Roughly one hour ago, the last student turned in his Intro to Chemistry 1 final exam. Dion added it to the stack of papers about 800 sheets high. A mighty task for anyone else, but he preferred it to electronic tests. He was thankful it was still acceptable to give tests on paper, even in a computer dependent age. Just him and his red pen, sitting at a desk, marking tests. Probably his favorite part of the job. No teaching a throng of students. No office hours answering the same question asked a dozen times or students getting angry at him for not accepting their wrong answers.

The volume of tests was rough, though. Made him miss the small class sizes of community college.

Half way through the pile, he just finished scoring the multiple-choice section of Daryl Phillips’s exam (he only got half correct) and was mostly through his drawn out, rambling journey through a long form stoichiometry problem when the lights over the lecture hall clicked off.

Power failure? Dion looked up. No, the lights around his immediate area were still on. He could see fine, just not into the sea of seats in front of him. Should not interfere with his work, but he felt an odd crawling sensation up his backbone. Something was not right. It was tempting to cast a ball of light to the back of the room, but he was not about to start flinging magic around in public. Better check the light switch.

Standing up, he pushed the chair in. Then, he heard it. High heels clicking their way toward the front. Without thinking about it, Dion flicked on his magical sight. Samantha. Should have known from the footsteps. Semi-graceless, clomping gait of a man trying too hard pretending to be a woman.

Before he even stepped into the light, Dion addressed him. “What do you want, Dr. Gilbert?”

He emerged from the darkness looking a little more disheveled than usual. Suit jacket had a few stray hairs and strands of lint clinging to it. Hair slightly mussed and looking like he needed a fresh application of makeup. Despite this, he carried himself normally. Confident, pompous, ‘everyone notice how important I am’ sort of bearing.

“Dr. Thade.” He replied with a toothy smile. “Good to see you.”

“It hasn’t been a month yet. What do you want?” Dion’s cold reply. Many papers remained ungraded. He would not bother asking why he turned out the lights.

“No pleasantries? I’m hurt. No reason we can’t be friendly.” Samantha’s teeth vanished under his lips. Still smiling, but forced.

“No. I want nothing to do with you.”

“I don’t see why you’re upset with me.” Samantha crossed his arms. “But, I understand. You’re under a lot of stress lately. Your last batch of perfume didn’t even work properly.” He kept walking closer to Dion. “My last guest even said no.” The left corner of his mouth twisted upward. “At first. Convinced him eventually, but it shouldn’t have been that difficult.”

“It enflames passions, but isn’t a mind control device.” Dion replied. “Even if it was, there are people who can resist.”

“Well, make the next batch stronger, then. I’ll pay you more, if it’s a matter of money.”

Dion’s eyes narrowed. He came here to beg? Irritating. He was not having any of it. “It isn’t. I told you, I’m not helping you. Never again.”

“No?” The cat tilted his head. Strained smile returned.

“No. Now get out of here, I ha-“

The cat slammed his fist down on Dion’s desk. A colossal bang echoed from one side of the hall to the other, making Dion recoil. He may have been making a stand, but was still skittish.

“Give me what I want!” Samantha jabbed a finger at Dion. Chew marks framed the perfectly manicured nail. “I don’t care how you feel or what you want. Just do it!”

Taken aback by the forcefulness of the request, but only at first. He recovered quickly. “I said no and meant it. I’m not helping you ruin any more kids.”

Wild eyed, Samantha gripped the desk with his free hand so tightly one of his nails cracked. “You don’t know who you’re messing with. I’m going to fuck your life up! The sole focus of my existence will be ruining yours! When I’m through with you, you won’t get a job anywhere. Fuck, I’ll get you thrown in prison if I have to! Or attacked by a mob! I have connections! The other trans students fucking worship me! If I snap my fingers, they’ll show up in your office to make your life hell!”

Dion’s pulse raced. The threats never seemed more real and Samantha was not bluffing. Threats like this, made by people this frantic and this desperate for something, were serious. A small part of him wanted to relent. Go back to the way things were. Give him what he wanted and he would leave him be.

No. The betrayals had to stop. Liz trusted him. He was accountable for what he did, both to himself and to God. No matter what, this had to end.

He looked the cat in the eyes and did not hesitate to say “Do whatever you want, you oversexed monster. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.” From nowhere, a voice speaking perfect Izorian.

One could only imagine Dion’s surprise. A voice from nowhere while already on high alert. Worse, a voice only he could understand. Samantha heard it, of course, and looked just as surprised. Eyes darting and head turning every which way to try and discern where that was coming from. The language triggered all manner of fears in him, though not for the same reason as Dion.

