He ended up jogging after the other man, limping as he finally caught up.  Leigh didn't seem to notice, not like he usually did, just kept walking, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses.  Sighing, Gavin just stuck his hands into his pockets, keeping a steady pace with him.  He knew this mood.  There was going to be no conversation outside of monosyllabic responses until it passed.  

Luckily enough, it cropped up only rarely.  Usually after a night of too much alcohol on a lonely barstool—which had an alarming tendency to end with Leigh sprawled out on Gavin's cramped sofa, having had motor control enough to call the older man for a ride, sobbing and ranting in a weird mixture of Mandarin and English.  It was probably the hangover which caused the depressive fit the next day, but, experience usually warned against letting Leigh drink alone.  Either the hangover, or he'd been mentally doing what they both agreed not to do aloud—go digging through his past.  It was always one of the few things guaranteed to rattle the usually energetic professor—that and, apparently, the violent death of a student.

“We don't have to go,” he said, finally, as they trudged down a crosswalk crowded with cyclists.  “Tonight, I mean.  If you're not feeling like it.”

“It's fine.”

All right, that was... two, maybe three syllables, tops.  He couldn't tell if it was a good sign, or a neutral one.  As they crossed onto the lush campus grounds, he stayed silent.  He honestly wasn't sure what to say.  Apologize?  Sympathize?  Hardly—he had no idea of their relationship.  Obviously, Leigh had known the dead woman fairly well.  But were they friends?  Dating?  Had she been in his classes?  

Talking about death, he decided, glancing up at the timeworn brick buildings around them as they walked, was a lot easier when you had a badge.  There was professionalism to hide behind.  A sense of detachment you could cling to.  With his friend, someone he was supposed to be able to help and talk to with ease... he was at a loss.  One more reason to keep people at a decent distance.

They were headed up the damp sidewalk to Leigh's office by the time he figured out what to try and say.  But, he'd barely opened his mouth when the other's quiet voice cut him off, as if reading his mind.

“She was in my graduate-level classes,” he said, eyes on the pavement, which quickly gave way to creaking, dark floorboards as they headed inside.  “Always on top of her work, wouldn't take extensions because of the baby—God knows she needed them, gave her enough opportunity to.”  He didn't seem to notice Gavin was even still there.  So, wordlessly, he put his hand lightly on Leigh's back, between his shoulder blades, guiding him towards his office while he kept speaking.

At least there wasn't any blood... he reflected moodily, listening to the description of the victim.  If his friend was reacting this badly to just the fact she'd died, he didn't want to see the reaction to seeing a body.  Or parts of it.   

Leigh started fumbling with the doorknob, and swung his shoulder to block Gavin's attempt to open it for him.  The older man sighed, waiting until he'd managed to get it open, revealing the tiny, cluttered office Leigh spent many of his on-campus hours in.  Papers and books cluttered the floor, while more were shoved into flimsy bookshelves.  The desk was a mass of paper and discarded mugs, half-burying an old desktop computer which barely looked capable of accessing a word processing program, let alone the internet.  Some of the mugs had pencils absently dropped in them.  One even had a wilting collection of flowers, no doubt from a student.  

Somehow, the other man had managed to wedge a sofa in the room, although it was difficult to open the door because of it.  The whole place smelled of salt, paper, and coffee—the latter no doubt due to the gleaming silver machine crouched on one of the bookshelves, dangling cords carefully and thoughtfully tucked out of sight.  

Gavin thought of reminding Leigh he had a definite problem with caffeine intake, but thought better on it, pushing past him to see if there was still anything in the coffee maker.  Typically, there was.  And, once again, he wasn't disappointed.  

Wordlessly, he pushed the still-hot cup into Leigh's hand, sitting the younger man down on the overstuffed and overused sofa.  He sank down, looking gratefully into the cup before all but downing the contents in one fell swoop.  For once, Gavin didn't pester him about it, just hitched a hip up on the desk and waited, arms folded.  

“Tickets are in the drawer,” Leigh said, finally, his dark eyes still on the liquid in the cup.  

