"No, no, the field didn't degrade until several hours after death," insisted Professor Moore, frowning at Professor Devlin. "The results were not typical at all, but that doesn't mean I made a mistake. I was very precise!"

The air in Devlin's small office was cramped and crowded with so many people, and heated with the intense debate that was raging within. Bars of dying light flooded the room through the window-blinds, casting a prison of shadow on the occupants.

"You always are," said Ophelia Servalis, kindly, inserting a gentle wedge of diplomacy between Moore and Devlin. "We just would like to be certain..."

"Perhaps you'd like me to bump off a passive, to double-check," replied Moore snappishly, though still maddeningly polite.

"You are not to talk to her like that, Harper," thundered Devlin, standing up. His face was frightening for half a second before he slipped back into his normally calm, stressed demeanor. "You could run a scale analysis on the body to gauge the time of brain death."

"It's been days, that would hardly be accurate-"
"We've gotten approximations from corpses over fifteen hundred years old!"
"Yes, approximations..."

"Why would the field not degrade?" asked Ophelia suddenly, looking at Moore strangely. "Hours, you said? That's not right. When Brown Baldwin died last month, the physicians said his field had dissipated within a single half-hour. And he was a magister, fifth class."

Harper glared at Devlin as he explained.

"What I've been trying to say is that the diablerie was far stronger than we ever thought," he said, setting down a complex chart on parchment, a scrawling pattern of ley fluctuations. "It did not have the intended effect, though it did a horrible number on the students in the cafeteria at the time - several have requested therapy since the incident. A massive effect like that should have ended after the boy's death, don't you see? If you or I were to attempt that same spell, it would cease to work after we fell asleep."

"You're saying..." Devlin stopped, not entirely daring - or wanting - to believe it.

"I'm saying the spell was beyond the capabilities of any living magister," said Harper darkly. "It was almost an Everspell..."

Ophelia moved slightly, her hands twitching.

"There's someone at the door," she whispered.

((whoever gets to this first can come in to the thread, only one please))

Margarisse had been extra careful coming back to her quarters. She'd taken an armload of towels down to the laundry to be washed, and was carrying an equally large armload back. Towels always seem to be the perfect disguise, she thought. One of the other girls knew about her predicament and was always careful not to Margarisse be seen. It was just one more way the passives looked out for each other, albeit a small one.

The girl paused at the door, hearing voices on the other side. A number of voices, in fact, and none seemed pleased. She knocked quietly before opening the door just enough to look in. "Um, Proffesor? I...have the towels for, um, for the lab. Where do you wish me to put them?"

Devlin and Harper both froze, looking guilty, like dogs that had recently dug up the flower bed. Ophelia eyed them both curiously, then turned to look at the passive girl in the doorway. Her eyes traced down to her swollen belly, and both eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

The look she gave Devlin might have sent a rabid wolf running for its mother.

"Margarisse," said the professor loudly, his voice cracking slightly, "good of you to think of that, thank you. Do come in." He loosened his lapel. "Headmistress, this is Margarisse Lourette, she's one of our...test subjects."

"I see," said Ophelia, clearly disapproving but slightly mollified. She inclined her head slightly towards the pregnant girl.

Margarisse watched the woman's eyes as they traveled down towards her stomach. Time seemed to stop entirely, until the woman's reaction made it speed back up again at full force. Margarisse froze, unable to go further into the office yet scared for her life--and her son's--to run away.

Margarisse began to walk into the office when she heard Devlin's words and stopped. Headmistress! The blood drained from the girl's face, and she felt dizzy. Oh gods, I've been found out by the Headmistress! I'm going to jail, my son will die, I will die, and noone is going to care one way or another, oh gods! The stacks of neatly folded towels fell from Margarisse's arms, and she placed a hand on a nearby table to steady herself. Her stomach lurched with fear and nausea. "Prof-professor...may I sit down please? I don't...I don't feel so good."

"Of course," said Devlin, quickly getting up and pulling out a chair for the girl. His mind was racing, attempting to come up with an excuse.

Oh tocks, he thought, furious with himself. This was Ophelia. She was practically a sympathizer...

"Margarisse is under our care," he said, "until she comes to term. We thought it safest, given the circumstances."

Harper winced. Devlin smiled inwardly; in so many ways, Harper was more truthful than he, but so mistrustful of his own people...

"A wise decision," said Ophelia, ruffled; a bit of hair came out of her bun, as it usually did when she was agitated. "I won't inquire any further." Her eyes became softer, and she smiled momentarily at the girl before looking away.

Harper apparently wanted to steer the conversation as far away from their passive ward as possible. "As I was saying," he continued, "what I found was monumental in scope. Out of tragedy came a ray of hope, as they say. The ley lines in his body...I've never seen anything like it. Off the map. Even at the slow rate of decay, they would have numbered in the tens of millions at the time of death, far more than you or I."