Where did it come from? He did not have to wait long to find out. The air a few yards to his right shimmered, then coalesced. From nothing he formed, another skunk like Dion. Short cropped, white hair and eyes as red as shining rubies. Dressed in a dark blue, button up shirt shown off by an open black leather jacket, with a pair of matching slacks. An Izorian, from his aura, though his was a high blue rather than shimmering purple. The dancing silver light present throughout unmistakably marking him.

“Who are you?” Dion asked, stepping back three paces to put distance between them. He did not know this man, nor did he want to.

The skunk frowned, light in his red eyes flickering for a moment. His tone remained measured, but clearly annoyed. “Don’t speak to me in the lesser tongues. You’re an Izorian, speak as such.”

A familiar attitude, but one Dion only read about. It did not put his mind at ease. “Who are you?” He complied.

Though he did not smile, the skunk nodded. “Myles Cirillo. I’m surprised you did not recognize me, being one of your students. Are you so cowardly you cringe from our faces? I shouldn’t be surprised, considering where you came from. One of the race traitors who ran from the community with his tail between his legs, chasing a fool.”

The name was not familiar. “….I would remember that name. You’re not a student of mine.”

A low chuckle from Myles. Derisive, but one of someone caught in a slight lie. “Maybe not officially, but who would notice one person among hundreds slipping in to keep watch over the professor? The drooling idiots that pass for the lesser races greatest minds certainly didn’t. Nor did you. Being around them has made you inattentive.”

“That’s not possible. I would’ve seen your aura.”

“Would you?” Myles shook his head. “Any Izorian with half a mind can mask his aura, something you never bothered to do. You could have seen through mine, if you cultivated your power rather than wasting it.”

Dion winced as if slapped. “You’re supposed to still be in the commune. All of you.”

“Don’t lump me in with them either. They’re even more cowardly than you, hiding away from the world rather than claiming it. I left, just as others have, to see what the world had to offer. Perhaps see other Izorians, because there have to be more of us than one community of religious fools and another of insular cowards.”

Dion wanted nothing to do with this man. The way he talked was unlike any Izorian he ever met, but was like the ones his parents warned him about. Being away so long made him wonder if they even existed. This brought it into painful focus.

“You found me, but I want nothing to do with you.” Dion stepped forward. “Leave.”

Myles scoffed. “You can barely handle this frail degenerate.” He gestured at Samantha, who stood still as a statue. Eyes wide and tail flicking nervously as he beheld the two skunks. “You need a lesson in taking pride in who you are. I can teach you.”

“Not interested. Leave.” Dion already said no to a degenerate he knew. He was not going to fall to one he just met, even if he was a different kind of degenerate. Voice shook when he said it, still scared. Myles was far, far more dangerous than Samantha.

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“Hm. Weakling.” Myles rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Normally, I’d let you stew in your shame, but you did the impossible.”

Dion knew what he was talking about, but did not want to admit it. Maybe he was bluffing? Play it off. “I… doubt it. Don’t know what you mean.”

“You got her pregnant.” Myles knew and Dion’s heart sank. “Not sure how, but you overcame the seal. And not to make some half-blooded mongrel, but a full Izorian. A beautiful baby girl nestled in a womb that does not deserve her.”

“… how did you know that?” Dion’s blood froze.

Myles tilted his head, an expression on his face suggesting Dion said something painfully droll. “Did you really think you could keep it hidden? All I had to do was know what to look for. And you stick out like a swollen thumb.”

“… you leave her be. I won’t let you harm her.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question. Both of you need to be studied. If you won’t cooperate, I can just take her. I was hoping you would, but it isn’t like you can keep me from taking her. And I will, as soon as I’m done with you. I know where she works and where you live.”

Dion’s temper flared. Or, it would have, if Samantha did not choose that moment to speak up.

“Hey!” The cat snapped. Both skunks looked at him. “I’m still here, you know! What are you two talking about?”

Myles glanced at Dion and reached into his jacket pocket. From it, he produced a small dagger with a tapered, six-inch blade. A blue gem was set into the hilt, a focus for magic. He only saw it for a second before Myles flicked his wrist. The blade shot toward Samantha. It would have hit him in the throat, but Myles kept his hand out. A magical tether, only visible if one could see it, stopped it mere inches from the cat’s flesh.

Samantha was too scared to be impressed. Wide eyed, fingers splayed out and shoulders tensed. Every hair on his long tail stood on end. He could not even breathe. For a moment, he probably thought he died.

