The Young Lady is a Reborn Assassin

While Felipe reported the incident to the principal, I used my deception to head up to the third story of the building and into the base of the clocktower. First, I had to take a quick detour to my dorm room and retrieve my pistol. I tucked it into my blazer’s pocket so that it couldn’t be seen. I was fairly sure that the culprit would have moved on by the time I reached his previous location, but it never hurt to be prepared for the worst.

The door was already unlocked when I arrived. I quickly got onto my knees and checked the keyhole – there was no sign of a forced entry. Had they stolen a key? This area was usually off-limits to the students and non-maintenance staff members. Urgency guided my every move as I entered and started my search for clues.

The primary concern on my mind was the shell casing. It was an indicative remnant that could clue me in on what the assassin was like. A professional would always clean up the evidence and take it for disposal somewhere away from the crime scene, but you’d be surprised by the number of people who didn’t go to that bare minimum of effort. In the modern day where your every purchase is easily traceable and tracked in a hidden database, it was profoundly simple for the police to cross-reference it and find your home address and identity. No such database existed here – but knowing the calibre and make of the ammunition would assist me in finding the shooter.

The clocktower was not insulated or heated, so it immediately chilled me through to the bone as I stood on the bottom floor. It was a spartan area, filled with little more than old, discarded furniture and tools used by the handymen. A handful of old tarps covered up some of the leftovers. I briefly glanced beneath them but found nothing of interest. The gunman had been watching us from the third floor. I turned back to the rickety wooden stairs and ascended them with no small amount of caution.

My hand was tucked into my jacket, ready to pull my gun and fire at any moment. The second floor was barren. Completely empty of anything at all. That meant the third floor would be where the action was happening. I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves as I peered up through a gap in the bannister. A single wooden crate rested next to the window that they had used. It was still left open, flapping back and forth in the high winds.

There was no sign of my shooter, and it was unlikely that they had fled to the higher floors from here. They must have gone back into the main building and hidden their firearm somewhere. Since everyone was battling to score their favourite food from the dining hall, that meant that the halls and studies were deserted. They could have concealed their weapon inside of a case and carried it through without scrutiny. Conscious of the time pressure that I was under, I hurried to the window and looked down at the floor.

It wouldn’t be long before someone came searching just as I had. I didn’t want to be here looking guilty when they did. After a few moments of panicked searching, I spotted something out of place against the wooden skirting that ran around the floor. I knelt down and picked it up. It was the shell casing that I was looking for.

I’d have to study the markings later. I pocketed it and headed back to the corridor outside. Felipe had not yet convinced them to come looking in the tower, so I rushed to my room and put the pistol back into its hiding place. The shell casing was thrown into the back of my drawer. I didn’t feel any discord about snatching the evidence. It was unlikely that they’d be able to find the culprit using just the casing anyway. I wasn’t going to rest until I found the person responsible and taught them what happened when they messed with me. For now, I needed a convincing interpretation of events to sell to the teachers and Felipe. A few minutes after I returned, there was a knock at my door.

When I pulled it open, Miss Jennings was waiting with a serious expression on her face. She brushed down the ruffles in her blouse and addressed me curtly, “Felipe has come to us with a serious accusation to share. I’d like to hear your perspective on the matter.” I bowed my head and invited her inside. She remained close to the door as I closed it behind her.

“What did he say?”

“He alleged that someone fired a gun at you. Though he lacks information on the matter. He asked me to come and speak with you. He said that you were so shaken up that you decided to come back here instead of going with him.” That was a very generous interpretation of events, but it helped me skirt around portraying myself as a hero. I put on my best sad face and nodded to her assertion.

“Indeed, we were. My heart has only just ceased its incessant beating. To think that such a horrendous crime could be committed on these grounds, and against someone so young.” Miss Jennings’ reaction told me that she had not believed Felipe’s account. Why would she? It was an extremely absurd incident for what was a sleepy private college tucked into the hills. It would be the first such occurrence in the school’s long history.

“Felipe is not one to launder rumours for the sake of mischief, though I must confess to my own scepticism on such a claim.”

“If you investigate the practice range, you’ll see where one of the trees was hit by the bullet. I believe that I saw the gunman myself – hiding away on one of the clocktower’s floors. There was a figure in one of the windows. I’m afraid that I couldn’t see the finer details. The interior was very dark.”

Miss Jennings was silent for a few minutes as she mulled over my testimony. I pushed her back into awareness by offering one more piece of information; “I believe that the gunman was waiting for the bell to chime before shooting. That was why nobody inside heard it, or wrote it off as nothing more than a minor disturbance.”

