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The Question By The Professor I'll answer your question, but before I do, I need to tell you a story. It's a story about me - about who I am and who I was. It's a long story, so settle back and I'll tell it to you as best I can. My name wasn't always the name I use today. My given name was Larry... Larry Boyd. That's right. That's what I was. If you want to leave now, you can. I'll understand. No? I'm impressed. I... I didn't think any man would still be sitting there after I said that - even you. I hope you're still sitting there when I finish my story. I really do. Well, here goes. I grew up in a small town back in Missouri. It was located about an hour north and east of Kansas City. Way back in the fifties and before, it was a railroad town, but when the railroad consolidated with another line, it was no longer a division point and people started moving away. The trains still ran through town, but they didn't stop anymore. Stockard had a population of about seven thousand or so then, but now it's closer to five thousand. I just need you to understand that I grew up in one of those struggling little backwater towns where everybody knows everybody else's business. It will explain a lot about what happened to me. I guess the best place to start my story was on a late spring day as I was walking to school... ***** "Hey Larry!" I had been so deep in thought I hadn't heard Zack Turner run up behind me. The three block walk I had to get to Stockard High School was a perfect time for me to get my mind in order, and since I had a Physics test first thing that morning, I needed all the time I could muster to get myself organized. It wasn't that I was doing badly in Physics. Actually, I had a solid B, but I wasn't a brain like Zach. I had to work for my grades. "Hey, Zach." "Want to see something really cool?" Zach asked, as excited as a five year old. Actually, though, he was two months older than me. "Look!" He pushed his hand in front of me. Then with a snap of his fingers, his index finger seemed to light on fire. I jumped away with a gasp. "Jeez, Zach, be careful. Bob Frazier burned the shit out of his hand doing that." Zach laughed. "Don't worry. It isn't real. It's an illusion." To prove the point, he placed his other hand directly over the flame. "See? No damage. Try it." Cautiously I put my hand over the flame. I wasn't too worried. About the only magical ability I had managed to master was the ability to heal fairly quickly. Actually my Magic teacher wasn't even sure if it was a sign of magical ability or just a genetic strength. Technically I had magical ability. I was about average on the WK test, but magical talents are just that - they're talents. Most people even of average ability never develop enough of their talents to do much more than move small objects or stuff like that. "See? No pain, right?" Zach was right. There was nothing over his index finger but warm spring air. "Pretty cool," I admitted. And I meant it. It was a real breakthrough for Zach. I found I really envied him. I was probably a little better athlete than he was, but in the grade department he had me beat six ways to Sunday. And now it looked as if he was going to be better at magic than I was. I suppose I shouldn't have worried about that, though. Very few people became truly adept at magic - or at least that's the case where I grew up. Maybe it's different in big cities; there are more people in the gene pool in cities. In my school though, I don't think there was anyone in our school with a Webster-Kline score higher than the low sixties - at least not among the guys. Zach had scored a fifty when we entered high school and I had only gotten a thirty-three. There were a couple of girls in the sixties, but magical talent had mostly passed Stockard by. I understand there are even some theories that the further away from the source of the virus you are, the less likely you are to score well on the WK. That would explain why North America has such a relatively high number of adepts since the magic virus got loose here first. "I talked to Miss Walker last night," Zach told me. Miss Walker was our Magic instructor. "She said this might mean that my score has gone up." I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean when you say it's gone up?" Zach laughed. "Hey, nothing like that, man. I just mean a few points. You know, maybe I'm a sixty or so. She says it's not uncommon to go up five or ten points if you start using your magic." I had heard that, too, but it really didn't mean much to me. Like most people, magic fit into my life with about the same importance as the ability to snap my fingers or cross my eyes. By the way, the first I can do but don't ask me to cross my eyes. "Well, with your heightened abilities, can you give me the answers to our Physics test this morning?" I asked sardonically. "Oh that's right; that's this morning, isn't it?" As I said, Zach was a top student, but he didn't have to work at it very hard. I doubted if he had even bothered to study for our test, but he'd still walk away with an A. If he hadn't been my best friend, I think I would have killed him. True to form, he actually smiled, brushing a shock of brown hair from his eyes, when Mr. Hansen passed out our tests. He pulled out a pencil and dug into the test as if it were nothing more than an application form for a fast food outlet. I just sighed and started to plug away at the questions. Actually the test wasn't too bad, but I had studied for it all evening. I did manage to look around at some of my friends. Chuck Wilson and Byron Stockard were having a little more trouble with the test, judging from the frowns on their faces and how slowly they seemed to be writing down the answers. My girlfriend, Jenny Jackson, seemed to be breezing right along, but Physics had always been one of her best subjects. She might be a beautiful blonde, but no one made any jokes about her. "That was a bitch!" Byron mumbled as we left class together. Byron was the closest thing we had to a dumb jock in our group, but he wasn't really dumb. Instead he just wasn't terribly motivated. His family had founded the town, and through the years, they had become wealthy through their bank and the real estate - both in town and rural - that they controlled. I hear a lot of small towns have a similar dominant family. Anyhow Byron knew that after he graduated from high school, he'd be off to some small college - probably a private one where the amount on his father's check overbalanced his mediocre grade point. Then he'd be working for his father at a nice salary until it was his turn as the male heir to the Stockard empire to run the show. He had an older sister, but his dad was from the old school. She would be expected to marry well and Byron would be handed the keys to the town's biggest bank and all the rest of the Stockard holdings. Needless to say, I was actually a little envious of Byron. Like most of my friends, Byron and I had known each other practically forever. We weren't really close as Zach and I were, but we all played football, basketball and ran track together. We had been better friends until Jenny had dumped him and started dating me. That had put something of a damper on our friendship, but not so much that anyone would notice. "I don't know," Zach said smugly. "I thought the test was okay." "You always say that," Chuck groaned. "I want you to know I studied my ass off for that test and I agree with Byron - it was a first class son of a bitch." "Yeah," Byron agreed. "We can't all be fucking Einsteins like you, Turner." "That's for sure," Jenny said under her breath, so that only I could hear. I couldn't help but laugh, but fortunately no one asked me what I was laughing at. We all settled into Magic class. After Physics that was going to be a vacation. I always found it to be an interesting class, though. Even though I lacked any meaningful abilities