Deadlines cared little for moral panic. Before Dion could get used to worrying about it, the perfume was due. In front of Dr. Gilbert’s office one again. Same as every month, he stared at the door, waiting to gather enough confidence to knock. Before, he never wanted to barge in. He knew what went on in there.

Except this time, he was empty handed. No perfume to serve as an offering to appease the monster. This should have been where he felt intense dread churning throughout his entire body like a seasick sea. Instead, he felt calm. Maybe not quite calm, but… steadfast? He knew what he had to do with no reservations.

Dr. Gilbert did not deserve a knock. Well, maybe a quick one, but he was not waiting to be invited in. Get this over with. Dion delivered three raps on the door, grasped the knob, and swung it open. He invited himself in, pushing it shut behind him. Not slamming it, though. That would be a little too rude.

Still surprised the cat. Greeting Dion with a raised eyebrow, he spoke. “Hello to you too, Dr. Thade. That eager to see me, are you? Must have something amazing this month.” He leaned on his desk, fingers steepled together, smile wide like an adventurer opening a treasure chest.

“Um, no… not this time.” He had to notice Dion’s empty paws. Perfume bottle was usually on display when he walked in. The desire to get rid of it as quickly as possible was that strong.

“Hm? Well, whatever it is, it will do.” Comfortable still, he leaned back in his chair. “Although next month, I have a special request. I’d like something in a mint, chocolate, and vanilla scent. An… associate of mine used to wear that fragrance quite well and he had the most fetching wings, the little mouse.” Memory made Samantha lick his lips.

Smoldering anger in Dion’s chest. Whoever this mouse was, he doubted he appreciated the leering, hungry look in Samantha’s eyes. Violence felt like a good idea for just a moment. Desire was a funny thing like that, but the skunk’s rational mind prevailed. Fighting was not his strength and would not have helped his position.

What he was going to do was arguably worse. “No. No perfume anymore. I’m not making another drop. Not now, not ever.” Words came out without him thinking about them. They were in his heart, but from the heart the mouth speaks. Did not stutter once.

A paw went to Samantha’s cheek. His inner ears flushed. No words came out. The open muzzle and wide eyes made it look like Dion slapped him. May as well have. Stunned silence for several seconds followed.

“No?” A simple, one word response. Hollow voiced, the sound of a junkie whose dealer just told the supply was cut off.

“No.” A firm reply. Dion was not playing. Also not sticking around. He turned to grab the doorknob. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Gilbert’s expression change.

Shock and any hint of it faded. A stunned, agape mouth melted into a rictus grimace. Samantha did not stand up from his chair; he shot up from it. If he had the strength, he would have thrown his desk aside. He ran around it and grabbed Dion by the shoulder. A yank and he spun the skunk to face him.

Dion was not prepared for that. Surprised, he tried to back away, but the cat grabbed both of his shoulders and pulled him closer. Muzzles mere inches apart, he could smell the cat’s breath. Sour and unpleasant. It reeked of low-quality, expensive bourbon and body musk that did not belong to a cat.

“What do you mean NO?!” Samantha screamed. Dion leaned back, knocking his head against the wall. He brought up his hands, but Samantha did not let him go. Claws dug into his shirt and scratched at his skin, but not enough to draw blood. “You don’t get to say no!”

Yes, he did. Compromising and acquiescing got him to this point. Was he scared? Absolutely. Staccato spasms in his chest from the adrenaline and nervous tingles in his stomach. When he thought of Liz, none of it mattered. He had to be the strong one now, the man she thought he was.

He was not strong, but he pushed Samantha off. It was more of a shuffling away of the cat’s paws, but got him to back up. “I mean no. I’m not helping you anymore. No perfume, no magic. It’s too dangerous for anyone, including you.”

Samantha’s eyes blazed. Outrage coursed through his body. He lost his cool and knew it, but it was out of his control. Accustomed to having a constant supply, he knew his lifestyle was in jeopardy. “You’re forgetting everything I’ve done for you? All the people I’ve introduced you to? The networking, the money. You were on the track to tenure by the end of the year, I would’ve made sure of it. You’re going to piss that all away because you got a sudden attack of conscience?!”