The few words cut through the heavy tension, cracking, rather than breaking.  If there was more on his mind, he didn't say it.  And Gavin wanted very much to just reach out and throttle the other man for his silence.  It wasn't going to get any better if he didn't talk.  He was just going to brood on it until he ended up head over ass on Gavin's couch, sobbing again.  Or worse.  But still... he had a feeling this was falling under the “do not touch” heading.  And if he prodded it... Leigh was just going to get worse.

Just one more thing you can't fix...

He pulled the ticket out of the drawer, pocketing it absently before returning to his perch on the desk, regarding his friend sternly.  “Leigh,” he said, trying for firm, hoping it was enough.  “Knock it off.  This isn't helping anything...  You aren't responsible for what happened...”

“I know.”

Gavin pressed a hand to his head.  This wasn't going well.  Setting his jaw, he moved to open one of the narrow windows, letting in the cold breeze.  There, he paused, leaning on the sill.  “Fine,” he said at length, watching the long lines of sleepy students milling off to class.  Somewhere, the bell was still ringing, and the sunlight shrank down shadows to pinpoints.  “If you want to brood, fine, I can't stop you.  But don't expect me to come pick you up out of a gutter later on.  I tried.”  

It was harsh.  Then again, he wasn't exactly in a good mood, given the events of today, and it was barely after noon.   Besides, being nice hadn't gotten him anywhere.  He slid down off the desk, wincing as the motion jarred his leg.  If he headed home, he could probably get a nap in before he had to get to this party he'd been conned into.  

But, just as before, when he pushed past to leave, Leigh caught his arm.  
“I've got work to do,” he said, quietly.  He still didn't look up at Gavin.  “For once.  You can... sleep here—don't argue, I know that's what you were going to go do.”  

“What about tonight?”

Leigh shrugged.  “I'll drive you home.  You can change there.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Gavin sighed, massaging the back of his neck.  At least he was no longer being ignored.  Maybe it meant progress.  Either way... it was better than the moody, silent treatment from earlier.  He edged around the couch, before dropping down beside the other man, and reclining.  Leigh didn't seem to get the message until he pointedly stretched his legs out, prodding him.  Only then did he stand, moving over to the desk, but not before shooting Gavin a roll of his eyes.  Which was, in Gavin's humble opinion, a marked improvement.  Leaning his head back on the armrest, he shut his eyes, trying to drown out the tap of computer keys with his own thoughts.  

Which inevitably lead back to the scene of the accident.

It wasn't healthy, probably, to be so focused on it.  But he couldn't exactly help it.  It was a mystery, and one which hit a friend too hard for his liking.  Something about it, more than just the obvious, was bothering him.  A simple accident just didn't add up—not to him.  People in this town were too careful.  The woman didn't sound like the type to be so reckless.  And definitely not with her own child in the car.  And then the marks on the car door...

Did it really matter though?  He wasn't in a position to hear anything more from local law enforcement.  And, sadly enough, neither was Leigh.  Chances were, neither of them were going to hear anything more about the victim, except for the inevitable small-town gossip.  It was best just to put it out of his head, focus on getting some rest.  After all, there was something far worse than a car accident waiting for him tonight.  He had a party.  

Still, even as he drifted off, he couldn't help but see the image of the torn car door, complete with its three parallel gashes, plastered in front of his closed eyelids.




“I feel like this thing is strangling me.”

“Of course.  It's a tie.  That's the feeling you get when you introduce your neck to one when it's never seen one before.  A clever defense mechanism.”

“Shut up, Leigh.  You're not wearing one.”

“Because I look good in anything.  You don't have that ability.  So—tie it is.”

To which, Gavin could only sigh, glowering up at the sky.  He heard a smug laugh beside him, confirming he had, indeed lost yet another argument over his personal affairs.  The one in question being his state of dress.  Uniforms were always easier—dress codes were easier.  Galas or parties or whatever the hell he was being dragged into... not so easy.   He'd just stood in stony silence while Leigh had gone through his closet and thrown items, including the damned tie, out to him.  

