CHAPTER ELEVEN

Office Games

Sylvie trotted towards the imposing stone edifice that had held her mother's law office. The chilly day had not helped her mood soften in the slightest as she left the house that morning, and she pulled the fringes of her western jacket tight about her. The exceptional material kept her warm and calmed her, which Sylvie found odd considering for almost a year it had been the mark of her enslavement. In fact, she thought ruefully as she glanced down at herself, she looked exactly like she did in her posters. For whatever reason, she felt she needed to be ready for anything today, and had donned her full western regalia, even the hat, and slung her rifle with sheath on her back.

People waved at her as she walked through town, and friends called out greetings and invites for her to stop and talk for a bit. She smiled and waved at them or returned their calls with regrets that she had to hurry for an appointment.

Some of the people she recognized from the range frowned at that and looked worried, but to them she simply grinned with a confidence she didn't feel and waved to the oiled stock waving behind her head. Then they would relax and watch her go by quickly.

Now she was passing the front doors to see her mom's office. Like the outside façade, it displayed grandeur and power more suitable to a big city then a small town. The floor of the lobby was stone with a golden inlay in the shape of an eagle, deer, and ram chasing each other around a circle with a line through it: Hart and Ramsfeather's business crest when they first started who knows how many years ago. The stonework was scuffed and faded, the gilt torn and chipped, showing ageless wear on its surface, like much of Red Leaf before the Riot. Sylvie wondered absently if the sudden influx of cases would be enough to repair the aging edifice or not.

Passing the smiling receptionist who waved her on with a nod and encouraging twinkle in her dark blue eyes, Sylvie went to the elevator and waited politely for the next car.

When the doors opened, the man inside went to step out and leapt back in surprise at her horse half, before recovering his aplomb.

"Good morning Sylvie." He said politely as he squeezed out of the elevator.

"Morning Mr. Hart." She said to the elderly gentleman.

"Best of luck to you today." He told her as he left.

Sylvie nodded and walked into the elevator. She was just small enough--barely--to fit, though she found herself contorted and uncomfortable.

On the second floor, she got off the elevator with a sense of relief and strode down the hall towards her mother's office. Her hooves thumped on the carpeted floor and she winced to think of the extra work she was putting on poor Mrs. Kozevich, the elderly cleaning lady.

Her mom's plain glass door had her name and title in neat writing. Opening the door, she walked into her mother's cramped office.

The room itself might have been spacious at one time, but the invasion of file shelves, some of which stood six feet high and glowered about the room, had taken most of it away. What remained held a large desk placed in front of the single window, a round table which had several chairs placed evenly around it, and a small pair of chairs wedged around a tiny table in the corner for children.

Her mom looked up from the papers she'd been working on when she entered. She was dressed in a three-piece business suit. With her cool eyes and steely gaze, Sylvie thought she looked similar to a shark in its element.

"Hi mom." Sylvie said with a smile as she eased carefully into the office and found a spot to lay down.

"Hi sweetie. Glad to see you, but what about the suit I told you to wear?" her mom said in annoyance.

"Umm," Sylvie blushed furiously. "It was one of my…older clothes mom. One I suspect would barely have fit before my change, but now…" she trailed off.

Her mom had a funny look on her face. "But…I'd just bought you that outfit!" she protested.

"Uhm, that was a while ago mom." Sylvie pointed out.

"No, not that one, the one I got you down in Brazil for the hearings." She sighed.

Sylvie gaped. She'd forgotten all about that one! And when she'd gone to her locker, all she'd seen was the child's suit from the year she'd gone to her mother's office Christmas party.

"I, uh, forgot that one." She admitted. "And I didn't see it when I checked my clothes locker. Where did it go?"

Her mom frowned, chewing on her lower lip as she thought.

Suddenly she clapped her hand to her head with a curse. "It's in your closet upstairs. I hung it up for you when we got home."

Sylvie laughed. "Well, that explains it. But it's all right mom, I feel comfortable in this anyway."

Her mom frowned. "But that's your stage outfit." She said dubiously.

"So? One thing I will say for that…um…guy," Sylvie managed, "he never scrimped on clothes! This stuff is genuine and comfortable."

Her mother frowned. "Genuine? I doubt it," she said, coming around her desk to feel her sleeve. "That would be…" she broke off, her eyes widening.

