Wednesday, January 12, 2011
"How about this?"
Danny stared, then shook his head slowly.
"No, that's… just disturbing."
Taylor sighed, feeling one of the horns sticking out of the side of her head with a taloned finger. "But it looks cool," she said, "Like a fantasy dragon."
"It also looks like you eat hobbits for lunch and laugh about it," Danny protested.
She mumbled to herself, then had another conversation with the Varga, which was almost constantly snickering as they tried various forms to see if there was a practical one that was also, to use her father's rather descriptive words after turning around and seeing her grinning at him in the kitchen that morning while trying out a new one, not 'pants-shittingly terrifying'. The demon had found this extremely funny, although Danny had not, going pale and squealing like a little girl before he recovered.
She tried again. He stared once more then closed his eyes. "Are you actually trying to give me a heart attack?" he moaned.
She shook her head. "No," she said more or less honestly.
"Lose the teeth."
"Thy'r f'ngs," she muttered through a mouthful of ivory that would have made a rampaging T-Rex run away whimpering.
"They're horrifying," he retorted, opening his eyes briefly then closing them again. "Try again."
Sighing, she did. When he felt it was safe, he opened his eyes once more, then gaped, before rolling them.
"What do you call that?" he asked, exasperated.
She looked down at herself, then back at him. "Something you could ride to work?" This form was an even more quadrupedal version than the original combat form, obviously built for pure speed, like a horse crossed with an iguana. There were only four legs, no arms, and a row of spikes down the spine from the back of her head, along the long neck, and right down the length of her tail, terminating in something that looked like it came from a stegosaurus.
Her head was slightly less ferocious looking than that of her normal combat form, inasmuch as it had smaller teeth and no horns this time. The glowing yellow slit-pupilled eyes were the same, though.
"It's not very practical, though, is it?" he asked patiently. "I mean, you don't have any hands, just those sort of paw-like things, and trust me, there's no way you'd get anyone to sit on your back with those spines in the way."
She performed an odd shrug, the spines melting away. "How's that?"
"Still no."
Laughing, she went back to her base form, moving to hug him. "Sorry Dad, Varga is giggling himself sick now, he thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. He said that becoming cuddly and friendly is almost the exact opposite of his nature. We can try again later."
"All right." Danny gave her an affectionate if long-suffering look. "Let's go over the plan for tomorrow one last time, then I'm going to bed. Try not to stay up all night on the internet."
He fixed them some nachos and they sat at the kitchen table for an hour going over everything until they were both sure they knew their parts in the next stage.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Taylor sat in the passenger seat and stared at the form of her biggest nemesis.
Winslow High School.
It stared back, the blank gaze of the windows across the front of the building giving off an air of contempt.
She shivered a little, then took a deep breath. "I can do this," she said quietly. Danny put his hand on her shoulder.
"I know you can. Just don't lose your temper. We have to let them do the work and if you give them any excuse they can twist it."
She nodded, suddenly tired of all this running around. "We could simply jump up and down on that building, Brain," the Varga suggested with malicious amusement. "You would feel much better afterwards."
Snickering, she conceded the point, but replied, 'It would be great but it would also cause more trouble. Let's try Dad's plan. Jumping up and down is the last resort.'
"As you say." It seemed mildly disappointed, making her laugh again.
"Please don't do whatever your friend just suggested you do," Danny sighed, recognizing the symptoms of her conversing with the demon. "When you get that tone in your laugh I worry."
She grinned at him, looked back at the building, then craned around to peer out the back window at the car behind them, before replying, "Let's get it done."
"All right," he responded, putting the car in gear again and pulling into the visitor car park. The other vehicle stopped beside them as they both got out, two men exiting and waiting.
One was an absolutely huge black guy, about mid thirties, bald, and over six and a half feet tall. He looked like he could snap Danny in half without even trying. The other one was white, less than six feet tall, but nearly that across, his face bearing a faint but impressive scar running from above his left eye all the way down and around his face to under his chin. This one looked like he ate gravel for breakfast, without milk.
They were a couple of men Danny had borrowed from the longshoreman's club at the DWU, people he trusted and who trusted him. Both of them looked like they were having fun. They were wearing suits and sunglasses, with long coats over them. Overall the impression was of competent danger.
"OK, you two, remember, no rough stuff unless they start it, and don't laugh." Danny looked at them severely.
