Page 43 of Magdalene Nox

So she hummed her way through 45 minutes of nonsensical arguments and incoherent thoughts before bidding the trustees a good night.

No, the issue of the Houses wasn’t going anywhere, as she had so flippantly assured Timothy. But then had she ever believed it would? Something this ingrained, this deeply embedded, was going to haunt her. She flicked a piece of lint off her skirt. After all, she had been haunted and hunted before, continued to be, despite the phone calls receding recently. So what was one more thing? The thought, even unverbalized, tasted bitter on her tongue and she chased it away, forcing her mind to return to the goddamn Houses and what problem they really presented.

With her thoughts on the task at hand, she slowly made her way back to her office, only to hear angry raised voices coming from inside. For once, and quite uncharacteristically, George was missing from her usual post at her desk, where she could be found at all hours, workaholic that she was.

And so Magdalene found herself standing in front of the closed door trying to discern who Timothy was screaming at, ready to save whomever—perhaps even George herself, since the two never did get along—from her ex-husband’s misplaced wrath.

But it wasn’t George, and Magdalene’s heart sank as Timothy hissed yet again.

“But why do you care so much? Why does Magdalene’s past interest you so much? Got yourself a crush on the Headmistress?”

Sam’s steady voice gave no ground.

“Everything about the school interests me. And Ms. Nox, as you said, is the Headmistress.” Magdalene wanted to laugh at how expertly Sam had boxed Timothy in with her inflection on the ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Mrs.’ She could almost see the vein pop on Timothy’s forehead. “If you think I won’t use every advantage I can to salvage what can be salvaged from her cutting and chopping Dragons, you’re insane. My feelings for the Headmistress are irrelevant. The school is what’s essential.”

Magdalene recoiled. She had never been slapped in her life, but this right here felt exactly like what she imagined a palm across the face would. And on the heels of pain came shame.

Hadn’t she been admonishing herself for weeks now over her infatuation with someone whose loyalties were so clearly split? Sam may have still been lusting after her, but she had always made her priorities known. And Magdalene had no one but herself to blame for her ridiculous affection for this woman who’d probably rather see her thrown off the Amber Cliff than succeed as Headmistress.

Too bad…

She pushed the door open, unwilling to allow the conversation to go further. After all, she had heard enough.

“Well, now that we have cleared all that up, Timothy, the room you’ve been assigned in the teachers’ quarters is at your disposal, since you are about to miss the last ferry, and Professor Threadneedle, despite all your scheming to gain and press an advantage, surely it’s past your bedtime.”

She could see Sam flinch as she spun around to see Magdalene in the doorway. Willoughby, the only one to stand by her these days, sat back on his haunches. When she glanced down at him, he was glaring daggers at both Sam and Timothy. Why had she been so wary of cats in the past?

Sam’s face was a study of contriteness and embarrassment. Magdalene wanted to wave her away and dismiss her; from the room, from her thoughts. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed of. People had hated her all her life, no matter where she went and where she worked. This was nothing new. Perhaps the novelty was in the pain that this particular instance was currently causing.

Magdalene closed her eyes for a second and took a steadying breath. They weren’t fated lovers, bound by some fairytale romance. They’d had sex. It was done. Time for both of them to move forward, since all they managed to do otherwise was step all over each other’s toes in their endeavor to disregard what they’d shared.

Her decision made—and she’d never failed at anything, so forgetting Manhattan was pretty much a done deal where she was concerned—Magdalene raised an eyebrow at the two people still shuffling their feet in her office.

“I assume you’re here to hound me some more about my barbaric methods of reform and, particularly, my bloodlust for the Houses, Professor Threadneedle. The trustees expressed the same sentiment to me earlier, and Timothy is here in person to impress upon me the error of my ways. Still, it is my decision and my decision alone. Not yours, not the Old Dragonettes’, who are already mounting some ridiculous form of protest. The Board gave me absolute power for a year to turn Dragons around and away from ruin. I’ll let all of you know what I decide by the beginning of the school year. Now—”

Loud screams from the hallway interrupted her, and she whipped around.

“Headmistress! Magdalene! I can’t find Sam. Come quick.” Joanne’s hoarse voice ceased when she reached the threshold and almost stumbled, clutching a hand to her chest when she saw Sam. “Oh, thank goodness, Sammy, you’re here. It’s Lily!”

As Joanne explained, her breathing grew ragged. Sam grabbed her and the pair took off running, all before Magdalene could get her bearings.

Fuck.

She set off in pursuit of Sam, with Timothy faithfully at her heels. For once, she didn’t mind. If something had happened to the girl, she’d need his gym-honed brawn.

* * *

By the timethe two of them reached Sam and Joanne in the faculty quarters, Sam was crouching in front of her own door next to Lily who was holding her ankle with a pained expression. Her breathing was shallow, coming out in small whines and pants.

The lights overhead were off, and with the faint glow coming in from the outside lamp post, Sam was trying to ask questions about what had happened, but Magdalene tuned her out. Her feet were wet, the tiles under her heels slippery. She instinctively raised her head to the ceiling. Surely a pipe leak, since the rain hadn’t started yet? But as she squinted at the old whitewashed rafters, they were dry with no visible water damage.

A hand on her shoulder startled her.

“The last ferry is gone. It’s halfway to the mainland by now. And with Nurse Trufault no longer at the school… Does the village have a doctor? I called Joel, as per procedure—” George’s voice right next to her ear came out in loud pants as her secretary tried to catch her breath.

Magdalene wanted to shake some of that efficiency out of George. “You called Joel about this? And Trufault wouldn’t do us any good right now. Not only would she probably prescribe leeches or bloodletting, the incompetent fool, she’d not be here anyway, since she takes summers off.”

Lily’s small sob shook her out of her displeasure, and she knelt in the water by her side. Even in the dimness of the outside lamp, she could see that the girl was pale as a sheet and shivering. Magdalene gingerly held the trembling hand and cast her eyes to the weirdly bent ankle. Hopefully it was just a bad sprain and not broken.

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