Before Sylvie knew what she was doing, her mom dove for the label in the back of the collar, pulling the jacket snugly against her figure.

"Mom!" Sylvie whined, trying to wiggle away from her grasp. She was laying down now, so she couldn't go far, but she succeeded in wresting herself free.

"Sylvie! That stuff is genuine buckskin!" she gasped.

"That's what I said." Sylvie told her.

"But Sylvie, that stuff's worth hundreds of dollars!" her mother told her.

Sylvie was startled for a moment, but recovered. "That would be right for Nightshade." She said. "After all, I was his ticket to the big-leagues. He didn't scrimp on us at all, remember the trailer?"

Her mother frowned. "You mean the one for Mary? It was very nice." She allowed.

"No, the one that Nightshade had for Taryn and I." Sylvie told her. "He had a semi-truck trailer modified for our use. Pretty nice setup, too." She said wistfully, "Very comfortable for traveling."

She realized her mother was looking worriedly at her.

"What is it mom?' Sylvie asked.

"Are you…feeling alright." She asked guardedly.

Sylvie frowned at the question. "I'm fine mom." She told her. "Why?

"Well, the way you were acting…" she started to say worriedly.

It came to her in a flash, and Sylvie almost laughed when she realized what her mom was afraid of.

"Mom, I don't have Stockholm Syndrome." She told her. "I promise. Nightshade gave us many nice things to win us over, but we were slaves to his will, not willing employees. Trust me, I have no desire to go back; I just said some of those things would come in pretty handy right about now." She explained.

Her mom didn't look convinced, and she muttered under her breath: "I should have gotten her into therapy long ago, thought that I could handle it but I apparently can't." as she sat down.

Sylvie leaned forward so her body was almost to the desk and reached across to take her mother's small hand in hers.

"Mom, I'm fine." She soothed. "You've done a great job in helping us, and you did take us to the doc's when we first came back to talk about things. But even she said that we were fine, and there isn't a psychiatrist in Red Leaf, certainly not within walking distance, and I don't like the trailer. Too…claustrophobic." She hitched, nearly saying "too many memories", but managed not to.

Whatever her mom was going to tell her next died as her father came in through the door. He was dressed in his usual business suit and tie, carrying his briefcase and looking fresh and energetic.

"Morning kiddo. Morning, Hun." He said by way of greeting, stepping around Sylvie's body to kiss her lightly on the head, then going to her mom and planting another on her lips.

"Morning dad." Sylvie said cheerfully.

"Morning." Her mom said with a slow smile as the mayor let go and stood up fully.

"Well, my schedule is cleared all afternoon after this." He announced. "So I can take Sylvie home or wherever when we're done."

"Think we could go to the range again dad?" Sylvie asked brightly, not daring to get her hopes up.

"We'll have to see." He said with a laugh. "It depends on how long this deposition takes. If it goes long, we won't have time."

"I hope it won't take too long." Agent Bengal's voice came from the door.

Sylvie turned and saw him standing there with two other agents, all three of them dressed in black suits and carrying briefcases.

Immediately her parents adopted blank faces, smooth and inscrutable. Sylvie watched with envy as her mom coolly and professionally greeted Agent Bengal and his associates and bid them to take a seat.

I wish I could get control of myself like that, she wished, then I wouldn't have to worry about my temper getting the better of me. Would've helped a lot in Nightshade's circus.

"Hello Agent Bengal." Her father said neutrally when her mom finished. "I'm Greg Mathison, Sylvie here is my daughter. And of course, you know my wife Anne."

"How do you do?" Agent Bengal said easily. "Allow me to introduce Special Agent Bob Croker, of the FBI, and Agent Thomas Miller of Social Services."

"Social Services?" her mother asked. Sylvie fancied she could hear a trace of worry enter her mom's voice, but doubted anyone else could have. Her mom was phenomenal, she thought with a warm glow of pride.

"Just routine." He assured her. "When performing a witness interrogation in this setting, it is required that Social Services be present to ensure the child is fully protected under the law."

"Ah." Her mother nodded. "Of course. Now we are just waiting for two more people."