John, the white guy, saluted him with two fingers, grinning for a moment then making his face go blank and cold like a hit-man waiting to be paid, while the other one, Zephron, nodded. "You got it, Boss," he said in a voice so deep Taylor could swear she felt it through her shoes.
"And knock off the Boss stuff, we're not in a Godfather movie," Danny added.
"Si, Padrone," Zephron quipped, making John and Taylor both snort with laughter.
"You see the level of people I have to work with, dear?" Danny complained, turning to his daughter.
"I do, Dad. It must be hard." She caught the huge bald man's eye and he winked, then quickly schooled his expression when Danny looked back suspiciously.
Sighing faintly while still looking mildly amused, Danny cast his gaze around the car park while he adjusted his own coat. His eyes stopped on one particular BMW, then narrowed. "Interesting," he muttered.
Taylor looked to where he was, before asking, "Isn't that Mr Barnes' car?"
"Yes, it is. That is… a little unexpected. But I think it makes this even better." He turned to her with a small hard smile. "Let's go and show them what happens when you mess with a Hebert. Give us ten minutes, then go inside, like we agreed."
She nodded, waiting patiently as he walked across the car park through the slush with a steady gait, disappearing into the building with his two companions in formation behind him on either side. Students who were milling around the doors took one look and melted out of the way, even the ABB and E88 gangers looking a little nervous. Taylor grinned viciously. She was abruptly intensely proud of her father and looking forward to what happened next, all her earlier fears gone.
"He is a formidable man when angered, your father," the Varga noted quietly. "I am glad that this entire sequence of events has apparently started him on the road to recovery. I like him."
'Thanks. So do I.' She glanced at her watch again, then took another deep breath.
"Showtime," she said in a low voice. She adjusted the sleeves of her hoodie, making sure that the specialist equipment in it was operating, tapped the frame of the new pair of glasses she was wearing in a specific place twice, then started walking, slightly slouched over with her head down, the very picture of a dejected, depressed loner, her bag hanging at her side.
"Danny Hebert, to see Principal Blackwell," Danny said calmly as he looked expectantly at the bespectacled middle-aged woman sitting at the secretaries' desk, who looked back with a supercilious expression, one slightly modified by the presence of his two looming book ends. "With associates."
She looked down and made a big production of looking through her appointment book, making little officious sounds. "I'm afraid I can't see an appointment here, sir," she said after a moment. He raised an eyebrow.
"Really? Perhaps you need new glasses." He put his finger on one line on the currently open page, reading the entry upside down, a skill that had stood him in good stead during many contract negotiations. "It's right there, see? Eight AM, Hebert, Danny."
The woman frowned, but was forced to admit that he had a point. "I'll just see if she's ready for you," she said, picking up a phone handset.
"Oh, don't go to all that trouble, I know the way," he told her airily, turning and striding off towards the door leading to the principal's inner office, John and Zephron following his cue with aplomb. Outraged cries of indignation came from behind them but he ignored the sounds, knocking once on the door, then swinging it open. His companions took up stations on either side, folding their arms and looking blankly at the secretary, who had scuttled after them. She paled a little and stopped, then returned to her desk.
Inside the office, Danny closed the door behind himself, looking around at the surprisingly large number of people packed into it. "Well, well, well," he said quietly. "Quite a crowd. How unexpected."
"Mr Hebert, I don't appreciate you bursting into my office like this," the severe pinch-faced blonde woman sitting behind the desk said coldly.
He smiled pleasantly at her.
"Pity," he replied. Looking at his watch, he added, "I'm on time, so I wonder why not?"
Glancing around again, he nodded to a familiar face. "Alan. I'm rather surprised to see you here." Alan Barnes looked both worried and apprehensive, although it was only his long history with the man that let him see that past the professionally blank facade of a practicing lawyer.
Sitting next to him was a black woman about his age, who wasn't hiding the worry nearly as much, and a short man in a nice suit who seemed a little puzzled by his own presence. Danny turned back to the Principal, putting his briefcase on the floor beside him. "I have to ask, why are these people here? I didn't ask for them."
"Since you are here about your daughter's alleged bullying, I thought it prudent to make it fair by ensuring all parties were represented."
