Page 92 of Wicche Hunt

“Good. Now, who has wronged you?” As much as Dorian wants to go first, he knows he needs to let Brandon have this. He can tell his friend isn’t entirely convinced. Besides, Dorian has been taking his pound of flesh for years. He believes, though, that having someone to share it with will make it more enjoyable for him.

Brandon ponders for quite a while before responding, “Spencer.”

Dorian nods in the dark. Of course. His friend is obsessed with Spencer McCutchin. Brandon was in the middle of asking Schuyler to the Winter Formal when Spencer, older, richer, and better looking, walked up, laughed at Brandon, and threw an arm around Schuyler, walking her to the dining room for lunch. Yes. That sort of humiliation deserved recompense.

“What kind of punishment were you thinking?” Dorian asks.

“Holding him down and shaving his head. Maybe spitting on him. No, acid! We make acid in the Chem lab and then throw it on him.” Brandon is positively glowing at the thought.

“I like where you’re going with this, but remember, we don’t want to be caught. He’ll see us if we do those things. The police will be called in and there will be a huge investigation. What can we do to Spencer that won’t come back on us?”

“You mean like laxatives in his food?” Brandon asks.

“No. That’s a prank. What does Spencer love?”

“Himself,” Brandon sneers.

“True. What else?” Sometimes it’s exhausting needing to lead his friend like this.

“His car?” Brandon suggests.

“Yes. He is quite proud of that, isn’t he? So what can we do to his car to punish him?” Dorian knows what he’d do but he’s interested in what his friend comes up with.

“We could slash his tires,” Brandon suggests with relish.

“We could. Of course, that makes Spencer the victim and then the dean, or maybe the police, will look for whoever did it.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Sugar in the gas tank?” Brandon says.

Dorian waits.

“I wish I knew how to cut brake lines,” Brandon says on a huff of laughter.

“Nowthat’sinteresting…”

Blinking, I glanced around the studio. Declan was still beside me, but Osso and Hernández were out on the deck.

“Detective Hernández got a call, so they went out there to take it. Neither wanted to disturb you,” Declan said.

Since neither seemed to be on the phone now, I flicked my fingers, opening the back door. Both detectives looked over and I waved them in. They closed the door after them and resumed their seats.

“What did you see?” Osso asked.

“I know who they are.”

THIRTY-SIX

Here, Mark!

Hernández and Osso took out their notebooks.

“Dorian killed Pearl and the dean. Brandon killed Ms. Lopez and Mr. Garza. The thing is, though, they started this as students. Look for a car accident involving someone named Spencer McCutchin. They were talking about cutting his brake lines. He would have been Brandon’s first, but Dorian had been at it awhile. I don’t know if he was killing yet, but he’d been lashing out at whoever he’d felt wronged him.”

The detectives scribbled down names.

“Dorian’s dad is a surgeon.” I pointed to the corridor painting. “The last door on the right is his bedroom. He’s staying there now. It was also his bedroom when he was a student. He told the headmaster that he wanted to observe the teachers, that he was considering going into education, but he was just trying to get close to the people they’d targeted.”

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Osso said. “Why Pearl?”

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