"No you're not." Ben grunted as he strode through the door, his jacket draped casually over his arm. Behind him cowered a small, mousy woman with a pad and pencil in her hand who looked around with a nervous expression. For just a second, Sylvie thought it might have been Beth, the show's accountant. She'd looked just as nervous when she'd first handed over Sylvie's earnings.

"Excellent. Now we can begin." Anne said cordially, gesturing to the table.

Once everyone had made themselves comfortable, she continued, "Please state your names for the recorder."

"Special Agent Barry Bengal, senior investigator, Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Special Agent Bob Croker, assistant investigator, Federal Bureau of Investigation." The tall, thin man with red hair said.

"Agent Thomas Miller of the Department of Social Services." The average-looking man said.

"Ben Gardner, Chief of Police for Red Leaf." He barked out.

"Greg Mathison, Mayor of Red Leaf and father of Sylvie Mathison." Her father said calmly.

Realizing it was her turn, Sylvie cleared her throat. "Sylvie Mathison, uh, centaur." She finished with a wince, picturing how lame it must have sounded. No one seemed to notice however.

"Anne Mathison, attorney for Sylvie Mathison, and her mother." Her mother said clipped tones.

"Let the record show that Miss Alisha Goldstone is the office recorder for today." She added at the last.

Once the other woman nodded to show she'd gotten it all, her mom began.

"Gentlemen, we are here to have the witness, Sylvie Mathison, give evidence against the men known only as Roland and Nightshade. It is my duty to point out that testimony has already been given in both the Brazilian court of law and for Police Chief Gardner, correct?"

"That is correct." Ben growled. He sat alertly on the edge of his chair.

"We have copies." Agent Bengal nodded, he seemed completely relaxed and even friendly, his eyes meeting everyone's in turn as he leaned back in his chair.

"However, full access to the witness in such an important case that crosses state and even international borders has been denied to the FBI. We want to verify all statements made by the witness and observe any detail that might have recently surfaced, such as with the other witness Taryn Grogan."

Sylvie frowned, wondering what details those might be. She could see that her mother was surprised at the admission, though she covered it quickly.

"I see. And is that all the business to cover?"

"Well, no." Bengal said. He seemed annoyed now, as if not liking what he was about to say.

"I've also been instructed (he sighed), instructed mind you, to inform the witness that, because of the…biological…nature of her attack, and the attacks on the others, that she is requested to submit samples for testing back at DC. They'd prefer, and I'm supposed to make this offer, that all the afflicted be transported to DC for intensive examination to understand fully the nature of the attack."

"Absolutely not." Greg said evenly. "I will not have my daughter become Dr. Jekyll's test subject, or watch her disappear into Area 51."

Bengal grimaced. "Look, contrary to Hollywood, we don't make people disappear, and Area 51 is not an Alien testing ground, no matter what the fringe elements would have you believe. It does carry out classified aeronautical research for the government, and that's it. What we are talking about is having the victims brought to the George Washington University Hospital for a battery of examinations and tests. When they're finished, they would be flown back here to Red Leaf, no questions asked."

"The local physicians have been providing medical care to the victims, including the witness," Her mother said firmly, "and submitting samples to the state university. If you would like copies of the reports, then you have the right to interview their care providers."

Bengal chose his words carefully. "The local doctors are experienced in the field of providing care for the normal run-of-the-mill type problems. But they are not equipped for serious studies of the unusual, and do not have the facilities to…maximize I guess would be the right term here, the amount of data recovered from examinations. In addition, they cannot synthesize and perform trial runs for possible cures. To do that, we need a fully-equipped, modern, and well-funded hospital and research staff, the combination of which cannot be found in this state. The best chance for the witnesses…for your child…is to accept government help here."

Sylvie frowned, and spoke up. "Agent Bengal, we know that it is important to understand what happened to us, but to be perfectly frank, I can't think that you would have any chance of success against magic. You would be caught in trying to explain the inexplicable, and my friends and I would be locked up in your medical lab undergoing test after test for years as one doctor or another tried some cure or drug. It's…not something any of us look forward too, and not something we will willingly submit to either."

Agent Bengal nodded. "I thought that would be your argument, and raised that point with my superiors. They said we could offer guarantees that would not be the case. You could come and go in as little as a month or two and be back home, regardless of the results."

Ben snorted. "Unlikely." He said. "I know those doctor types; once they have their claws in you, they never let go."

