Oura, Updated

Oura- A Cleric Variant

Unless noted otherwise, the oura is the same as a cleric.

Few people realize that most gods are created and sustained by belief.  The gods themselves tend to guard this knowledge zealously, but, every so often, a mortal finds out. The more astute and charismatic of these individuals eventually become oura.

Oura use sheer force of belief to form their own proto-gods, or godlings, weak demigods capable of granting their oura powers similar to those of a cleric. Unlike clerics, however, oura are often accompanied by their godlings, who, after all, have a vested interest in the oura’s survival. Without the oura’s persistant belief and persuasive evangelism, a godling would be reduced to a voice on the wind, and, without the godling, the oura would be powerless. Together, however, they are a force to be reckoned with.

Adventures: Oura see adventuring as a way to get more followers for their godling. Many oura seek to do this through persuasion, diplomacy, and good works, but others are not so noble. They find that threats and deceit will often work just as well.

Characteristics: An oura practices divine magic, just like a cleric. However, a godling can’t grant as much power as a fully-fledged god, so an oura casts fewer spells per day. Oura aren’t much good in combat, but that generally doesn’t matter, as their godling’s manifestation tends to shield them from most of the fray.

Since building up a godling’s power requires evangelism, most oura are skilled at dealing with people. They also tend to be well versed in divine lore.

Alignment: An oura’s alignment is always the same as his or her godling’s.  Oura tend toward chaotic, and are rarely lawful, because being an oura is all about bending the cosmic rules.

Religion: An oura only worships his or her godling. Exactly what form this worship takes depends on his alignment.

Background: Most oura learn their craft from an experienced oura and his or her godling. The most important skill an oura acquires during this apprenticeship is the ability to project a powerful force of belief. This mastery of the mind requires many years of study. When an oura thinks his apprentice is ready, he sends him deep into the desert, where the little gods are. Each embryonic godling is a spark in the air above the desert sands, barely perceivable. The prospective oura choses one that feels right, and then fixates on it, feeding it belief and showing it a shape it can become. Thus, the apprenticeship ends, and a godling is born.

Races: You can find oura of all races. Those races with more jealous gods are usually less well represented, as they tend to die before the end of their apprenticeship.

Other classes: An oura tends to try to get along with everyone. However, clerics tend not to like them, as they consider the creation of a new god to be irreverent, if not an outright affront to their god.

Role: Godlings usually try to shield their oura from combat, and most are more than happy to extend this protection to other fragile casters. The oura themselves tend to work to buff and heal other party members, as well as attacking from a distance, when possible.

Game Rule Information

Oura have the following game statistics.

