Chapter 11

When Thule pulled up in front of Dawn's house the next morning, she was sitting on the curb. Her head was down, so intent on the book in her lap that she didn't look up until Thule had stopped his car in front of her.

Sliding the book into her bag, she unfolded into a standing position. Thule watched the process, thinking about what Marigold had implied in her question about being with women and suppressed a shiver at the visual that hit him. As disturbing as the whole scene with Maya had been, he hadn't lied when he said it was also very arousing. The idea that she might have been talking about Dawn... well, it created a visual that could be distracting.

Oblivious to Thule's train of thought, Dawn chose that moment to stretch, her yellow tank top rising to expose her belly. Walking to the car, she brushed gravel off of the back of her jeans before climbing into the back seat.

"Holy shit," she leaned in over the front seat as soon as she bounced into the back, "What did you do to all of your beautiful hair?"

Thule laughed, "Let me answer that question indirectly. This morning, I slept forty-five minutes later than I did yesterday."

Dawn wrinkled her nose in amusement, "Now that you mention it, I don't miss having all that hair either." She primped her own pixie cut a little.

"I thought that you were very pretty when your hair was longer," said Thule, "but I always want women to have long hair."

Dawn pouted, "You don't think I'm pretty now?"

Thule glanced at her, "Can I establish something, please?"

Dawn blinked at him, "Yes?"

"You're a lesbian, correct?" asked Thule, "You have no interest in men?"

"None of the men I've met."

Thule sighed, "That's hardly the same thing. Is it?"

Dawn laughed, "No. I guess it isn't."

"So, you're only theoretically a lesbian?"

"I don't really like labels," said Dawn. "They cause a lot of trouble. But, to answer your question, it's all pretty theoretical at this point."

"In that case," said Thule deadpan, "No. I do not think you are pretty now. I think you are plain and unattractive. I find all women but one plain and unattractive. The one woman I do find attractive is pretty close to more than I can handle."

Dawn laughed, "You're funny. Can I rub your head for luck?"

Thule pretended to scowl, "Once, for a short duration. Ugly girls are not permitted to touch my head for more than thirty seconds."

Dawn said, "Wait. I'm ugly now? I thought I was only plain."

"Hideous," elaborated Thule, "You'd better make it twenty seconds, max."

Dawn reached up and rubbed the top of Thule's head vigorously for a few seconds. It was an odd sensation. At a quarter inch cut all around, it was the shortest Thule's hair had ever been. He had to fight all of his traditional mannerisms which included touching his own hair. It just wasn't there.

"What were you reading?" he asked.

Dawn bit her lip, "Promise not to tell?"

Thule nodded, "Within reason. If Charlie decides it's worth putting bamboo shoots under my fingernails to attain your reading list, I'll probably spill my guts."

"Fair enough," said Dawn. She extracted the book from her bag, "It's a real page turner called 'Automotive Spot Welding and Gross Body Work.'"

"Sounds riveting," said Thule. Dawn rolled her eyes at him, clearly stifling a laugh.

When he went to the door to get Marigold, Jonas answered the door. Rather than greeting Thule, he called up the stairs, "Delilah, your chariot awaits."

Marigold came down, looking puzzled. When she saw Thule, she gave a little squeak of surprise, "What did you do?"

"I slept an extra forty five minutes today," said Thule, "I stepped out of the shower and it was dry."

"But," Marigold pouted, "I liked your hair."

They were walking down the front path now. Thule said, "I thought it made me look like a dreg."

Marigold opened the car door, "It made you look like you. Now, you look like a stranger."

Thule opened the door to his own side and slid into his seat, "Well, I guess you can pretend you're with another man, then. Maybe it will make you feel all sexy, like you're cheating on me."

"Well, there's that," said Marigold.

Dawn waved from the back seat, "Hi. Third party here."

"Whoops," said Marigold giggling, "You were so quiet, I forgot you were here."

Dawn laughed, "You're talking about the hair, right?" When Marigold nodded, she went on, "He let me rub it once for luck, but only once because I'm horrendous to look at."

"I believe," said Thule, "that I said hideous. Marigold, on the other hand, can rub it for as long as she likes."