He studied her for a few seconds, long enough that Alan Barnes shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Did you now. That is interesting. When we talked, I didn't mention that the three girls who were the ringleaders of the campaign against Taylor were Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements. The fact that you know that already and called them would appear to back up my side of the issue."
Blackwell looked annoyed, and also like she'd suddenly realized she'd made a tactical error. Danny grinned at her, channeling the effect his daughter could produce with her combat form remarkably successfully. Blackwell swallowed a little, then attempted to cover it by shuffling papers on her desk.
"So, since I know Alan well, that would presumably make you Sophia's mother, and you most likely Madison's father," Danny said, turning abruptly to the two unknown people present. They nodded, Madison's father getting half way through putting his hand out before he thought better of it.
"What's this all about, Danny," Alan asked, everyone turning to look at him. "Taylor and Emma have been best friends since they were five. You can't honestly believe that Emma would turn on her? Bully her?"
Danny stared at him. "I trust my daughter implicitly and she has told me some extremely disturbing things, Alan. If she says Emma has been bullying her, I believe it."
He glanced at his watch for a moment.
"Mr Hebert, while I understand that you may feel concerned about bullying, let me assure you that, while it does occur in this school as in every school, we are very proactive about stopping it and preventing any serious problems," Principal Blackwell said in an obviously prepared way. He looked hard at her.
"Really."
"Oh, yes, I can say without fear of contradiction that nothing beyond schoolyard pranks could happen here. I admit Taylor has made allegations, but she could never produce any proof. We investigated each allegation thoroughly and diligently and found nothing to back up her stories. I can show you the files if you would like to check." She pushed a folder on her desk forward.
Danny looked at it, then his watch again, before sitting in the seat in front of the desk, which he was amused to see was low enough that it left him looking up at her. An old trick in negotiations. It had no effect if you realized it, of course. Picking his briefcase up he put it on his knees then opened it, removing the stack of paperwork Taylor had given him. He also pulled out a number of glossy printouts he'd made on the color printer in his office, spreading them across the desk. Principal Blackwell looked confused, then as she saw the images, disgusted and angry.
"I have files as well, Principal," Danny said mildly. "And these. You do recognize them, I hope?"
"I hardly think that showing inappropriate photographs of filth is…" He raised a hand, cutting her off mid word.
"Perhaps I should make sure that everyone is on the same page here." Reaching out he picked up one photo, turning in his seat to display it to the three others present, all of whom were looking slightly lost. Apparently while the Principal had called them in she hadn't got around to mentioning exactly why yet.
"This is a photo of the inside of Taylor's locker taken at twelve thirty eight AM on the morning of the seventh of January." He held up another one. "Just after the previous one. Those are her footprints on the floor." He handed them to Alan who was nearest, the lawyer taking them and looking at them with a weird expression. The other two peered at them as well, Mr Clements seeming at a loss.
"You'll note that the handprints on the locker are remarkably clear. You can even make out the fingerprints if you look closely," he added casually. Principal Blackwell looked furious.
"What's that stuff in the bottom of the locker?" Mrs Hess asked with an expression of curious disgust.
"That would be the large amount of used tampons and other biological waste that your daughters put in there, before they pushed my daughter inside and locked her in," he replied, in the same mild tone but with an undercurrent of danger. All three parents looked shocked.
"She was in there for over twelve hours, by the way. Someone finally let her out, but..." He glared at the principal who glared right back. "I have to wonder how the hell a fifteen year old girl could be locked into a school locker in a public area in the middle of the day, with all the various people wandering back and forth, students and staff alike, and not one single one of them apparently even noticed."
"You have no proof," Blackwell started, at the same time Mrs Hess burst into tears and Alan Barnes exclaimed, "Danny, you can't possibly think Emma was involved in this?"
He looked at the principal, then back to his old friend. "Taylor is convinced that it was Emma and Sophia directly involved in filling her locker with that… stuff… and that it was Sophia who pushed her in and locked it. And from what she tells me probably intimidated the students to the point that none of them were willing to get involved. Why the staff wouldn't I don't know for sure but based on her records and what she told me, a serious house cleaning is needed." He was quietly furious but containing it, his anger lending his words an edge that seemed to make most of them listen despite not wanting to.
Turning back to Blackwell, having checked his watch again to get the timing right for best effect, he continued, "And as for proof..."