Table O-1: The Oura

Oura

Spells per Day

Level

Base Attack Bonus

Fort save

Ref  Save

Will save

Special

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

1

+0

+0

+0

+2

Godling companion, First Domain, Favored Weapon

3

0+1

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

2

+1

+0

+0

+3

4

1+1

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

3

+1

+1

+1

+3

Second Domain

4

1+1

0+1

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

4

+2

+1

+1

+4

5

2+1

1+1

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

5

+2

+1

+1

+4

5

2+1

1+1

0+1

-

-

-

-

-

-

6

+3

+2

+2

+5

5

2+1

2+1

1+1

-

-

-

-

-

-

7

+3

+2

+2

+5

Third Domain

6

3+1

2+1

1+1

0+1

-

-

-

-

-

8

+4

+2

+2

+6

6

3+1

2+1

2+1

1+1

-

-

-

-

-

9

+4

+3

+3

+6

6

3+1

3+1

2+1

1+1

0+1

-

-

-

-

10

+5

+3

+3

+7

6

3+1

3+1

2+1

2+1

1+1

-

-

-

-

11

+5

+3

+3

+7

6

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

1+1

0+1

-

-

-

12

+6/+1

+4

+4

+8

6

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

2+1

1+1

-

-

-

13

+6/+1

+4

+4

+8

Fourth Domain

6

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

1+1

0+1

-

-

14

+7/+2

+4

+4

+9

6

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

2+1

1+1

-

-

15

+7/+2

+5

+5

+9

6

4+1

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

1+1

0+1

-

16

+8/+3

+5

+5

+10

6

4+1

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

2+1

1+1

-

17

+8/+3

+5

+5

+10

6

4+1

4+1

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

1+1

0+1

18

+9/+4

+6

+6

+11

6

4+1

4+1

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

2+1

1+1

19

+9/+4

+6

+6

+11

6

4+1

4+1

4+1

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

2+1

2+1

20

+10/+5

+6

+6

+12

6

4+1

4+1

4+1

4+1

4+1

3+1

3+1

3+1

3+1

Abilities: An Oura’s most important skill is charisma, as that determines how powerful his or her godling is, which, in turn, determines how effective the godling’s manifestation is in combat. Wisdom is also important as, like a cleric, an oura’s wisdom determines how many extra spells per day the oura gets as well as the spell’s save DC. High con and dex can prevent dying. Int and strength are less important, as an oura doesn’t tend to fight directly or use many skills.

A godling’s most important skills tend to be strength, dex, and con, although much depends on the class and race the godling decides to manifest as.  A godling’s wisdom, intelligence, and charisma may never be higher than that of the oura who created it.

Alignment: Always the same as the oura’s godling.

Hit die: d4

Class Skills

The oura’s class skills, and key abilities for these skills, also include Bluff(Cha), Disguise(Cha), Gather Information(Cha), Intimidate(Cha),  Perform(Cha), Sense Motive(Wis). Knowledge(history) is not a class skill.

Class Features

All of the following are class features of the oura.

Armor and Weapon Proficiency: Oura are proficient with all simple weapons. They are not proficient with any type of armor or shield.

Domains: At first, third, seventh, and thirteenth level, the godling gets a new domain, giving the oura access to the domain’s spells, and a new domain ability. You can select an alignment domain only if your godling is that alignment. Each day at least one of the spells chosen for each level must be a domain spell (that is what the +1 means).

Godling companion: The godling manifests as a protector for the oura in order to keep its primary source of belief from drying up. What form the godling takes depends on the oura’s level and charisma modifier (see Table O-2: Godling manifestation level), and the disposition of the godling (a lawful good godling is unlikely to be a giant spider or a drow). The godling may change its form anytime the maximum challenge rating goes up, and need not stay the same race or class, or even age. The basic nature of the godling (alignment, int, cha, wis) is never altered by the form the godling takes, but its strength, dexterity, and constitution may be. The godling may not use any spells, spell like abilities, or supernatural abilities of its form as all its magic is tied up in the oura. Other than that, its manifestation is the same as that of an ordinary creature of the same race and class.  If the oura is dead, the godling can no longer manifest. If the godling’s manfestation dies, the oura may meditate for 24 hours to bring the godling back in a manifestation <½ CR. It takes another 24 hours of meditation to bring the godling up to a form with ½ CR, and another 24 hours for ECL 1, and so on and so forth until the godling’s manifestation reaches full power. So, in all, to bring the godling back to full power requires one day x the godling’s maximum challenge rating plus three days. A godling’s manifestation vanishes inside an antimagic field.

Favored Weapon: At first level, an oura may choose a favored weapon for his or her godling. The godling is always proficient with this weapon, and may manifest it along with his or her chosen form. If the weapon is ranged, ammunition also manifests, or the weapon automatically reappears in the godling’s hands following being thrown. If the godling’s maximum manifestation ECL is 3 or above, you may give the weapon total effective enhancement bonus  equal to the godling’s ECL divided by three rounded down, which may include special abilities. The weapon’s powers cannot change; they may only be added to. You may choose not to add powers when you can to save up for more powerful special abilities. You may only choose Holy, Unholy, Anarchic, or Axiomatic if your godling’s alignment matches.
Turn/rebuke undead: The oura is unable to turn or rebuke undead. 

Table O-2: Godling Manifestation Maximum Effective Combat Level

	Oura Level
Oura Charisma Modifier		1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18	19	20
	0 or lower	<½
	1	<½	<½	<½	<½	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15
	2	<½	<½	½	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16
	3	<½	½	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17
	4	½	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18
	5	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18	19
	6	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18	19
	7 or higher	½	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18	19

1/2= CR 1/2

<1/2= CR less than 1/2

Cold Heart Chapter 2

I don’t really remember the walk home, or preparing for bed, but I must have, because before I knew it I was sliding under the covers. I had trouble falling asleep, and then, when I did sleep, I dreamed.