Dawn leaned over the seat again to pout at Marigold, "You don't think I'm hideous to look at, do you?"

Marigold laughed, "Nah. I'm sure that you're at least moderately attractive." Then, she reached back and ruffled Dawn's hair. Thule tried not to let it show in his face how much the whole exchange surprised him. Since they'd gotten back from their weekend in New York, Marigold's personality seemed to be changing almost by the hour. She was far more relaxed than Thule had seen in years of watching her. A month ago, he would not have been willing to say she was even capable of cracking a joke. His greatest fear when considering his revenge was that he would push too hard and Marigold might take her own life to get away from him.

Lost in thought, Thule did not hear most of the rest of the conversation. It wasn't until he was pulling into his parking space in the senior lot and Marigold reached up and rubbed his freshly-shorn head that he realized his name had come up once or twice.

"Wow," said Marigold, "I think it's working. All this time, I've been studying for tests and all I needed to do was rub your shaved head. Where have you been for the last four years?"

Thule grinned evilly, "Biding my time and plotting against you, of course."

As they walked to homeroom, Marigold wrapped herself under Thule's arm. To all the world, they looked like an ordinary couple. Even Thule could imagine that they were, which was sort of his hope for this week.

To his surprise and, for the first time in weeks, Thule had a completely ordinary school day. He went to class, had lunch with his friends, even had time to get over to the computer lab during study hall and get some programming done. Because they were both working towards maximizing their grades, Marigold was there by his side practically the whole time, smiling, laughing, talking, a light touch here, a stolen moment there. Thule allowed himself to daydream that it could always be like this. At that moment, he would have given a great deal to be a normal student at a normal high school with Marigold. That part still wouldn't be normal, of course, but "normalized" might be all right.

As he was walking from his locker to the parking lot, Ioke Lau fell into stride next to him. Thule smiled at her. He'd always liked Ioke. She was one of the few people who seemed to manage to remain popular with all factions at Mannsborough High while seemingly above all the machinations that went on to maintain the social hierarchy. She was the first girl Thule had ever asked out. Even at thirteen, she'd had the poise and grace to turn him down in such a way that he actually ended up liking her more than before he had asked.

"So," she asked, walking close enough to be heard, but not overheard, "I heard you and Marigold Tarr were an item. Any truth to that?"

Thule gave no indication of veracity, "Where did you hear that?"

"Brianne," said Ioke. "Although, she used far more colorful and pejorative language than I did. But, I never believe anything Brianne says without independent verification. You never know what she might be up to."

Thule laughed, "I thought it was a requirement for being on the cheerleading squad that you take everything Brianne says at face value."

"I'm not stupid," said Ioke. "I don't tell her she's a liar to her face."

"So, why do you want to know?" asked Thule.

Ioke bit her lower lip, then said, "There are a lot of guys angling to take your place if you stumble."

Thule looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, "I figured that. Did somebody tell you to warn me?"

Ioke shook her head, "No, Thule. I'm telling you this because I like you. And, I like Marigold although that hasn't always been easy. But, right now, Brianne's out for her blood and Elliot's out for yours. I just wanted to let you know that I'm keeping my ears open. If I hear anything is going down, I'll let you know."

Thule smiled at her, genuinely grateful, "Thank you, Ioke. That really means a lot."

"Thule, can I ask you a question?"

Thule nodded.

"What's going on with you? I always thought you could be popular if you wanted to. I just figured it was a moral decision not to run with that crowd. Now, all of a sudden, you're dating Marigold and Randy Vandevoort of all people is saying nice things about you."

"Is he now?" Thule gave a wry smile.

"Yeah," said Ioke. "And, it's really pissing Brianne off. She put a lot of energy this weekend into tearing Marigold down using her relationship with you as Exhibit A. Now, all of a sudden, Randy is talking you up and it's like he's kicked a chair out from under Brianne."

Thule turned and faced her, "Since when do you take such an interest in Mannsborough high school politics? I thought you were above it all."

