Jenny DeLang, a tall, very attractive blond girl of seventeen years, sat in Mr. Linebah's English III class. They had only been in school for a couple of weeks since the all-too-short summer break, and the students at Happy Valley High didn't know the new teachers very well. On the flip-side, with the changing of bussing boundaries just prior to the start of the new school year, many of the new students were strangers to pretty much everyone, some preferring it that way.

Mr. Linebah, one of the newer teachers at the school, young compared to the others in his field, looked up from the stack of papers on his desk to Jenny, who was working on a report near the back of the room. "Miss DeLang!" he called sternly.

"Huh?" Jenny asked and looked up in startlement at the teacher. His voice had cut through her strained concentration so completely that for the briefest moment she felt herself unsure of here whereabouts.

"Can you stay after class today? I need to talk to you about your Oral Report subject," Mr. Linebah requested and tapped the paper he had been looking at.

At the mention of the class assignment she had neglected to even begin working on, Jenny regained her composure. "Sure," she answered pleasantly.

"Good," Mr. Linebah said and went back to his work, then risked a glance up a moment later. Jenny was busy writing, apparently struggling valiantly to re-immerse herself in the state of concentration she'd been in previously. With a nod to himself, the teacher's gaze went back to the papers on his desk. Carefully concealed within the disorganized stack was a closeup black-and-white photograph nearly the size of a sheet of writing paper: a photo of Jenny in her cheerleading outfit. Slowly Linebah touched his finger to her laughing face, then absently touched those same fingertips to his own lips. She was all he thought of when he was alone at night. She was all he could see; he would have her.

Three seats from the back of the poorly illuminated classroom, seventeen year old Matthew Starer looked at the back of Jenny's yellow blouse from beneath a tangle of mousy brown hair; but the eyes peering at her from behind weren't those of her ill-reputed classmate. That gaze felt much older and had undoubtedly seen more death and decadence than he knew she ever would. He squinted at the teacher, thinking deeply. His ancient eyes probed deep into Mr. Linebah's thoughts, wishing that the instincts that had guided him to his mark could somehow define in his own mind, what the rogue intended to do. Without realizing it, his thoughts wandered from the task at hand to the strangeness of the mission. It wasn't supposed to be solo! he'd demanded on more than one occasion. And yet, try as he had throughout the last three days, Kenah was nowhere to be discovered. Kiah had searched the school first, then the town. He'd even considered searching the surrounding boroughs, but again his instincts guided his decisions. He knew if she was to be found, it wouldn't be there. And now, he'd began to resign himself to the possibility that she wouldn't be found anywhere!

Before Kiah could waste any more of this host's poorly refined energy, the bell rang, signaling that classes had ended for the day. The students packing the classroom quickly gathered their things and, engaged in several different animated conversations, vacated the room.

Kiah casually grabbed his books and also vanished into the crowded hallway.

Jenny set her books on her desktop and headed toward the front of the room. "What's wrong with my subject?" she ventured for the question without worry. She had a viable excuse for the little amount of homework she'd done over the last couple weeks. The problem was, it wasn't one she could readily share . . . with anyone.

Linebah was quiet as he walked over to Jenny, who only stood a couple of inches shorter than he. What a specimen of young womanhood she was: dishwater blond hair that cascaded like waterfalls to her shoulders, eyes as blue as the sea after a storm. He stood so close that they were almost touching, then he looked right down her shirt! Her ample bosom created quite the alluring cleavage, once he glimpsed beyond the lace of her yellow sweater's neckline. Appalled, Jenny immediately adjusted her collar, unease nearly overwhelming her as the nausea did. Her left hand deftly went to her belly. She'd been prone to nausea the last week or so. Especially in the morning hours, before school. But no one, not parents, any of her younger siblings, or her closest friends, knew her secret. Not even the young man, who's deep ebony skin would have scarred even the purest of reputations, knew of the burdening secret which grew inside her. "What did you want to see me about?" Jenny asked and backed away.

Linebah sat on the side of his desktop and peered at the student. "I know," he announced without a hint of compassion in voice, eyes or demeanor. "About the baby inside you: the bastard child of a white blossom and black trash."

Dear God, no, Jenny could only cry inside.

Chastising himself for allowing distraction to render him unprepared when the moment had come, Kiah ran desperately to his host's automobile: a 1972 Firebird, brand new. Kiah had no doubt that the young man he now inhabited had used money from the same drugs that once ravaged his host body to purchase the powerful sports car.