Originally, the younger man had tried to foist off some of his own clothing, but while they were roughly the same height, Gavin ended up being broader than he was, and everything was too strained to move comfortably in.  Which inevitably delayed them further, by making a detour back to Gavin's place.  

So, finally, after much fuss, the pair were crossing the lawn, up the slight slope to the University's small museum.  It crouched alone, apart from the other lecture halls and dormitories, at the end of a long, tree-lined drive, and surrounded by lawns left to grow tall in the winter rain.  Concrete paths snaked their way around and up to the building, but it was faster just to cut across.  Damp grass clung to their shoes, and their breath fogged the air in front of them.  A few amber lamps lit the way for late students, but save for those scattered bulbs, the only light was the high, horned moon in the cloudless sky.  If he listened long enough, pausing to let Leigh get a few paces ahead, the sound of the ocean barely grated against his ears.  It should have been peaceful.  Calm, even.  But something more than the usual social jitters prodded at Gavin's senses.  

While Leigh moved on ahead, dark hair and jacket blending with the shadows, an umbrella resting jauntily over one shoulder, Gavin paused, searching the lawn.  

Nothing moved, except the man in front of him.  Not even the trees lining the edge of the road they'd driven in on.  Maybe that was what was bothering him.  It was just a still, quiet night.  And he was about to enter a major social gathering with a piece of silk-polyester blend digging into his throat.  Nothing more.  He turned, about to start after Leigh.

Something moved.

His head snapped back around, instinctively going for the firearm he no longer carried.  He stared, long and hard, back at the tree line.  It had looked like... Now, as he stared again at the tall, dark shapes, he had a hard time remembering what it was he'd actually seen.  A trick of the light...?  

“You know, for someone who tells me he hates the cold, you sure do seem to want to stand around in it.”

The dry remark cut into the fog of confusion.   Swearing out something decidedly unflattering, he jogged to catch up to his friend, who had already made it up the worn brick stairs to the building's entrance.  By the time he'd reached Leigh, the incident was shoved to the back of his mind.  He hadn't really seen anything—a passing cyclist, a flutter of old leaves in the wind, something incredibly mundane and explainable.  

Tugging at his tie, Gavin pulled the door open, only to receive a swat on the arm from Leigh and his umbrella, who ducked in before he could move.  Before he could voice a retort, or even demand an explanation, the two were separated, swept up in a press of perfume and expensive clothing that made Gavin, in his years-old-suit and bargain aftershave, feel decidedly at a loss for words and actions.  Coats were taken, drink tickets handed out, and then they were turned loose on the mob.

Turnout was better than expected for a town, and a university this size.    

It was an exhibit on ancient myths, he decided, after a long while of wandering around in a daze.  Cave paintings and woven blankets on the walls, all of them worn and ancient looking, warred with space against more contemporary portrayals of the scenes.  Pottery and carved friezes took up glass cases, their dark earth tones absorbing the light bouncing off the too-white backdrops, while the full color paintings and digital images shot it back in painfully bright splashes of color.  Portraits of stick figures chasing hulking beasts, and spiraling serpents were only the start of the fantastical shapes adorning the works of art.  All around, people milled, cocktails in hand, gawking at the past in hushed, private voices.  Hands were on arms, faces leaned in close against the press of perfume and clink of glass.

None of this was anything Gavin had ever really seen before in his life—except perhaps the legion of well-dressed faculty.  He didn't recognize any of the so-called art.  Then again, he hadn't expected to know ancient Egyptian work from his left shoe.  He'd come for the open bar, and to keep a certain friend company—ostensibly to be set up on some blind date, but he'd work around it when the time came.  

However, said friend had apparently given him the slip, and taken the bar with him.  For all his wandering, he could locate neither Leigh, nor the promised alcohol.  Twice, he tried to ask someone moving through the crowd with glasses in hand, and twice he was ignored.   

