Professor Bansa tapped on the microphone to check if it was on. Feedback echoed throughout the lecture hall, heralding the start of the agonizing and slow fight against sleepiness only a select few would win in the end—CrimLaw was in session.

The professor cleared his throat and checked the screen of his laptop that was also projected behind him. “We finished the basics of burden of proof, including the concept of ‘proof beyond reasonable doubt’, a term which we’ll be hearing and reading plenty of times as we go along. As with other topics, we'll move on to discuss the Adumbrae aspect.

“Of course, suspected Adumbrae are not taken to court like alleged offenders for normal crimes, so the burden of proof works differently. The hurdle the State needs to overcome before a suspected Adumbrae is sentenced to execution is related to physical examination of the body of the subject, which you will learn more about in your future Adumbrae forensic courses at Melchor. Suffice to say that these tests are the counterpart of ‘proof beyond reasonable doubt’ for criminal convictions. However, there are many exceptions to this …” And he droned on and on.

From my vantage point at the end of the sloped auditorium, I observed the class sink into a collective slump as they settled in for a couple of hours of stupor. Amazing how Professor Bansa could make an interesting and important subject sound so boring just by the way he spoke.

While we didn’t have a permanent sitting arrangement for this class—some professors did require it to have an easier time remembering a student if they sat at the same place every class—we all have settled into a sort of a sitting plan ourselves. My usual place for Professor Bansa’s class was somewhere on the left side of the fourth row.

However, I wasn’t sitting there today because of two reasons: one, Ramello was back, sitting beside my usual spot and I didn’t want to talk to him just yet; and, two, I had something more pressing to do than listen to the lecture.

Ramello was searching for me, craning his neck to scan the people in the class, and when he found me, he raised his brow and pointed to the empty seat beside him. I gave him an apologetic smile and nodded at my laptop. He gave me a thumbs up and mouthed ‘talk later’, or something like that; I sucked at lip-reading. He then faced forward to listen to Professor Bansa.

In law school, the back rows of classes with lenient professors were usually reserved for people catching up for another class, be it studying, homework, or some project. Meryl and Alexis sitting right in front of me were, based on their laptop screens, studying for an elective course I didn’t get, ‘US Bureau of Interdimensional Defense and the Panderton Act’. Given my current predicament, maybe I should enroll in that course next semester. Five seats to their right was Victor watching a movie.

Okay, so the back seats could also be for people who wanted to waste time.

Not like I could judge him. I wasn’t exactly studying for my next class myself.

I opened my palm to check the crystals growing on it. I now used two pimple patches, one for each of the tiny crystals. And for added measure, I applied a thick foundation to it. Unless someone really focused on my palm, and why would they, it didn’t look weird at all. I pushed the pimple patches down to make sure they were sticking properly, then I reapplied makeup to blend the patches with my pale skin tone and to disguise the gold vein connecting them.

This morning as we ate breakfast, I asked Deen what was the best sweat-proof makeup she could recommend and I immediately ordered it online. I wasn’t a sweaty person, mind you. But I’d rather not risk it.

Disguising it was the easy part. What was particularly difficult was controlling myself from absentmindedly picking at it. When it was just that one teensy-weensy crystal, I could will myself to ignore it. I guess that showed I wasn’t a princess compared to that mysterious woman in the children's story, ‘The Princess and the Pea’, who turned out to be royalty because she could feel a tiny pea through like twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. Weird way to establish royalty, if you ask me.

But now that there were two of them, the annoying feeling became so much more pronounced. They weren’t so close as to grind against each other when I curved or closed my palm, but I could feel them there, like a tiny chunk of meat that got caught between my teeth that I simply couldn’t ignore. I might be a princess just yet.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I placed my makeup kit back into my bag. There were only a few instances someone could touch my palm. I wasn’t into having my future predicted through palm reading, so that was minus one instance. Perhaps the most concerning case was shaking hands with someone. It was extremely rare in people’s daily lives to shake somebody's hands unless it was job-related like a salesperson or something. But in law school, handshakes were pretty common.

I practiced cupping my hand to avoid my palm touching another’s in the event I was forced into a handshake by societal norms. It was awkward to practice shaking my left hand with my right. After a few tries, I gave up and moved on to the next order of business.

Watching traffic cam footage.