“One of the other teachers did mention a strange sound at the time. If they were waiting for you in the clock tower, they must have known that you and Felipe were going to be there at that time. We’ll have to investigate closely to find the one responsible.”

I offered her a reassuring smile, “We are in your capable hands, Ma’am.”

“But I must ask you to be discreet. While my singular priority is the safety of every student, the principal has made it clear that reckless panic would only make our job harder.”

I frowned, “You want to keep it a secret?”

She shook her head; “If it was my choice to make, everyone would be informed. I’m afraid that the principal is more concerned with keeping everyone calm. I hope that you understand his perspective on the matter.”

I did, perfectly well in fact. If the parents found out about there being an attempted murderer on the loose, they’d pull their kids from the academy, and that meant that the money would go with them. It was in his economic interest to cover the whole thing up. I couldn’t rely on his leadership resulting in answers being found. That conflict between finding the truth and concealing it from the students would only cause problems in the future. It was a tale as old as time. I had to do it myself.

“With that in mind, it’s clear to us that you will not be safe alone. We don’t want to make you or Felipe uncomfortable with constant surveillance, so for now we’d like to ask you to remain in areas of the academy where there are other students and teachers present. That should offer some protection from any further attempts on your life.”

“I will, Ma’am.”

“If you remember anything else about the incident, please come to the staff room and inform us right away.”

“I will, Ma’am,” I repeated.

She paused and studied my befuddled expression, “I have to say – you seem rather composed considering the circumstances, Maria.”

“Ah. As the first in line to inherit the family name, it’s only right that I live to exemplify the standard set by my Father.  I must remain firm and forward-thinking, no matter the situation.”

I made all of that up on the spot but it was enough to avert her suspicion for the time being. She bowed and made her exit from my room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I headed to my desk and pulled out a notebook so I could scribble down some of my theories. There were a lot of people in the academy and I didn’t know all of them. I started with the acquaintances I had encountered. The people in my magic elective course were all disqualified by the nature of their presence on the range just before the shooting. Adrian had made himself sparse very quickly, but was it really quick enough for him to reach the third floor of the clock tower and fire on us? The shooter’s complete lack of accuracy seemed to match what I had seen of him during our various competitions.

I opened my drawer, allowing the empty casing to roll to the front. It wasn’t a manufacturer's proprietary ammunition type. It certainly didn’t belong to a pistol. I held it up to the dying evening light and studied the markings printed into the brass exterior. Hurlock Arms Co. was one of the foremost producers of ammunition in Walser, so it was no surprise to see their name imprinted onto it.

There was also a date and batch number, though I couldn’t parse it without expert help on what the numbers meant. I estimated that the bullet was several years old, presumably taken from the shooter’s storage. It must have been used in conjunction with a rifle. You wouldn’t get any accuracy shooting from that range with a pistol or carbine. I put the casing back into its hiding place and returned to my guessing game.

I had to accept the possibility that I didn’t know who the shooter was. They could be nothing more than a hired gun sent by a competing company looking to get one over on my dear old dad. As his only daughter, I was next in line to inherit his property and businesses. It could even have been a member of my own extended family who stood to benefit from my death. Father never invited them around to the manor for a visit, so my memory of them was extremely limited.

It would be difficult to isolate and interrogate the assassin. I was a master of the craft – but some things were just too unreasonable. They were more likely to die during a gunfight than sit down and exposit about their hidden motivations or benefactors. “Damn it,” I muttered, placing my quill back down. I was getting nowhere fast with such little evidence to go on. I headed over to the wardrobe and changed into my night clothes now that the teacher had paid me a visit.

I needed a way to keep my gun on my person without everyone finding out about it. I didn’t feel safe walking around the grounds without something to fight back with. I wasn’t helpless without a gun – but some situations demanded the flexibility that one provided. I had killed my fair share of people using my bare hands or other cruder weapons.

Perhaps a holder beneath my skirt would serve that purpose? They were long enough that there were no angles from where an outside observer could see something strapped to my thigh. The discomfort would be a small price to pay for putting myself into a more advantageous position. The problem then was finding a suitable holster to do it with. I couldn’t exactly visit my local gun store or order one online. Everything had to be done in person, and finding a shop that sold what I was looking for would be tricky. The nearby city was very large, a winding labyrinth of streets and tall buildings that only a native resident could navigate confidently.

The bed depressed beneath me as I lay on top and stared at the canopy above. My mind was too occupied with a thousand different things for me to sleep restfully.

At some point the fatigue became too much, and I passed out regardless.

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Our mysterious killer has evaded Maria's wrath for the time being, but left a key piece of evidence in his wake.