Resigned, he sank onto a hard bench, facing an elaborate modern work, and stretched out his aching leg.  The press of people was somewhat overwhelming, even for him.  Without someone he knew at his back, a feeling of isolation closed in on him.  He was the only one here who knew no one, the only one who had no idea what he was looking at.  Judging from the low buzz of conversation, asking someone for their help in deciphering things was on par with walking in here nude—some major social taboo he didn't particularly feel like tripping over right now.  Rubbing out the stiffness in his knee, Gavin let his faded blue gaze wander over the assembled people, trying to pick out a familiar dark-haired man in a tan jacket.  

Then, he saw the woman.

She stood a little apart from the crowd, arms nonchalantly tucked around her torso as if she were cold, even as her body language proclaimed otherwise.  Her spine, the shallow indentation of it visible in the shallow V-back of her black dress, was rigid, perfectly straight.  Well-shaped legs shifted in place, feigning discomfort in the narrow heels she wore.  She wasn't tall, but every time someone passed, she ducked her head away, allowing long, dark curls to slide forward, obscuring a cocoa-skinned face and delicate features.  Every now and again, she shifted to the next piece in the display, gradually moving his way.  As she turned, he caught sight of her eyes, wide, heavy-lashed, and darting from side to side, barely resting on the artwork in front of her.  She wore little jewelry by comparison to the others, only a simple gold pendant, resting low on her breast, just above where the neckline plunged to barely give a hint of cleavage.  Modest, when compared again to other women here, Gavin observed.

But, as he'd swear later, her physical features weren't what caught his attention.  If anything, the woman was not trying to look alluring.  She was terrified.  Absolutely terrified.    

He stood as she got closer, wincing despite every attempt to remain nonchalant.  It must have been colder than he thought outside, if his leg was acting up this badly.  Still, he straightened, carefully timing the movement to intercept her.  
It was a casual, simple motion, and should have attracted no attention.  Under normal circumstances, it would have been seen as an accidental brush of shoulders.  All the same, the woman spun on him, curls flying, and her eyes liquid and frightened in her face.  She looked for all the world like he'd just slapped her.  Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to cut off either a scream, or the half-dozen stuttered apologies on her suddenly pale lips.

“Easy,” he murmured, plastering a smile on his face.  His voice was low, placating—the kind of gentle tone you used on people like this.  The one to calm the frightened civilian before they did something stupid.  “It's all right.  I'm sorry I ran into you.”

Some of the fear in her eyes vanished for a moment.  Warily, she nodded, as a brief, fragile smile flickered over her face.  Color was gradually returning to her lightly tanned cheeks.  “I... please don't worry,” she assured him.  There was a slight accent to her voice—somewhere he couldn't name.  “I'm not very good with crowds.”

The smile turned a bit more genuine.  “That's an understatement, ma'am,” he said.  And then he shrugged, looking as calm and relaxed as possible.  Even if he didn't really feel like it.  “You're not the only one, though.  Things like this don't really... sit well with me.”

Some of the color returned to her cheeks, as a tentative smile crept onto her face.  “Well... it's not for everyone,” she admitted, reaching a hand up to brush some hair out of her eyes.  “And the subject matter certainly doesn't... make relaxation any easier...”  And abruptly, the fear was back, as her eyes darted over to the huge poster behind him.  

Out of reflex, he turned too, frowning.  “I'm afraid I'm not sure what I'm looking at,” he said.

Suspended between a frieze of frolicking mermaids, and a tapestry of a unicorn, was something decidedly out of place with the two ancient artworks.  It was a life-size poster of a man.  Or, at least something which had once been a man.  Currently, the subject in question lay somewhere between man and beast, fur rippling over his exposed skin, while claws tore free from his fingertips in a spray of airbrushed red.  His back was arched in agony, eyes wild and pleading for something Gavin didn't particularly want to think about for very long, while muscles writhed plainly beneath tearing clothes and skin.  Chords stood out in his neck with the effort of screaming, or howling, out his pain.  The plaque below the painting read simply:

<center>yee naaldlooshii
with it, he goes on all fours</center>

“Goes for the rest of this exhibit too.”  Gavin shot her a conspiratorial glance to direct her attention away from the macabre art.  Even after his line of work, something about the image was just plain disconcerting.  He wondered, briefly, why the artist had chosen the subject.  “I'm only here for a friend,” he said, elaborating.  “I'm supposed to keep an eye on him.”

