Nyssa crawled out from between some gravestones and stared down at the three ogres sprawled out on the ground. Wolfgang was slumped against the oak tree, panting and holding his shoulder.

“That was fun,” Nyssa said mildly, grinning in spite of the carnage, or perhaps because of it.

“You didn’t even do anything, Nyssa,” Wolfgang complained, shutting his eyes. He leaned his head back against the bark with a thump and slumped further down between the roots. “You just crouched in the dirt and watched.”

“I would have just gotten in your way,” Nyssa pointed out, nudging the closest twin. He was coming to, so Nyssa kicked him swiftly in the temple. He fell silent again.

“See,” she pointed to the guy she just kicked, “I’m helping.”

Wolfgang chuckled lowly, running his fingers through his hair. He slumped to one side and spat a glob of blood onto the grass, his own or one of the ogre's, Nyssa didn’t know. Nyssa made a face and jumped out of the line of fire of the wet glob, running directly into the fifth ogre standing behind her. She turned slowly, looking almost directly upward at his squashed looking face.

“Uh,” she reached towards her pocket, backing away, “Wolfgang? Help?”

The ogre grabbed her neck, his large hand circling it completely. Nyssa choked, gasped out an ugly swear and tried to call for Wolfgang again. She scrabbled for the knife she kept in her pocket and managed to untangle it from her coat, despite her dimming vision. She swiped at the ogre’s forearm, the only part of him she could reach, and drew blood. His grip didn’t falter. He only squeezed harder. She cut him again.

Nyssa’s eyes bulged and she could feel her tongue sticking out like a bad cartoon. She was probably turning blue by now. All she could think about was the irony of her dying while trying to save the life of someone technically dead. Well, the walking dead.

Then suddenly, she had air. Her numb feet hit the ground and she collapsed to her knees so sharply that she jarred her entire body. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Nyssa sucked in deep lungfuls of air, choking through her damaged throat.

Wolfgang stood over her, the rock he used to bash the ogre’s skull in still raised above his head.

“There was five,” he said, matter of factly.

And that’s how the cops found them.

“Excuse me, officer. I need to use the bathroom.” Nyssa went to rise but was firmly pushed back into the cold metal seat by the police officer standing behind her.

“We aren’t done here yet,’ said the cop sitting across from her. His mustache wriggled wildly as he talked, which disturbed Nyssa more than a little. Her face wrinkled up in disgust as she watched the hairy caterpillar on top of his lip writhe about. She was so captivated by it that she missed what the officer was saying.

“What?” she said, pulled her gaze away from his lip. The officer frowned at her.

“Miss Chapple, have you taken anything this evening?” he said, concerned. “Have you been drinking?”

She waved away that comment. “No, I’m just naturally this …” the cop behind her moved, drawing her attention,” ...absent minded.” She smiled and blinked, bringing her attention back to the man in front of her.

“Officer Berkeley, is this going to take much longer?” she asked. Her serene smile looked odd underneath all the mud and gore-caked on her face. “I have places to be.”

“I have a few more questions,” Berkeley said, consulting his notes. “How do you know Mr. Wolfgang?”

“We work together,” she repeated boredly, rubbing at the ink staining the pads of her fingers. Being arrested was not good for the whole trying-not-to-get-noticed-by-the-Caul thing. “He was walking me home and we decided to take a shortcut through the cemetery. Then we got jumped by those goons. Look, you probably already know this from interviewing Wolfgang.” In fact, Nyssa knew that Wolfgang told them the same story. She’d plucked this account of the night’s events right out of Wolfgang’s head. Their stories matched perfectly.

“We just have to corroborate your stories,” Berkeley said calmly.

“Our stories match because it’s the truth,” well, mostly. “I doubt you can say the same thing about those morons who attacked us. They probably have four different stories.” They did. Nyssa could tell from his thoughts.

“One more thing,” Officer Berkeley said, ignoring her comments. “It’s concerning the illegal silver weapon found in your possession. Nyssa paled. She didn’t know how she would explain her knife.

“Um,” she picked at her fingernails. “It isn’t mine. I got it off one of the guys that attacked us. Wolfgang will tell you the same thing.” Actually, she didn’t know that he could. Wolfgang didn’t know anything about her knife and he might not have seen it at all the confusion.

“We will confirm that with him. Thank you for your help Miss Chapple.”

Damn, Nyssa thought frantically. They needed to be released before the cops had a chance to look any deeper into Wolfgang’s identity. Stealing a dead guy’s identity would not stand up to a thorough investigation. If their stories didn’t match perfectly, the coppers would probably keep them for more questioning.

Nyssa poked at Wolfgang’s consciousness. She could tell that Berkeley was entering the interview room they were keeping Wolfgang in.

The knife isn’t Nyssa’s, she thought in his direction. She had no idea if it would work. As far as she knew, their connection only went one way, but it was worth a try. The knife is the ogre’s not Nyssa’s.