in magic, it was fascinating to realize how much it had changed our world. It was hard to imagine what the world must have been like before magic. Of course I had grown up with it, so I was naturally curious about it. The lecture that day was on how Webster and Kline had developed the WK test. "It's really quite simple when you get right down to it," Miss Walker explained. We all listened intently, because not only was Miss Walker an interesting teacher but she was hot as well. She had short blonde hair surrounding a face that could have been on a model. She also tended to wear fairly tight outfits which displayed her impressive body as well. All the girls in the class thought of her as a role model while all the boys would have spent another year in high school just for the opportunity to see her in the nude. "Magical energy increases mental activity in certain portions of the brain," she went on. "We can measure that activity. They developed a scale for that activity - from zero to two hundred. That was upped to a high end of two fifty last year when newer, more accurate measurements were determined." Jenny raised her hand. "But Miss Walker, isn't the highest score on record only one eighty six?" Miss Walker smiled. "That's correct, Jenny, but theoretically scores can be higher." So I had read, but it was also believed by some of the authors I had read that the extremely small number of people who might have scored higher had managed to hide their high scores by masking their mental signatures. "What about Whisperers?" someone in the back of the room asked. "Well Whisperers don't always show up right on the tests," Miss Walker admitted. "It's believed that their talents are only partially magic. There are a number of talents that are only partially magic if they're magic at all." I knew just what she meant. My ability to heal was one of those talents, and at eighteen it was unlikely I'd develop any other talents. But it was a little unsettling to know what Whisperers didn't show up on the WK index. I was a little frightened at the idea that there were people out there that could influence you almost like a hypnotist - only with a Whisperer, you might not even know they had done anything to you. Then out of the blue something happened to me. As I was just sitting there at my desk, the room began to spin around for no reason. At first I just felt a brief moment of disorientation and thought it would pass, but then I felt my whole sense of balance alter and could see blackness at the edge of my vision. In panic I took in a deep gulp of air just to stay conscious. Miss Walker saw it happen and in a worried voice asked, "Larry, are you all right?" "I'm fine, Miss Walker," I replied in a quavering voice, and just for a moment that was true. The deep breath did seem to help me a little. But then the dizziness started again - this time much worse than before. "I -" I began, but everything was starting to look washed out around me - almost as if most of the color had been drained from the world. "Zach, help Larry!" Miss Walker ordered, and my friend caught me just before I could slump out of my chair. I vaguely remembered Zach and Byron holding onto me and walking me down the hall. My feet were dragging helplessly along the concrete floor. "Hang on, buddy," Zach said in a soothing voice. "We're almost there." "There" turned out to be Nurse Phillips' office. She was the school nurse as you might imply, and fortunately, her office was just a few doors down from the classroom. Miss Walker had apparently called ahead, because Nurse Phillips was waiting for us when we arrived. "Just get him in here on the bed," she ordered. "I can make it," I insisted stupidly, but Byron and Zach held me tightly. It was probably a good thing, since I practically collapsed on the bed. I supposed by all rights I should have been frightened. There I was, a healthy, strapping eighteen year old, who was a letterman in three sports, lying helplessly on the small uncomfortable bed in the nurse's office. But I didn't have the strength to be frightened. It was as if I wasn't really there, but was merely an observer in my own body. I would nearly lose consciousness, only to be brought back to the real world by calls of encouragement from Zach and Byron. Then a last, I passed out completely. The next thing I remembered, I felt something cool on my forehead. It was a compress; I managed to rationally tell myself even before I opened my eyes. I took mental inventory of myself. Everything seemed to be in place and nothing hurt. I gave out a weak but relieved sigh. "Larry?" Ah... Jenny's voice. No... no it wasn't, but I wanted it to be. I wanted her there stroking my fevered brow. I wanted - "Larry?" The voice was more insistent that time. And it wasn't Jenny. Some small rational part of my mind recognized it as belonging to Nurse Phillips. Slowly I opened my eyes and looked up at her concerned face. Well, she wasn't Jenny, and she was a few pounds over what I liked in a girl, but to be honest, Nurse Phillips wasn't bad looking for a thirty-five year old woman with two kids. She smiled at me. "You had us worried there for a while." I blinked and tried to get up, but she pushed me back. "I need you to rest for a few minutes, Larry." "Wha...what happened?" The smiled weakened just a little. "I'm not sure. You seem okay now, but when the boys brought you in here, your blood pressure was pretty low. That's probably what caused you to pass out." That alarmed me. "My blood pressure? But I mean, my heart's okay, isn't it?" That brought a small laugh. "Your heart's fine, Larry. A lot of things can cause fluctuations in your blood pressure. You're running a small fever, too, and if I had to guess, I'd say you picked up a nasty little virus. Just to be on the safe side, I called your mom and she's going to take you over to see Doctor Marlin." "Uh...okay, I guess." Actually I was a little embarrassed. No guy likes to have his mom have to pick him up at school. It makes him look weak. But I supposed I didn't have a choice. After all I had passed out in class. I really didn't think there was anything seriously wrong, though. Maybe it was because I stayed up late studying for that test. Without enough rest, I must have picked something up. So I had a virus. So what? The only thing it meant was that I'd probably get excused from track practice for a couple of days. No prob. But when Mom got there, she had that look of motherly concern that makes you look yourself over to see if you might have a limb missing or find your skin had gotten all bloated and turned green. She gave me an embarrassing hug and prattled, "Oh Larry! You frightened me. I called your father at the store and he's worried, too. What happened? Why didn't you tell me this morning you weren't feeling well?" I bore all of this with stoic patience. Mom had always been a little overprotective. She had even been concerned years earlier when I went out for football, certain I was risking the possibility of serious injury. It had always seemed a little ironic, given that she had been a cheerleader in college. That's how she met dad. He was a backup safety on the football team. "Should he be walking?" Mom asked Nurse Phillips. "He should do fine," she assured her. "I think it was probably just a reaction to a little virus." I think even if Nurse Phillips thought I had something fatal, she would have handled my mother the same way. As I said, Mom was always overprotective. I felt fine on the short drive to Dr. Marlin's office, but once he started to examine me, I began to get a little concerned. His bushy gray eyebrows seemed to arch up as he looked at the report Nurse Phillips had prepared for him. "So you passed out, eh, son?" he asked in his best bedside voice. "Yeah... I guess so." Mom looked on with grave concern as he listened to my chest through a stethoscope he must have been keeping in the freezer all day just for me. "Ever have fainting spell