He barest hint of a smile appeared on her dusky face.  “He sounds like trouble,” she said quietly, one hand rising to half-cover her mouth as she spoke.  “I'm sorry you have to deal with him.”

Gavin shrugged.  She seemed more at ease, now her eyes weren't glued to the walls around them.  Maybe something about the subject matter bothered her.  Myths did for some people.  As for himself, he saved his concern for concrete problems.  Mermaids luring sailors away weren't real enough for him to deal with.  

“Not your fault, ma'am,” he told her simply, giving her a faint smile of his own.  “Mine for getting involved with an idiot.”     

“So says the moron,” said a dry voice, cutting into the conversation.  A glass of wine was all but dropped into Gavin's hand, and he had to fumble to keep from dropping the thing.  Seemingly out of thin air, Leigh drifted in, the polite Cheshire smile plastered across his face.  Looking at him, you wouldn't even guess at the closed-off wreck he'd been this afternoon—Gavin took that as a good sign.  However, the smile was all for the woman, as was the extended hand.  “Dr. Miller, good to see you again,” Leigh said, his voice warm.  “I see you've already met my... unfortunate associate.”

Unfortunate?  He shot the other man a glare, which only darkened when Dr. Miller proceeded to laugh lightly, smiling at Leigh.  What the hell did he think he was doing, talking like that?  The wine was bad too—not something he usually drank—but even so, he managed to knock back a quick gulp, trying not to make a face.

“Leigh,” he said, once his throat had cleared.  “You know each other?”

Now the grin was turned on him, though it faded a little once Leigh's gaze drifted down to his neckline.  “Your tie's loose,” he said.  After another glare, he held up his hands in defeat.  “This, my socially challenged friend, is Dr. Maria Miller, from folklore.”  The grin came back, a touch more evil than it usually was.  “The woman I mentioned earlier.”

Gavin finished the rest of the wine in one go.  Maria looked back and forth between them both, her eyes huge.  She was apparently expecting some kind of explanation for all this insanity.  Catching her glance, he just shook his head.  He had come to the party, and met her, like he'd promised.  Now, he was under no obligation to continue the conversation to the point of dating the poor thing.  She was certainly lovely enough—his body embarrassingly acknowledged this quite happily.  But the frightened eyes, and the utter and complete panic he'd seen in her just minutes earlier shot those thoughts straight to hell.  This wasn't her fault.  It was just Leigh's doing.  He was grinning still, swirling his wine around in its glass with a look that said he expected them to start investigating one another's tonsils any second.  

“Ignore him,” Gavin said finally, turning his back on his friend, and speaking directly to Maria.  “He's had way too much wine.”

She nodded again, grasping at the explanation like a drowning woman.  “Oh, yes, of course,” she said, all smiles.  Her laugh was high, nervous still.  “Please, if you need to take him home... don't let me keep you.”

Before he answered, Gavin took a good, long look at her.  Having ducked around him, Leigh was making indignant comments, which he ignored, and she was listening politely.  Something about her face was strained.  She leaned a little too close to Leigh for a normal conversation, a gesture that could have been taken as something more than just casual interest, were it not for the tension in her shoulders, and the way she folded her arms tight over her chest.  Every so often, she'd break gazes with Leigh, to glance over her shoulder, or twine a piece of curly hair around a slender finger.  When their talk lulled, she rushed to fill it with more idle chatter.  

She didn't want them to go.

Carefully, he cast a glance around the crowded hall.  Nothing more threatening than a sea of wealthy people.  So what could possibly have rattled her so badly?  Someone in the room?  No eyes cast in their direction, and when they did, they were always on the gruesome art behind them.  Maybe the setting was the issue then.  

He looked at Leigh.  Dark eyes were already focused on him, brows pointedly raised.  Times like these, Leigh was quicker on the uptake than he appeared to be.  No explanation was necessary.  “I think we've seen enough mythological torture for one night,” the other man murmured, stretching lazily.  

