditorium in fifteen minutes. Miss Sparkle will be there before it begins, and I am tasking you to ensure that it happens. Moreover, consider the following incentive: for every minute Miss Sparkle causes me to delay the assembly, I shall see to it that your professors deduct ten points from the final grade of whatever little project you have supposedly going on in this ‘shared laboratory space’ that I am most certain I did not sign off for you to use. Am I understood?”

Brown eyes widened, and the girl trembled before the taller figure. Itheadair made a dismissive motion with one hand. “Best get moving—the clock is ticking, Miss Rose. Be on your way, and do not forget what hangs in the balance…”

He didn't get to hear the mortal girl’s reaction. Instead, the world skewed around him as one of his shades dragged his attention to another part of the complex.

As reality refocused, he saw two of the children arguing. The female’s voice was shrill, painful to even ears buffered by crystal, and the male’s face was crimson with embarrassment and rage.

Yes…this would do nicely…

He could sense the way the power of the school, his power, woven into the very earth and anchored by dozens of sacrifices that wailed in glorious, eternal terror and suffering, draped over the arguing children like a thin film. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to weave mental fingers through, the shadows twisting the gathering darkness in their minds.

Shut the simpering harlot’s mouth…one whispered. She has no cause to treat you this way. Assert yourself…

And when the loud, ringing sound of a slap filled the air, silencing the yelling and filling the air with the fear of one and the guilt and anger of another, he laughed, dragging the fears out of both of them, delighting endlessly at how the girl-child cowered and the boy-child glanced around as if expecting reprisal from a witness.

What if someone saw? the shadows taunted the boy.

What if you make him angrier? they hissed at the girl.

No one can know, they reminded both. Keep it secret…for who knows what will happen if someone finds out…

Delicious terror, feeding back into the darkness and making it stronger. He grinned, satisfied, and let the world shift again…

Another group of mortal youth, huddled in a forgotten nook behind which dwelled a tortured soul. One was doling out little bags of capsules in exchange for money, his smile oily and serpent like the whole time…

At least, until one sniveling wretch did not have enough green.

“You know the deal—cash up front, or no study pills,” the keeper of the capsules sneered. “Forty bucks short means you can't even afford a half dose.”

“Please!” begged a reedy thin boy with unhealthy perspiration on his reddened face. “I really need it to study for this chemistry test!” Fear of failure and his own inadequacy poured off of him in greater rivers than his foul smelling sweat.

The other human shook his head, delighting in the power he held over his peers. “Not my problem. You want them, you pay for them like everyone else. This is business, not charity.”

Again, the thin youth begged, and He supped on the fear like He once savored fine wines and sumptuous feasts. “But I need it! I’ll fail without it, and my parents will kill me!”

Hard eyes stared him down, remorseless and without an ounce of pity. “Then you’d better find a way to pay for it. Might want to hurry—if I remember right, you have that test in three days….and who knows how long my stock will last…”

The shadows twisted with an idea, one whispered into the sweaty boy's mind and echoed with a shaky and weak attempt at a threatening tone. “M-maybe you should c-cut me a deal—unless you want s-someone to find out about t-this!”

Anger and rage flared from the dealer, and he gave the reedy boy a hard shove. “Do that and you think anyone else will want to sell you your study pills? And then where will you be? No more ‘A’s’ in chem means that daddy of yours won't be happy. Especially if he’s been drinking again.”

Hissing with laughter, the shadows latched onto both boys, tenebrous tendrils digging into their essences and gnawing at the edges…which in turn would strengthen his hold on them and the property—more vessels to draw power from was a hard necessity in an era without much magic of its own.

That elicited something akin to pleasure in him, along with the knowledge that things would soon change. There was magic near again, and it was growing…and soon…it would belong to him. If Itheadair managed to do things right—progress with the girl he had chosen was…not going as quickly as it should.