Bengal glanced at him. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but it is true. After the tests are run and the information collected, they would be free to go home."

"This is not a choice for us to make here." Her mom interrupted.

Everyone looked at her. "This is a discussion regarding one witness. What the previous discussion pertained to was a group of individuals who must be consulted before any decision regarding this offer is reached. For now, let us confine ourselves to the original intent of this meeting."

"Agreed." Her father nodded emphatically.

"Very well." Agent Bengal pulled a voice recorder from his briefcase. "In addition to your own recorder, I submit this recorder as an investigative tool in this debrief." He presented the recorder to her mom who took it with slight hesitation. After a quick glance at Sylvie, she nodded her assent and passed it back.

Bengal placed it on the table and switched it on.

"Miss Sylvie," he looked right at her this time, and Sylvie watched an easy, charming smile appear on his face. It had a relaxing effect, she noticed, and she smiled back at him before she could help herself.

"If you would please, explain to us your encounter against the suspect known as Roland, leaving no detail out, no matter how small."

"Sure!" Sylvie said and took a deep breath. "It all started…" she began.

#

It took some time to tell, she noted muzzily when she finished. The clock showed it to be after lunch, and she wondered if they would break soon or if she'd be reduced to eating the chairs.

"Interesting." Agent Bengal said noncommittally as he finished writing a note. "Now, you said that there was severe disorientation when the change occurred, correct?"

Sylvie nodded. "Yes."

"Did you check your watch or see a clock in the room?"

Sylvie frowned, wondering why he'd asked that. "No." she said.

"Hmm, all right. Did you notice any vehicle parked nearby? A van or car, even something that looked abandoned and non-functional?" he asked.

Sylvie shook her head. "I suppose there might have been something on the back side of the building, but on the street that I was on, there wasn't anything."

Ben cleared his throat. "My search that night and the next day turned up no evidence of a vehicle." He said.

"However, there were no witnesses on that street either, correct?" Agent Bengal asked. Ben shook his head.

"Then we cannot safely rule it out." He said with a sigh. "It would have to be fairly large to offer a way to completely remove all evidence of the store. Could it have been accomplished with one of Nightshade's vehicles?"

Ben shook his head. "No." he said with absolute certainty. "There are several reasons why I say that. One, the vehicles that Nightshade used that size were gaudy things that drew the eye to them. Not something you'd want parked on a deserted road for a period of time. Someone would have noticed that. Two, there were no tire tracks, and the road behind the storefronts are not paved, but gravel, it forms a small alleyway between the buildings on one street and the next. There is no way a truck could have parked there and not left tracks."

Agent Bengal didn't look surprised, and Sylvie figured he must have investigated the scene thoroughly.

"Very well. Sylvie, in your time with Nightshade's circus, did you see anyone that looked like Roland?"

Sylvie thought she could see where he was going with this.

"No sir." She said firmly. "And Taryn had been questioned by Nightshade as well about our transformations. He promised to look into the matter through his contacts."

Bengal twirled his pencil between the thumb and forefinger as he thought.

"Interesting." He said at last. "It certainly sounds like he didn't know who Roland is and where he might be."

"And that's to the good." Sylvie said firmly.

"Right, right." Bengal said distractedly.

Agent Croker cleared his throat. "Miss Mathison, at the time you entered the street, how were you aware that the costume shop was there?"

Sylvie looked at him in surprise. "Didn't I cover that?" she thought back, trying to remember.

"I'm afraid not." Croker said. Her parents frowned and consulted their notes, and Ben looked at the court recorder for confirmation.

"Well, if I hadn't then I can tell you that I found an ad in the newspaper with the store location. It announced the grand opening of the store and the street. I wanted a costume to beat Sa--uh, another girl at school and we thought we'd get the first pick of the costumes. Turns out we were right." She added bitterly.

"So it was through paper and not electronic media that had the location?" the agent pressed.

"That's right. I didn't keep the paper, sorry."

"Why not?"

"Because I knew the street it talked about, so I didn't see a reason to cut the ad out of the paper. There wasn't a coupon or anything with it." Sylvie shrugged. "And garbage was that night, and we went the next day after school."

"Ah." Croker looked disappointed. But he shrugged and made a note on his pad.