Reaching into his briefcase again he removed a laptop computer with a box of electronics festooned with antennae connected to it, putting in on the desk and opening the screen so that everyone could see it. Pressing a button made it wake up, displaying an image of the door of the school, which was bobbing up and down in a way that made it clear that the camera was being held by someone who was walking.
"… I think we'll very soon have all the proof we need, if events work out the way Taylor thinks they will."
Blackwell glared at him and opened her mouth. He raised a warning finger. "No. Not this time. It's this or I just go to the police and file a complaint of attempted murder with you as a co-conspirator. Even if I lose the case the publicity will kill your career and you know it." She closed her mouth with a snap and gave him a look that promised death and destruction, with a little sowing of the ground with salt afterwards thrown in.
Danny smiled grimly and returned his attention to the screen, reaching out to turn the volume up.
Entering the school, Taylor couldn't help the shiver that ran down her back and along her tail, feelings she'd been trying to bury for the last week coming to the surface. "You can do this, Brain," the Varga murmured gently in her mind. "These people are beneath contempt. Do not let them intimidate you."
She nodded very slightly, not trusting herself to say anything even in the mind-speak they shared, then looked up. Eyes were looking back at her. Lots of them.
As far as she could see damn near every student in the hallway was either staring outright, or looking at her when they thought she couldn't see. She could make out quite a number of smirks and several people laughing, one or two of them pointing at her.
Taking another calming breath through her teeth, she tried to remain passive and blank, although she had a sudden wild urge to grow scales and claws and just scream her rage. The Varga sent her calming sensations, which helped a lot.
Walking through the corridors towards her hated locker her tension grew with every step. People mainly stepped out of her way, but more in the manner of someone who didn't want to either stop something funny happening, or else didn't want to get involved. She could hear cutting comments from around her, decrying her looks, her clothes sense, and her overall hygiene, but she pushed them to the back of her mind. They were so normal to her school experience she hardly noticed any more.
A glance over her shoulder showed a number of girls she recognized from Emma's clique following behind, at enough distance to have plausible deniability, but closely enough that they wouldn't miss anything. She sighed internally and went back to her practiced depressed slouching walk.
"Are you certain that these people would be missed, Brain?" the Varga inquired. "I can think of a number of training exercises that require live targets."
The comment made her snicker under her breath, very quietly. She kept her head down but felt better. She had more backup than these idiots could possibly imagine, a thought that made her feel warm inside. Hoping that the cameras in her glasses were working correctly, she turned into the corridor leading to her locker, seeing at a glance that Emma, Madison, and Sophia were waiting for her. They were making it look like a casual encounter but she could literally smell the anticipation wafting from them all, dwarfing the scents of either pleasure or fear she was sensing from the rest of the students.
Stopping for a moment, she looked at the three girls, who looked back, all four of them knowing this encounter was inevitable, then walked the remaining twenty feet and started working the combination lock. The scent she associated now with Sophia grew stronger as the girl wandered over, and she could also hear Emma and Madison making their way around to the other side. The slight draft in the corridor was blowing their scent away from her.
When the lock clicked, she pulled the door open and looked inside, half expecting to see stale blood and hand prints, even though her nose told her the thing had been scrubbed repeatedly with bleach. It was, of course, completely empty.
"I can't believe she bothered to come back," she heard Madison mock-whisper behind her. "I mean, look at her. She's a wreck. Poor girl should be in a home or something."
"She smells horrible as well," Emma whispered back, equally loudly. Sophia snorted with muffled laughter, leaning casually on the locker beside hers. She glanced at the other girl for a moment, then went back to taking books out of her bag and putting them in the locker.
"Surprised you showed up, Hebert," Sophia said. She looked over Taylor's shoulder, probably at Emma, then returned her attention to her target, a small malicious smile on her face. "Considering."
Taylor turned to her. "Considering?" she prompted, her voice flat. "What's that supposed to mean, Sophia?"
"Considering what a pathetic excuse for a human being you are. Sorry, was I too subtle for you?" Sophia smirked while Emma and Madison giggled.
"Why do you do this, Sophia?" Taylor asked, genuinely wondering what the answer was. "Why go to so much trouble to cause me problems?" She waved at the open locker, making the girl glance at it then smile again nastily.
"You're weak, Hebert. The natural order of things is that the strong prey on the weak." Sophia looked like she wanted to say more but caught herself.