For a moment, he was back in his prison, pacing before the wall of shards. The sidhe was always looking out for themself first, but they had always known their place as his subordinate. This time though…something was different. Something was wrong, and he did not like leaving things so utterly to chance. Best to watch his servant closely, and start preparing contingency plans…

That meant observing the speech Itheadair planned to give, he realized, lips curling back from fangs in distaste. Time spent listening and watching them preen and posture like they were reliving their days in Eire, before the old ways were challenged and driven out. It was pathetic, really, how the fae beings were incapable of truly adapting and insisted on this pale imitation of bygone eras. So much energy wasted instead of finding new methods of control, new fears to manipulate.

Turning back to the wall, he found a source of darkness and despair that drew his attention like a moth to flame, not far from his ultimate destination…

The girl shivered as she crept into the deserted locker room, thin hands trembling as she strained to push the heavy door open and almost too weak to do so. Unhealthily thin and wan, she wore too many layers even for the time of year, and still she shivered and shook like a brittle leaf in a stiff autumn breeze.

Shadows nipped at her heels, and her thoughts were practically an open book, fleeting promises to her parents to stop, the niggling sense of self preservation telling her that she was wrong, that she needed to walk away from what she was about to do…and the anxious, suffocating fear that gripped her heart and threaded through her veins like ice.

A fear that spiked when he whispered through the shadows in the voices of her peers, her family…herself…

“Glutton….”

“Pig…”

“No restraint…”

“Just look at you…”

The fear threatened to consume her, tears streaking down her face as she stripped down to nothing, bones standing out in sharply defined contours on paper thin flesh, casting harsh bruise-like shadows where there should only be smooth shading and curved lines. She needed to know for herself, to see how bad the damage was…

“Look at you, bloated thing!”

“So hideous, so corpulent…”

“You should see yourself…”

Her eyes rose, dragged by the mocking whispers, to stare in the mirror, and with delight, he twisted her perceptions further—until the chubby figure in her mind's eye was a thousand times worse; a swollen, marshmallowy creature that only barely looked human beneath the grotesque, bulging fat. The teen sobbed, nails digging into bones and sinew where there was almost no muscle or fat left beneath flesh, leaving crescent shaped welts she could not feel over the chill that only seemed to grow. Shaking legs brought her onto the waiting scale, as her mind wailed and pleaded for numbers to not betray her..

Her suffering was sweet music, and he drew as much as he dared from her, savoring the particular flavor of her torment. He nudged her towards a precarious edge—too far and he’d push her beyond the point of no return, and he enjoyed watching the torture be drawn out, but not enough and his hold would weaken. Better to keep her balanced on the knife’s edge of despair.

His feast was interrupted by one of his more autonomous shades, a lesser thing imbued with its own sense of intelligence and vague consciousness, and he glowered at it through space and time.

It cowered before his sight. Please, Master, this one only does Your Will. The gathering begins, and this one cannot find the sacrifice—she is not there, Master.

Rage. It filled him, threatening to spill over into violent action, and he ripped himself from the scene before him. What?!

His shade shivered under his power. We search, Master, but nowhere is she!

Show me! He thundered, forcing his senses into the shade. In a flicker, he was in the auditorium, staring out at the sea of students from the harsh shadows under the heavy stage curtains. He scanned the room, extending his senses, but it appeared his shade had been speaking the truth. The girl was not there.

Itheadair… He hissed. Damn that fae and their games. They knew he needed the girl present if he was to temper her properly as a sacrifice!

Another look over the youth in the auditorium, confirming that the girl was missing. He even found her companion, the mortal that Itheadair had so recently terrified. That girl was there, the empty seat at her side mocking him, radiating apathy and distaste. How dare they?!

And with his duplicitous underling now speaking at the podium, he couldn't punish them properly. He would have to wait, sitting through the immortal creature’s pedantic prattling and half delusional recreation of the days when they actually held true power over mortals instead of being relegated to playing nanny for the spoiled children of the upper class.

Rage seethed in him, and he reached out to one of the shadows, to the shade that had brought the bad news. His presence filled the shadow, unseen by the students and staff, but centered in Itheadair’s line of sight, channeling his fury into power, and willing that power to make his form visible. He glared intently at them, and felt a pleased satisfaction when the fae’s eyes landed on him. To the mortals, the pause was natural, organic, but he knew otherwise. His underling had faltered, felt true fear for a single instant, and he felt their mind quail when he hissed so only they could hear, The office, when thisssss is finisssshed. I have wordsssss for you, Itheadair. Do not tarry, or you will not enjoy the consssssequencessss.