Confidence evaporated from Samantha with so much force Dion could practically see the vapors. Desperation. How could he have ever been intimidated by this cross-dressing man? All the power academia could give him and he was beholden to his own carnality, needful of a little rose scented liquid. The skunk recalled some Bible passage about the wicked fleeing when no man pursues. Could not remember the exact chapter and verse. A more conniving man would use the leverage to ply Dr. Gilbert. Dion just wanted out.

No fear, just alert, never more alive. “I never wanted anything to do with any of you. You’re all horrible, every last one, but especially you. At least they’re honest about the social justice nonsense. You just do whatever’s fashionable.”

“I think you’re forgetting what I can do to you.” The cat warned.

As if that actually mattered. “I don’t care. Isn’t worth it.”

Samantha’s body tensed. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and… smiled? He tilted his head. “I see you’re convicted… for now. I suggest you reconsider, but I’ll give you one month to think about it. I’ll be in contact with you to show you just how much better things will be if you play the game, so to speak. Remember, I’m looking out for you. I just want to see you succeed. If I get something out of it, that’s merely a bonus.”

“You won’t see me in your office again.” Dion left before the cat could say anything else. He said what he needed to say. Walking down the stairs, he felt lighter. Burdens lifted from his shoulders, he felt better than he had in months. Such a heavy load should have been shared with Liz in the first place. Made sense, but learning it was a long process. Generations of guilt made trusting anyone outside his family hard. Not as hard as he made it, apparently.

His phone chimed. Checking it, Dr. Gilbert sent him a text. He blocked the number and returned the phone to his pocket; something else he should have done months ago. The third thing he should have done months ago was talk to Liz about joining the church. It was about time he came back to God and becoming a Catechumen was the first step.

Richard Broddiker sat in an uncomfortable chair before an impressive wooden desk. It loomed large before him, adding weight to the office. This did not make it comfortable. The flags, books on the shelves, diplomas, and expensive furniture seemed tailored to make him feel small and stifled. Gravity of the room weighing down on him from all sides to bring home a feeling of insignificance for him and grandeur for the office holder.

The wooden chair did not have enough padding for his lithe frame. Even for a sable, he was skinny. With his small build and soft, tawny fur covering his body with a yellow patch on his neck and chest, he looked younger than his actual age, 19. The backpack festooned with patches from various video games and anime, as well as a small plush bear did not help the image, even if the plush bear was from his girlfriend. He wore a red shirt with the school’s sports mascot, the Crawford Battle Crawfish, and a pair of skinny jeans. Typical college freshman taking his first college level history class.

College was intimidating to most, but not Richard. He took college level classes in high school and figured the real thing would be just as simple if he applied additional time to studying. He never partied and was not in athletics (he played clarinet in marching band), so he would not get distracted by the pitfalls plaguing most college freshmen. Some classes would be harder than others, but he would take those as they came. History was supposed to be one of the easy ones. Memorize the dates, names, and places, take tests, receive your A.

It must have only felt easy, because he was not doing well. He failed his last two exams spectacularly. 41% on the first and 39% on the second. He needed a miracle if he wanted to pass next week’s final exam. If one was to be found, he might have to throw himself on the mercy of the professor. He could only hope Dr. Gilbert was feeling lenient.

Not the route he wanted to take. He wanted to power through this by studying. The names and dates were easy to regurgitate, answering nearly all the multiple choice questions correctly. The larger essay portions of the exams, however, were his downfall. No idea what he was doing wrong. So, he sat in the office of the professor. A professor that made him… uncomfortable.

Dr. Gilbert sat across from him. Dressed impeccably in a clean white blouse, charcoal blazer, and matching dress skirt. Pronoun pin prominently displayed, but Richard had a lot of trouble reconciling thinking of him as a ‘she’. Sure, he clearly had a lot of work done. Many would consider him attractive and feminine at a glance. He was not one, but was sure most would recognize him as being something of a woman. But, to Richard, his mannerisms, the way he carried himself, and his voice betrayed the cat as unmistakably male. He clearly tried and that is what made this conversation even more awkward. One misstep and he would find himself labeled with the scarlet letter of bigotry. One never recovered from that.