Before coming to Cresthorne, Deen and I passed by Melchor Hall to get a USB drive from Myra with copies of a few of the videos Johann took, or hacked, from MetroTraffic.

I plugged the USB drive into my laptop’s port, opened the folder, and scanned the files. I randomly opened one. Streets, and people, and cars, and trucks, the occasional stray animal. Wow, this is boring.

I sped up the video and blankly stared at it, my eyes probably glazing over. I didn’t expect to find anything, but I found doing something mundane was conducive to thinking. They say that was why Einstein worked at a patent office. It was during this dull time of his life that he published numerous papers, including the one on the theory of relativity and his most famous work on the theory of tiered dimensionality—which eventually became the basis of Nazi experiments and, fast forward several decades, resulted in SpookyErind slowly taking over my body.

I did want Dario and the super friends to find the Red Island. I know, it was for the good of the world and all, blah, blah, blah, whatever. But it was even more important now with the crystal on my palm slowly growing. Nothing happened for a couple of weeks after I met SpookyErind, so I thought it was going to be slow, taking months to gradually change. Was it because I ate that guy with powers to kind of liquify solid stuff? What was his name again? I think they said he was Rofirio? How long did nothing happen since I ate him? Nearly two weeks?

This urge to consume...why?

It worked, right?

Right.

In short, I was like a vampire needing a constant stream of food. I sighed. I needed to help the superhero wannabes find my food source. I need to consume. Dario and the others, including Deen, would be my last resort because eating them wouldn’t last me a long time.

I continued watching boring videos while Professor Bansa’s lecture continued passing through one ear and out the other. He said, “We have discussed last week the ruling of the US Supreme Court that the Due Process Clause in the Constitution includes protection from criminal conviction except upon proof beyond a reasonable doubt. This right, however, does not extend to Adumbrae, as enunciated in the landmark case of People vs. Milphard. I assume you already tackled this in your Constitutional Law class. The Bill of Rights does not extend to Adumbrae.”

I paused the video to listen to him.

He went on, “The law does not distinguish between persons who have just been seeded, who most likely retain their mental faculties and will continue to do so for some time, and Adumbrae who have already completely manifested into our side of the plane. They are all categorized as Adumbrae. In the field of science, yes, there are terms for different stages of Adumbrae seeding and mutation. Necessity dictates such. The eyes of the law, however, do not distinguish. This is very much deliberately implemented with the passing of the Panderton Act.” He looked up from his screen, “Uh… yes…Mr. Harlon?”

We all looked in surprise at Jacob raising his hand. Even Professor Bansa was surprised someone cared enough to ask questions in his class. “Sir, isn’t there a world of difference between someone recently seeded and a fully realized monster?” Jacob Harlon asked. “The latter is dangerous, but the former is no danger to anyone…yet. For an analogy, there is a difference between driving under the influence, which is just a misdemeanor and has a fine as a penalty, and vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated, which is a felony and is punishable by jail time. Shouldn’t there be categorization?”

“Any volunteers to answer?”

I raised my hand, but Ramello was quicker.

“Mr. Staten, go ahead,” Professor Bansa said.

Ramello looked back at me to wink before answering, “Not every drunk driver will result in manslaughter. But if many people are driving under the influence, it's only a matter of time before they get into an accident which may result in damage to person or property. The State is interested in penalizing driving under the influence to prevent something worse from happening. Vehicular manslaughter is the ‘something worse happening’, which warrants a higher penalty and is classified as a felony.

“Compared to Adumbrae, it's only a matter of time before a seeded individual turns into a monster. We are absolutely sure that this specific drunk driver will damage persons and/or property in the future, thus, there is no need to have different categorization.”

I nodded slowly as he spoke. He was right. There was no recorded case that someone seeded was ‘cured’. There was no going back to being a normal human.

And that included me.

After answering, Ramello once again turned to me and gave me a quick thumbs up. I rolled my eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Staten,” Professor Bansa said. “Very well put. Although, it can be simplified. We have to understand what offense was committed in the first place. Letting oneself get seeded, allowing an Adumbrae into our world, is a crime against humanity. From the point of seeding, the crime has already been committed. From that point, such a traitor to humanity can, and should be, executed.”