Skin went a few shades paler under the glamour, and He sneered. There was a reason he preferred his shades—loyal and obedient and incapable of plotting against him. He departed the shade a moment later, heading for a different part of the school.

When Itheadair opened the door to their office, they were treated to a sight that was meant to drive home exactly what their place was.

He had possessed yet another shade, planting this one firmly in the sidhe’s chair at the polished desk, looming over the rest of the room, his might far too great to be contained in a human sized form. Darkness was winning against the single dim light, and more illumination came from his eyes than the bulb, casting a faint red glow wherever he turned his focus.

He could see it in their face as they shut the door, glamour nothing more than a nuisance he tore away to expose their true countenance; the sidhe’s mind was clearly racing, despite the effort they put into schooling angular features into a neutral expression. Itheadair drew up into a regal but deferential pose, voice belying the strain they were under, trying to to keep the tremor of fear in what blackened husk passed for their heart from showing.

A wasted effort, of course, but he wasn't about to overplay his own hand. He could sense the glorious touch of it, and his shadows hissed for the chance to gorge on it, to feed, to breed, to birth more of their kind. Patience, he urged them, the lesser demons under his will. They would get their chance to sup on that emotion, but not yet. Not unless Itheadair had truly betrayed him.

The form he inhabited glowered down at the smaller figure, and the ancient creature swallowed their pride, kneeling before him on the expensive carpet. “I have displeased you, Master,” came the acknowledgment in the Old Tongue of the sidhe, the submissive and demeaning posture a show of contrition from such a proud being as this. “I know not how, but pray, inform you servant how amends may be made, and it shall be done.” The head bent, twisting that too long neck slightly to expose pale skin as if to a blade.

If they thought that would mollify him, they were gravely mistaken. He leaned forward from the position of waiting, and if he had loomed before, now he towered over his subordinate, the red pits of his eyes glowing brighter with a hellish, unholy light that reflected his rising fury. He drew it out, the waiting and the silence, until discomfort started to compete with Itheadair’s fear.

Sharp tenebrous claws drummed on the antique desk, a staccato pattern that unsettled more than just mortals. Amendsssss? echoed the voice from another corner of the room. You wissssh to play gamessss and put on a sssshow of repentance when you are even unwilling to admit what you have done? Do you think me a fool, Itheadair, blind and deaf to the kind of ssssnakes you and your ilk are? For the moment, his tone was commanding but contained, giving only the faintest hint to the true depths of his rage.

“What I have done matters not, Master, only that I have transgressed in some fashion,” the sidhe responded, “even if it was unintentional.” They watched him with the eyes of a rabbit staring down a starving hellhound,

The refusal to admit what they had done coupled with the attempted guile disguised as ignorance only incensed him further. The drumming of talons on wood continued, hard enough to leave marks in the polished surface, despite the semi-insubstantial nature of the body he possessed. If you are truly assss ignorant assss you claim, sssspawn of the bogssss of Eire, then you are no better to me than a broken tool, he hissed dangerously his voice coming at the elder fae from a different place in the room than before.

His voice cracked like a whip, each syllable in time with both the impact of a talon on wood, and a flash of crimson from the reddened puts that were his eyes. Why wasssss the girl not in attendence of your little asssssembly? This time, his voice erupted from the darkness just in front of the kneeling figure.

Discomfort had fled in the face of renewed fear, and now confusion pushed it down as his servant spoke. “My…my Lord…” Itheadair looked up for the first time at him for the barest of moments, before fixing their gaze once more on the floor. “I…do not understand—she was present, Master. I ensured it myself—I checked as I entered the auditorium.”