Richard’s fingers tapped nervous patterns on the arms of his chair as Dr. Gilbert covered him with the critical gaze of a long-time educator. Discerning look given to see if he was a serious student willing to learn or just here to try and weasel his way into a better grade with minimal effort. Richard was willing to put in the work, he just needed to know how. Not that he knew how to start this conversation. A full minute of uncomfortable silence elapsed since he sat down. Last thing he said was “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me” when he first walked in. Richard looked nervous. Tail twitching at his back and tension in his shoulders. Furtive glances around the room.

Dr. Gilbert had to be the one to break the silence. “So, you wanted to speak to me about your grades.”

“Yes… ma’am.” Richard managed to catch himself before he used the wrong honorific. Dr. Gilbert presented himself as female, obviously taking great pains to do so. He was even wearing perfume; a heady scent of roses and white musk. Not an insignificant amount of it either, as Richard noticed the second he entered his office.

The cat nodded. Was that a slight smirk on his face? “Of course. I’ve taken the liberty of reviewing your exam scores.” He leaned over his desk, putting a paw to his chin. “They’re not good. Not at all. You’re well on your way to failing the class.”

Pointing out the obvious felt unhelpful. Richard felt his inner ears and cheeks flush. Odd, normally he was harder to embarrass than that. He felt warmer. Made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Um, yes… that’s why I’m here. I don’t get why.”

“Because you’re doing poorly on the exams.” Dr. Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “I’d think that would be obvious.”

Richard wanted to get annoyed, but Dr. Gilbert leaned over the table, allowing the sable to see down his decolletage. Large, round breasts drew his eyes. Normally, he would have found the professor repellant. He was older, male, and Richard was quite happy with his girlfriend. Now, he could not take his eyes off him.

“I… um… I know…” Richard glanced away, but only for a moment. Eyes sought out his curves once more. Somehow, in the time since he took his eyes off him, he became more attractive. “Er… the dates and stuff I know, just the essays.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Dr. Gilbert straightened up, stretching like a cat in a sunbeam. He knew where Richard was looking, but did not seem to mind. “Rote memorization is always easy. You seem to have no problem recalling the facts, but that’s not what I want to teach you.” He ran his tongue over his lips. Richard’s eyes followed it. He felt a tightness in his pants and blushed, hoping the cat did not notice. He moved his legs to try and hide it.

“Uh, any… help on the… word… essay… things? I mean… I… I think I have it all down, but then I don’t.” It was getting harder to focus. Nearly impossible. His mind hazed as he drew in another breath of sweet roses and sensual musk. “The answers… should be right. I, er, know the material. But then I get a bad…..grade. Thing.”

“As I said, you are good at memorization.” Dr. Gilbert chuckled and shook his head. Standing up, he leaned over the desk, getting much closer to Richard.

He wanted to lean back, but found himself leaning forward, paws on his knees, looking up at his professor and admiring his figure under that blouse that now seemed too small for his bust. Was it just his imagination?

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“High school only seems to prepare you for that.” The cat continued. “I want you to know the material better than that. To actually use it… see beyond the facts and how societal hegemony and heteronormativity shaped the history and kept people suppressed…..” He leaned in. “… perhaps a little too suppressed for their own good, hm?”

Richard took a deep breath, the scent of roses thickening the haze in his mind. Waves of heat rippled through his body. Mouth felt dry, he suppressed a whimper. He felt like a teenager secretly sneaking onto the family computer at night to look at dirty pictures. A hormonal itch he needed to scratch. Worse, he could not stop staring at the increasingly attractive cat before him.

“Um… sup… suppressed?” He asked.

“Yes….” Dr. Gilbert’s tail flagged up and started swishing back and forth. Richard followed it with his eyes. “Must be hard… so far from home… first time away from your repressive family.” The cat licked his lips, leaning closer. “College is a difficult time for most. Requires and adjustment… but it’s the perfect time to try new things.”

The sable knew where this was going. Ordinarily, he would pick up his backpack and leave. He felt rooted to his seat. Why run? He wanted this. Every cell in his body was screaming for this. He had to grip the armrests of his chair to keep from flinging himself at the cat with reckless abandon.

“Um, Dr. Gilbert….” He started.

“You can call me Samantha. I think you’ve earned that just coming here.” A soft purr rumbled in Samantha’s chest, tickling Richard’s ears. “I see how you’ve been looking at me. Haven’t been able to take your eyes off my breasts since you came in. My lips… my curves.”