After waking in a cold sweat for the third time, I decided to stay up and read. The first book I fished out from under my bed was my math textbook. I stared at it for a moment, thinking of the first day of class, when Professor Nickleson had assigned it. Then I slid it gently back under my bed. The second book my hands fell upon was my Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual. I figured it made as good a distraction as any other book. Flipping it open to a random page, I started to read about the myriad of imaginary monsters that stalked the Dungeons and Dragons world. About twelve entries in, one of the pictures caught my eye.

It showed a man, long limbed and slender, with pale skin and spiky blond hair. His eyes were a pale, watery blue, and beneath them his face was split by an evil, red tinted smile. A blade that looked almost like an ice-skate’s blade grew from the bottom of his bare feet, and thick, talon-like claws tipped his fingers and toes. In his clawed hands he held a frozen arm that looked a bit like it had been chewed.

I wondered what had caught my attention. Not the arm, that wasn’t unusual. Lots of the monsters in the pictures were eating people. His appearance wasn’t that unusual, either, as a fair number of the monsters in the book were humanoid. Still, something about this picture bothered me.

I looked the entry beside it. “Entari,” I read. “This foul creature is feared by the people of the north. It mostly preys on the weak, using its power over ice to freeze them solid or rending them with its claws. Occasionally it will only freeze part of its victim, rendering them helpless but not killing them, so it can devour their living flesh.”

I shuddered. Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best choice of reading material. I shoved it back under my bed and pulled out my US History textbook, which I read until, around dawn, exhaustion finally forced me to sleep.

I awoke in a sort of slouched sitting position with my head pillowed on the history textbook. Wincing, I sat up and rubbed my aching spine. Great. Now, on top of everything else, I had a sore back. Plus side, I hadn’t had any more bad dreams, or, at least, none that I could remember.

It took me three tries to brush my teeth. The first two times, I forgot to add toothpaste. The third time, I forgot the brush. It wasn’t until I raised my hand to my face that I realized I was holding my nail clippers, and I’d just squeezed toothpaste all over the counter.

When I went out to the common area to get some breakfast, I found my roommate crying on the couch. That explained why she hadn’t been complaining about me hogging the bathroom.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. Kaylee usually wasn’t the sort to cry. Drive me crazy with her continual cheery chattering, yes. Cry, no.

Kaylee sniffed. “I suppose you haven’t heard yet. One of the professors on campus died last night. Professor Nickleson.“ She sniffed again, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Why are you crying about it?” I asked, as I got down a bowl and some cereal. “You weren’t in any of his classes. Have you ever even met him?

“No, but he’s dead!” she sobbed. As if that was any explanation.

“Millions of people die every day,” I told her. My hands shook as I tried to pour the milk. I decided to have my cereal dry. “There’s nothing different about Professor Nickleson. At least, not to you.”

Kaylee just sobbed.

“Could you please stop that?” I asked her. “I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

She glared at me. “How can you be so cold?” she shouted, before stomping into her room and slamming the door.

I could still hear her sobbing through the walls. I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. She’d never met him, after all. She’d never heard his slightly nervous laugh, or seen his short, shy smile. He’d never told her he understood what it meant when she said that sometimes the numbers sung.

Normally I liked cereal. Today, it just tasted like cardboard. Well, actually, that was what it tasted like every day, but today… I suppose it tasted like a slightly blander version of cardboard? Maybe it was the lack of milk. Maybe I just wasn’t that hungry today. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to finish the cereal.

I picked up the bowl and started to carry it to the sink. It slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor. For a second the shattered bits of bowl looked like body parts. An arm, two legs, and that rounder shard right there could be the head…

“Shit!” I cursed. Breathing heavily, I fished around under the sink for the dustpan and the broom. The simple, repetitive act of sweeping calmed me down a bit. By the time I’d cleaned up the mess and fetched my book bag, I felt much better.