That the sidhe had become so bold as to defy him this way was either very brave or very foolish, and he let them know it, his voice thundering from everywhere at once. SSSSHE WASSSS NOT THERE! The drumming stopped as the shade he filled flowed over the desk and stalked forward until it almost touched Itheadair, eyes burning enough to cast the suggestion of terrible fangs and horns into sharp relief as it stretched its head down to be on a level with the cowering creature. I will give you one chance to ssssave your misssserable, pathetic hide, wretched sssswamp-sssspawn, sssso conssssider that carefully before you ssssspeak. Issss thissss act of ignorance truth, or one of your twissssted faerie gamessss?

“I swear it, Master,” the fae uttered, voice trembling with true, primal terror that stripped away all pretense. “When I entered the auditorium, my eyes beheld her seated beside the Cabbage chit, as I instructed the girl to do. On my Word, if something hid her from your sight, it was not I. I play no such game with something so important to you, my Lord.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, picking apart what he felt and heard through his shade, his eyes boring holes in his underling, never quite touching the pale thing. At last, he returned to the seat at the desk. Fix it, Itheadair. You have one chance, before I see if one of your lessers might do better at your job than you. I will not have this conversation again.

“As you command, Master.”

Move quickly, sidhe. Time does not favor you.

He released the shade, his presence returning to his prison, in need of a moment to recover. Full possession of his shadows was something only done sparingly for a good reason. He retreated for a time to his throne, tail lashing as he drew energy in from the darkness surrounding him.

If Itheadair was planning against him…or worse, becoming so incompetent that the lesser fae beneath the elder one could pull off such blatant acts…then it was past time to consider a replacement….but not a fae this time. He needed someone or something he could more easily control, something that could be taught to follow him loyally, as he had once had, long ago with Urtur and Beltezzar. They had followed him, served unquestioningly until that wretched priest-king and his army had destroyed them, sent them to this damnable prison where all that they were had been ground to dust millennia ago.

Anger and hate rose and he breathed deep, letting it replenish his energy with its black flames. He would find a replacement, but would do so carefully. Groom them carefully. Test them. Ensure their loyalty….

Shaking himself from the thoughts of a time long gone, he focused his thoughts on the here and now. His strength had returned, and so he returned to the wall—there were seeds to be sown, all with the intent of tempering the girl he had chosen for the ritual, and while he had eternity himself, the timing in the physical realm was against him.

The world slewed around him once again, and he watched from the polished surface of a mirror in a girl’s bathroom. He could see several pairs of feet under the stalls, and smiled darkly. A nudge to several of his shadows, and a false conversation began, spoken in feminine voices that vaguely resembled students, audible to the real students in the room.

“Did you hear what I heard?”

“About what?”

“About Suri!”

“Oh, something juicy about Polomare? Now you have to share?”

There was a sudden hush in the room and he knew without a doubt that every word was being absorbed by the listeners.

“Well, remember how she was going out with Gold Clover until a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah, and then he broke up with her in the cafeteria, with that huge fight. It was a mess and she was even more of a bitch for days. Made a few girls cry in the halls.”

“Guess who found out why he dumped her?”

“Don't leave me hanging! Why—I mean, besides the fact that she’s a total bitch!”

“Turns out, she cheated on him—“

“No! Get out! She cheated on Gold Clover? He’s already well out of her league! She could’ve been set for life! Do you know how much money his family has?”

“It gets better. She didn't cheat on him with just anyone—Suri was caught with a girl from East Valley who turns tricks on the weekend for money.”

There was a sharp gasp from several of the stalls, as the listeners couldn't contain their shock. One of them even called out, “A public school student from that ghetto rathole? And a girl?! Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, my cousin saw it himself. Suri was caught seeing her off, and as soon as it got back to Gold, he was furious!”

The room was now filled with the chatter of speculation and the original voices were forgotten in tumult left behind in their wake. He praised his shadows and their creative cleverness, and set them to watch, maybe encourage the rumor here and there. Then he turned his attention to locating his true quarry—now that he knew something was interfering with his sight of her, it would prove a simple thing to break through that.