“I… um… no… it’s…” It was so inappropriate! He knew it, but could not deny it. It was blatant. Eyes practically popping out of his skull like he was a wolf in a Tex Avery cartoon.

“Heh. Don’t be so shy. Nothing wrong with it.” Dr. Gilbert traced a finger over Richard’s chest. Should have recoiled, but the touch sent and electric tingle through his fur. He shivered, tail flagging up despite himself. “See? Perfectly natural to be curious. You may think it’s proper to suppress your urges because of where you came from, but I’ll tell you it isn’t healthy.”

“I just… came here to get a better… grade.” Richard half spoke, half panted. Desire made the core of his body unbearably hot. Pent up sexual tension swelled his loins. Why was the focus of his desire this half man in front of him? A beautiful man? Yes? No? Did it matter why?

“And you will. A big part of history is hegemonic powers trading favors. Think of this as the lesson you missed in your essays.” Dr. Gilbert leaned in and pulled Richard to his feet. No strength to protest. Especially not when the cat pressed his lips to his in a deep kiss.

The sable’s eyes closed. Lose yourself in the moment and let it happen. Every part of his flesh wanted him to give in. Inflamed with more lust than he ever felt in his life, it would have been easy to not only allow the cat to have his way with him, but to take an active part in it. He needed this. Felt as though he would be incomplete without the sexual release his caring instructor would provide.

But… something in him stopped him. He thought of his girlfriend. Of his parents. Of the church he went to as a kid and the less decent church he went to on campus. This was wrong. He could not do this to Celine. He saw her face and the tears she would shed if he cheated on her. He just saw her last weekend when he visited home. She would be devastated. He could try to hide it from her, sure, but things like that were unlikely to stay hidden forever. And, even if he did, he could not hide it from God. This was wrong.

He pushed Dr. Gilbert away. Surprised, the cat staggered back with staccato clicks from his high heels. Wide eyed, astonishment framed his face as he stared at Richard.

“I… I can’t. No, sorry. I have to go.” He picked up his bag and started for the door. His flesh screamed at him to turn around and go back, but he ignored it. Shut up, flesh. You do not own me.

He could not ignore Dr. Gilbert, who grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him toward the leather couch against the wall. A grunt of pain escaped with the air as his abdomen slammed against the armrest. Bent over the couch, Dr. Gilbert was upon him. One hand roughly held him down. Another went for the fly of his jeans.

“That’s not how this works.” Gone was the smooth tone in Dr. Gilbert’s voice. Anger replaced it. He would not be denied. “Came here for extra credit… and you’ll get it.”

Richard squirmed. He tried to get up, force the cat back. But he was a scrawny little thing and the cat was alarmingly strong. The confusing feelings and hazy sensation between his ears made it all the harder to fight. “No… p-please… no… I can’t….” Richard whimpered. He looked back, eyes and expression begging him not to do this.

He saw a face looking back at him with a wide, predatory grin. Teeth exposed, lust in his eyes. If Richard would not give it willingly, Dr. Gilbert would take it. “You’ll like it. I promise.” He said before yanking down the sable’s pants and yanking up his tail.

How long did it last? Minutes? Hours? It hurt. Richard tried to scream, but Dr. Gilbert was smart. He kept his head pressed down into the couch to muffle his voice. Not enough to suffocate him, but enough to keep him from yelling for help. Not that any would have come. The other professors knew. Did the same sort of stuff off and on, many of them.

The deed done, he finally let him up. Tears streaking his fur, Richard wanted to leave. Run and hide. He gathered his things, unable to look at Dr. Gilbert, who watched him dress with detached amusement. He smoothed his skirt down, making sure he was properly covered after having his way with him. Have to keep up appearances.

The last thing the cat said before he left? “That should put you at a D. Come back tomorrow and we’ll see if we can get you to a C.”

He did not look back as he ran.

A tall, gray skinned man wound his way through campus. David was his name. While he had no specific place to be, he had a purpose. In alleys and behind buildings he walked, staying out of the way. He never attended college; never even went to public school, but he knew there would be fewer students out and about this time of year. They were all supposed to be studying for their final exams. The serious students, anyway. Those who were there just to party were at the bars, celebrating the year nearly being finished. As long as they passed, it was fine. ‘D’ is for done, after all.