Ioke frowned, "I keep my ear to the ground. You don't acquire this level of obliviousness without knowing what to avoid. But, you're making me nervous, Thule. I can't believe you're throwing in your lot with Randy Vandevoort. You're too decent a guy. I can believe you're going to cause trouble, though. So, I'm asking you, what kind of trouble are you going to cause? And how much of that trouble are innocent people around you going to get splashed on them?"

Thule was torn between telling Ioke the truth and telling her she was imagining things. Instead, he took the middle road of not being too specific. He said, "There's definitely going to be trouble. Elliot's not going to leave this alone. And, he's got friends. If I don't, it's going to be a seriously unbalanced fight. That's not how I want it to go down. If Randy can manufacture some friends for me or talk some out of siding with Elliot, more power to him. I never asked him to."

Ioke narrowed her eyes at him, "There's more to it than that. Isn't there?"

Thule sighed, "If there were, I would be a fool to talk about it. Wouldn't I?"

Ioke considered that, then nodded, "All right, Thule. Like I said, if I hear anything, I'll let you know."

As they reached the parking lot, Ioke laid a hand on Thule's shoulder and smiled before she walked past a cluster of smokers and disappeared behind them on the way to her own car.

Marigold greeted Thule by putting her arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth. Leaning against his chest, his arms still around her, she asked, "What did Ioke want?"

Thule was still working out the full answer to that, so he gave a partial answer, "To ask what I'm up to and let me know that Elliot still wants to kill me and Brianne still wants to kill you."

"Not exactly anything we didn't know," opined Marigold.

"I know," said Thule. "I think she also wanted to give me her benediction."

Marigold looked puzzled, "Why would she do that?"

Thule shook his head, "I'm not entirely sure. I always thought she was sort of oblivious to the hierarchy here."

"Ioke?" asked Marigold. "Nah. She refuses to play a lot of Brianne's games and she's got a lot of credibility because of it. She's nice to everyone. But, if she's being seen with you on purpose, it means something."

Thule's surprise must have shown in his face because Marigold stuck her tongue out at him, "I may miss a lot, but I have survived four years at Mannsborough High. You don't do that without some awareness of who's who."

Thule drove home with his window open, enjoying the feel of sun on his skin and wind in his face. In the back seat, Dawn chattered about her newest love interest, apparently having given up hope on Oksana for a cheerleader who returned her interest. Dawn wouldn't name the girl because she wasn't out about her sexuality. Thule listened with half an ear. Later tonight, he would have to go into the belly of the beast, but for now, he could just revel in the waning days of his senior year.

After he dropped Dawn off, Marigold asked casually, "Which cheerleader do you think she could be talking about?"

Thule shrugged, "I don't know. I thought all the cheerleaders at this school were man-eating harpies. I guess one's a woman eater. It's good that they're getting some variety in their diet."

"I don't know," opined Marigold. "Brianne rules that squad with an iron fist and I don't think she would like that. You can get thrown out for wearing last year's fashion or the wrong color of lipstick."

Thule shrugged, "I guess that explains why she's so deep in the closet. You should find out who it is if you can. She could be an ally on the inside."

Marigold's eyes brightened, "Does that mean you're going to let me help you in your one-man crusade?"

Thule sighed, "Little Flower, I really don't think you know what you're asking for. My hands are going to be very dirty after this. I..."

"I know," said Marigold, "You keep warning me that your hands are going to be dirty and I might hate you at the end of this. Thule, do you think you're justified in what you're doing?"

Thule sighed, pulling into the driveway, then sat in the car, thinking hard. Finally, he said, "It's been so long since I asked myself that question. I'm feeling some doubt that I'm the right person to do this, but somebody should. Randy Vandevoort's got a younger brother in the ninth grade who's already on the road to pulling the same crap Randy does. Brianne's graduating, but she's already grooming June Kane to take her place. Nothing's going to change if I don't change it."

"So," asked Marigold, "are you justified?"

"Yes," said Thule quietly.

"Then, I'm by your side." Marigold leaned across the seat and kissed him full on the mouth. The kiss was more tender than sexual. Thule broke it before that changed.

"Come inside," he said quietly, "there's something I want to show you. Then, you can decide if you're by my side, want to keep your hands clean, or... or just want to walk away from me."