before?" Fainting? Guys don't faint. ""Uh... no." He sighed. "Well, it's probably just a common virus, but I need to take a blood sample just to be sure." "A blood sample?" Hey, I might have been a big strong guy, but I hated needles. He shrugged. "It's just a precaution. With all this damned magic floating around, it never hurts to be sure." "What does magic have to do with it?" Mom wanted to know. Dr. Marlin leaned back on his examining stool. "A couple of years ago, somebody figured out how to attach a spell to a virus. Even people who know a lot of magic find it's hard to affect the human body with magic alone. Sure, we can destroy tumors and cure a lot of diseases now, but the human body's way too complicated for most wizards to handle effectively. So they've developed viruses with magical properties to do the trick. Nobody knows the human body like a virus knows it. Don't worry, though. This is just a precaution." I took him at his word as he poked a vein and drew his sample. I really wasn't worried at all. It turns out I should have been. That evening Mom fussed over me as if I were dying. She was solicitous about every little thing and even made one of my favorite dinners for me. Dad was concerned, too, but he held it in, just asking me about half a dozen times if I felt okay. My younger brother, Doug, thought it was amusing. He was only fifteen and was the usual target of Mom's ministrations - welcome or not. "Hey, if you die, can I have your room?" he asked casually as he bustled into my room after dinner. I looked up from the history book I was reading. "Don't you have studying to do?" He shrugged. "Hey, I'm a freshman. The teachers take it easy on us poor little guys." "That's not how I remember it," I growled. "You work too hard. Come on, there's still a little light left. Let's throw the ball around for a while." That got my attention. With a sigh I grabbed my glove and followed him. We sneaked out because Mom was sure to protest if I did anything "strenuous" - which is how she would define throwing a baseball. She was athletic in her own way, but her trim figure was the result of hours at a small gym in town - not from sports. Hell, she had even browbeaten the doctor into writing a note excusing me from track practice until the results from the blood tests came back. And with a meet coming up that weekend, I could have used the practice. I might as well not have bothered. I couldn't catch to save my life - and my throwing was even worse. "Jeez, man," Doug protested, "you throw like a fucking girl!" "Did anybody ever tell you that you were an asshole?" I called back, accidentally throwing one over his head in a lazy arc. "No, I mean it," Doug said after he retrieved the ball and ran up to me. "You didn't hurt your arm or anything, did you?" Now that he mentioned it, my arm was a little sore. It was funny because I had expended very little effort. It should have been fine. It was as if there was something wrong with my muscles. I rubbed my arm to work the soreness out. Doug looked at me with unsettling concern. "You don't suppose there really is something wrong with you?" he asked quietly. "I'm fine." "But you passed out in class," he pointed out. "That doesn't sound fine. Remember Ritchie Simpson?" I winced. Yeah, I remembered Ritchie Simpson. He was a year behind me in school, and two years earlier he had passed out on the football field. It turned out he had a brain tumor. Fortunately they were able to magically shrink it, but he told us the doctors said if it had been there prior to using magic to supplement medicine, he probably would have died. "This is nothing like that," I told Doug, but I didn't sound very convincing. "Yeah, okay," Doug replied, but he didn't sound very convincing either. I didn't get much sleep that night. I was thinking about what Doug had said. Damn him anyway. Like all brothers, we spent a fair amount of our leisure time trying to get each other's goat. Well, he had gotten me big time, and the ironic thing was that he hadn't done it on purpose. He was really worried about me - and that was enough to start me worrying. What if it was a tumor? Sure, they managed to shrink Ritchie's down to nothing, but medicine and magic didn't have all the answers. People still got life-threatening ailments and died - even eighteen year old people who should have had their entire lives in front of them. "Please God," I managed to murmur before dropping off into fitful sleep, "don't let this be something life-threatening." It's funny how your prayers get answered sometimes. Maybe God really does have a sense of humor. The next day in school everyone treated me pretty normally. After a few calls of "Hey, man, are you okay?" things quieted down to normal as everyone took me at my word when I told them I was fine. But I wasn't fine. I was really sweating out the result of my blood tests. I had an appointment right after school to see the doctor again, and I looked forward to it with anticipation one minute and dread the next. I felt physically fine, too. I had no more blackouts and seemed as sharp as usual. I had no trouble keeping up in my classes. The only thing I did notice was the strange lack of coordination. It was as if my muscles had set about to retrain themselves. But the effect was minor and I scarcely noticed it. Then by lunchtime I noticed I wasn't particularly hungry. I didn't feel sick or anything, but the idea of eating a big meal in the school cafeteria didn't seem like a good idea. I settled on just some milk and a banana and plopped down next to my usual friends. Byron, Pete, and Zach were already seated, and Jenny had settled in at a nearby table with some of her girlfriends, but she squeezed my hand possessively as I walked past with my meager lunch. "Hey, Larry, watch this!" Zach said, laughing. I looked at my friend in puzzlement, followed by amazement, as his hair turned from a medium brown to blond. "What do you think of that?" he asked, unable to keep pride from his voice. "Looks good," I replied as I peeled my banana. "You're really getting control of that fast." "Yeah, but that's all he can do," Byron guffawed. "He can turn himself into a dumb blonde!" Jenny at the next table turned and shot daggers at Byron. "Oops!" Byron said with a laugh, but he didn't look sorry at all. Pete wasn't amused at all. "Magic just isn't right," he mumbled. "Lighten up, Pete," Byron grinned, slapping Pete on the back. Pete had been a friend of ours for years. He really didn't mean anything by his remark, but he had been raised in a strict household that adhered to a very, very fundamental religious creed. I'm not talking about something like the Baptists. I was raised in that faith and was proud of it. What I'm talking about is one of those sects that thinks everything they didn't come up with is the work of the devil. Pete's denomination had arisen with the advent of magic for the masses. To them everything magical was evil. They even refused on religious grounds to take the WK tests. So Pete was no fun on double dates, but we all played basketball together and he hung out with us. After all with no one else from his church in our class, he had to hang out with somebody, and heathens like us were the closest things he had to friends. Pete just grunted as Zach called out, "Watch this!" As we watched Zach's blond hair disappeared and his head looked completely bald. "What if you can't grow it back?" Byron asked. "It's still there," Zach laughed, taking a moment to dive into his sandwich. "You just can't see it. It's not a bad trick, huh?" "Illusions are pretty easy," Byron snorted. "But you can't do them," Zach pointed out. Like me Byron didn't have much of a magical aptitude. His score on the WK test was no better than mine. "I don't need to," Byron retorted. "What would I want to change?" I had to admit he had a point. If the girls had bothered to vote on it, they would probably have elected Byron the most studly guy in the class. Six