Maria visibly paled.  She gave it a game try though, nodding a stiff little bob of her head, and trying to smile.  “Of course,” she whispered again.  “It was a pleasure, Dr. Knight, Mr. Verner...”

“Why Dr. Miller,” Leigh cut in, his smile a brilliant flash compared to her hastily put-upon expression.  “We wouldn't even consider leaving you!  You're far too interesting to talk to—far better company than Brawns, here.”  He gave Gavin's shoulder a slap, and winced at the glare he received.  “Besides, the free food?  Terrible.  And—”  The last was added in a tone of mock horror.  One hand gestured grandly towards the long lines of well-dressed faculty holding absurdly tiny plates and napkins, along with plastic mugs and glasses.  “They only have decaf.”

To her credit, the folklore professor appeared to follow the tirade with only minimal confusion.  Gavin, with an air of long-suffering that was only slightly an act, patted her shoulder in consolation.  “He means he's dragging me out to pay for his dinner,” he explained, once again assuming his role as officer.  “And you're welcome to come along.”

Her hands flew to her mouth, painted nails dark red against dusky skin.  They didn't, however, hide the blossom of hope in her eyes.  “Oh, but... I couldn't possibly impose,” she said.  “You've already been so kind in letting me take up your evening... I couldn't...”  

The look in her eyes still betrayed her.  Leigh just kept on smiling, gently taking her elbow to lead her off through the crowd.  He moved her around with a casual ease, chatting merrily away, and hardly stopping to hear her replies.  For his part, Gavin limped in their wake, his hands shoved into his pockets as he tried his best to be unobtrusive.  It was better that way, he told himself.  With Leigh running interference, he was free to look around and check on who could possibly be watching them, thus making the poor woman nervous as anything.  There hadn't been any the first time he'd looked, but it was possible moving would change something.  

He didn't know why he was surprised when he was right.  As the couple passed, heads turned, more than a few bending close to whisper to one another.  Maybe he just hadn't expected to be this right.  Sure, Leigh stood almost a head taller than the rest of the crowd, but, then again, so did he.  And no one was looking at him.  Did Maria have something to do with it, then?  

Curious now, he ducked away from them, pausing as if to admire a display of some kind of jewelry, fashioned into twisted knots.  People were murmuring, and he shifted position.  The nearest speakers were an elderly couple, speaking in low tones over their wine.  Pretending to ignore them, and examine the jewelry with interest, he shifted closer.  Leigh and Maria had already disappeared into the crowd, but the other man wouldn't leave without him, as much as he threatened to.  He had time.  The couple was on the other side of the glass case from him now.  If he were careful, he could study them through it, without it being too noticeable.  

“Yes, that's him,” the woman murmured.  A string of pearls, deeply polished under the harsh lights, hung at her pale, wrinkled throat, and bounced as she spoke.  She reached up to adjust them with a perfectly manicured hand.  “I can hardly believe it... running off with another woman after what happened...”

Her companion—a husband probably—nodded, his eyes totally focused on the dwindling wine in his glass.  “Of course,” he answered.

They were talking about Leigh?  Gavin fought the urge to look up and face them directly.  Had he been wrong?

“They say, you know,” she went on, as if the man's words hadn't mattered.  “That he was quite close to her, the student who died this afternoon—if you know what I mean.  She was his teaching assistant.”  She gave a slow, sorrowful shake of her head.  “I can only pity poor Ms. Miller... it must be awful...”

The man snorted.  “Half the female population of the school disagrees with you on that,” he said, suddenly amused and alive.  “They're absolutely enamored with Knight.”  He suddenly laughed.  “'Poor Ms. Miller' should probably look out.  If she ends up sleeping with him, she's made a lot of enemies.”

Oh for...