The class went silent, not because they were bored, but because everyone was surprised that Professor Bansa, a gentle, soft-spoken, old man, could be that direct. Something was chilling with the way he said it.

I sunk down my chair and sighed. Technically, I guess I no longer have any human rights. All the more reason I should strive to maintain my human appearance. No way anyone was going to execute me.

After class, Ramello waited for me by the door. My mind rushed about whether I should brush him off or talk to him. Fine, I’ll talk with him. “Hi, Ramello,” I said. “Are you fine now? I heard that you were attacked.”

“I guess so. I did get banged up pretty badly.” He shook his body. “All fine now.”

How should I go about this? I wasn’t sure what he remembered. “Did they catch the people who did this to you?” I said, pointing at the bandage around his head.

“No, the police don’t have much to go on. I’m not even sure what happened before I woke up at the hospital.”

“Really? What do you recall?”

“I was with you. We rode the train and…I was supposed to accompany you home, right?”

I paused, considering what I should say next. There should be cameras at the train station. “Easy there, big guy.” I playfully poked his chest. “You wanted to accompany me home, but I said no. We did walk for some time together but I didn’t allow you anywhere near my apartment.”

He held up his hands. “Relax, I’m not a stalker. Although I couldn’t remember what happened back then, I’m sure I had only good intentions. I’m a beacon of morality, I swear.”

I put on a concerned face. “Seriously though. What was the last thing you could remember?”

“I remember getting off the train with you. And I think I noticed people following us. I suppose I got attacked after we parted ways.”

I gasped. “I’m lucky I already left.” Then I forced myself to stutter. “I-I didn’t me-mean it that way. It’s bad what happened to you, I was saying—”

Ramello laughed. “I understand. I’m also glad you weren’t there when I got attacked.”

“Do the police have any leads? You said you have an uncle who’s a detective or something?”

“Lt. Hall. Yes, he’s a detective. We’re not actually blood-related, but I do consider him my uncle.” He inserted his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. “Still no leads, or at least that’s what uncle told me. I asked other cops I know about it and they said that it’s probably some mobster who got beef with my uncle. He’s clean, never accepts any bribe, and has a personal vendetta against organized crime and corruption. They probably attacked me as a warning to him. I’m relieved they didn’t do anything to you.”

“Oh, wow. I don’t know what to say. That’s such a difficult situation.” This meant he didn’t remember I told him at the train station that I suspected the people following us were after me.

“I’m just going to tell you that it’s probably for the best we don’t get too close to each other.”

The fuck? We were close? “Why? What do you mean?”

“I’m going to try to help my uncle with this. This doesn’t sit right with me that I’m being used to threaten him. Feels like I’m a burden.”

“I don’t get it…What are you going to do? What can you even do?”

“That I don’t know. But I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing.” He saw my skeptical face. “Yeah, okay, I’m not like a secret assassin or whatever with some hidden fighting skills. But I’m pretty resourceful, and I know the streets.”

“This seems to be way over your head. Can’t you tell your uncle to stop whatever he’s doing? I can’t…I mean you’re up against scary people.”

“Are you familiar with the story of the two wolves?” Ramello said. “They say it’s a Native American legend. I’m not sure of which tribe. Cherokee, I think?”

“No, I haven’t heard of that one.”

“There are two wolves inside of us. What they represent differ in various versions of the story. There is light and darkness, hope and despair, love and hate, righteousness and sin, good and evil. In this case, the two wolves can represent bravery and fear, or doing what is wrong and doing nothing. These two wolves fight continuously fight inside of us. Which one do you think wins?”

“I don’t know.”

Ramello, with a resolute face, said, “The one you feed.”

I stared with a brow raised, and then snorted, trying to hold down a laugh.

He scratched his head. “I know, I know, alright. It sounds cheesy. But it sounded awesome in my head like I was in a movie. My point still stands. There's something wrong here and I’ll set it right. I'm not going to let fear get the better of me. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to keep my distance from you.” He walked out the door, which admittedly looked cool even though what he said didn’t make sense to me.

Why was everyone so eager to be a hero? There was no point. My understanding of how people should behave was being challenged.

Maybe I was the normal one?

There was one thing I agreed with Ramello. I should feed the wolf inside me. It just felt right. And it couldn’t wait until we find the Red Island. I had to get into the Eve club and find something inside to eat.