"What happened to you, anyway, Taylor?" Emma asked in a solicitous manner, causing her to turn to the other side. Her former friend was standing with a small smile on her face, toying with her hair. Madison was listening next to her, her own expression not exactly pleasant. "You used to be fun. Not good looking, I guess, but at least OK to hang out with."
"You know the answer," Taylor replied evenly, keeping her temper although she wanted to reach out and pop the girl's head off like a champagne cork. Closing her locker having put most of her books away, she slipped the lock through the metal loops, clicked it shut, and spun the dial.
"I heard you had something go wrong with you which is why you were away for a week," Madison commented in her cute voice. "Was it serious?" She tapped the side of her head meaningfully. "I know you have problems."
"You all know what it was," she replied, looking between the three of them. "I can't figure out how you did it, I have to admit, but I know it was you."
Sophia grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her into the locker, spinning her around and putting her other arm across her shoulders, holding her there. She allowed it to happen, curious to see what the next step was.
"If you go around saying things like that you might get hurt, Hebert," the girl hissed into her ear. "More, I mean. Just keep quiet and take what you deserve."
"Deserve?" Taylor queried, her forehead resting on the cool metal of the locker and her eyes shut. "Why do I deserve it? Why do I deserve any of this? What fun do you get out of torturing me?" Her voice was ragged, her breathing irregular. "You locked me into a pile of bloody crap for half a day and nearly killed me. What have I ever done to deserve that?"
"We'll do it again if we want." Sophia sounded pleased. "It was a lot of effort collecting the… stuff… but it was worth it. I only wish I could have seen your face when you got out."
"Did you cry, Taylor?" Emma asked gently. "Like when your mother died?" Despite herself, Taylor stiffened. She restrained herself from removing the redhead's face with immense difficulty. The Varga sent her more calming waves of reassurance although she could also feel he was furious. Emma apparently turned to the other two.
"She told me she was crying for a week. Maybe that's why she was away all this time. Is that it, Taylor? Were you curled up on your bed crying like a little kid?" She sounded creepily calm and happy, making Taylor for the first time think that there really was something seriously wrong with her former friend.
"Actually, no," she said in a low voice. "I was recovering from the physical trauma of being locked in a tiny metal box by three psychopaths."
Spinning her around roughly, Sophia pushed her face right up against Taylor's, glaring at her from inches away. Taylor thought idly that the shot the hidden camera must be taking right now was pretty damning. The girl looked enraged, her already dark skin darkening even more as it flushed. Interested, she switched on her Vargavision, as she thought of it, seeing all the blood vessels in the other girls face glowing in a way that was almost pretty.
When Sophia opened her mouth to say something the inside of it was glowing with heat. Taylor could feel the breath against her cheek. "You're prey, Hebert! Prey doesn't get to say things like that. Prey simply accepts its place in the world and lets its betters do what the fuck they want to it."
"Does that make you a predator, Sophia?" Taylor asked, somewhat curious about the answer. In her head, the Varga snorted.
"You're fucking right I am," the girl snarled, clearly letting her temper get the better of her. "I'm the biggest predator in this entire school. I say jump, you don't even ask how high, you just jump." She shook Taylor hard to make her point. Madison was watching with a certain amount of worry, Taylor noticed when she looked to the side for a moment, seeing the heat map of her face and features. She was becoming aware that she could probably work out moods quite well with this sort of help and wondered if it would work for detecting lies. Filing that thought away for further inspection at a point when she wasn't being manhandled by a lunatic, she looked at Emma, who was smirking.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, bitch," Sophia growled. Taylor, with an inner sigh, returned her attention to the girl who was doing her level best to lift her off her feet with the arm across her throat, pushing her into the door of the locker.
"Are you going to take much longer, Sophia?" Taylor asked in the same flat inflectionless voice that she'd used so much over the last couple of years, trying to keep her feelings hidden. "The bell will be going soon and I need to get to class."
Looking surprised, the girl actually released her, stepping back a pace. "Impressive, Hebert. That was almost defiance. I thought we'd beaten that out of you by now."
"I told you she was worth it, Sophia," Emma said, sounding pleased. Puzzled, Taylor looked at her for a moment, then picked up her bag which she'd dropped when Sophia grabbed her.