Oak Pointe was a larger town than he liked. Spending time around colleges and other densely populated areas always set him on edge, even more so than usual. Nefarious happenings were more frequent here, so he needed to patrol. A place full of young, impressionable teens, inflamed with lusts and other passions, drew all manner of villains. His purpose was to make sure justice found them before they found too many victims.

He passed behind one of the dining halls, not giving the dumpsters a second glance. Experience told him they were good places to find food when he was bereft of money. College students were notoriously wasteful of anything but sugary junk food. He was particularly well fed, still having plenty of the bounty money in his pocket. There was a lot, even after splitting half with Nathan.

The smell of old beef tips and mass-produced gravy faded as he snuck past a library and approached the back door of some academic building. David did not bother to read the sign, but its size and ugly modernist design made it unquestionably academic. Not worth a second glance, blending in with all the other ugly buildings. Passing the door, David stopped as if he ran into a wall. A wall of air. More specifically, of smell. A familiar scent. Musk, corruption, lust, dead flowers, contamination.

… skunk.

David’s shoulders tensed and jaw set. Her? No, he killed her. He was sure of it. No amount of magic could save one from a clean decapitation. She was very dead. Smelled dead. Looked dead. Her minion cried as if she was dead before David tore him apart. The scent begged to differ. It was her perfume; a magical concoction meant to inflame passions and cloud minds. To create victims. A fresh one too. The scent of shame and fear hung in the air; the smell of someone thoroughly violated.

He tilted his head, drawing in a few short breaths through his nose. Scenting, trying to track it. The victim ran out the door, whoever it was. Such a heavily trafficked area made the scents of multiple animals blend together, but the smell of magical contamination stood out. A stink he could track anywhere. Familiar… her mark.

Except… no, it was not her. This was similar, but had its own unique notes. Not her, but one of her kind. There were more like her. Scents blurred, so there might have been two like her. Of course there were; she had to come from somewhere. If there were imitators, that was bad news. How many would follow her example? How many more men treated like toys?

One target at a time. Even if it took years, he would track them all down. Kill every last one if he had to. Some creatures in this world needed to be destroyed because they should not exist. This was one of them. He turned and followed the scent. First, he would talk to the victim.

The trail led him to a residence hall. The victim must have fled here after the perpetrator had his way with him. A constant scent of sable and cat accompanied magical funk. Narrowed down potential victims and perpetrators. Glass double doors with the hall’s name stenciled onto them marked the entrance. It was recessed under an overhang, the doors next to a wall. Poorly designed, there was a light above the door but not to the sides, the edges mired in shadows. The trail led here and vanished inside the building. David wrapped his hand around the handle and pulled. A jangling of the frame was all he got for his trouble; the door was locked. It was late enough the doors must have locked automatically. Help keep the students safe. David snorted. Not a bad precaution, but it could not stop the evils within.

Break the door down? No. Shattering it would draw too much attention and scare the already fragile inhabitants. The modern college student dealt poorly with stress. Sneak through a window? He looked up at the building. It was cold enough to necessitate a warm jacket, so the windows were all closed. Sliding into a room full of innocents would get him the same reaction as breaking down the door.

Footsteps a couple dozen feet away. That might be his ticket inside. He shifted his body and moved his feet, sliding to the other side of the door and into the darkness. Closing his overcoat made his whole, gray toned form blend perfectly with the shadows. He could stand motionless like this for hours if he had to, rendering him nearly invisible in the dark. Not something he had to think about. He had been doing it for so long, it was as natural as flexing his fingers.

A doughy guinea pig clomped his designer Doc Thompson boots towards the door. Glasses with thick black frames and thicker lenses covered his face. He wore a coat a size too big and jeans a size too small, both bought from a trendy mall store. Headphones covering his ears, he bobbed his head to music only he could hear. He had a backpack shaped like a stuffed bear on his back. A pleasant smile adorned his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key card. He ran it over the door’s sensor box and was rewarded with the sound of tumblers turning. A swing of the door and he was inside.

And, before the door could close, David reached a long arm around the corner and grabbed it. He slipped out of the shadows without a sound, falling in behind the oblivious student. Door swung shut and the guinea walked to the mailboxes, not bothering to look back. David could not get angry with him. Soft and unchallenged, the guinea was unaware of how dangerous inattention could be. An easy victim, but the reason people like him were needed. He did not even notice when David opened the door to the stairwell and vanished inside.

