Page 58 of Magdalene Nox

Sam smiled, though Magdalene could see she was ready, if not eager, to move the conversation away from Fenway. She admired loyalty, but damn, why couldn’t Sam be loyal to someone else instead of that harpy?

“What did the electrician have to say?”

Magdalene stirred her coffee and decided to be magnanimous. Sam’s smile was adorable, and it really was time to leave Fenway out of her morning.

“The damnedest thing. And don’t get me wrong, if his assessment is correct, I will call law enforcement immediately, but I might need to bring in another electrician from the mainland to make sure this one wasn’t just hungover or something, but he said the strangest thing. He swore up and down that some devices, resistors or some such things were used to lower the voltage in the power line, bringing it down significantly. He said that, under the circumstances, a person would’ve gotten some burns, but that would pretty much be the extent of the damage.”

“I’m sorry, somebody did what?” Sam gaped at her, the shock so acute, so sincere, it warmed Magdalene’s heart. Yes, she’d already determined that Sam had nothing to do with the adverse events, but every single time she saw confirmation that her faith was not misplaced, it laid another brick in the foundation of something that was building inside Magdalene’s heart.

“Even if you wouldn’t have been wearing the galoshes, the electrical current would not have killed you. Given you a pretty unpleasant jolt and maybe burned your hand, but it wasn’t strong enough to do worse.”

Sam blinked, and Magdalene saw her shoulders relax slightly.

“Just malicious then.”

“Yes, not murderous.” Magdalene spoke as softly as she could, and then silence reigned. There wasn’t much more they could say on the subject, and since bringing up her suspicions about Orla Fenway or David Uttley was not conducive to having a nice morning, she let it go.

She looked at her mug and realized that Sam, as always, had managed to get all of her attention, even drawing it away from the one thing she had never once ignored in favor of anyone. Her coffee.

She blew carefully on the still steaming mug and its lifeline in the form of golden liquid, when Willoughby suddenly screeched as though he was being skinned and gave her leg a mighty headbutt.

Sam stared at him in surprise.

“He seems hungry?”

“He seems particularly unpleasant this morning. Not that a cat is pleasant in general.”

Magdalene tried for her best stern look. Her relationship with the tom was nobody’s business, really, not even Sam’s. Why did everyone insist on calling her out on it? She couldn’t understand.

She huffed an exasperated breath and was more than ready to change the subject again when Sam started to laugh.

“Ouch, you really should stop trying to fool me. I know you’re just as fond of him as he is of you.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Professor, he’s just a strange animal that the school insists on keeping around for some reason. I have nothing to do with him.”

Magdalene knew her tone was pure evil, even as she looked around, trying to find something suitable to feed him. She spied a sausage-filled skillet on the breakfast buffet and got up to get some for him. No sooner had she left her chair than Willoughby scrambled up onto the table with a speed and agility that belied his massive bulk, and in an instant, upended her precious coffee mug.

To Magdalene’s horror, Sam jumped up, hissing as she clutched her hand, shaking it. Magdalene rushed to her side, glaring at Willoughby, who appeared unrepentant and completely content as he sat on the table, observing the mess he’d just made.

Tugging at Sam’s wrist and sidestepping the pooling coffee on the floor, she examined the scalded red skin.Cold. They needed something cold. Magdalene pulled Sam to the side table and tossed all the pats of butter from the bowl of ice cubes they’d been chilling in. Sam blinked, clearly not comprehending what was happening, allowed Magdalene to maneuver her hand and fill her scalded palm with ice, wincing and whimpering under Magdalene’s gentle ministrations.

“This sucks, the cold hurts more than the hot coffee, I swear.” Sam shuddered, but Magdalene held her hand firmly, her fingers closing over Sam’s fist.

“I would not have taken you for a wimp, Professor. What would your students think?” She kept her tone teasing and playful, trying not to frighten Sam. Her effort must have succeeded, because despite the obvious pain and tension in the shoulders, Sam smiled a smile Magdalene knew. One so full of adoration and want—simple, uncomplicated want—despite all the unpleasantness they had found themselves in, that it had made Magdalene’s heart ache with the sweetness of it.

“Not a wimp exactly…” Sam mumbled, and Magdalene scoffed, but didn’t want to embarrass her more.

After a few tense moments, Sam was the one to speak first. “Well, this might explain why my coffee didn’t quite taste as usual.”

Magdalene followed her line of sight, and she could feel blood drain from her face. Not an accident, not Willoughby being a ginger asshat… She felt her limp fingers slip off Sam’s hand and blanched.

Sam’s gaze landed back on the mess on their table, where her own coffee mug was certain to be cooling rapidly amidst the wreckage. Giving Magdalene a long look, she walked over, picked it up, and took a careful sip.

“Yeah, this isn’t regular 2% milk. Just doesn’t taste quite right. I have no idea what that bottle is doing here and why it would have been added to the milk we normally use for our coffee.” Sam’s voice was calm, soothing, but Magdalene still couldn’t shake the shock, her stomach roiling.

“Is it soy milk, Sam?”

Sam, her hand obviously forgotten, moved back towards the buffet table, took a sip from both the bottle and the milk jug. Her face twisted almost comically.

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