Page 51 of Magdalene Nox

“There is just so much wrong with that statement, mother, I don’t even know where to begin.His woman? Running off?For God’s sake!”

“You know I don’t particularly care for his name being used in vain.”

At the rebuke, Magdalene wanted to bang her head against the window this time. Right, a woman with a dozen husbands, half a dozen lovers, and a child out of wedlock cared about the Lord’s name being used in vain.

“I don’t even care if it’s true, Magdalene. Though after years of being this obsessed with that godforsaken school, shouldn’t you be focusing on the task at hand, rather than whomever else wants your hand?”

Magdalene’s temples throbbed in earnest now, and she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

“Mother!” Her outburst distressed Willoughby and he hissed, although his face plainly showed his displeasure was not with her. As if to solidify her impression, he jumped off his perch and rubbed his bulk against her ankles, leaving behind clumps of his fur.

Candace was not deterred by Magdalene’s raised voice. In fact, she seemed amused by it.

“Well, you got all huffy with me, young lady, and Timothy is much too upset for this to be nothing, so I know something is afoot.” The tone was too reasonable after the lurid joke, and gave Magdalene whiplash. “Just remember, you wanted this too much for too long to be getting distracted by some girl.”

The words, “She’s not a girl,” were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and Magdalene realized belatedly that she had fallen for her mother’s rather simplistic ruse and confirmed everything Candace had wanted her to. She could practically see the self-satisfied smirk on her mother’s face. Magdalene tugged at the ends of her hair in frustration.

Damn…

There was silence at the end of the line, and she held her breath for whatever would come out of Candace’s mouth next, but her mother surprised her yet again.

“Whoever she may be, Magdalene, keep your eyes on the prize.”

The dial tone reached her ears before she could reply, and she let the hand holding the phone drop from her ear, the Vacheron weighing as heavy as always on her wrist, a testament to her mother’s words.

Too much for too long…

Yes, she had. As she sat down in the deep leather chair that symbolized all the things she had indeed wanted, Magdalene stared at the desk covered with files and paperwork.

Thirty years was a long time to want something, to fight for something, to dream of something. Was this even worth it? The dead rats and those wretched flowers? The threats and the hatred she seemed to inspire everywhere she went? She squared her shoulders at the shiver that ran cold down her spine.

Unbidden came images of Sam, of that face with its perfect cheekbones and sculpted lips, torn between lust and antagonism. And yes, the question whether all this was even worth it returned tenfold.

The clock on Sky Blue Tower beat ten and Magdalene’s shoulders drooped. It was time to call it a night. Sleep would be a long time coming, especially with the storm’s fury outside, but there wasn’t anything else she could do here in this office, no matter how much she enjoyed the symbol of her power.

* * *

Willoughby meowedin the rain that did not seem to lessen and trotted next to her as she adjusted her umbrella to try to cover them both as much as she could. It was a short walk between the main school building—the marble of the old, sprawling mansion, dark and ominous, cast in light by the occasional lightning strike as thunder roared in the distance—and the newer faculty dormitory.

Still wearing her heels, Magdalene chose her steps carefully and delicately, mindful of the cat and of puddles.

As she approached the rear entrance, she heard voices, one young and cheerful—forcefully so—and one desperately, hopelessly familiar that, as always, made that wound in her chest throb a bit more.

Lily and Sam.Speaking in loud voices. Something about basketball. And physics? Shoes? “What on earth?”

The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could get a good look at what was happening, but twin-cries of “Don’t come closer!” and “Stay back!” weren’t what actually stopped her dead in her tracks.

There, illuminated by more lightning, stood Sam, holding a live wire that sparked and twisted, deadly in her grip.

Magdalene’s vision blurred. Her chest tightened, and she struggled to draw breath. She had never fainted in her life, and it took absolutely all she had not to pass out then and there. Only the thought that Sam could die right in front of her kept Magdalene’s eyes open, despite the darkening film that covered them.

* * *

Hourslater and she still couldn’t breathe with her full chest, fear clawing at her throat. Magdalene had dealt with the aftermath of the incident, trying to appear calm and collected. Trying to look in control. She must have pulled it off, since everyone did what she told them to, and the situation was handled and documented, and Sam was once again safe and sound. But she still couldn’t breathe.

The water running in Sam’s shower did little to soothe Magdalene’s frayed nerves. Knowing that Sam was there—and naked—had the effect of making her both soft and edgy at the same time. She closed her eyes, the danger long past, and tried to deal with her lingering fear and her desire. Such contradicting emotions should not coexist, and yet here they were, making her earlier headache return tenfold. She tried counting again.

Except somewhere around four, an image of taking her clothes off and joining Sam intruded, and Magdalene could not find the control she was so desperately reaching for. Her breath was coming out in shallow puffs, and she felt her clothes abrading her sensitive skin. It was all too much.

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