Marigold looked like she wanted to reassure Thule, but he got out of the car and headed into the house. She followed him to his room. Inside, he opened up the double closet at the foot of his bed and pulled out a green army duffel bag. He laid it on the bed and unzipped it, "This is the kit I bring with me when I'm working on gathering information. Look inside of it."

Marigold sat down trepidatiously, pulling the bag open. Out came a half dozen cameras, some small enough to be unseen in plain sight, one with the kind of huge telephoto lens that paparazzi used to get pictures of celebrities from a half mile away. Then came a shotgun microphone. After that was a length of waterproof rope.

Thule could tell when Marigold's hand found the gun. Her eyes widened and she hesitated in drawing it out. When she did, she eyed it with dread.

"Thule," she asked in a whisper, "You're not planning on going all Columbine, are you?"

Thule smiled gently, "No. I don't want to hurt anyone unnecessarily. I carry that for defense sometimes. As far as I know, Randy and Brianne have never killed anybody. They deserve a lot, but they don't deserve to die. Besides, you'd want some sort of automatic weapon to 'go Columbine.' A single-shot handgun would be horribly inefficient."

Marigold nodded. She began pulling things out of the bag again. The ammunition, clips, survival, and Swiss Army knives occasioned no comment. After that, everything she pulled out seemed innocuous--tools and boots and the like.

"Well," Marigold said, taking a deep breath, "It's not much worse..."

Thule knew he could stop there. He wanted badly to stop there. Marigold had absorbed so much these last few days and was ready to commit to be a part of not only Thule's dark plan, but his life as well. He wanted to let her absorb it, get used to the idea. He'd never even used what was in the small, black satchel and might not yet. But, she wouldn't understand if she didn't see it. Besides, Thule felt like he needed a sanity check. The only person he'd ever revealed the extent of his plans to was Maya, who could hardly qualify as a sanity check. If he lost Marigold over this, he would know he'd gone too far into the darkness.

"You missed something," he said. Undoing an internal zipper, he pulled out the innocuous looking black satchel and laid it out. Half a dozen little vials and pill bottles laid against the black felt that lined the inside of the satchel.

He held up the first bottle, "Chloroform, in case I need to detain someone or move them quietly without a fight."

On the next, "Nondilute LSD, enough to contaminate a small reservoir. That is not my intent. Even diluted to the one hundredth part, it creates a state of suggestibility similar to hypnosis."

Seeing that Marigold was not showing revulsion, he decided to skip over the next two and get straight to the last bottle. He held it up and let Marigold read the label.

"Rohypnol," she read, "Thule, are you planning to rape somebody?"

Thule shook his head, "No. I know this is popularly known as the date rape drug, but I've got it as a substitute for sodium pentathol."

"Truth serum?" Marigold asked.

"Also a popular appellation," Thule said, falling into didactic mode as he often did when nervous, "Mostly, sodium pentathol just lowers inhibition, like alcohol. Unfortunately, sodium pentathol only comes in gas and intravenous form. I don't know how to work a needle well enough not to leave obvious marks or risk hurting someone with an overdose. Rohypnol lowers inhibition. If you question someone who's taken it, they'll generally tell you the truth. If you try to fuck them, they'll generally let you. If you try to play tennis with them, they'll generally try to play along, although it badly impairs motor skills, so they won't be any good. Its use often leads to memory loss, particularly when mixed with alcohol. You wake up feeling like you've got a really bad hangover and can't remember much of what happened, which makes it a favorite of rapists. Half the time, their victims don't remember they've been attacked. Most of the rest of the time, they think they just drank too much and blame themselves."

Marigold nodded, her face serious, "And these last two?"

Thule pointed, "That one's an ipecac I can administer if I give someone an overdose or they have a bad reaction to one of the other chemicals and they need to bring it up quickly. And that," pointing, "is a diuretic mixed with food dye to make it look like you're peeing blood."

Marigold picked it up, "What good is it for, other than pranks?"

Thule shrugged, "It's a utility tool like the Swiss Army Knife. If I want to get someone out of my way, it works fast and has no lasting side effects. It's strictly for causing panic."