It turned out to be unnecessary. Whatever enchantment had concealed the girl was gone, and he located her in the locker room, surrounded by a pack of other girls—and one of Itheadair’s minions disguised as a girl—who all radiated displeasure and menace. He brushed against his target’s shadow, using it to whisper foully in one purple ear.

Why do you stand for this? It's the same thing, time after time, and they keep coming after you… he found the kernels of anger inside her, beneath the anxious, fearful shell, much of it wrapped around the burgeoning but powerful magic he felt within her. Claws sunk into that anger, that raw frustration, drawing it inexorably to the surface.

“I haven't bribed anyone,” the girl responded to her tormentors accusations in a tight voice, annoyance starting to show in the tone of her voice. “I don't need to, when people like you, who seem barely capable of English Comprehension, are my academic competition.” The last bit was delivered with the beginning of what might be called a proper sneer, if he had been feeling generous.

He was not and when the leader of the pack spoke again, he paid careful attention to his quarry’s reaction to the words.

“I think that’s enough out of you, Princess, ‘kay? The fact is, maybe we don't have the ability to counter your parents' money—you’ve got Principal Cinch too tightly in your corner for that, but we can promise you this: you’d better succeed now that you’ve done this, because if you don't? You are going to regret ever coming to Crystal Prep.”

Interesting…that one word caused more rage than most of the others. It wasn't the accusations or the threats that got to her, but a royal title…

Are you going to let her get away with this? Aren't you tired of it? He whispered, goading her, though her conscious mind could not hear him. Or are you really a spoiled princess, waiting for someone else to fight your battles for you?

He felt the moment her patience snapped, and he waited gleefully to see how her fury would manifest. It was always such a telling moment.

The girl with dark haired straightened her spine and arch a brow at her tormentors, expression growing cold. “So now it's not enough for you to accuse me of bribery because I do better in class than you, but now youre bold enough to accuse Principal Cinch of taking those supposed bribes? Not even you can possibly be that stupid, Suri Polomare.”

Her tone was sharp, cutting, but every word was calculated with machine-like precision. “Principal Cinch has a reputation for being an upstanding citizen and administrator of this school, with contacts and connections in all fields of academia and society, and her reputation is very important to her—as is the school’s. Yet here you stand, so committed to this farce you desire to perpetuate that you are now slandering her and the school as well. Do you honestly think she will be happy when she finds out about that?”

It seemed, then, that her rage was like ice, something he mused on and found pleasing. Such rage was easier to manipulate, and paired well with her fears and anxieties. He had chosen his victim well.

And if a part of him practically cackled with glee over the panic that suddenly rolled off the lone changeling amidst the pack of mortal girls, that was just a delicious bonus. He watched as the changeling halted whatever the mortal pack’s leader was going to say next, offering their own hasty retraction, lest Itheadair learn one of their own was speaking ill of their “honor.”

Foolish fae and their rules. It made them far too easy to manipulate.

He watched as the changeling used bravado and empty threats to cover up the group’s forced retreat, already pondering how to best prod his target’s anxious thoughts now that anger was spent, when one of his shades found him.

Master! Trouble, Master! The mortal law-keepers return! They seek audience!

Irritation soured his mood. What of it? Mortal lawssss and their guardianssss are none of my concern!

Itheadair is afraid, Master. Bids Master come, watch, prepare… the shade sniveled.

So now the sidhe was incapable of placating mortals without aid? It truly was time to replace the doddering old wretch. With a last look at his quarry he shifted his focus, sending the shade back to its post, even as the world ran like ink around him, the locker room melting into the office that the sidhe liked to pretend was their throne room.

His underling was seated at the desk, opposite two humans, a male and a female, both well dressed. The sidhe was in the middle of greeting them when his vision of the room cleared. “—can I do for you, Detectives?”

The female’s expression was grim. “I was handed the case file for Jeweled Design, since the previous detective attached to it retired, and I had a few follow up questions for you about her as a student here. I’m hoping it might give me a clue as to her disappearance.”

Itheadair steepled their fingers and their glamoured face stretched into an attentive expression. “Of course, Detective…Advocate, was it? Here at Crystal Prep, we do what we can to cooperate with law enforcement such as yourself—as your partner well knows, since he was a student here once.”