two and well proportioned, he had one of those Marine recruiting poster faces and the confidence to go with it. Add in his family's money and Byron was going to be prime husband material in a few years. I was just thankful he had blown it with Jenny. If he had really tried to keep her, I wouldn't have had a chance. Not that I had a great chance in any case. "You're looking better today," Pete said to me, changing the subject as best he could. "Yeah, I feel good, too," I replied. Then with a look back at Jenny, who was half following our conversation, I said, "Now all I need is the love of a good woman." Jenny just laughed, as did the rest of the girls at the table. They had watched Jenny and me before classes, holding hands and kissing. Jenny usually limited public displays, but she had been worried about me, too. When I had first approached her that morning, she had run up and thrown her arms around me, peppering me with soft but very platonic kisses. "So you'll be out for track practice today?" Zach wanted to know. The two of us were part of the relay team, so my absence at practice the day before had been noticed. Sadly I shook my head. "Afraid not. I have to see the doctor again right after school." "Bummer." Yeah, I though so, too. But I needed to get it out of the way. So afternoon classes sort of drug by. The history exam turned out to be easy. But then again, history had always been my favorite subject. I thought maybe I would go to college and major in history. Then I'd teach when I got out of school and maybe do a little coaching on the side. Mom was waiting for me when I got out of class, but surprisingly, so was Dad. It worried me when I saw him there in the car. He never left his store early unless there was a dire emergency. Was I an emergency? My parents both looked worried. "What's wrong?" I asked as I climbed into the back seat of Dad's Buick. "Nothing's wrong," Mom said - but not very convincingly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Dad offered. "Yeah?" It was Mom who spilled the beans. "Dr. Marlin asked both of us to be with you today," she blurted out. I could see there was the little trickle of a tear in her eye. This was bad - very, very bad. At eighteen I knew that the doctor didn't just call in the parents to tell them that their son had a bad case of the sniffles. If he wanted both of my parents there, it meant something in the tests had come out badly. Was it cancer? Was it some sort of heart condition? Would it require surgery? Magic? Both? Was it incurable? The short ride to the doctor's office seemed to take hours. I tried to read the nurse's face as she ushered us into Dr. Marlin's office. She was impassive, but I noticed she kept looking at me strangely, as if she was trying to see something that wasn't there. I felt even more nervous - if that was possible. Dr. Marlin had taken a professional pose behind his desk and appeared to be studying a report. Through his glasses I could see a pair of eyes saddened by the message he had to convey. My stomach turned at least three times as I sat quietly in a chair flanked by my parents. He took off his glasses and looked up at us - or more specifically, at me. "Larry, I can't think of any way to say this, so I'll just say it. You've contracted a virus tainted with magic." Well, at least he hadn't told me I was dying - at least not yet. A virus didn't sound too terrible, and as for the magic... "Uh...Doc, just exactly what does that mean?" I finally managed to ask. "I'm not absolutely certain," he admitted. He leaned forward and his eyes narrowed. "But I think I can give you an educated guess. Now be honest with me, son. Have you visited a prostitute lately?" Oh shit! The cat was out of the bag. I looked at my parents. Mom was just sitting there with her mouth open in shock. Dad wasn't much better, but at least he held his distress a little better. He was looking at me with a penetrating expression. I wanted to answer; I wanted to tell the truth, but I just couldn't bring myself to say it. I just sat there with my mouth moving slightly while nothing came out. Dr. Martin leaned back in his chair. "Let me tell you more about the test results, Larry. It might help you to give us an answer. The virus you have is a very uncommon one and a radically new one. It alters the victim's genetic structure and form. It is only communicable for a short period of time and then only by sex. It is a terrorist virus which is of great interest to the Federal Bureau of Magic." "Terrorist?" Dad asked. Dr. Marlin nodded. "Now Larry, would you like to answer my question?" "Uh... yes, sir." "Yes, sir, meaning you'll answer or that you've visited a prostitute?" "Both, I guess." Slowly they drew the story out of me. I really hadn't wanted to tell it. Not only was it embarrassing to me, but it implicated some friends as well. It began a couple of weeks earlier. Byron, Zach and I had set up a trip to Kansas City. In addition to football and track, the three of us were three-quarters of the seniors on the basketball team. The fourth - Pete - wasn't in on our plan since we knew he'd never agree to it. Anyhow, the three of us supposedly were staying at Byron's for the evening. We did it fairly often since his folks had a home theater the rest of us could only dream of. We would sit around and watch movies - sometimes even porn flicks Byron's dad had secreted away, but which we got into when his folks were away. We'd drink sodas and munch popcorn and even get into the beer in the refrigerator when his folks were gone. We had been doing it for years, so no one thought anything about it when we announced we were celebrating the end of basketball season with another marathon movie fest at Byron's house. The only problem was that this time, we weren't really there. The three of us had cooked up an excursion to Kansas City where we would spend the night and look for girls. If we didn't find any free companionship, we all agreed to buy some for the evening. No one would know about it but us. Byron had a credit card - courtesy of his father, so he was our unofficial leader. To learn financial responsibility, Byron paid his own credit card bills each month, so no one would see the motel receipts. And in today's world of high tech and magic, it was easy to link the phone at Byron's house (the lucky stiff had his own phone line) to a cell phone Zach had. If anyone called us, the call would be rerouted to the cell phone and no one would be any the wiser. Byron's parents were out of town visiting his sister at college back east, so there was no one at home to spill the beans. Kansas City can be a good party town - if you're old enough. At eighteen we were banned from the bars. Sure, we could have gotten phony ID's, but a very small magical ability was all that was required to detect one and we couldn't take the chance of being caught away from home. Our parents would have skinned us all alive. So our access to available young women was severely limited, and none of us had a good plan. Fortunately - or unfortunately as it turned out - that wasn't a problem. We had decided on a quick swim before dinner. The hotel we had picked wasn't exactly the Ritz, but it did have an indoor pool. We had a few beers up in the room and then headed down for the pool. Imagine our delight when we found three attractive girls lounging around the pool. So okay, the three of us were from the farm country. We didn't ask ourselves what three well-built girls with maybe just a little too much makeup were doing hanging around the pool dressed in tight, sexy clothes. How were we to know they were hookers? Well, we found out soon enough. They had all latched on to Byron. He was the largest and most confident of our little party, and after a lot of whispering and giggling, he broke away from them and hustled Zach and I aside. "They're what?" Zach said a little too loudly, touching off a wave of giggles from the girls who had clearly heard