“Be silent.” Myles spoke in a slightly halting fashion when speaking a non-native language. “Someone may have crafted your body, but you are not one of us. Not even a slave. Not worth one. I do not want to kill you, but I will if you speak.” He flicked his hand back and the dagger returned. Every muscle in Samantha’s body relaxed. “Run.” He commanded.

Samantha stepped back, eyes still wide. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed it. All manner of fears returned to his mind. Memories of his punishments at the mansion, indignities and horrors inflicted upon him he tried to suppress under layers of carnality and cognitive dissonance. He turned and ran into the shadows.

But, not very far. The sound of his heels clicks abruptly stopped. “What? You too?!” Came Samantha’s voice from the darkness.

Dion and Myles looked into the shadows, confused expressions on their faces.

“… wait… no! No!” A wet squish, the sound of a blade sinking into flesh. Then a scream. Not so much a scream as a long, drawn out yowl. Another sound of steel through meat and the cries of pain went silent, followed by a head rolling into the light. Samantha’s head, cut clean off at the neck. It landed with a wet plop on the neck stump, lifeless eyes staring at the two skunks.

Bile rose to the top of Dion’s throat. He hated gore. Stomach rolling, he doubled over, paws on his knees and head swimming. Summoning his nerve, he managed to swallow it down. Until he looked up and it threatened to boil out his throat once more.

Stepping from the shadows was a giant of a human. Sort of. He was not like most humans Dion ever saw, but more like a drawing made by someone who did not like humans. Gray skin, large bones, freakishly long arms. An ugly face with a hooked nose and prominent facial bones. He was dressed in a dirty gray overcoat, stained white t-shirt, and jeans with lots of patches. From behind strands of unkempt brown hair stared two steel-gray eyes, coldly appraising the two skunks. Dion’s gaze traced down to his right hand. In it was a large curved blade, a farming sickle, with a thin sheen of blood on the edge. Samantha’s blood. Dion, out of reflex, flicked on his magical vision to appraise him.

He saw… nothing. No corona, no light, no aura. Not even a faint flickering over his body’s surface. It was as if he was looking at him normally, or it would have been if not for the dying light surrounding Samantha’s head.

Any thoughts Dion had were immediately eclipsed with outright panic. Impossible. Completely impossible. Every living thing had a magical aura. Even machinery had one to some extent. This was like looking into a black hole. Even someone trying to mask their magical signature had something.

“… How do you hide your aura?” Myles asked, confirming the problem was not isolated to Dion.

“Have come to end your evil….” The gray man’s voice was rough and deep, like grinding rocks deep in his chest.

“Yes. And you killed that fool, who was evil enough. Thank you.” Myles commented and flicked a paw. “Now leave. Diomedes and I have much to discuss.”

“… you both smell like her.” The gray man intoned. “… make men like him.” A massive finger raised to point at Samantha’s severed head.

“Are you serious?” Myles held up his dagger. “You may know a parlor trick, but it would not take much for me to erase you. Go home, cretin, if you even have one.”

Dion backed up. This would turn bad soon. He wanted to run, but that gray creature would chase him. No running for the skunk since high school, so it was not a race he could win. Maybe he could explain himself.

“I’m….not with him.” Dion held his paws up. “Just met him tonight.”

“Race traitor!” Myles hissed. “Show some pride!”

The gray man took a step forward, but Myles was not so distracted as not to notice. A flick of his paw and the dagger blurred. It was fast and this time would not stop before delivering a killing blow.

Just as fast, the gray man’s hand came up. He caught it. Not by blocking it or deflecting it, but grasping the hilt. Things that big were not supposed to move that fast. Myles flicked his paw again to bring it back. Move it, manipulate it, something. It did not budge. The confident smirk on his face faded. It died when the gray man crushed it into scrap metal. It sparked and fizzled, the jewel in the hilt splintering into atoms. The useless lump of metal clattered to the ground. Myles’ response? The filthiest Izorian curse Dion ever heard.

Not content to stop, he pressed forward. Sickle swung in a wide arc directly at Dion’s head. He closed the distance so quickly all Dion had time to do was step backwards. Just one step, not enough to get out of the way. Two things kept him from losing his head; his clumsiness and being so top heavy. Just before the blade could bisect his skull, he tripped. Falling backwards, the only thing the blade found was a few strands of headfur, severed neatly from his forehead. Too close, he felt the air from the life ending blow whiz past his face. The hairs were still airborne as Dion landed on his backside.