Torn between annoyance and amusement, Gavin limped away from his post.  Behind him, the woman made an indignant sound, swatting at her companion none too gently.  Gossip—he'd wasted all this time on gossip.  As if Leigh had sex on his mind tonight.  More like too much alcohol, and ranting in Mandarin at his place later on, if Gavin knew him at all.  And sleeping with the accident victim... The absurdity of it all.  Glowering, he dodged around more well-dressed patrons, making his way back to the coat check and the exit.  The woman had been happily married with a child, not cheating with her professor.  If she had been, he'd certainly have heard about it, if only by virtue of seeing less of the professor in question.  Worried over nothing—as usual, he supposed.  Though why Maria had been so afraid couldn't have been explained by gossip.  She'd been frightened long before Leigh had interrupted things.

The girl working the coat check was the same one from earlier, a too-thin, blond waif who hardly looked old enough to attend the university, much less work at this party.  He shot her a faint smile, handing over his ticket.  She returned the expression, before disappearing back to collect his coat with the loud clack of decidedly insensible shoes.  Hissing a little through his teeth, Gavin leaned on the folding table serving as a counter.  His leg ached.  Too long in the dress shoes, he guessed.  All he wanted right now was to go home and lie down.  

“But surprise, surprise,” he murmured to himself.  “My social life gets a kick in the ass... and there's a woman in trouble.”

Of course, he had no proof of the latter.  Saying “woman in trouble” just sounded better out loud than “strange woman with a paranoia problem”.  Sighing, he pushed himself back upright.  As he did so, his hand brushed something damp.  A familiar, folded umbrella rested on the table, carelessly forgotten by its owner.  Gavin stifled the urge to groan, and almost didn't manage to choke back the second, more powerful one to throttle someone.  

“Miss?” he asked, as the blond girl trotted back, his coat draped over one overly tanned arm.  He held up the umbrella for emphasis.  “Does this belong to--”

“Oh!”  Like Maria, her hands went to her throat.  He could see the bones in her fingers all too clearly.  “Oh no!  Professor Knight!  He must have forgotten it!”

Did everyone on this campus know who the idiot was?  And why was it always women?  Attractive women at that.  Shaking his head, hoping it hid his bizarre annoyance, he held up a hand.  “Easy,” he said.  “I'll bring it to him.  Don't worry about it.”

If she had a reply, the screams from outside drowned it out.  

One was high, feminine.  And the other... Gavin's legs were in motion before they cut off.  It was an automatic response.  Even if he hadn't recognized the second cry, you didn't ignore terror like that.  He sprinted, the right protesting the movement with sharp shocks of pain.  It had to be ignored, however, so he kept on going.  The door he all but wrenched open, and it squealed as it banged against the building.  Cold night air swept up to meet him, only adding to the tight clench of chill fear in his chest.  His hand gripped the umbrella hard enough to hurt as he stared dumbfounded for a moment at the scene in front of him.

Maria was crouched on the museum stairs, still screaming.  She'd lost a shoe, and she was frantically, blindly trying to crawl back towards the relative safety of the noise and light behind her.  There were no visible marks on her body, no wounds or other injuries.  He couldn't see her face—didn't need to.  His focus snapped to the same place she was staring with little guidance.    

A huge form crouched before her, easily dwarfing even Gavin.  The museum lights threw white glare and mottled shadows over it, distorting its full appearance.  He thought at first it was an animal.  Fur sprouted in thick, tangled knots all over its vast body, clumping in spots around the limbs and head. It had a muzzle, like a dog, and long, swiveling ears in which were punched ratty holes.  But it was far too large for anything Gavin had ever seen before.  It stood hunched, weight on its powerful hind limbs, a tail that was more mange than plume waving slowly behind it.  Claws splayed dark against the pavement, as long as Gavin's hand.  All around it emanated the stench of rot, and the sticky, too sweet reek of something decayed.  When its head swayed, it was in an erratic, almost drunken motion, black wrinkled lips peeling back over teeth that were stained red in the low light.  Huge, fathomless eyes stared at nothing and everything, before bending back down to what it had trapped below it.

And in its clawed grip, Leigh Knight was slowly ceasing to struggle, as blood pooled on the steps beneath him.