him. "Will you shut up?" Byron said under his breath. "Look, for two hundred each they'll show us a good time." "I haven't got two hundred," I protested. Actually, I did, but that was about all I had, saved up from weeks of backbreaking work in the back room at Dad's farm and home store. "Neither do I," Zach chimed in. In his case, I'm sure he was right. Zach's family wasn't exactly well off. "Don't worry, guys," Byron assured us. "I think I can get them to give us a group discount. I can advance you the money." "But they're hookers!" I said, trying to keep my voice down. "Yeah, and they're our best shot at getting laid," Byron pointed out. "What would you rather do - wander around Kansas City all night and come up with nothing?" I looked over at the girls who were coyly watching us, professional smiles on their well-painted faces. "Well..." "Come on!" Byron pressed. "I know Jenny isn't putting out for you." What he meant was that since he hadn't been able to lure Jenny into the sack, he was sure no one else could. Actually he wasn't far off the mark. Jenny had made the conscious decision to save herself for the time being and I had never tried to make her change her mind. I was pretty sure that Byron's insistence had been the reason she had dumped him, though. So okay, I was eighteen, a virgin, and horny as a horned toad. I suspected of our little crew, I was the only virgin as well. A part of my mind said it was wrong to pay for sex. On my own, I would never have visited a prostitute. After all they were dirty and diseased and... But the little redhead was kind of cute. And she was looking right at me. "I'm in," Zach finally said. "How about it, Boyd?" Byron demanded. "Are you in or out?" I couldn't take my eyes off the redhead. She was pulling me in with those big green eyes. Dirty? Not her. Diseased? She looked as healthy as me. Besides, Byron had a pretty persuasive argument. "Come on, Boyd." "All right, I'm in," I sighed. It didn't take me long to convince myself that I had made the right decision. The redhead - Cindy was the name she gave me - zeroed in on me the minute Byron struck the deal. For five hundred total, we got them all for the evening. They all gave us the "we're just college girls who do this for a little fun and extra spending money" routine. I don't know. Maybe they were serious and maybe not. But somehow the story made it a little more palatable for me. We took them back to our room and turned the TV on and the lights off. The voices on the TV seemed to mask the groans of pleasure from each of us and gave us enough light to see what we were groping, but not enough light to see how many miles each of the girls really had on them. In retrospect the redhead was everything I imagined she would be. She got me to admit it was my first time and gently overcame my nervousness. By the time we were both lying in the corner naked, I had lost track of the fact that there were four other people in the room. I slid into her without any trouble at all, and for the first time in my life, I saw a little glimpse of heaven when I came. It was so much better than anything I had ever experienced before. Masturbation was a faint shadow of the joy of having a girl squeeze me as I came. My loud gasp was enough to make the other two girls giggle again. And that was that. The girls left early, and I didn't think it was to go back to the dorm to study for classes. Apparently our five hundred hadn't bought us the whole evening in spite of what we thought. It didn't matter, though. Cindy had gotten me off twice and I was one tired puppy. Byron and Zach looked about the same, and we contented ourselves with sitting around the room drinking a bottle of bourbon Byron had stolen from his parents' liquor cabinet as we bragged about our exploits for the evening. Of course the version I told Dr. Marlin and my parents was a good deal less graphic. "Well," Dr. Marlin said, breaking the silence after I had made my confession, "that certainly fits the pattern I read about." "So what has my son contracted?" Dad demanded, leaning forward in his chair. "Is it some sort of venereal disease? Can it be cured?" Dr. Marlin shook his head. "No, it's not like that. This virus doesn't give you a disease. It changes the genetic code and accelerates the rate of cell replacement. First it alters the Y chromosome, changing it into an X and then it transmits instructions to the cells to replace themselves." I think I knew what that meant before Dr. Marlin delivered the final blow, but I kept hoping he wouldn't say it anyhow. But it was a false hope. "Larry," he said with sympathy in his voice, "you're turning into a girl." Even when I knew it was coming, it hit me like a brick between the eyes. I might have been able to handle the idea of dying better than the news he gave me. Don't misunderstand me - I liked girls just fine, but I had absolutely no desire to be one. I was happy with who I was. Oh, of course I knew it was possible. With magic in the world, anything and everything were probably possible. The point was it happened only very, very rarely and then only to other people. Magical sex changes were so rare they still made the news. I was Larry Boyd, All-American Boy. I played football, dated girls, intimidated my younger brother, pissed standing up, and all the other things boys did. I couldn't really be changing into a girl, could I? I was so stunned I scarcely heard my parents' anxious questions. Was there a way to stop the process? No. What would I be like as a girl? Unknown, but probably I'd be much like I was now - only feminine. And the most important question - the one I managed to utter - was, "How long have I got?" Even as I said it, I realized how strange the question really was. I was asking it as if I were dying rather than changing into a girl. But that was how I perceived it. When I changed fully into a girl, my life was over as far as I was concerned. "Probably about ten days. Two weeks at the most," the doctor said gently. "But it could be less," he added. "There's very little written on this subject." Two weeks. Just two weeks - or less - from that moment, I'd have breasts and a... a ... I couldn't even say the word to myself. Vagina sounded so clinical, and all the other things guys call it when they're talking among themselves seemed too crass for something that would be a part of my body. "Can we at least slow down the process?" Dad asked, clutching at straws. At least he saved me the trouble of asking the question. I had already considered that if I could slow the process down for even a few weeks, I could keep this quiet until I had graduated from high school. Then I could just slip away and none of my friends would ever have to know what had happened to me. Dr. Marlin shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. The virus will take its course in two weeks - perhaps less. Since it's magically enhanced, we have no way of controlling it." "Where did this virus come from?" Dad wanted to know. Dr. Marlin leaned back in his chair, prepared to deliver a lecture. "We don't know for sure. As I suspect you know, magical sex changes are still very rare. Originally we thought only a very talented wizard could perform one, because it took in-depth knowledge of the human body, as well as a high degree of medical skill. I doubt if even one in a million people could pull it off. "Then a couple of years ago, a small terrorist group, the Women's Liberation Army, either developed or stole a virus that made it a lot easier. They started using the stuff back east. It was pretty scarce at one time - probably expensive to synthesize and magically alter, but in the last few months there've been a couple of dozen cases of it. They must have found a way to make it cheaper. A prostitute who is really a member of the WLA infects a john and gets away before he ever knows what hit him. "What actually happens is that the human body normally replaces its cells over time - seven