As she moved to walk away, the other girl shoved her hard, making her stumble sideways and nearly drop the bag again. "Don't get mouthy again, Hebert," Sophia said menacingly. "We'll see you later." There was a promise of future violence in the comment. Taylor simply stared passively at her for a moment, then shrugged, turned away, and started to walk off.
"Whatever, you lunatic," she mumbled under her breath.
A sudden grip on her shoulder spun her around again, to see Sophia, who had apparently heard the comment, cocking a fist back.
"Let her," the Varga said.
She did.
The punch to the mouth would have laid out a decent sized adult male. On someone with Taylor's slim build, it should have been devastating. It was obvious that the girl knew how to fight, and had had significant training. Taylor was knocked flat, half turning in the process, to end up in a pile at the base of the lockers on the other side of the corridor. The two or three dozen other students who had been hanging around to watch went quiet.
Stomping over, Sophia kicked her target in the ribs several times. "You… Don't… Get… To… Call… Me… THAT!" she said loudly and savagely, adding a kick with each angry word.
"Sophia, I think that's enough," Madison said in a small voice, staring at the panting teenager, who still looked furious and vengeful.
"Did you hear what that bitch called me?" Sophia demanded, pointing at the slumped girl, who was making muffled sounds and twitching. "No one calls me that."
"She deserved it, Mads," Emma said from beside her, looking pleased. "She needs to know her place."
"What are we going to do now?" Madison asked, looking around nervously. "The locker was one thing, but kicking the crap out of her right in the middle of the corridor is something else." The corridor had emptied remarkably fast, no other student apparently wanting to remain and be a witness.
"Don't worry, no one cares," Sophia said dismissively, wiping her face with a tissue she pulled from her pocket, then producing a mirror and checking what the result was. Snapping it closed she put it away again. "Let's get to class."
The muffled sounds from the downed girl grew louder. They all looked at Taylor. "Oh, the poor thing, she's crying again," Emma said in a sing-song voice. She stared at her friend. "Just like when we took her silly flute."
About to walk away, they stopped when the girl on the floor rolled over then stood up, raising her head to look at them. Madison stared in surprise.
She wasn't crying.
She was laughing.
Taylor walked closer, grinning in an unnerving way. She stopped a couple of feet from Sophia, looking down at her. Now that she wasn't slumping, Madison was shocked at how tall the other girl was, dwarfing her own five foot nothing by at least eight inches. She was noticeably taller than Sophia as well.
Sophia looked startled, while Emma was staring mutely. Taylor inspected each of them in turn, then leaned closer to Sophia.
"Got you, you bitch," she whispered.
Turning around she walked off with her head high, whistling happily, a completely different figure than the one that they were used to. The three girls exchanged glances, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Right at the point that rage was suffusing Sophia's face, displacing the befuddlement that had been there before, and she was obviously about to charge after her target, the elderly PA system crackled a few times, then spat out an announcement.
"Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Madison Clements will report to the Principal's office immediately. That means, right now, ladies."
The PA clicked off with an air of finality.
Looking at each other, then after the figure of Taylor who was disappearing around the corner in the distance, they all reluctantly headed to their destination.
Danny watched the entire trip through the halls from his daughter's viewpoint with a sinking heart. Reading her journals, and talking to her, had given him what he thought was a good idea of what she went through on a daily basis.
He'd been wrong.
It was so much worse, he felt like crying. How on earth a fifteen year old girl could take that sort of thing for so long without going mad was beyond him. How had he possibly never noticed the effect it had on her?
With waves of guilt going through him he kept his eyes locked on the screen, several windows showing video from the main two cameras in the special glasses Taylor was wearing, one with the same field of view as a normal human, the other on the other side a wide angle one capturing everything in front of her.
There was another one in the back of her hoodie, protruding from a small nearly unnoticeable hole, which got everything behind her. They all had microphones although the audio they were currently listening to was coming from the first one. The glasses transmitted a short range signal to the pack of electronics concealed in the garment, which relayed it to the laptop. The audio and video quality was superb, which helped them a lot but also showed everything in merciless detail.
He definitely owed Mike a favor or two for this. The ex dock worker was now a fairly successful private investigator with a considerable expertise in surveillance, which he'd been more than happy to help the man who got him his first job with, leaving aside his personal feelings.
