"That's just the trouble," Paul replied. "Theydo understand. They understand only too well. They

understand that these killings have driven a permanent wedge between them and the people of this town.

And they're afraid."

"That's just the trouble," Paul replied. "Theydo understand. They understand only too well. They

understand that these killings have driven a permanent wedge between them and the people of this town.

And they're afraid."

"What all of us have to be afraid of," Paul replied. "They're afraid of what people will think. This whole

thing has only served to remind people that adepts are different. Profoundly different. Not that it was

anything they didn't already know, but it's one thing to know something intellectually and another thing to

have it forcibly brought home to you by something like these killings. It only serves to remind them that

magic is a two-edged sword. It can be used for the benefit of humanity, but at the same time, it can be a

force—a deadly and frightening force—that ordinary people are utterly helpless against. I can see it in

their minds. The fear and the uncertainty. Most of them have grown up in an age where adepts are

respected and valued members of the community, but there isn't one of them who doesn't know about

the early days of thaumaturgy, when Merlin first bean to spread the knowledge. The fear, the suspicion,

the distrust, the old, superstitious paranoias . . . They all had to learn about it during their first days of

schooling in the arts. Learn the responsibility that goes with the discipline. Believe me, there isn't one of

them who hasn't thought about using their ability to illegally enrich themselves, or to gain advantage over

others or manipulate them. It's a strong temptation. And when they're confronted with something like this,

someone who has completely given himself over to the dark side of the art, who's set himself above the

law and above morality, it really hits them where they live."

"All the more reason why they should want to cooperate," said Loomis.

"It isn't that they don't want to cooperate, Joe," Paul replied. "Try to put yourself in their place. When a

cop goes bad and there's an Internal Affairs investigation, is every member of the force anxious to

cooperate? Or do they feel personally threatened, because if one cop goes bad, then it means that every

one of them is suspect?"

Loomis sighed. "I guess I see what you mean. But I just wish that—"

Suddenly the radio came on.

"Cornwall calling Loomis. Cornwall calling Loomis. Talk to me, Loomis. Are you out there?"

"What the hell . . .?" Loomis grabbed the mike. "This is Loomis. Cornwall, where the hell are you calling

from?"

"From a police car I've just stolen," Modred replied.

"What?"

"I was forced to steal it at gunpoint, I'm afraid, but rest assured, neither of the officers concerned was

seriously injured."

"What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean,seriously injured?"

"One of them sustained some burns on his hands when I was forced to disarm him. He'll have to wear

bandages for a while, but he'll be all right."

"My God, you must be out of your mind!" said Loomis with disbelief. "Where the hellare you?"