years is the accepted norm. With this virus though, the instruction set changes the switch from male to female and speeds up the cell replacement from seven years to a matter of days. The magic holds the body together during the changes and allows the body to tap into its own energy reserves to change the cells and thus the appearance of the body. By the way, hair and nails will grow at the same greatly accelerated rate as well." "But why haven't we heard more about this?" Dad asked. "I didn't even know this was possible." "I think you now the answer to that," Dr. Marlin replied. Even I knew the answer to that - the Federal Bureau of Magic. The government agency had been formed nearly five years earlier to make sure that magic spells stayed on the right side of the law. But it was rumored that the Bureau also suppressed magic wherever and whenever it could. It was bad enough that there were powerful wizards out there who could cause a lot of trouble if they chose to. But when their spells could be neatly packaged in a virus or other media and easily transported by anyone, the dangers of magic multiplied ten thousand fold. If the Bureau could keep everyone in the dark about potential spelled viruses, they might have a chance to round up the source and eliminate it before things really got out of hand. Well, as far as I was concerned, things were already out of hand. The doctor continued to answer my parents' questions for the next half hour, but I just sat there in stunned silence. I was going to be a girl. I was going to have a slit between my legs where men would seek entrance. I was going to bleed every month. I was going to be capable of creating a baby and bearing it from my body. But I wanted none of those things. How was I going to cope? What could I say to my friends? In a matter of a few days I would have changed enough for everyone to notice. My first impulse was to hide away. I'd go home and drop out of school. I was eighteen. No one could stop me. I'd get my GED and move to another town - somewhere where no one knew me. But then what? I'd still be a girl, wouldn't I? Sure, I wouldn't have to face any of my old friends again, but I'd still be female. I suddenly began to think of all the little things being female would mean. It wasn't just the sex; I could avoid that. I vowed then and there to never let a man between my legs. But I'd be expected to look like a girl, dress like a girl, and act like a girl. I wasn't prepared to do any of that any more than I'd let a man have me. But what could I do? My features would soften and there would probably be no mistaking me for a boy. I heard Dr. Marlin say something about the girl I would change into would be the girl I might have been if I had been born that way. Since there were relatively well-endowed women on both sides of my family, that meant I'd probably have a prominent rack, to be crass. There'd be no good way to disguise that. I suppose I was a little thankful to be born into the time I was living. In an earlier era, it would be all skirts and heels for me, but girls now wore pants most of the time. Maybe I could get by on sweatshirts and jeans. Sure, I'd still be a girl, but I wore that sort of stuff as a boy. It wouldn't be like wearing something all soft and feminine that screamed "girl!" from the very rooftops. As for makeup, well I didn't have to wear the stuff. I knew girls who didn't wear it - or at least I didn't think they did. "I need to see you every other day, Larry," Dr. Marlin said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Huh?" "We need to monitor this change," he explained. "We need to learn what we can from it. Also, there's no guarantee the virus will do what it's supposed to do." "You mean it might... kill me?" I prayed that didn't sound too hopeful. Dr. Marlin shook his head. "I sent my test results to the Bureau of Magic. They pronounced the virus will do what it's supposed to do. It's just that your body and your mind may run into conflict with each other. I want to make sure you're okay. And by the way, I'm going to ask the school psychologist to talk with you, too." I supposed it was a wise precaution. When my mind stopped churning in shock, there was no telling what I would decide to do. The idea of suicide at least crossed my mind. That would save everyone a lot of embarrassment. But I wasn't really the type to do that. I imagined I would need all the help I could get, so I just nodded as he set up a schedule. After weighing me and checking my height (no changes yet to either), I was sent home with my parents. The ride home was pretty quiet. I had tried to say something, but Dad just said, "Let's talk about it as soon as we get home." Doug hadn't made it home from track practice by the time we got home. I was thankful for that. How could I tell him what was happening to me? We got along about as well as two brothers three and a half years apart in age ever did. We were both active in sports, reasonably popular, and had the same interests. How could I explain to him what I was going to be experiencing? "Okay, let's talk," Dad said when we were all seated in the living room. He turned to me. "Larry, this is going to be a difficult time for the whole family, but especially for you. Not only are you... changing, but we all know this is a small town. Before you've changed, everyone in town will know what happened and why." "But, Dad, I..." I had been about to defend my actions in Kansas City. I couldn't say no when Zach and Byron were willing to pick up the prostitutes. And... And... But I couldn't defend myself. I had never intended to visit a prostitute. I always thought of paying for sex as dirty and perverted. But I had been with my friends and we had had a few drinks... It was the reason I did it, but it wasn't a good excuse. I had crossed over an invisible line and was about to pay for it in a manner I had never anticipated. Dad raised a hand. "Larry, don't try to excuse it. I can see from the look on your face that you know better. I'm sure you would have never done anything like that again. But others won't see it that way. You've opened yourself up to scorn and ridicule. If you want, I can make arrangements with your Uncle Max over in Kirksville. You can stay with him for a while." Mom broke in, though, before I could think of an answer. "But he'll miss graduating with his friends. He'd have to finish up in a strange school with no one around to support him." She was right about that. Uncle Max was pretty straight-laced. He and Aunt Mary had two grown girls, so I'd be at their complete mercy. Uncle Max was a lot like my friend, Pete. He'd see this whole thing as a moral failing. Maybe he would have been right, but I didn't think I could take that. I had thought about leaving home without graduating, but the more I thought about it, that wasn't a good idea either. Whether the ward of Uncle Max or on my own, I'd be facing girlhood nearly alone. I was beginning to realize that my best course of action would be to stay at home with my family who would at least give me some support in a difficult time. "I...I think I want to stay here," I informed them. "But what about school?" Dad pointed out. "We can probably make arrangements for you to finish up at home." That was very tempting. But I knew it wouldn't solve the problem. I'd still be an object of everything from pity to scorn. I just wouldn't be there to observe it. All through high school, I had been a fighter. I had never been the best athlete but managed to be a starter in three sports. Schoolwork never came easily to me, but I had still managed to be in the top ten percent of my class. I had a reputation among my peers as a guy who could stand up to adversity. It was I junior year who had rallied the football team after the devastating loss to our biggest rival. It was I just last fall who nearly came to blows with Byron over Jenny and ended up taking her away from him. Yes, I was a fighter. "I want to