"Well," opined Marigold, "that's all excessively icky. Where did you get all of this stuff?"

"It's all commercially available," said Thule, "The gun is licensed and registered. None of the surveillance equipment is contraband. The chloroform came from a veterinary supply store."

"And the Rohypnol?" Marigold asked.

Thule started sliding the bottles back into their places. He didn't look Marigold in the eyes, but spoke quickly, almost mumbling, "Freshman year, after we won our first big track meet, Randy Vandevoort held a big party at his house. At the beginning of the party, he got all the freshmen from the team together and offered us these with very strict instructions on who they were supposed to be used on. When we found an appropriate girl, we were to come back to him, make sure she wasn't 'protected' and get a pill."

He started packing up the bag, "I waited until the party was in full swing, then stole the bottle out of Randy's pocket and left. I quit the team the next day. I was going to go to the police, but the chief of police is a Vandevoort, the sheriff is a Vandevoort. I dug a little deeper and found out that these parties had been going on for years. Ivan Vandevoort views the whole town as some kind of medieval fiefdom and he's more or less right."

Marigold opened her mouth to speak, but Thule had a faraway look in his eyes and kept talking, "I knew what was going on, but I didn't do anything to stop it. I kept Maya away from them as much as I could, but..." He trailed off. Marigold put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Because I quit the team," he went on, "I fell far enough out of favor that Maya became fair game. Randy even intimated once that he went after her specifically to make sure that I understand who was boss."

"Thule," Marigold asked, "how could all of this have happened under my nose and I never even noticed it?"

Thule zipped up the bag and pushed it back into the closet, "People don't see what they don't want to see. I've talked to dozens of people who have part of the picture. A few have a sense of how big it might really be. I know it sounds crazy and paranoid..."

Marigold shook her head, "Not to me. Well, maybe a little bit. It's not contradicted by any of the paltry facts I do have at my disposal. But..."

Thule waited patiently for her question. Finally, she continued, "I don't understand how so many girls could have been raped and the silence maintained."

"Mostly," said Thule, "they prey on the quasi-willing, girls who aren't quite popular, but want to be. The Rohypnol helps. Going to the local police gets you nowhere. Fear of what the Vandevoorts can do contributes. And they buy off the rest."

"There hasn't been anyone who refused to be bought off?" Marigold asked.

"I looked," said Thule, "I looked hard. When you've built an empire like the Vandevoorts, I can't imagine that you'd just give up because someone refused to cooperate. But, if there are any bodies buried around here, they're buried so deeply that I can't find them."

Thule stopped talking when he realized Marigold was crying. He waited for her to speak, but she didn't seem inclined to. Uncertain, he offered her his open arms and she fell into them. He pet her hair, shushing her as she gripped him hard by the arms.

"Oh, Thule," she whispered, "I'm so afraid for you."

Thule laughed, relieved that Marigold wasn't crying because she realized she had to leave him. He kissed the top of her head. She tilted back to be kissed on the mouth. Her hands caressed the top of Thule's head as he kissed her. Thule pulled Marigold into his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her breathing quickened.

"Please don't tempt me," Thule said, "I've really got to get changed, get you home, and get to town and I'm already way off balance as it is."

Marigold gave a moan of protest, but slid off of Thule's lap and lay down, pouting on his bed. She asked, "When are you going to be done today?"

"I told you," said Thule, stripping out of his school clothes, "I don't know. The meeting is kind of informal." He threw on a white dress shirt and began buttoning, "It could be very short if the deal obviously stinks. If we have to get into detail, it could go well into the night."

"What's this meeting about?" Marigold asked.

"I didn't tell you," Thule said.

"No," said Marigold, "you didn't."

"I know," said Thule, cinching up his belt, "That wasn't a question. I didn't tell you. You don't need to know. If you're determined to help me, I'll let you. I suspect that I won't have much of a choice and I can watch you more closely if I say yes. But, I make it a rule to never tell anyone more than they need to know. That includes you. I will not put you in unnecessary danger if I can help it."

"So," asked Marigold, "this meeting is dangerous, then?" She stood up and came over to him.