As I was leaving for my first class of the day, my eyes fell on an envelope that had been placed outside my door. It had my name on it. Curious, I tore it open and read the note inside. It just said, “Did you like my present?”

I frowned. It looked like I had a secret admirer. Again. This sort of thing had happened a lot in high school before word had finally got around that I just wasn’t interested in dating. Tracking down and discouraging would-be lovers was always a pain in the butt. I decided to just ignore this one for now. I just didn’t feel up to dealing with him. Besides, he was obviously incompetent ; I’d never received any present. He might end up giving away his identity if I waited, which would save me the trouble of finding it out.

It was a lovely day outside. The sun was shining, and the birds were singing in the trees. I growled and wished that I had my bb gun. Maybe I could have songbird for lunch. There were reporters outside the Mercker building, were the body had been found. I cursed under my breath. I hated being the center of attention at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times. I decided to avoid them by taking the scenic route to class.

Entari. There were over a million results on google. I clicked on a link to a site called the sceptic’s encyclopedia, and read the entry. Apparently the myth had a life outside of the Monster Manual. In fact, the introductory paragraph called the creature “the chupacabra of the north,” and noted that it was frequently blamed for odd occurrences, including everything from sudden cold snaps to cattle mutilations. Another site had a number of eye-witness accounts. Some of them claimed to have seen the creature itself while it was on the hunt. Other had only seen strange frost or frozen animals covered in bite marks. A few claimed to have only narrowly escaped being eaten themselves.

There were older stories, too. Some, like the more modern accounts, were about devoured livestock or people. Others involved changelings, entari infants trade for human ones so the human mother would raise the little monster as her own. One sad story was about a girl named Dereline who was so beautiful that an entari, despite his frozen heart, fell in love with her. He could not bear to think of her growing old and dying while he lived on, ageless for all eternity, so he froze her and carried her up to the peak of a mountain so her beauty would never fade, thinking that, as long as he carried her memory in his heart, she would never truly die. Which was just a bit stupid, in my opinion. Dead is dead, whether or not you’re remembered. Also, Dereline herself probably would have preferred the growing old and dying option. I know I would.

I looked up from my laptop and stared at my salad. It was dinner time. I’d had a relatively normal day, aside from the press. Almost too normal. It was like when Professor Nickleson had died, the world hadn’t missed him. And that just felt wrong.

Kaylee sat down across from me, placing her bookbag in an empty seat and unloading her food from her tray. “Hey,” she said.

I nodded to her, and turned back to my computer. “Hey yourself.”

“Um…” Kaylee looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just heard about… Well, about you being the one who found the body. And I’m sorry. I was a bit melodramatic this morning. You’re right, Professor Nickleson’s death didn’t have anything to do with me, but, well, it did have something to do with you, and I just wanted to ask… Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

I’d been hearing variations on this same theme all day. Well, not the bit about being sorry, but the whole concerned bit was getting to be just a little too familiar.

“I’m fine,” I told her. “And I don’t want to talk.”

She frowned. “You never want to talk.”

I snorted. “At long last, you catch on.”

 “I’ll just sit here, then. Just in case you change your mind,” Kaylee told me. Then she frowned, and added, “Unless you want to be alone?”

I shrugged. “You can stay if you want.”

Kaylee stayed, and then, after we were done eating, she walked home with me, despite the fact that it would make her late for her after dinner class. I had to admit, I was a bit touched. And a bit annoyed. It was like suddenly acquiring an extremely talkative extra shadow.

First thing I did when I got home was pull a popsicle out of the freezer. I peeled off the wrapper and bit off a bite, savoring the delicious chill. Yum. Dessert.

Kaylee shuddered. “I don’t see how you can still eat those things. When I see them, I can’t help thinking about… well, thinking about Professor Nickleson’s fingers.”

And thank you, Kaylee, for that wonderful image. I took another bite and shrugged. “I love popsicles.”

“Sorry, I suppose that was a bit uncalled for,” Kaylee apologized. She turned to go, then stopped and whirled back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. You got a package today. Someone left it outside the door, and it had your name on it, so I left it outside your room.” Kaylee grinned, and added, “Think you’ve got a secret admirer?”

