Page 53 of Magdalene Nox

She knew that, despite her aloof tone, her fingers trembled slightly in Sam’s grip, and for once, she didn’t care about her tell. If she couldn’t trust Sam with this much, they had nothing. Sam’s face, shadowed as it was, perfectly still in the dim light of the room, stared at their joined hands with something akin to wonder.

“You have the most peculiar expression right now.” At Magdalene’s words, Sam raised her head. She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly and looked away, a blush suffusing the formerly pale cheeks. Magdalene waited, afraid to move or even blink. Something was about to be shared with her, and she couldn’t wait to hear it. She was so hungry to know Sam.

To know and to be known, all in the space of one evening. You’re really going above and beyond here.

She shut down her own sarcastic voice, the one that had gotten her through the worst parts of her life, the one that had kept her safe from heartache for years, and let herself be content to observe and wait for Sam’s truths.

“During my junior year in college, and after getting pretty tired of waitressing those previous years, I answered a call for volunteers at the Boston Public Library. A private collector had donated over a thousand valuable, but old and damaged books. Since the work was extremely painstaking, the library was trying to find patient students who would help with the restoration in exchange for class credits and some money.”

Slowly, Sam tugged on her hand, and Magdalene’s fingers tightened on hers before reluctantly letting go. Sam stood and pulled a slim tome from her messenger bag.

“I ended up restoring just one book during that whole summer. An 1864 first edition of the Scottish folk tale ‘The Light Princess’. Do you know the story?” Magdalene slowly shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and Sam offered her the book she was holding.

“Yeah, that’s okay, it’s not that well known. My point was, it’s about forty pages long in the original edition, and all those pages were pretty much glued together by time and neglect. No actual chemical, just lack of basic proper care, you know. And it was old. It took me months to separate each page from the other. It was terribly fussy work, but I got to read half a page a day, or thereabouts, and it was such a beautiful tale. I ended up buying this much newer copy since, obviously, I could never afford the antique one.”

Sam blinked and wrung her now empty hands. But Magdalene realized that she would gladly sit here and listen to Sam ramble on and on.

God, she was so past being in trouble…

“You’re the book,” Sam blurted, and the way she said it, so artlessly and without any artifice, had Magdalene grinning and turning the slim tome in her hands.

“So I am old, difficult or impossible to read, and you’re a brave and tired conservator slogging away daily at my glued-together pages?”

Sam shook her head, but Magdalene caught her elusive smile.

“I had a point in there, somewhere. I guess it was that I was privileged to read that book, and I’m privileged to sit here with you and find out little nuggets about who you are.”

And then reality chose to rear its ugly head yet again… She had been granted a glimpse into Sam’s life, her soul, and yet this entire conversation was not just inappropriate, it was dangerous to both of them. And danger aside, like so many people before her, Sam thought she saw Magdalene. But nobody had ever cared enough, no matter what they said. Because their actions always spoke much louder than whatever platitudes and promises preceded the disappointment that was sure to follow.

Placing the book on the bedside table, Magdalene rose, leaving Sam staring at her with slumped shoulders, her gaze flat.

“Do not romanticize me, Sam. That has never, ever served anyone in my life well. Just ask Timothy. He certainly feels like I never gave him any part of who I am.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, and she bit her lip before opening, then closing her mouth again in silence, as Magdalene had learned she always did when gathering her thoughts. When she finally did speak, her words were tentative.

“I’d rather not ask anyone. I’d prefer to find out for myself. And whatever he feels, I have received more from you in this short time than I ever expected to.”

“Such fervor.” Magdalene moved farther away, putting more distance between them. She didn’t dare be too close, especially not after the day and the evening she’d had. She was too raw, desire like a fever burning her skin.

Too much…

She wanted Sam too much, but in spite of her current vulnerable state, she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with what she found there, with the physical, even if Sam did give her what she craved at the moment. She had been right. Her immediate thirst for closeness was ultimately overridden by the one and only real want. Trust.

She looked back at Sam’s open, earnest face and had to swallow back tears. Why were they on opposite sides of this entire ordeal? As if answering her question, more lightning illuminated the dark sky outside the rain-drenched window, and the shadow of the towering school blocked the horizon. Somewhere in the distance was the Dragon’s Eye, the lighthouse keeping those who sought harbor safe on their journey. But as irony went, Magdalene could not see the structure from here. Because of the school. Because of the decaying heap of stone and wood and glass, and all these people. And all the responsibility and hate coupled with that nascent love Magdalene had for the Dragons. Or maybe it wasn’t all that new. Maybe it was something that had been lost and was now on its way to being found?

It was time to deal with actual issues though, and leave the metaphysical nonsense to her sleepless nights.

“Fairytales aside, Sam. We have a real problem on our hands.”

“Yeah, you mentioned I’m being too obtuse to see the major clues?” Sam’s joke didn’t land with her, and Magdalene wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“The big clue you keep missing is that I live here, too. And didn’t you say that you were in for the night, already in bed for what was it? An hour before the light went out.”

Sam tilted her head, and the eyes that mesmerized Magdalene narrowed.

“Yeah, that’s my usual bedtime, actually. If I hadn’t been listening for Lily’s return, and if I’d have been more careful and watched where I was going earlier instead of, you know, daydreaming about…” Sam stopped mid-ramble, and Magdalene didn’t even bother to hide her smirk. “As I was saying, my shoes being as wet as they were, I just sort of stepped into the first thing that lay by the door…”

“And thank Goddess for those Wellingtons.”

---