No scent in there, nothing to follow. The victim probably took the elevator. The stairs were directly adjacent, so David merely needed to peek his head in each floor to pick up the scent. It was on the fourth. Passed by some doors, a few open, most closed. He heard video game weapons or loud music coming from some. No interest in any of it. Follow the trail, hero. Find the victim. Ask him. See the damage the villain did. Find out who needed justice.

Room 414. The smell was strongest here. The smell ended here. David put his ear to the door. Muffled sounds. Soft talking. Could not quite make out the words. He knocked softly on the door three times. While his fist did not leave dents, it was hard enough to shake the door and get his point across.

The door opened to a startled sable. His body was wrapped in a blanket, as if he was cold, but the hall and room were quite warm. Not shivering due to temperature, but from an unspeakable event inflicted upon him. The fur on his muzzle and around his eyes streaked with tears. Poor guy was crying before David interrupted him. Skinny, runtish, small. He reeked of magical contamination and rotten perfume. A little blood and the sour, rancid aroma of fresh rape. This was the victim.

Eyes wide and staring, the sable had to crane his head back to look at David. Must have looked a sight. Seven and a half feet of gray, leathery flesh with steel gray eyes, a hooked nose, and gaunt facial features. Messy brown hair and unnaturally long arms that reached past his knees when standing upright. Looking homeless with his camping backpack, worn gray overcoat, and patched up white tee shirt and jeans. His hiking boots, once new, had seen a lot of miles. They were holding up well, aside from the scuffs. A new smell in David’s nose, fear.

“H… hello…” The sable managed, voice weak and quivering. He had a bad night and David knew his presence was not helping. But, it would.

“Who did this to you?” David went to the heart of the matter. He liked going for the heart when he needed to be expedient.

“… um… huh?” The sable tilted his head and sniffed. He brought a paw up and wiped his eyes. Self-conscious about crying, even now. “Did, um, what?” He was trying to play it off. Might have fooled some, but he wore his emotions in the open. Even someone without David’s nose could tell.

“… hurt you.” No need to be graphic. That was good enough.

“Nobody!” He yelped, moving back and putting his paws up. “I… I promise no one did anything. You… you can tell him I’m fine, really.”

David looked away for a moment. Did the sable actually think he was some enforcer for whoever did this to him? Muscle to keep him quiet? If he was capable of it, he would be offended. A hero does not let such things bother him. Let his actions speak, because heroes are often misunderstood. His adoptive father told him as much.

“Want to find who did this to you.” He turned his head back, staring into the sable’s eyes. Intensity burned in them. He was justice and would bring it to whoever used magical wiles to hurt this innocent boy. “… will not hurt you. Want to bring him to justice.”

The tears started again. Fresh pain from no more than an hour ago. The sable clutched the blanket tighter around himself.

“It….” He sniffed, a long pause after. One could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Debating whether or not he could trust the tall, scary stranger standing at the threshold to his dorm room. Taking David in, it was clear this man would do something about the professor. “It was Dr. Samantha Gilbert… he… he lured me into his office. And… and then….” The tears flowed freely now. The sable tried to blink them away. He turned to hide his face, but could not keep a sob from escaping. Some would find it pathetic. It just made David angry.

But not at him.

Samantha Gilbert… Samuel. That was the name he was going by now. It had to be him. The scent was familiar. Not the same. Time changed it, as did the magics infesting his body. Different magic. Different than the first skunk.

And now he had confirmation. He could track him. David started down the hall, away from the sable. No goodbyes. He was too focused. From behind him, he heard a voice.

“Are… are you a cop?” David turned his head to see the sable leaning from his room. Spoken between sobs, he knew it was him before he looked.

David shook his head.

“What… what are you going to do to h-him?”

“… you will see.” David replied, turning away and making for the stairwell. The sable had no more questions.

Samuel. Not acting alone, though. Another skunk wizard was helping him. Maybe two, judging by the mingled scents of magical essence. David could track the scent, but he had to make sure there were no other victims. No one the wizard was hiding. Circe was a surprise. He stumbled on her underlings attempting to steal away another victim. Now, he could track them. Wait until they were together. Then?

Kill them. Rapists and their enablers deserved only painful death.