Page 73 of Magdalene Nox

George was indeed efficient. But, although normally very well-tolerated by Willoughby, she was currently not his favorite person. The tomcat made a point of turning his back on the secretary and pretended to clean himself. Very interesting parts of himself. Since the cat had no middle finger, Magdalene supposed this was his way of telling George what he thought of her making said appointment.

Still, hewasslightlyoverweight, and Magdalene wanted to cross all the t’s and dot all the i’s to make sure he was healthy. She tried hiding or limiting the number of treats she gave him each evening, but so far, he deployed his deadliest weapon against Magdalene, to which she had not yet found a meaningful defense. He would bump his massive head against her and purr, before extending his paw and gently laying it on her hand. The emotional manipulation was off the charts. And she was a total sucker for it. The best and the worst part? They both knew it.

In the quiet of the office, Willoughby’s disgruntled growls as he kept cleaning himself were the only sound. With a blink, Magdalene belatedly realized she had been staring at George for perhaps some time now, and her secretary was watching her with this strange, faraway expression. Hopefully, George wasn’t coming down with anything. They were both too busy these days to be sick.

Magdalene tilted her head, giving herself another second to try to decipher whatever she had seen on her secretary’s face before she spoke, but recognition eluded her. Something was there. Something…

“I don’t think I tell you often enough that you are amazing, George.”

The smile that bloomed on her secretary’s face was wide and happy, all teeth and bashfulness.

“What are friends for, Maggie?”

It wasn’t an odd response, per se. They were close, despite Magdalene withholding certain details about her life. Yet she shivered and realized her foot had been tapping a rapid tattoo under her desk. Magdalene took a breath and deliberately crossed her legs, halting the motion. Maybe it was because they had barely shared a meal for almost two months now, since they’d stepped onto the island at the end of the school year with Magdalene’s time, like pie, being sliced too thin, consumed by so many others who needed and demanded to see her.

And then there was Sam. Fierce, lovely, beautiful Sam, who did not demand, but whom Magdalene wanted to spend time with most of all.

Her face must have given something away, because now George squinted at her, all the while chewing on her lip, her expression distinctly calculating. And Magdalene knew it was time to change the subject.

A smile plastered on her face, she forged ahead. “Friendship aside, you have been invaluable, George. And speaking of valuable things. I made a decision. During that meeting early next week, we shall tell the Mayor and the Town Council that Viridescent Cliff and its tower would be the projects to pursue. And then we will go from there.”

George frowned but predictably, her eyes were filled with malice.

“Fenway will hate it. She’ll rally the Dragonettes, burn you in effigy or something. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dead rats delivered.”

As if in disgust, Willoughby sneezed, then rolled over and made a tight cat loaf.

Magdalene appreciated that George took the harassment to heart. But she just wanted it to stop, despite knowing full well that the series of decisions and solutions she had devised and implemented to save the school—all of which she would announce in a few weeks’ time—would only make the appearance of dead rodents and assorted other threats a more constant occurrence in her office.

Talk about tough, unpopular choices…

But she would save her home. Sam’s home. She drummed her fingers on the dark oak and her voice was quiet when she spoke. “We will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

George scowled, opened her mouth, then closed it again, and rather than speak, set the files on the table before clearly throwing caution to the wind.

“Well, I think you have already arrived at said bridge, Maggie. And it doesn’t matter what you decide, there is no way that woman will ever approve. In fact, you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t, because she hates you. I have never seen such disdain in my life as in the eyes of that woman every time she looks at you. No matter what you accomplish, it’s never enough, and every time you achieve what she herself is actually fighting for, she just gets angrier.”

The lack of acknowledgement of her accomplishments wasn’t anything new. Magdalene blinked, and the years of animosity, dislike and distrust marched past her mind’s eye like occupying soldiers. She always took pride in her work. She was very successful at it, after all, but the work itself was never kind. Seeing the institutions she had rehabbed flourish was gratifying, but the hounding was getting to be too much. Orla Fenway was very much the rule and not the exception where Magdalene’s career was concerned.

Worry was etched on George’s face, and Magdalene stood up and gave her a gentle shoulder squeeze, trying to allay the concern, but also to move things along. They’d had this type of conversation many times before. George was preaching to the choir and doing it often.

“Well, Orla Fenway has been making me jump through hoops and then setting them on fire since my first day here, George—”

“You should have fired her, Maggie, dammit, you should have fired her. She is a danger to you!”

The vehemence of the words and the tone surprised Magdalene, but she decided to ignore it. George wanted what was best for her, ultimately, and she tended to be very intense about the people she liked and disliked.

“I still can and will fire her if her behavior crosses the line.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she knew they were a barefaced lie. She kept the less-than-esteemed Orla Fenway at Dragons solely because it made Sam happy. Was it a good decision professionally and for the institution? Debatable. Orla was highly combative and a thorough pain to work with. But she was also a brilliant teacher if Magdalene’s conversations with the students were anything to go by. And above all, Sam loved her. And if keeping her around meant she could make Sam smile? Well, she’d burn the whole world just to make sure Sam was happy.

Magdalene turned towards the windowsill, afraid her face might give something away. She had finally grasped her own love for Dragons, and that had been the impulse behind her newfound verve to save it, but there was no escaping the thought that a large part of her motivation to preserve this beloved heap of dirt and rust was due to no one but Sam Threadneedle. To one day hopefully make a home with her. Here, on Dragons, since they both felt this was their place under the sun. Dragons’ survival was imperative to her—for her own sake and for the sake of the students, faculty and the island itself. And for Sam.

She shook her head, trying to disperse these thoughts, and wondered why her mind had even gone there.

A little too soon for a U-Haul, don’t you think?

Deciding that it was a consideration for another day, Magdalene snapped her fingers, and Willoughby obediently raised his big blockhead and stretched. His body made a rather loud, ungraceful thump as he jumped off his pillow, but his pudgy legs kept up with her nonetheless as Magdalene made her way out of the office and to a much-needed late breakfast. Maybe sustenance would help her focus on something other than Sam Threadneedle. Whose slim hips would grind into Magdalene’s thigh, seeking pleasure… Or whose long, sure fingers would then bring said pleasure to Magdalene. Or that sensual mouth, the way those lips would tease and torment before granting her release…

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