sleep, then made out his report. He had a lot of questions that he wanted to ask Modred, Billy, and Kira

sleep, then made out his report. He had a lot of questions that he wanted to ask Modred, Billy, and Kira

There was a knock and he looked up to see a young man standing in the open doorway of his office. It

was a young man he had never seen before, with long, curly blond hair, a boyish-looking face, and a

friendly smile. He was wearing a headband, faded jeans, worn sneakers, and a short, brown warlock's

cassock. Must be one of Paul's students, Loomis thought.

"Lt. Loomis?"

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Sir, I know you must be a very busy man, but I wonder if I could have a few minutes of your time? It

concerns Professor Ramirez."

"Come in," he said to the young man. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," Wyrdrune said, entering the office and shutting the door behind him.

"Would you like some coffee?" Loomis asked.

"No, thank you," Wyrdrune said, catching his gaze and then holding it as his eyes began to glow softly.

Loomis blinked several times and then a blank look came over his face.

"Now listen to me carefully, Joe," said Wyrdrune, speaking softly. "You will forget . . ."

The mutilated, nude body of a young Hispanic girl was lying in the fountain, her black hair fanned out like

water lilies. The bougainvillea was in bloom and the early morning sun was shining down through the

cottonwood branches, dappling the brick paths of theplacita with spots of light and shadow. Paul

Ramirez turned away from the grisly sight and walked unsteadily to one of the mission-style, wooden

benches placed around the little courtyard. The secluded little plaza off Palace Avenue was located

across the street from the Cathedral of St. Francis. It was surrounded by the walls of an old adobe

hacienda, which now housed several shops and an elegant restaurant. It was a popular place for couples

to linger after an evening out, sitting in the shadowed areas where the benches were placed, talking and

listening to the tranquil playing of the fountain. A safe, quiet little haven in the heart of downtown Santa

Fe. Only sometime late last night, it had become a nightmarish corner of hell for this poor girl, who had

lingered too late and too long.