School starts up again. Darren and Bella are both skipping straight into twelfth grade. (Bella looked into just starting college early, but while she does technically have the sort of resume that can lead to that kind of thing, she can't exactly write an essay about how she saved the life of another person and this caused her to have Moral Character, let alone about how she started a small business - so skipping one grade it is.)
They apply to colleges. They both get into University of Washington and get sufficient scholarships to accommodate both going there.
Summer ensues again.
One afternoon, Bella is over at Darren's, and has fallen asleep - in purring fullform - across his lap on the couch.
"Hey, dad. Got Bella, she's all right - Savannah and I are fine. Nope, no clue. They're - um. They're all dead, we don't know who hired them, though. Yeah, yeah I'm all right. ... Yes, please. Love you, too. We'll be back in about - fourish hours? I think? Mhm, heading straight home. Yeah, we did. First thing. Bye, dad, see you in a bit."
"Called your dad, let him know you were all right. I mean, technically it was after we made sure you were all right, and let Savannah loot and eat some hearts, but uh - yeah. First thing we did when we remembered we had the cellphone."
"First phone-related thing," Bella nods. She peers back into the warehouse to see if the lights are on yet.
Darren, too, though more for the sake of hovering protectively over his girlfriend rather than looking for the plumbing.
"Hose each other down, wipe off any stubborn blood with the rags, air-dry on the way home?" she suggests. "Lucky it's summer."
Savannah is indeed covered in blood. It's kind of icky.
"I feel," says Savannah, when she has been mostly hosed off for blood, "less sticky and psychotic now."
Her own supply of blood is mostly not on her clothes. She was in fullform at the time.
"It didn't seem important at the time. Whoops."
Bella shifts one bloody paw in at a time and washes them off. One is noticeably cleaner than the other three. She washes her face, and rolls up her sleeves to get her arms, and puts her wings on to rinse them, and then calls that good.
"Flying home time?"
"Yeah. We should grab the backpack, first."
"Possible we should torch the place. Arson and some disappearances might add up better than warehouse full of inexplicable black goo and several people missing vital organs."
"Agreed. Plus we left our blood at the scene, I don't know about you but I don't want the police to play CSI: Miami with us as the perps."
He nods, and then he gets to work. He finds the largest open space in the warehouse, retrieves a sharpie, and starts drawing out the runes. His ruler's not nearly big enough, but he makes due. Bella's welcome to help.