"We'll run that down." Agent Bengal explained. "Perhaps we can see who fronted the money for the ads."

Ben shook his head. "Sorry guys, I already checked on that myself. The ads vanished from every copy that the paper printed, leaving a blank space right where it was at. The bizarreness of it caused the paper to go ape and call my department."

"And what time was that?" Bengal asked.

Ben frowned. "Um, not sure. I'll have to check, but it was that evening, the night before the mayor called me in the morning."

"And why did you call the chief, mister mayor?"

"Because I'd just found out my daughter had been turned into a centaur." Her father said with a wry grin. "I thought the matter important enough to bring in Ben."

"And why didn't you take this to the next level of authority?" Agent Bengal asked.

Now the adults winced. Sylvie jumped in before anyone could say anything.

"I asked them not to make an official case of it." She explained. "I didn't want to be made fun of at school or bullied because of my…differences. They asked me if that was what I wanted, and I said yes. So, like a rape case, they didn't say what had happened, only that something did happen."

Ben nodded and her parents remained Vulcan. The answer didn't seem to satisfy Agent Croker though.

"That wasn't your call to make." He said hotly. "Your actions put others in danger from this man, and caused the transformations of a further three people that we are currently aware of."

"Hold on." Agent Bengal forestalled Ben's angry retort. "Now, given the circumstances of the situation, I can understand how you might make the argument that no one would have believed you, and you would be right. But Bob has a point, it was reckless in the extreme."

"We cannot make an official case unless the victim comes forward." Ben rejoined. "If we're given tips, we can act on those and do some questioning and digging, but an actual investigation we cannot do unless the victim is willing to come forward. Syl--the witnesses were reluctant to do so, understandably, so we had no choice but to treat it like a normal case and keep the…other elements out of the picture."

Agent Croker looked about ready to explode, but the DSS agent spoke first.

"You are correct, chief. The rights of the victim state that while the police may be aware an incident occurred, if the victim is not ready to come forward, then they cannot open an official investigation. However, that being said, those rules go out the door when the incident involves a child. We cannot hold them accountable for their actions or the actions of others against them, so while we may try to protect them, an official investigation must be launched immediately. There is no leeway in this." He shook his head.

Agent Bengal nodded. "We are aware that an investigation into the conduct of this matter on the part of law enforcement has been opened, but that is all I can say."

Ben looked worried, as well as her parents. Sylvie leapt in hotly.

"Hold on. I didn't want a case to be made, not them. I didn't want anyone to know that I had been turned into a centaur! Do you realize what that would have done to my life at the time? I didn't know about Nightshade or Big John, or the others. I was hoping that it would blow over by Halloween, the zipper would magically reappear and I could take off the stupid costume and burn it but it didn't, I remained a centaur, my friend and I got kidnapped, and two good people died in that. But how was I supposed to frickin' know?!" she realized by now that she was yelling, but she didn't care. "It wasn't their fault; it wasn't Taryn's and it certainly wasn't Cindy's or Megan's or Josh's. You want an enemy here? You want someone to pin the blame on? Then blame me for wanting a costume! Blame me for talking my friend into getting a slightly more expensive one than what was on the shelves! But don't blame anyone else for anything!"

Sylvie lapsed into silence, her hands clenched and tears cold and wet on her cheeks. She realized that at some point she'd gotten to her feet and now towered over everyone in the room, her hair scraping the ceiling.

Around the table it had gotten very quiet. The agents were leaning back slightly in their chairs, looking tensely at her, while the recorder looked terrified, clutching her pad to her breast like a shield. Ben sat there shaking his head, looking old and tired. Her parents made calm down motions with their hands, pointing back down to the floor. With difficulty, Sylvie managed to make herself get back down until her head was level with everyone else's again.

Once the court recorder collected herself, her mom started again.

"Gentlemen, your line of questioning has visibly upset my client. Please refrain from doing so. Furthermore, no blame should be attached to my client for any events that followed from her desire to purchase a costume from a store. Everyone does that every Halloween or for whatever costume party strikes their fancy and should in no way reflect a lapse in judgment in any party except the criminal Roland."

She cleared her throat and looked firmly at the agents. "This meeting is a simple debriefing of my client in regards to her encounter with the Enchanted Threads and the criminal Roland. In no way does it, and should it, become a trial of the Police Chief of Red Leaf. Have you any further, pertinent, questions to ask my client?"