“So he told me,” the blonde woman said in a dry tone. “But my focus is on a missing girl who disappeared in November, right around the Thanksgiving holiday. What can you tell me about her life here at school? Did she have a lot of friends? Was she anxious or stressed? Was she well behaved? I know her file said she was on the track team…”

He sneered. This is what Itheadair had interrupted him for? One human female rising above herself and a male who was likely still affected by the geas from his time as a student of the school to ask any real questions?

Pathetic, Itheadair…

The sidhe never looked directly at him, but he could feel the spike of irritation at his mocking. Good. He didn't appreciate having his time wasted. He studied the detectives again. The female was listening to the responses to her questions with far more scrutiny than most mortals displayed, but it was her next statement that made him pay attention.

“Forgive me, Principal…but is your office always this dark? Doesn't that make it hard to do some of your work?” She gestured to the way the room was illuminated by only the single light over the desk.

There was that insincere smile. “I manage,” was the carefully crafted response. “Its these old buildings—the lighting isn’t always the best, and we prefer to spend our budget on the students than on adding more lights to my office when its not really necessary.”

Now the detective was frowning—and more importantly, the male detective, who should have been blissfully and forcibly ignorant of the quirks of the facility was looking at the room himself intently, as if with new eyes. “Maybe you should think about it, Principal Cinch. It's a lot darker than I remember,” he commented. “That can't be good for your eyes, and it probably makes the students feel like this is a dungeon…”

The smile wavered for a fraction of a second with surprise, but was smoothed quickly with a practiced effort that even the shadows had to respect. “I might have to,” the ancient being conceded, “have to have someone look at the room. It does seem as if something is not working as it should if you noticed the difference, Detective Armor. But in the meantime, were there more questions?”

“No,” the female responded. “I think that’s what I needed.” She rose fluidly, and extended a hand for the principal. “Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to talk to us.”

Itheadair, under the false smile looked as though they had just been forced to consume spoiled milk, shaking the offered hand. “We here at Crystal Prep do strive to maintain a positive relationship with authorities such as yourselves, detectives. We have an example to set for the best and brightest of tomorrow’s leaders, after all, and respect for the law and those who keep it is an important lesson to learn.”

He saw it in smokey eyes—the detective could see right through the duplicitous faerie double-speak. “If only more people in your position were so helpful,” she responded. Then her eyes flitted down, and she ran fingers over the inlay on the desk. “This desk of yours is gorgeous, by the way. It's an antique, isn't it? And is this ivory?”

“It came with the building,” was the reply. “I understand it was used by the previous owner when this was a home for troubled youth.”

He twitched in the shadows. Damn the sidhe and their need for half truths! Not to mention the way this complicated matters—the mortal should not have been able to even see the bone inlay, since it was enchanted! This whole thing was making the mortal investigators suspicious, and as he reached out to hurry this along, to nudge the male into hurrying his companion out, he recoiled as if burned. The power that should have been there wasn't just gone—something was actively protecting him from the darkness…something that seared his awareness painfully when he touched it.

With a hiss, he was forced to retreat, glowering from his prison at the vision before him as the pair of mortals left the office…leaving him with the growing feeling that he could no longer trust his followers to act in accordance with his will.

And that certainly would not do.

...Whelp. That's a thing. A lot of things. All of them going on in CPA without the mortals being aware. Lovely place, aint it?

Promised I'd earn the rating. We're starting to get there with some of the stuff in this interlude. Cinch's boss is not a nice fellow, is he?

*ominous music cues*

...I have to admit, I was a bit hesitant when I wrote this chapter, but I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. It gives a great more info out on our villain than most may realize at first glance, but....

Worth it.

He also doesn't seem happy at Cinch, does he? Or about something preventing him from touching Shining.

Terrible shame, that.

Also, thanks to those who've so far submitted ideas for the little contest I talked about. For those who haven't yet, but would like to, feel free! We've already got some great ideas from the ones we've gotten on how to incorporate the cameos, and I'm excited to see what other suggestions wind up in my inbox!