Page 60 of Magdalene Nox

“Now let me see how badly he got you and if that ice helped at all. And, no, he won’t have his regular evening treat tonight.” She could feel the blush in her cheeks grow deeper as she caressed the slightly red skin of Sam’s palm, and judging by her face, the eyes that fluttered closed, and the slightly parted mouth, any lingering pain had been forgotten.

With tender touches, Magdalene prodded around the burn and heard Sam’s breath hitch, the pulse in her wrist beating fast. The answering increasing speed of her own heart was both unnerving and predictable.

Their eyes met amidst the mess and the commotion and the misery and intrigue brewing around them.Electrifying.They were so close, and not just by virtue of standing in front of each other. They were on the verge of something that had the potential to devastate them both.

Magdalene swallowed around the lump in her throat, and Sam, perhaps sensing her distress, slowly tugged her hand from the easy grasp of Magdalene’s fingers. The sense of loss seeped into Magdalene’s bones.

“I think he deserves all the treats from now on. I might even supply them myself since he saved you from a very unpleasant experience.” Sam’s whisper was hoarse. It seemed the reality of what could have happened was hitting both of them.

Their predicament aside, someonehadjust tried to poison her. Magdalene took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then slowly released it. The exercise did nothing to calm her down. So Sam would have to be the one to steady her.

Without much in the way of a conscious thought, Magdalene reached and gently touched Sam’s chin, raising her eyes to once again meet her own.

“I guess all the cat talk didn’t distract you. Don’t be scared, Sam. I’m all right.” Going with the impulse, Magdalene allowed herself to indulge. She leaned in and let her lips touch Sam’s forehead, the skin soft and cool under her kiss, before stepping away. The caress settled her much better than any breathing exercise ever could.

Magdalene brushed a few strands of Willoughby’s fur off her blouse before looking back at Sam. “Well, this has been fun, but whether Orla likes it or not, the school is about to be thrown into a bit of a ruckus. I’m done being bullied and harassed. If memory serves me well, the town doesn’t have local law enforcement. Still true?”

“Yeah… There’s not much crime here and if need be, they call the mainland. The county Sheriff’s Department covers Dragons Island.”

“Well then, I have things to do, and obviously the ever-charming law enforcement to speak to.”

Sam gave her one last lingering glance, her eyes unreadable now.

“I’m here if you need me.” Her heart lightened just a touch, but Magdalene said nothing, merely turned, and exited the Mess Hall through the massive oaken doors, the feeling of crossing the threshold a far cry from her anxious approach months ago, when her name was being dragged through the mud and she was surrounded by all that loathing.

A few seconds later, she sensed more than heard a presence at her side. Catching up to her brisk stride, Willoughby marched defiantly beside her.

16

OF STAUNCH DEFENSES & BELATED RECOGNITION

Sheriff Green was a burly man with a misplaced accent and a penchant for saying ‘ma’am’ too often. He looked decidedly uncomfortable in her office, his large shoulders squared in the too-small chair as he exchanged stink eyes with Willoughby.

Still, despite his rough-around-the-edges presence, his gaze met hers head on, and he did not try to either ignore or ride roughshod over her. Instead, he listened, asked intelligent questions, and gave her concerns enough attention to acknowledge yet not magnify them.

And he did not bullshit. Magdalene appreciated it. He even managed to mollify George, who was usually hostile towards men. She made coffee as well as escorted him to all the places where the suspicious activities had occurred. Overall, if anyone was to poke around her school, Magdalene figured she could have done much worse and, in all honesty, probably couldn’t have done much better.

* * *

The day progressed slowlyamidst interviews, photographs, arrangements for more interviews, and of all things, gossip. The latter came in the form of George running into her office, gesticulating wildly as if she was about to burst into flames at any moment, clearly flushed and panting from her run as was typical for her.

Magdalene looked up from examining the spreadsheets of the school’s finances, which still showed way too much red for her liking.

“Is the school on fire?” Magdalene gave her secretary a wry smile before once again bending over the paperwork. But George obviously had no scruples when it came to interrupting, especially since whatever it was must have been tantalizing, judging by the way she appeared to be ready to burst.

“Maggie! You need to come with me, now. Alden and Sam are conspiring.”

Well… The way she could feel the blood drain from her face, the school mightas wellhave been on fire. George’s features, now alight with excitement—as they always were where juicy gossip was concerned—beamed at her with an obvious perverse pride in the news she had delivered, oblivious to the knife she had just plunged into Magdalene’s chest.

She stood up, her legs shaky, and against her better judgment—and despite yesterday’s assurances that she believed Sam—followed George down the hallway to Sam’s classroom on the second floor.

* * *

The smellof paint hit her first, and she wanted to cry. It was supposed to be a surprise. She had ordered the painting of the classroom, among others, and sprucing up of the entire floor, tearing the funds away from other, far more important projects.

But what she had envisioned was how Sam’s face would light up, how she’d be the one to truly appreciate it. The only reaction that actually mattered to Magdalene.

And now… now that she had confessed to trusting her, acknowledged to herself how she was gone over this woman… What would be left if Sam was in cahoots with the Trustees? She’d have made a fool of herself. And why did it feel like that would be a much worse betrayal than Timothy’s?

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