keep on going to class," I told them softly. I knew it was going to be a hard row to hoe, but I didn't want this... this... change to keep me from graduating with all of my friends. "I suppose it's your choice," Dad said, although I could tell from the way he said it that he didn't agree with it. "We need to get ready for your change," Mom said suddenly, changing the subject. "You need to decide on a name and we need to change all your records." "Mom!" This was just too much for me. Less than two hours before I had learned I was going to be turning into a girl and there Mom was trying to pick a name and legally change my identity. I guess I realized those things would have to happen, but did we have to talk about them already? Fortunately, Dad agreed with me. "Grace, it's a little early to be worrying about that," he cautioned with a glance at me. I think he thought I was about to freak out. He was absolutely right. But Mom stood her ground. "Jack, if Larry is going to become a girl, he'll need to fit in as quickly as possible or he'll have even more problems. Do you think he'll want to be introduced as Larry followed by an explanation as to why a girl is named Larry? Or how will he drive? Unless he has the right identification, he'll have a lot of problems." I was glad she was still using the male pronoun when referring to me. And I have to admit she had a point. It just wasn't something I wanted to think about just then. "Let me think about all that for a while," I said to her. "I'm still trying to come to terms with all this." She put a motherly hand on the side of my face. "Of course you are, dear. I didn't mean to rush you, but at least give it some thought. Okay?" I nodded silently. I was a little sorry now that I didn't have one of those names that can be a boy's name or a girl's name. If I had a name like Sam or Chris or Taylor, I wouldn't have to change my name. But Larry didn't really have a female equivalent that I could think of. Well, hopefully it wouldn't be an issue for a little while. I still looked male and I still felt male. Maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe the virus would fail. I was still me, wasn't I? As long as I was who I was supposed to be, there was a chance this would all work out. By unspoken mutual agreement we let the discussion die and tried to go back to normal. I had studies to take care of, Dad had to get back to the store, and Mom had to fix dinner. I was just finishing a math assignment when Doug barged into my room. No, barged is the wrong word. He actually knocked but opened the door before I had a chance to answer. There was a strangely subdued look on his face. "Mom told you," I ventured from my desk. Doug nodded. "Is there a chance that the doctor was wrong?" Doug asked. I was touched by his concern. "I hope so," I admitted, closing my math book. "I don't know, though. I suppose there's not much of a chance that he's wrong." "Maybe a good wizard..." Doug began, sitting down on my bed. It was hard to imagine that in a few days, this lanky, still-developing guy would probably be bigger and stronger than his older brother-turned-sister. "One of the guys in my class has a cousin who's way up there on the WK scale. Maybe she could do something." "Dr. Marlin is checking into that sort of stuff," I explained. "I guess he's checking with the Federal Bureau of Magic, too. He didn't hold out much hope, though." "Uh... Larry?" "Yeah?" "What's it like. I mean... well, you know." I thought about how to respond before saying, "It's not like anything. I don't feel any different yet. The only thing I feel is..." "Yeah?" "Scared," I sighed. "Really scared." I guess there wasn't much else to say. Doug just nodded. "Let me know if I can do anything to help." "Sure." As he closed my door, I sat there only wishing there was something he could do to help. They say things always look brighter in the light of a new day, and for a while they did. The conversation at dinner had spilled over into references to the changes I was about to experience, and none of us had felt too happy. As if by some telepathic agreement, no one said anything about my condition at breakfast, and I sure didn't want to bring it up. I had examined myself in the shower that morning and noticed nothing different about my body, although my coordination still seemed slightly off. Maybe it really was a false alarm. Or maybe I didn't really want to notice a few things. "You could use a haircut, man." It was Zach from behind me as I walked to school. I turned to see him and did actually feel hair touching my ears. I usually kept my hair cut pretty short. "Yeah, I guess so," I said, trying to be nonchalant. I remembered what Dr. Marlin had said about the rate of hair and nail growth. I managed to glance down at my fingernails and noticed they were a little long, too. It wasn't all that obvious, but I realized with alarm that the hair and nail growth would probably continue through the day. By the end of the day, I might have hair as long as... as long as a girl's. "Watch this!" he said, jumping in front of me. As I watched, his face appeared to become as pliable as softened wax as it changed into a perfect likeness of that guy who plays Agent Mulder on the M Files. In fascination I reached out to touch his face and watched with a grin as it wrinkled like ripples in a pond. "Hey, watch that!" he laughed as his face returned to normal. "So it still feels like your old face," I surmised. "Yeah," he agreed as we started walking to school again. "Miss Walker says as I get better at it, the illusion will probably feel real to others as well. She thinks I'll be able to pull off full body illusions that can't be distinguished from the real thing." "It's a dorky power," I grumbled. I hadn't meant to say it, but it just slipped out. I think it was watching him play with his illusionary power that made me realize that soon my own face would change as well, only that change would be real - and permanent. It gave me an idea though. "Can you put the illusion on someone else?" "I thought you said it was a dorky power," he said, sounding just a little hurt. "Hey man, I didn't mean it," I soothed. Actually it was kind of dorky. It would have been better if his magical ability had been more general instead of manifesting itself in one narrow niche. But people with minor amounts of magical talent couldn't always choose what they'd get, and minor talents like Zach's were the most common manifestations of magic. I read about a guy in the paper a few months earlier who could only turn metal pink. He'd managed to get a job at Mary Kay Cosmetics changing cars and stuff pink for the top salespeople. Go figure. "Well," Zach explained, a little mollified, "the only way I can put an illusion on something else is to be touching it. When my touch goes away, so does the illusion. Why do you ask?" "Just curious," I said airily. Damn! If he had been able to transfer his illusions, he could make me look like a normal guy. Then nobody would notice when the changes got worse. But that wasn't going to work. He looked as if he was going to press me for a better answer when Jenny saw us and ran over to me. "You need a haircut," she announced as she gave me a warm hug. I would have liked a kiss right then and there, but our relationship wasn't really like that. Sure, she was my girlfriend, and yes, we kissed at times, but that was more a matter of convenience for both of us than anything very serious. Jenny had plans to go to college and become a lawyer like her father. The only guy in high school she ever almost fell for was Byron, and when she dumped him, she started dating me just to keep the wolves away. There was no doubt that I was much more attracted to Jenny than she was to me. To her, I was just a casual high school boyfriend - someone to make out with innocently before moving on in her life. Jenny and I had gone to elementary school together, and our families belonged to the same