At the point Emma made the comment about Annette's death, which made him clench his fists, Alan suddenly jumped to his feet. "Enough!" he shouted. "You've made your point. I don't want to watch any more."
"Sit down, Alan," Danny said calmly, not looking away from the screen.
"No. This is just sick. OK, my daughter is in the wrong, I'll admit that. Stop rubbing our faces in it." Mr Clements was silently watching, an expression of horror on his face, Danny noticed when he glanced over, while Mrs Hess was crying softly. Principal Blackwell was sitting rigidly still with a face like a statue, radiating impotent fury.
"We're going to let it finish. Sit down, Alan." Danny didn't raise his voice.
His old friend headed towards the door. "No. I'm putting a stop to this right now."
"Zephron?" Danny pitched his voice louder, still watching the screen of the laptop. The door opened, the form of his colleague filling the aperture almost completely. Alan stopped dead.
"Mr Hebert would like you to sit down and be quiet," Zephron rumbled, looming in a surprisingly professional manner and fixing Alan with his eyes, hidden behind his sun glasses. They'd been Taylor's idea and Danny had to admit they added a certain air of menace. Presumably the reason people like the Secret Service always seemed to be wearing them.
Alan went a funny color, looked around helplessly, then made his way back to his chair. Sitting obediently he looked cowed. Danny wasn't happy about acting like this but he needed to make the point.
"Thank you, Zephron," he said.
"You're welcome, Mr Hebert," the huge man replied. Danny got the impression he was enjoying himself. Closing the door with him on the inside this time, the man leaned against it and crossed his arms, making everyone but Danny look a little nervous.
Hearing the confessions of not only the locker incident but the theft of the flute his wife had played so well made him both pleased and furious. When Sophia punched Taylor he nearly jumped to his feet himself, even though he knew full well she could take a lot more than that without harm, and that it was almost handing them victory on a plate. Finally, the whole sorry thing came to a halt when Taylor expressed her feelings and walked away, whistling what he recognized with amusement as one of the melodies from the CD he'd bought the previous week.
Prodding a couple of keys he put the machine back to sleep then put it back in his briefcase, to dead silence from the room. After several seconds, the principal cleared her throat, reached for the microphone on the corner of the desk, and pressed the button on it. Everyone heard the announcement through the door. Releasing the PA button she stared at him.
"I think that constitutes proof, don't you, Principal Blackwell? Admittedly it might not fly in court, depending on how good your lawyers are, but if it was to get out into the public domain..." He trailed off, then shrugged, as the woman looked like she wanted to strangle him. "I'm not saying I'd do such an underhanded thing but you know the modern world, there are hackers everywhere."
"What do you want?" she gritted, almost purple with rage.
He stared into her eyes. "What I want is you and most of the staff out of a job in favor of someone actually competent, those three girls punished, ideally expelled, and to be honest after seeing what just happened, I think at least two of them need serious therapy. Right now." He glanced at Alan, who was looking sick. "I mean it, Alan, there's pretty obviously something very wrong with Emma. You need to look into that."
Returning his attention to the principal who looked on the verge of apoplexy, he said, "What I'll accept is an immediate transfer to Arcadia and away from this hellhole you seem to think is a school, a sensible settlement for the mental and physical trauma your little stormtroopers there put my daughter through, and a written apology. Accepting full responsibility of the school for the bullying campaign and acknowledging that Taylor was in no way to blame for any of it."
"That's blackmail!" she finally shouted.
"No, it's negotiating. Something I have a lot of practice with. Blackmail would be more along the lines of threatening to have you all personally and the school in general black-listed by every member of every union in the entire city. You'd find it almost impossible to get a plumber, or electrician, or carpenter, or mechanic, or janitor, or cop, or delivery driver..." He shrugged, smiling, as she paled. "I think you'd find that running the school would become very difficult at that point, which could draw even more official attention, which I think you might not want. That would be blackmail. All I'm asking for is a reasonable solution to an unpleasant situation."
He tapped the laptop meaningfully. "This is simply required proof should anyone deny things happened the way we all know they did."
His expression hardened as he leaned forward, meeting her eyes. "Don't push me. I'm not happy at all about all this. The faster you get on with it the less likely I am to press a civil suit for damages, harassment, libel, slander, and anything else I can come up with, such as a criminal assault case against you and a number of students in your school."