Kiah unlocked the passenger door, reached into the center console and pulled out a very expensive .357 he'd heisted from the host's parents that morning. Typical, he'd decided, for the only child of a wealthy family to turn out to be the local narcotics trafficker. Apparently, this host was also known for his depressive mood swings, and at sunrise this beautiful day in March, 1972, had taken his own life. Convenient for Kiah, as sorrowful as the fact was; still, it did present an interesting dilemma. In the Book of Life, Matt Starer did indeed commit suicide, though there were suspicious circumstances surrounding the death, circumstances that as far as Kiah knew, were him. He shut the car door and sprinted for the school.

In the classroom, Jenny's eyes grew wide in shock and Linebah merely smiled at her. "Wha--I don't understand?" Jenny tried to deny it and backed away.

"Don't! Don't lie to me. It only further damns your soul," Linebah explained with such simplicity and followed her. "Believe me. I know about damnation."

Though it was obvious that she was dealing with a man who was no longer her instructor, but something utterly unholy, Jenny could only stammer, "But, how could you know?" She finally ran out of space to retreat to as she backed into the front of a desk.

"That's not important," Linebah replied. "What is important is that I get my share, too." Jenny shook her head, complete realization of his brutal intent coming to her fully. "You can't--"

"Who will they believe, a trustworthy, tenured teacher like me or a slutty bitch like yourself?" Linebah asked and pressed right up against her.

"No!" Jenny whispered and winced as he loosened a couple of the buttons on her blouse. "No," she whispered again as tears welled up in her eyes. This wasn't how it had been with Travis. He cared so much for; his caresses were light, electrified from love and passionate. The sudden impact of the door slamming open brought Linebah's actions to a rapid halt.

Kiah stepped into the room. "Hands off her, Trudou'," he commanded, the pistol gripped easily in his right hand.

Trudou', clothed in Linebah's flesh, backed away and raised his hands above his head.

Jenny cried in relief and ran over to Kiah, throwing her arms around him, sobbing on his shoulder.

"So, you want to get it done right here and now SoulChaser?" Linebah demanded, implementing Kiah's rank sarcastically.

"He knows about--" Jenny faltered, the thought rushing into her frantic mind that she now had her arms around Matt Starer, the school's most notorious drug dealer. "I mean, he was trying to--"

"I know what he was trying to do," Kiah assured her, gently disengaging himself from her and nudging her toward the door. "Go now, while you can."

"What?" Jenny demanded when she noticed that he made no attempt to follow her.

Trudou's intense eyes flicked from him to Jenny, and Kiah recognized the intent behind them all-too-well.

"Go! Now!" Kiah screamed, even as Trudou' lunged for the door.

Jenny screamed and her hands went to her ears to block out the head-splitting concussion of the two pistol shots Starer fired.

Trudou' spun around, missing Jenny and the open doorway, and slammed up against the wall, his hands grabbing out for anything to hold onto. The only purchase they found was the tall, heavy, bookcase behind him.

"Leave, now!" Kiah commanded Jenny as he strode over to where Trudou' leaned against the bookcase, panting. A blood patch the size of a man's fist was gradually crawling down Linebah's chest, a bright crimson stain against his blue dress shirt.

"This isn't how I planned it," Trudou' gasped to Kiah as the young man reached him.

"It never is," the SoulChaser growled in response.

Jenny watched in horror as the druggie pulled a strange medallion out of his pocket and seemed about to strike Linebah in the chest with it, but before Matt could do anything, a terrible cracking sound echoed through the room.

Kiah glanced up at the bookcase in alarm, even as it crashed down solidly upon them both so suddenly that he couldn't even put up his hands to protect himself.

The SoulChaser wasn't entirely sure how long he'd lain there. It could've been hours, maybe even days, for all he knew. But deep inside, he understood it to only be a matter of heartbeats. His body surged with pain from his skull to midway down his back. From there on, nothing. He didn't need the diagnosis of a Medic or Cleric to tell him his back had broken, most likely in several places. Looking around him, he thankfully spied the SoulStar buried in the debris nearby, still clutched in his barely functioning hands.

Jenny waited; her only company was the sound of her own breathing. Not even the chaos in the room had made it's mark against the din of post-classes revelry in the hall beyond the decimated door. However, the sight of a fallen bookcase did attract a gradually growing crowd of passersby.

Shaking off the questions, Jenny kept her gaze directed to the mass of books, science equipment and statuettes that made up the pile of debris in the classroom. She'd thought she'd spied a bit of movement and could've sworn she heard the sound of someone rummaging around beneath all of it. But before she could get up the nerve to venture deeper into the room, she was shocked again by the sound of a final, solitary gunshot. The room grew silent again . . . and the rummaging ceased.