Page 108 of Magdalene Nox

How was the then-Magdalene, in full let-me-stick-it-to-the-trustees mode, to explain that this was all part of her big, strategic plan?

At the time, Reverend Lavalle had already been on board, and all the proverbial ducks had been aligned in a straight row, nobody daring to quack. Because the reveal was a beautiful moment of pure retaliation coming to fruition, and Magdalene savored every second. Sue her, she loved a good revenge subplot.

And then it had all gone up in literal smoke and, for give or take a year, was a pile of ashes and dirt. She’d walked those grimy marble floors of the decimated chapel, periodically stopping by as the school surrounding it was being restored in leaps and bounds.

She touched the masonry and the wrecked balustrades, the small and large details of lives lived, prayers asked and hopefully answered, thousands of girls passing through this building under the guidance of various men, some of whom had no business wearing the cloth that had been bestowed upon them.

That’s in the past now…

And it was. Yet a year after the fire, Magdalene had still not signed off on the plans for the chapel. She’d told herself it was because there was no more revenge to seek. She’d told herself it was because Joel Tullinger had resigned his position on the Board. She told herself many things. But the chapel lay in ruins, and Magdalene continued to walk among them every week.

Sam kept her own counsel, occasionally finding Magdalene there on quiet evenings when the students were safely tucked in in the rebuilt dormitories. Willoughby would bump his big head against Sam’s shin, then make a cat loaf waiting for his humans to go home. Nonetheless, Sam would extend her hand and tug Magdalene close, never one for showy displays of public affection. And no, Sam never asked about the place or the last vestiges of destruction on the Dragons’ land.

Until she did more than ask. Until Magdalene woke up one morning to the chapel being the first point of order on the Board of Trustees’ agenda. Since Joel had stepped down and with Sam now occupying Alden’s role, the meetings became more regular and were held on school grounds, transparent and participatory.

Sam was out for her usual run, so Magdalene could not quiz her. And after said run, her fiancee made herself remarkably scarce throughout the entire morning until the Board meeting, and then the scene was set.

“Yes, Headmistress, this is a come-to-Jesus meeting.”

Alden, now in an advisory role only, chuckled at his own pun. On any other day, she’d have found it funny. And okay, she struggled to keep a straight face, because it was funny either way.

“What would the esteemed Board wish me to achieve this time? Walk on water, speaking of Jesus, Stanton? Move mountains?” She allowed the smile on her features to bloom, because these instances when Sam tried to be devious were so rare and so attractive, so entirely captivating and adorable, and eventually led to some of the best sex in her life. So Magdalene relaxed into this game and decided to enjoy herself.

“While I think Amber would love to be moved closer to Sky Blue—as I long suspected they had some sort of love story going—and Viridescent, in turn, would very much prefer to be left entirely out of those affairs, it’s the chapel that needs our attention, Headmistress.” Sam’s voice was beguiling, and Magdalene realized she’d walked into this trap willingly.

Magdalene had no particular affinity for the building. And yet, to her sudden realization, her eyes filled with tears, jarring and hot and out of nowhere, and she struggled to contain them. Sam, mouth agape, her own eyes wide, and full of instant apologies, was on her feet in a second, but Magdalene was already up and moving, throwing an apologetic, “there’s something in my eye, do continue without me,” over her shoulder.

* * *

She endedup on those cracked marble floors of the roofless building. The walls that had been ivory once upon a time rose up like broken bones, with the melted stained glass windows now gaping wounds among the prone skeleton. Why was she even here? When everything around her was being restored and rebuilt and renewed, why was she here, of all places? Why was she so reluctant to… move on?

As the thought crossed her mind, familiar steps sounded in the distance, and Magdalene realized Sam was making as much noise as possible so as not to startle her with her approach.

God, she loved her, she loved her so much.

“What’s going on, love?” Sam’s voice cracked at the last word, reminding Magdalene how it had taken her fiancée some time to find an appropriate name to call her when nobody else was around and when they were just Magdalene and Sam. And ‘love’... Well, it was so fitting. Because every day she felt Sam’s love.

From the evening in the Manhattan bar, to the night in the Greenwich Village hotel, to their afternoons on the Amber Cliff, then slowly to who they were today. Magdalene and Sam. Together. In love.

And she saw love in Sam’s eyes every day, too. On the most horrific of days, when they’d been kneeling on the floor of the burning school, surrounded by smoke, not knowing which direction would take them to safety, to the day when Sam slayed the wolf that had hunted Magdalene all her life.

As George spewed hatred and bile, as her poison was flicked in the air like venomous confetti, Sam’s eyes had shone with love, affection, compassion, and assurance.

You are my love, and nothing will ever change that. Love. My love.

And that day, one of the worst in Magdalene’s life, had been made a little better, her shoulders were weighed down by less grief and sorrow and yes, guilt.

“I feel responsible, darling.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she closed her eyes at the humiliation. Enough time had passed, surely she should have dealt with this…

“For the school burning down?” Sam’s fingers circled her wrist and just held, not pulling or pushing. A connection, not unlike her old Vacheron, lifesaving in the end. “For George?”

George… The wolf… Twenty years of stalking, of wet, heavy breathing on the other end of the line…

Magdalene flinched. To this day, her hands would go numb at her cell ringing out of the blue with an unknown number. And George had begun to serve twenty-five years on a plea deal she took all the while screaming that she was doing this for Magdalene. Alden, despite losing the election, continued to hold a lot of sway with the DA’s office, and as Magdalene found out later, the bargain wasn’t all that advantageous to her former best friend. In fact, Magdalene had a distinct suspicion that, had George not tried to kill Alden’s daughter, they would have been more lenient.

Still, knowing that George would likely never see the light of day as a free woman did nothing to assuage Magdalene’s guilt.

“Darling, do you know how many times I told myself that I would deal with my suspicions later, my presentiments, her strange reactions, and even my mother’s conviction that George was obsessed with me?” Magdalene took a tentative step towards Sam and was instantly enveloped in the welcoming arms.

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