shield on the left breast to signify his office, a solid black helmet with a visor that came low over the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes. The uniform had been designed to menace, to create a presence, to instil dread in those who saw it. Clearly the Magistrates were not in the business of making friends.
“Magistrate—?” the principal began, flustered.
“Kane,” Kane said helpfully. When she said nothing, he continued. “You’re Principal Neighley. You called the division about a death on the premises. A student.”
After a moment, Principal Neighley nodded. The movement was confused, as if she had just been woken up. “Yes, Helena Vaughn. Dear Helena.” Then she sighed, shaking her head.
Sensing that the woman was about to cry again, Kane turned and made his way to the door. “Where is the body?” he asked.
Principal Neighley followed, sniffling quietly to herself. “Room 2-B, Helena’s homeroom.”
Neighley walked with Kane, directing him even though it was unnecessary; he could read the signs on the wall that had been written for kids to understand. The woman came up to Kane’s triceps, but he made no allowance for her shorter stride, just hurried on, yearning to see the crime scene and to get started.
The corridors were quiet, the classroom doors closed. But Kane could sense the eyes watching him, the students talking in heavy whispers, peering through frosted glass at the leather-clad Magistrate among them. Death in a school changed things, changed the school. Five years from now these kids would have left and the student body would have regenerated, and no one here would remember what the girl Helena Vaughn was like. They would just tell the story, and tell ghost stories about her, how she haunted the classrooms, turning the air ice cold, killing students who got stuck here at night.
“She’s in here, where we found her,” Neighley explained as they reached the door to room 2-B. She looked at Kane for a moment, as if waiting for him to dismiss her, to remove her from this nightmare come to life.
Kane said nothing, and his helmet made his emotions impenetrable, as if he wasn’t really human.
Reluctant but resigned, Principal Neighley opened the door into the classroom and she and Kane stepped inside.
Kane saw her right away, sprawled in her seat, head lolling back so that her long blond hair draped behind her, brushing the floor with its tips.
“She was an excellent student,” Neighley explained. “We never expected...”
Kane ignored the woman, stepping closer to the body. A pencil case was open on the girl’s desk, its contents strewn across a personal jotter. A computer dominated the rest of the desk, a modern DDC, equipped for vocal and retinal commands. Kane peered at the screen for a moment but it was blank. Little surprise, it had shut off in the time it had taken for the Magistrate Division to be called in, for Kane to arrive. He looked then at the corpse, taking her in for the first time.
She was fifteen and beautiful, thin but with the shape of a woman, a subtle touch of makeup on her pale face. Her ash-blue eyes were open, staring vacantly, while her lips were drawn into a moue that made her seem almost to be listening, awaiting her turn to speak in some dangling conversation.
Removing one black glove, Kane reached down with his bare hand and felt the girl’s neck, confirming there was no pulse. She still felt warm, but Kane could tell she was cooling down, rigor mortis setting in. Without turning back to Neighley, he asked what had happened.
“We don’t know,” the principal answered. “One minute she was fine, and then she started rocking back and forth and—this. We don’t know.”
Kane turned, eyeing the room and the principal, his eyes masked by the visor he wore. “Who found her? Was it you?”
“Instructor Levy,” the principal explained. “It was her form. I think one of the other girls first noticed that dear Helena was behaving strangely and