"Harper showed me the oscillograph after they had faded," said Devlin, nodding in reluctant agreement. "The equilibrium point was largest, near the heart. A bright spot on the map. You couldn't pick that out with a normal body, but I could see it with my naked eye."

"Lit up like Crosstown Court on Clock's Eve," said Harper dryly.

"So he experienced a massive surge of monic activity?" inquired Ophelia, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what killed him?"

"The steak knife to the neck is what killed him," Devlin answered bitterly, "but his diablerie went off almost as an instinctual reaction, pushed forth not by the central nervous system as I had theorized but by the mona themselves. This child had monic pathways I would not have expected to see on a fully developed man."

His voice was slightly strained. If Harper's research was correct, then he had been on the wrong track; he was out of his depth, now, and felt a little bit like the third wheel. Ophelia's eyes were bright with interest, staring at the graph like a child looking at new paper dolls.

Perhaps now he might give thought to retiring...

Margarisse put a hand to her head, trying to stop the room from spinning. The Headmistress didn't care. She wasn't going to prison, and she wasn't going to have her son taken away. The girl closed her eyes and calmed her breathing. Her heart was racing, but slowing back down now. Everything was going to be ok.

Margarisse looked up and returned Ophelia's smile just before the galdori woman looked away. I guess I'm not completely invisible after all...

Margarisse's brow creased with unspoken anger. They're talking about Pascaul, but with no emotion. It was as if he was just another science experiement, and they're discussing the results. Her frustration was evident on her face, and also in her body as the girl crossed her arms across her chest and breathed heavily out her nose.

The girl's anger at the professors' callous discussion of her departed friend subsided a bit when she realized what else they were talking about. She didn't know a lot about science and biology, but she'd been 'in the program' long enough to recognise some of the terms the professors had tossed around in the lab and what they meant. Margarisse didn't want to say anything lest she be mocked for her lack of understanding (not that either man would have done that, but it was a constant fear of hers), but...it almost sounds as if they're saying passives have a deeper connection with the mona than even the galdori!

Harper's face was a strange mixture of excitement, victory and morbidity as he spoke. "There's no way to confirm, of course," he said slowly, "except to experience another diablerie as it is happening."

"We will not be putting Margarisse through that," said Devlin sharply, glancing at the girl with a protective air. "Far too dangerous. I thought you said you found a volunteer."

"Yes, well," said Harper bitterly. "That's all a bit muddled now."

Ophelia stared at Harper. "The boy, you mean-"

"Yes," he said again. His face was dark. "I don't think my volunteer will want much to do with me after this. They would not understand the necessity of the autopsy."

"And the other boy, the one who-"

"I heard the news this morning," said Devlin. Bromley had been found alive, but just barely, beaten to a pulp. "But I doubt the Headmistress can speak about her plans to deal with the situation around us yet."

Ophelia looked at Devlin, annoyed and dry-mouthed as she contemplated what was to be done about it. The situation had compounded itself beyond all reason; she did not feel very much in control, and did not appreciate him treating her like an outsider...

Margarisse took in a sharp breath, and wrapped her arms around her protruding abdomen. I don't care about me, she thought, you just had better stay away from my baby! Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed in the direction of Professor Moore. She had never heard him speak in such a manner, and now that she had, she didn't like it.

Boy? Autopsy? Well, I guess he must have found out about the mona somehow, Margarisse thought. But who--? She had heard snatches of conversation through the windows, bits and pieces about something happening at lunch one day. A knife? And a servant? Had one of the other passives attacked a student? The girl's face openly displayed her confusion, but she dared not speak up, not with the Headmistress present. She had been gracious enough not to make a fuss about Margarisse being pregnant. Let's not push our luck by speaking out of turn, shall we?

For better or for worse for Margarisse, the silence had made Ophelia consider her once more.

"Are you being properly taken care of, dear?" she said, in the stiffest, kindest way she could muster under the circumstances. "Do you have a room with a bed? Vitamins?"

Harper seemed relieved that she had broken the silence; true to form, he allowed Maggie to speak for herself rather than assure the Headmistress that every precaution had been taken. Though there were many aspects of galdori upbringing that he could not shake, several years of working closely with passives had granted him the common sense to know when not to make an ass out of himself.

Margarisse blushed furiously, and nodded. "Yes, Ma'am," she airtalked. "I have my own room to the side of the main office. It's small, but I like it. I have my own window." The girl smiled. "Profs. Devlin and Moore are more than kind to us, and in turn I am willing to help with their research."

Margarisse's stomach lurched, and a tiny foot pressed itself against her skin, visible through the tightness of her dress across her middle. She laughed quietly and patted her belly. "He doesn't mind it, either."