I grimaced. “I hope not. Aren’t you late for class?”

“Oh! Yes! Class. Right.” Kaylee dashed out the door and darted away.

I picked up the package. On the outside it said: “For Jennifer, with love.” I grimaced. Might as well see what he left.

I tore open the package. Inside there was a note which read, “Thinking of you.” The size and position of the note entirely obscured the box’s other contents, so I lifted it out. Underneath was a layer of pink tissue paper. And underneath the tissue paper…

I yelped and dropped the box. Its gruesome contents spilled out onto the floor. A hand. Professor Nickleson’s hand. It had been missing from the crime scene, I realized. I hadn’t noticed, shocked as I was, but now, I remembered. And this hand looked… Well, it looked like it had been chewed. 

Cold Heart Chapter 1

                I read somewhere that the people who design theme parks deliberately make them a little bit confusing so they seem larger than they are. As I wandered through the overly air conditioned maze of off white corridors, I idly wondered whether the guy who’d designed this building had been thinking along those lines, or if he had just been drunk. D100, D102, D157… Where in the heck was D105? The way things had gone thus far today, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the room turned out to be in a completely different building.

                You’d think that after a full month in Hymiath College, I’d be able to find my way around campus, or at least successfully locate my classes. But no, I still got lost, especially when the professor who taught my math class suddenly decided to move the lecture to an entirely different section of this rat warren.

                I sighed, and, at the latest intersection, chose a random direction. If it had been any other class, I would have given up by now, but I liked math, and I liked Professor Nickleson, who taught it. He was confusing at times, but you could tell he honestly loved his subject, and enjoyed teaching it. It annoyed me that I was going to be late.

At least the building was mostly empty in the evening. Wandering around lost in front of other people would be downright humiliating. I shivered. Who had set the thermostat in this place, a penguin? In the winter, cold would be understandable, if annoying, but it still just barely fall.

Suddenly one of my feet connected with something slippery. I wind milled my arms, trying to keep my balance, before toppling backwards onto my butt. “Ouch!” I yelped. That was going to leave a few bruises. Nothing broken though, so I supposed I couldn’t complain.          

Whatever had caused my fall was directly underneath me. I stood, careful not to step on it again, and turned around to get a better look. It was ice. There was actually a patch of ice on one tile. I shook my head. It was cold in here, but not that cold.

Except, now that I thought about it, this hall was just a bit chillier than the rest of the building. Odd. And the cold almost seemed to be emanating from further along it, as if something in the building was slowly sucking all the warmth out of the air. An air conditioning malfunction, maybe?

I continued down the hallway. Soon I could see my breath as a white mist in the air. Frost rimmed the edges of the windows in the office doors, then, further down the hall, completely obscured them. Another patch of ice had formed underneath a leaking water fountain. A chill traveled down my spine that had nothing to do with the strange temperature. No air conditioner, malfunctioning or not, could have caused this. Something very strange was going on.

Or maybe there was nothing odd. Maybe someone had just left an industrial sized freezer open somewhere. But what was a freezer doing here? From the look of things, this section of hallway was mostly offices, so unless some professor was really fond of ice cream…

I pulled my jacket tighter around me, stuck my hands in my armpits, and started toward what seemed to be the source of the chill. Curiosity itched inside me. What could be causing this? There had to be some sort of logical explanation.

The door at the center of this strange chill looked more or less ordinary. It was made of pale wood, with a window at about head height. Blinds obscured the portions of the window that weren’t coated with frost. The nameplate beside it was unreadable through the almost fuzzy white covering, but the card hung beneath it proclaimed that the professor was in, and students were welcome, so I supposed it wouldn’t be too rude if I peeked inside.

The frozen doorknob burned into my hand. I jerked it back, muttering a curse word, and cradled it against my body. The icy metal had left an imprint in my palm, like a branding iron in butter. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I hissed.

I tucked my other hand into the sleeve of my shirt, and then pulled the sleeve of my jacket down over it so my hand was protected by two layers of fabric. Carefully I gripped the doorknob again.