"No," said Thule, "In and of itself, this meeting is far safer than going to school every day is." He pulled the knot up on his tie, "How do I look?"

Marigold reached up and straightened his collar, "Frighteningly professional. Promise me that, one day, you'll fuck me in this suit."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Thule, "this suit is much too big for you."

"Promise me," said Marigold more seriously.

Thule wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. He purred wickedly, "I promise, one day, that I will take you to work with me, bend you over my desk, and take your hot, little ass while wearing my best suit."

Marigold's knees buckled and she held on to Thule for balance. When her eyes opened and she was able to find her balance again, she laughed, "You seem to have a thing for desks. You really should keep a supply of pillows or towels on hand so that I'm not always bruising my hips on them."

Thule kissed her and, amazingly, felt his resolve slipping. He broke the kiss, "God," he said, "I wish I could just keep you here and never stop fucking you."

Marigold laughed, "One day," she said wistfully.

"Actually," said Thule, leading her out to the car, "I'm pretty sure that I would have to stop at some point before the day was over, but I'd be willing to try."

Thule found himself genuinely enjoying the ride to drop Marigold off. His mood in anticipation of the meeting had been one of grim determination. The conversation with Marigold had left him emotionally drained. But, a short ride with Marigold where they discussed nothing of real importance had immediately raised his spirits. When he kissed Marigold good night, it was possible for a few seconds to completely forget everything but the kiss. As he drove away, he caught himself whistling.

He let himself enjoy the moment for a few minutes before clamping down on his own ebullience. He was glad not to be going into this with a pervading sense of doom, but it wouldn't do any good to go in feeling happy-go-lucky either. He glanced in the rear-view mirror to check for any obvious dishevelment and gave a brief "ah" of surprise as he failed to recognize himself with short hair.

It was fortunate that Thule already knew where "the Tarr building" was downtown or he would have had more than a dozen "Tarr buildings" to choose from. Even the high school was official called Nataniel Tarr Memorial High School even if no one seemed to know that.

The only more common name than Tarr was Vandevoort. Thule wished there were some clear and easy division between them, but the Vandevoorts had funded just as many hospitals, libraries and public works projects as the Tarrs while the Tarrs had built just as many ostentatious vanity projects as the Vandevoorts. The official histories spoke glowingly of both families, but a judicious reading between the lines suggested that both had their share of black sheep and petty tyrants.

When he'd first started planning his revenge, Thule had thought it was him versus the two powerful families. He'd first joined Jonas's bible study as a way of getting closer to the man. He'd slowly come to realize that it was more complicated than that. Jonas, for all of his flaws, was basically a good man. Marigold was the problem. Now, he'd gone as far as to throw in his lot with the Tarrs in order to bring down the Vandevoorts.

Comparably, Thule had only managed to meet Ivan Vandevoort three times, always at school events. The impression he'd gotten was superficial at best and colored by the lens of his own prejudice. With his sizeable estate and full-time security team, he was a lot more isolated than Jonas.

And then there was the third family. Until World War I, the Ogden family had been a third power in Mannsborough. Backing the wrong side in that war and a lack of sons meant the end of the name and the end of the family fortune. There were no Ogdens left in Mannsborough. Thule's great grandmother was born an Ogden. So was Brianne's. Marigold was a descendant of the Ogdens too, although her family line branched off from theirs in the 1860s. Thule wondered what Marigold would think if she knew he, she, and Brianne were all distantly related. He knew Brianne would be horrified. It might even be worth telling her.

The Tarr Building was a nineteen story office structure near the post office. The only taller building in town was the thirty-one story Vandevoort Tower, so it was easy to spot. When Thule showed up at the front desk, an efficient-looking receptionist handed him a visitor's pass and suggested he go straight to the security office and get a more permanent ID.

Thule smiled, "Would you ask Mr. Tarr if he thinks I have time to do that? I wouldn't want to delay our meeting."

The receptionist smiled back, "Actually, it was Mr. Tarr's suggestion that you do so. Security is on this floor, straight back past the elevators. The door is kind of non-descript, but it's right next to the only ficus on this floor."