The woman behind the desk looked torn between wanting to kill him on the spot or simply start screaming with fury. In the end she looked over at Alan, then the other two parents, who seemed to be in shock. "I will need to consult our lawyers," she finally said. Danny didn't smile, but he knew at that point they'd won.
"You do that. Arrange the transfer first, you don't need a lawyer for that, then call me when you've decided how you want to proceed with the rest of it." She nodded stiffly.
Opening the laptop in his briefcase he turned it back on then copied the recordings onto a USB stick, which he slid across the desk to the principal. She looked at it like he'd just handed her a still warm dog turd, making no effort to claim it. "Here's a copy of these recordings so that you can show them to the lawyers. I doubt you'll have any problems at that point." The glare he got should have killed him, but all it really did was make him feel warm inside.
"Do any of you want a copy?" he asked, turning to the parents. All three of them shook their heads. "OK. If you change your mind, Principal Blackwell has my contact details." Turning the machine off again, he retrieved Taylor's notes and put them in the case as well. "You can keep the photos, I can always print out more. You might need them as evidence since I'm sure you cleaned the place carefully." Snapping the latches shut he stood.
"Thank you for your time, Principal Blackwell. I'll be taking Taylor home now. I expect to hear from you in, say, a week? That should give you time to do what you need to."
"I could call the police and have you arrested and those recordings confiscated, there are laws against recording on school property without permission from the administration," she said as he was half-way across the floor to the door, which Zephron, playing his role perfectly, had swung open for him.
"You could," he acknowledged without turning. "But they weren't only sent to the computer I have here, the transmitter has quite a decent range. Other recordings were made, and if I got arrested, I couldn't arrange to have them deleted." He looked over his shoulder at her gritting her teeth. "Just a precaution, of course. Who knows what would happen to them if I was in jail?"
"Get out!" she shouted. He nodded, leaving the room, his companion closing the door and falling in behind him as did John, who had been waiting. As they entered the outer office he could hear a massive argument starting behind them, making him finally allow himself a grin.
In the outer office the three girls were sitting silently, looking pissed off and worried. He nodded pleasantly to them as he walked past, Emma staring, then whispering to her friends.
Taylor met Danny and the others back at the car, which she was leaning on, drawing patterns in the dusting of snow on the roof. "Did it work?" she asked, looking up as he came over.
"Pretty sure, yes," he replied. They shared a smile. "I liked your line at the end, by the way, dear."
She laughed. "Did the cameras all work properly?"
"Really well. It was as good as a news broadcast, unfortunately." He put the briefcase on the roof then hugged her for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, kid, I had no idea. You're a much stronger person than I am to have put up with that for so long."
"It's not your fault, Dad," she replied, smiling a little.
He released her and turned to the other two who were watching quietly. "Thanks, John, Zephron. That really helped." He shook their hands, as did Taylor. "Have you considered professional minion work?" he joked. Zephron chuckled, while John grinned.
"The pay is good but it can be very dangerous," the large bald man replied with good humor. "The grunts are the ones who get shot at."
"True, I guess," he replied thoughtfully.
"It was fun, Boss," Zephron added. "Let me know if you need a heavy again."
"Stop calling me Boss," Danny sighed, making the man smile once more.
"I didn't get to do anything but stand there," John complained mildly. "At least you had a speaking part."
"It was only two lines," his friend protested as they headed back to their own car. Taylor watched them go, still arguing, then turned to Danny with a smile.
"What now?"
"Now we go and get something to eat, even though it's early, I'm starving after all that, then go home. We need to look up online make-up courses, because I'm sure that you haven't been taught properly and I expect Arcadia has higher standards than this place."
They got into the car and he started the engine. "Anywhere has higher standards than this place," Taylor remarked as she turned around to watch Winslow disappear into the distance for the, as far as she could ever manage, last time. Swiveling back to face forward she sighed.
"Thanks, Dad. For everything."
"Just doing what I should have been doing all along, dear, being a father." He glanced at her, then smiled. "Although I have to admit in many ways that was fun. I just don't want to have to go through it again. Watching that Hess girl punch you in the face was hard."
"Not as hard as stopping myself changing and biting her head off," Taylor giggled. "She probably tastes horrible, as well."
She laughed harder at the look in his face, then settled back to enjoy the ride, content.