I could still feel the chill through the cloth. The doorknob turned, but it turned slowly, and it made a crackling noise, like the mechanism inside was frozen. The door squeaked open reluctantly. Any lubrication on the hinges had probably frozen into slimy ice.

“Professor Nickleson!” I exclaimed. Whatever I had expected to see, this wasn’t it. The professor was seated at his desk, with his back to me, facing the window like he was gazing out at the campus.  Except there was no way he could see anything. The window was covered in frost. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket. I wondered how he could stand the frozen air. I mean, it was so cold that the cup of coffee on his desk had frozen over. Even his glasses, resting up on the top of his bald spot, were coated in white.

He hadn’t turned around, or anything, which was odd, because there was no way he hadn’t heard me. “Professor? Are you all right?” I asked. Still no response. Maybe he had fallen asleep, or something. I reached out to touch his shoulder.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he tipped forward. His head cracked against the edge of the desk, and then he fell to the floor, shattering like one of my mother’s little porcelain dolls. A hand here, a leg there, a bit of his chest off to the side…

I could see now that his skin had a nasty blue tinge to it. And I could see his face. His lips were purple and swollen, and his tongue was protruding, just a little, with a few ice crystals whitening the tip. His light brown eyes stared up at me, wide with fear. There was a bit of red in the whites where crystallizing blood had burst through capillaries.

There was a hand. On my foot. I could see his wedding ring through the frost.

That’s about when I started to scream.

“So that’s what happened?” the detective asked me. He’d told me his name at some point, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I nodded, and pulled the blanket tighter around myself, shivering. We were outside the building now, in a parking lot. I couldn’t really remember how I’d gotten there. Everything between the hand on my foot and being examined by the paramedics was a little fuzzy.

There were a few cop cars and an ambulance parked nearby. The cop cars had their lights flashing, and the one that was just arriving had its siren blaring, but the ambulance was dark and silent. The paramedics were the ones who’d given me the blanket, after examining me and before handing me over to the detective so I could tell him what happened.

“You okay, kid?” he asked.

I nodded.

“There’s a counseling center on campus, right? You should go there, tomorrow, as soon as it’s open. Talk to someone. It’ll make you feel better,” the detective told me.

“I’m fine,” I protested.

“Of course you are. Could you go anyways? Just in case you’re not fine later? It’ll give me some peace of mind.”

Before I could answer, one of the cops, a black haired woman who I thought was the coroner, called his name. “Detective Jackson!”

He patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back, kid. Don’t go anywhere.”

As he jogged over to join her, I glanced around the parking lot. There were lots of police officers milling around the parking lot, doing all the various things the police did after a murder. One near me was talking to the custodian who’d called 911 after hearing me scream. The custodian looked as shaken as I felt. Apparently it’d been quite a scream. Pretty much everyone in the building had heard it. As far as I could tell from the various conversations around me,  that was the only thing anyone had heard. No one had seen anything odd, either, aside from the frost and ice, and, of course, the dead body.

The dead body.  Professor Nickleson’s body. I’d been told that there was no way he was alive when I’d broken him, that the human body couldn’t survive being frozen like that. I knew that already, of course. I remembered reading somewhere that, when cells are frozen, they either burst as the liquid inside them freezes, or they are crushed by the ice forming outside of them, so of course the freezing killed him. Of course it did. I didn’t have anything to do with his death. And yet…

I couldn’t stop that awful moment from playing again and again inside my head. He was normal, he was fine, and then I touched him, and he was in pieces on the floor. I shuddered.

Detective Jackson patted me on the shoulder again. I jumped, startled. I hadn’t seen him come back.

“I think we’re done,” he told me. “Unless, of course, you have anything else you’d like to tell me?”

I shook my head.

“Alright,” he said, handing me a piece of paper. “Here’s my number, in case you think of anything else. That’s my official cell. I’ve always got it with my when I’m on duty. Do you have a way to get home?”

I nodded. “I live on campus.”

“Good,” he said, then smiled reassuringly and added, “Don’t worry. We’ll catch whoever did this to your teacher. Now, you go home and get some sleep, alright?”