church, so we had been friends since we were too young to know what really made boys different from girls. I won't say that in a perfect world, I wouldn't have loved to develop a more permanent relationship with Jenny, but it would have taken both of us to do that. Since I knew Jenny had no intention of getting married out of high school and settling down to raise a brood of kids, it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, I really planned to get out of the small town myself, go to college someplace like the University of Missouri down in Columbia, and not get real serious about a girl until I was out in the real world. Although Dad had a good business, he couldn't afford to send me to college and also support any family I might pick up along the way. She ran her fingers through my lengthening hair. "Ooh, it feels soft, too. Are you using conditioner?" "Does it keep his dandruff away?" Zach asked with mock innocence. We both gave him a warning scowl. "I'll get a haircut over lunch hour," I vowed. We had an open campus, so I could walk downtown and get a quick haircut if I skipped lunch. Classes started out normally. I even got a little lift when I found I had aced the Physics test. That might even be enough to pull my grade up to a low A, I thought. I looked over at Zach's paper. Of course he got an A - the highest in the class as it turned out. Chuck and Byron were groaning, and Jenny looked a little smug. So I guess we had all been right about how hard the exam was - from our own perspectives at least. No one said another word to me about my hair or anything else, but I got a couple of curious looks from one of the girls - Hattie Baxter - in my magic class. Then I had a sinking feeling as I remembered that her mother was Dr. Marlin's nurse. She knew! I could tell the way she was looking at me. And if her mother had told her... Stockard was a small town. Everyone knew everyone else's business eventually. It was only a matter of time until Hattie Baxter repeated everything she knew about my situation. "Did you hear the question, Mr. Boyd?" Miss Walker's voice cut through my growing concern. "What?" There were a few giggles in the room. Miss Walker silenced them with a stony glance. "I asked you if you could explain three ways in which a magical spell can be enhanced." "Uh..." I stalled, remembering what the text said, "...a spell can be enhanced by using an enhancement token..." She nodded silently. "...by linking the magical talents of more than one individual..." Another nod. The third one escaped me. The book didn't mention viruses, but what the heck. "... and by magically adapting viruses." I heard a little gasp from Hattie, but the rest of the class just gave me that "you blew it look." "The third method is by controlled exercises to build up magical strength," Miss Walker corrected me. "But the virus idea is being explored and is showing some promise. Did you read about it somewhere, Larry?" "Yeah," I said, feeling my face redden under Hattie's stare. "That must be it." The entire morning I kept feeling my hair growing still longer. I knew it was the virus kicking my hair growth in gear, and I could also see that my fingernails (and presumably my toenails) were also getting longer. I was starting to look more like a wino than a high school student. By the time lunch period began, I could feel hair tickling my neck, and more people - including my teachers - were starting to notice. I hustling down the hall trying to avoid any conversations when the PA system boomed, "Larry Boyd, please report to the Principal's Office at once." Had it been one of the student assistants, I might have ignored the voice, but even through the distortion of the speakers, I could recognize the voice of Mr. Blackwell, the principal. I sighed in resignation. Someone would spot me leaving if I left now. I'd just have to cut the first period after lunch and get my hair cut then. When Mr. Blackwell's secretary ushered me into his conference room, I knew at once what the problem was. Two well dressed individuals - one male and one female - were already seated at the table. They were both young, attractive, and very professional in their demeanor. They reminded me of the two agents on the M Files - so much so that I knew they had to be from the Federal Bureau of Magic. "Larry, this is Agent Howell..." Mr. Blackwell began as the woman nodded slightly. "...and Agent McCoy." The man nodded as well. "They're with the government and have some questions for you." Nervously I sat down as the two agents set their identification out for me to see. I didn't even bother to look at it too closely. It looked just like the ones they show during the opening of The M Files. "Mr. Blackwell has already been briefed by us," the woman - Agent Howell - began. "Your doctor notified us of your case as required by law. We have some questions for you." I nodded my head, still unable to speak. I was forced to repeat my story of our excursion to Kansas City and how I contracted the virus. That seemed to be their most pressing inquiries. Obviously they wanted to find the girl who had done this to me, and I was more than happy to cooperate. I could always hold out hope that there might be some sort of retrovirus or whatever it would be called that could reverse my plight. The agents were surprisingly gentle with me. They seemed to have considerable sympathy for me, even when I talked about the evening with the prostitutes. Unfortunately I could see from the scowl on Mr. Blackwell's face that he was not as forgiving. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. He always came across to me as a prude. "Dr. Marlin is going to be giving us detailed reports of the effects of the virus," Agent Howell explained to me when they had finished with their questions. "From everything you've told us, though, this sounds like the same pattern we've seen before back east." "So I get to be the first victim in the Midwest," I surmised sadly. She put a comforting hand on mine. "I'm afraid so, Larry." "What's happened in the other cases?" I asked her. She shot a cautioning glance at her partner before answering. "The specifics are confidential," she explained slowly. "I can tell you though, that the majority of the victims are leading normal lives now. The Bureau has even helped with new identities and counseling through our Victim's Assistance Program." That was good to know, but there was something she wasn't telling me. I thought I knew what it was. "You said the majority were leading normal lives. What about the others?" For a moment I didn't think she was going to answer me. After all these gender changing viruses, if commonly known, could create a good deal of panic in the population. Most people had no idea magic had advanced so far or in such a bizarre direction. Even Miss Walker hadn't been aware of it. At last, though, she told me, "There have been some deaths. They were mostly suicides - men who couldn't accept being women." She sounded a little bitter at that as if the suicides were a personal affront to her sex. "There have been a couple of murders as well." "Murders?" I gasped. She nodded. "There are people out there who don't understand. They see this as work of the devil, or sometimes they just can't stand to lose a son or a husband. There are many motives for murder in the eyes of some people. This is just one more." "I guess," I managed to say. I couldn't imagine my parents flipping out like that, and the relationship Jenny and I had wasn't the type that would cause her to fly off in a jealous rage. And as to suicide... Well, I just couldn't see myself ending it all. I didn't want to be a girl; there was no doubt about that. But I could never have killed myself. Life - even a female life - was preferable to that. I wondered what sort of a man was so hung up on his sexuality that he would even contemplate such a thing. Agent Howell stood, and her partner followed suit. She offered her hand