Agent Bengal consulted his notes. "Not at this time." He said. "We simply require that she remain available for questioning as the case goes on."

Sylvie snorted before she could stop herself. "That could take a while, with a guy who can make whole shops vanish." She explained.

The agents looked unhappy, but couldn't refute the point. The agents gathered up their notes and recorder and bid everyone good-bye. As they filed out, Bengal paused a moment and pulled out a business card, handing it to Sylvie.

"Look, I know things didn't go quite the way anyone wanted them too today," he told her, "but if you can think of anything that might help us in our case against Roland, no matter how small, please contact me. My number is on the card."

The recorder followed him out, telling her mom that she would have the notes transcribed and ready for filing before six.

"Well, that could have gone better." Ben sighed.

"Jesus, I'm sorry Ben." Greg said. "I didn't know they were going to lambast you like that here."

"No, I knew it was coming. And he didn't lambast me, Greg. He gave me a warning, is all. Good guy, him. Still, the DSS agent is absolutely right, by law I was supposed to open a full, official investigation the moment you guys came to me. But I kept it quiet and tried to handle it on my own." He shook his head. "It was the right call, and still is, no matter what they may think. But we are both going to have to pay the piper, Greg."

Her father sighed.

"Dad, what's going to happen?" Sylvie asked. She could hear the quaver in her voice and hated it, not wanting to seem like a weak girl.

Her father smiled at her. "Nothing, sweetheart. I promise."

Sylvie caught the look he shared with her mom, and knew he was lying. But as he didn't want to discuss it, she didn't push the issue.

This is starting to fall apart. She thought in alarm.

"Well, Hun, why don't you take Sylvie home now and get something to eat." Her mom said at last. "I'll be here a little while longer, getting the record filed and looking into our options, both for you and Sylvie. Ben, did you want me to look into…your situation as well?"

Ben hesitated, then shook his head. "You're busy, Anne. I'll get someone else on it."

"Are you sure? It won't be a problem." She pressed.

"Yeah…I'm sure." Ben said after a moment. "You've been busy enough as it is. Try not to worry, I'll find someone."

Sylvie felt acutely aware of her mother's gaze as she followed the humans out the door. They left her sitting there at her big desk in her tiny office, and Sylvie couldn't help but feel a tiny bit guilty at how bad things had turned out in the meeting.

#

Outside in the parking lot, Ben wished them a good night and left in the patrol car to the station. Sylvie and her father started walking back home (he'd been dropped off that morning by her mom at the office.

They walked in silence, letting Sylvie sink deeper into her own thoughts and fears of what might happen to her parents if she didn't think of something fast.

Ben told dad they would have to pay the piper for protecting me. Ben's been like an uncle to me, and dad's…dad. I've got to help them, but how?

She couldn't fight this battle with her Winchester, she knew that much. She'd have to fight this battle behind closed doors, like her mom. But somehow, legal fights didn't seem like they would have a chance of winning, the Federal Government had much vaster resources and people to put into this fight, and her mom was just one lawyer. How could they hope to stand up against such a juggernaut?

What did the feds want with her? She remembered that Bengal had said they wanted tests, but she had been against that, nearly as much as her parents. But what if she let them have their tests…in exchange for stopping the investigation? Would they go for that?

That might work. It depends on how desperate they are to figure out how I got changed, and how much they are willing to go to weaponized me. For she knew that would be the endgame of the tests: a way to weaponize biological transformations. If it had to be solid form, then that might be a bit trickier, but if they could deliver it in gas form? Devastating.

Something tells me they'd never reach that stage, though, she thought to herself. After all, if Roland truly is magic, then what chance would science have to understand him? They'd never get his costumes; he wouldn't allow it.

Somehow, she felt confident that nothing the FBI or Army or whatever could do would be able to prevent Roland from stopping whatever research he didn't like.

So, I guess the risk of someone else being hurt because they don't like the president or politician just fell through the floor, she thought with a giggle. There wouldn't be much fallout from having the tests done, she felt. And it might give her the chance to help her parents and Ben out of the situation she'd stuck them in.

"What's so funny, sweetheart?" Her father asked.

"Nothing dad." Sylvie answered. "Nothing at all."