Page 29 of Magdalene Nox

Interesting.Not entirely surprising, but nonetheless, something to ponder. Both how to deal with Timothy’s resurgent possessiveness—if it was even real or just something George tended to magnify—and Alden. Especially since Magdalene had not seen him parse any special attention to any of the other teachers.

Still, any question focusing on Sam would only point George in that direction, and Magdalene was eager to avoid that at all costs. She appreciated and cherished her friend. But some things, some monumental things, like the fact that she was bisexual for example, Magdalene hadn’t shared with George.

If asked why, she would be hard-pressed to pinpoint the reason. Only Timothy and, apparently, her mother were privy to that part of her life. Was it fear? Of judgment? Of ostracization? She was fairly certain that the last relationship George had been in years ago at Rodante was with a woman.

And yet something about Sam, about what had transpired between them, and the revelations that Magdalene had had since—about herself and about her sexuality—felt so deeply personal, so intimate and private, that, coming out aside, she knew she would never share them.

Some aspects of her life were not meant to see the light of day, or be seen by the eyes of others. These were very much those aspects.

Plus, she’d been alone for so long. A nomad by profession, divorced and with mostly George for company and confidence—since she had been universally hated everywhere she went—sharing didn’t come easy to her. Not even with George. And Timothy’s presence in her life was easily explained. She trusted him. Despite the cheating, he had been her rock in every other aspect for so long. And she trusted so very few.

Diversion it was then.And since Timothy had popped into her mind, and knowing George’s raging animosity towards her ex-husband, Magdalene threw him to the wolves without a single regret.

“Maybe that was Timothy’s way of showing interest? You know how downright neanderthal men can be about women they like.”

Predictably, George’s eyes darkened with anger.

“So you’re saying he is up to his old tricks, then? Drooling over another woman while trying to get back into your bed?”

Magdalene smiled inwardly. This derailing of the conversation always worked.

“He is free to drool over whomever he chooses to.” She had no intention of revealing that she was about as certain as one could be that he was absolutely not Sam’s cup of tea. Thank goodness.

But George was always most efficient when focused on something or someone. And she just loved being enraged with Timothy. Since he ignored her masterfully, absolutely unperturbed by the little ball of rage at his side, it took the issue off Magdalene’s hands and kept the peace. In fact, it had done so for years, ever since George helped her pack her things after Magdalene had caught Timothy cheating on her in their own bed.

Bygones… Long past bygones. And it did lead to a wonderful path of exploration…

Magdalene had long accepted her bisexuality, but she had only started to truly delve deeper into it after her divorce. So really, it hadn’t been all bad. Not all bad at all. She hid her smirk behind her tumbler.

“And as you can see, my bed is very much undisturbed, which really is quite the mercy, because it’s late.” Another eyebrow-raise, and George, her face suddenly pinkish again, shuffled towards the exit.

“Sure, sure, of course. Undisturbed bed, ha ha, you are just always so funny, Maggie. But yes, long… Very long day tomorrow. Lots to do and all that. Sleep well… Yes, very well!”

As the muttering and the wishes stopped behind the newly closed door, Magdalene leaned against it and took a deep breath. More relaxed now, she surveyed the room, trying to pinpoint the peculiar sensation that was washing over her. She took off the Vacheron, the titanium clanking loudly against the marble of the kitchen counter and suddenly, she knew.

The oddest sensation in the strangest and most inappropriate of places.Serenity.

Before she could delve into how ridiculous it was to feel serene when everything around her was in a complete state of upheaval—some by her own hand, but most due to the total desperation caused by incompetence and mismanagement—the scratch she thought she had imagined earlier sounded very clearly from the direction of the door.

It wasn’t that she wasscaredof mice… Not exactly. Magdalene Nox was not scared of anything.Warywas the word she would use.Yes.She was wary of the disgusting little creatures who could climb up one’s leg and get under one’s clothes…

With one hand grabbing the broom and the other pulling the door wide open, Magdalene was prepared for pretty much anything. Except the cat. Who seemed to have absolutely no fear of her, nor of her probably quite frightening expression, or of the raised broom, for that matter. In fact, the cat sat back on its haunches, just like it had in her office, and gazed at her steadily, then at the room behind her, then back at her, their eyes meeting in eerie synchronicity.

“Well…” She hadn’t realized she was about to speak until the words left her mouth, but the cat looked past her once again, and its half meow, half whine was perspicuous.

“Oh, no you don’t!” The nerve of this critter. Magdalene gave the cat her best glare. “I don’t know who lived here before me and whether you were welcomed, as you seem to be everywhere else in this damned place, but you are not here. So shoo!”

She motioned with the broom, but the cat’s bicolored eyes were laser-focused on her now.

Magdalene set the broom aside and crossed her arms. “So it’s going to be like that? Fine, sit here all night if you want. There is absolutely no way you are allowed in my room, you mangy animal.”

Delighted that she’d had the last word, Magdalene closed the door firmly in the cat’s calm face.Too calm, she thought.

Nonetheless, it was a small victory, and she was going to enjoy the rest of her whiskey in peace before taking a long shower and maybe catching at least a few hours of sleep before tomorrow brought more mayhem.

As she reached for the abandoned tumbler, the scratch at the door sounded again, now accompanied by a very pitiful meow.

“Absolutely not!”

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