He was not done. The gray man kicked out, slamming a foot into Dion’s abdomen. If there was any air left in him, it was forced out in one great exhale. Pain like nothing Dion ever felt rippled through his body as the impact sent him slamming into his desk a dozen feet away. He fell on his side and doubled over, clutching his guts. Blood filled his mouth. He tried to breathe in, but the act hurt. Nothing felt ruptured, at least. If he were less padded, he would have ruptured something. The blood taste was from biting his lip. Painful, but not as bad as broken ribs or a fractured spleen.

The gray man towered over him, sickle poised to slice him open. Dion tried to hold up a hand in a warding off gesture. Show him he is no threat and maybe he would leave him be? The act made him wince in pain.

To the side, Myles rallied. The air around his paws crackled with energy. He thrust both paws forward and they erupted into a massive bolt of blue lightning. Streaking energy blasted toward the gray man. Static discharge made Dion’s fur stand on end just from proximity. He yelped as the desk lamp above him exploded, showering him in shards of fragile glass. Enough volts to turn flesh to ash struck the gray man directly in the back.

No effect. The gray man remained standing. Even though burning ozone scent hung in the air, his clothes were not singed. It was like it struck a lightning rod and dissipated harmlessly into the ground. The only clue it affected him at all was a slight tremor in the fingers of his left hand and even that did not last long.

He turned his head towards Myles, whose eyes were as wide as Dion’s. “How…..?” Was all he had time to say, not even having the presence of mind to speak his non-native language. It was the only word he had time to utter. Finding a new target, the gray man lunged. He crossed the distance to the skunk in two long steps, faster than a man his size had any right to move. A wide sweep of his sickle to cut the offending skunk down.

Myles somehow managed to teleport away in time. Too close for comfort. He reappeared a few feet to the side. Paw raised, he flung a bolt of fire at the gray man, hoping another element would hurt him.

A slight sway backward and it sailed harmlessly past him. In the same fluid motion, he turned and swung the back of his fist in an arc at the side of Myles’s head. Another teleport, another near miss. When he reappeared, he attempted to ready another spell. Another swing from the gray man caused him to vanish once more.

So it went. Dion sat up and propped himself against the desk. His innards hurt a little less; the result of him focusing some of his energy into healing. Watching the fight, it was hard to concentrate on anything else. The gray man’s form looked gangly and graceless, but he moved with practiced fluidity. Every swing and every step coordinated with each other to close the distance to his target and attack with blade, foot, or fist. Myles could barely keep up and he had the ability to teleport. Worse, every time he reappeared, the gray man was closer to where he materialized.

Myles knew he could not keep this up forever. He vanished again but, this time, he did not reappear.

Dion looked up at the gray man, who turned his head to the left and right. He sniffed, looking around to try and gauge where the slender skunk would next be. Not finding him, his gaze snapped to Dion. Scowling in frustration, he took a step toward the downed skunk.

Dion could have attacked him. Might have if he was more desperate or younger. Every instinct told him this was a terrible idea. No, time to run. Did not matter if he was a rotund college professor now, it was a better option than letting that monster stomp him.

To his feet as fast as adrenaline could prod him, he took off running toward the nearest exit. He had to get out of here. Passing through the doors, he looked back. The gray man was… not there? Weird, but he had to keep running.

Down the stairs to the exit. His lungs burned. Muscles in his legs screamed in pain. His guts were rolling with a mix of anxiety, six gooseberry cream snack cakes, disgust at seeing a severed head, and worry. He could ignore all the signals his body gave him. Only one thought was on his mind with the gray man out of view.

Liz. He had to get to her before Myles.

David let the fat skunk go. He could have easily outrun him. Chased him down and brought justice upon his head. He was far weaker than Circe. Maybe even weaker than her pet rabbit.

No, not yet. There were two skunks. The skinny one moved through the air. Teleportation, that was what it was called. Slippery. Frustrating to have a killing blow lined up only to have him zap to some other spot. He was tracking him, but the other skunk had to know he could not win. It was why he fled.

The fat skunk would lead him to the thin one. David was sure of it. The way he looked at the other, the fat skunk had something the thin skunk wanted. They were probably negotiating an exchange. Perhaps more of whatever it is that made people like Samuel into playthings? Maybe a weapon. Or a mind control device. Or any number of other things that treated men like toys. The thought of them being free to create victims made David’s blood run hot. Shame he lacked the time to make Samuel really hurt. Rapists deserved worse. So did their enablers.

He hung back, just out of view of the skunk. Stick to the shadows, hero. Stalk the villain. He would lead him to the thin skunk. Then their evil would end. Justice will be done.