Page 72 of Magdalene Nox

When she crossed the threshold into the cabin, Lily was wearing the captain’s hat, and Magdalene had to bite her lip to keep the smile from emerging, lest she encourage the already thoroughly confident girl. But Lily saw through the attempt at subterfuge and giggled, the sound so pure and innocent and joyful, Magdalene just watched as the rest of the girls joined in, basking in the light of their unburdened happiness, knowing her own was just a few feet away, brooding on the deck, all golden in the morning sunshine.

With the cliffs now looming closer through the cabin windows and the school’s main building safely ensconced behind the towering sentinels, Magdalene looked at the treasure and joy surrounding her, and her vow to defend, to protect, to set everything right, had never been more imperative, her purpose never more important.

“Do your worst…” Her murmur was too quiet for anyone to hear, but Magdalene felt the surge of power from at last committing to her goal fully, and assuming all the risk that was sure to entail. Still, as she turned to gaze at Sam coming towards her, the ocean waves rocking the ferry and the island almost within reach, Magdalene couldn’t hide her satisfied grin. Some perils came with the most beautiful rewards.

20

OF CONCERNED FRIENDS & BLACKBERRY JAM

Now that she had made a decision, Magdalene threw herself into saving Dragons with everything she had. She sent a massive ‘thank you’ to Magdalene from a month ago, when, despite being intent on revenge and destruction, she’d had the excellent foresight to not actually make any permanently damaging decisions.

As it stood, Dragons needed a rather considerable cash infusion, and it needed it immediately. It also required even more considerable slashing of existing expenses, in addition to what she had already announced. This was a task Magdalene dreaded at certain moments—because for the first time ever, it felt like she was cutting into a living organism—and one she not so secretly relished on other occasions, because it pissed off Fenway.

With an immutable line drawn in the sand, that neither Sam nor her would risk their positions at the school by being improper, Magdalene only had so much enjoyment left in her life, and making Orla turn purple by prompting the veins to pop on that skinny neck Magdalene wanted to wring at times, was one of her more exhilarating activities. Noisy, but exhilarating nonetheless.

“I have no idea how you even got this job, Nox! Wait! Hold on, I knowexactlyhow you got it!” Orla stood in the middle of Magdalene’s office, after barging in on her meeting with David Uttley, who was quietly observing, perched on the edge of the small conference table strewn with the spreadsheets they were discussing.

Magdalene set her jaw. She still didn’t like him. Above all, she still didn’t trust him, considering nothing exonerated him from being the one behind the string of decidedly unpleasant—to say the least—events. Magdalene jutted out her chin as she thought about how he continued to watch Sam with those sad little eyes full of yearning. The same eyes that gave Magdalene the occasional mean, dark look he would then swiftly control.

Nonetheless, she appreciated that he was civil, professional and, above all, very good at his job. His department ran like clockwork, and he was quite useful when it came to advice about cutting spending. Dispassionate. Unlike Sam, who was all passion, all fire, desire…

Dammit… Back to the task at hand, Nox!

That task at hand was a screaming Orla, who seemed to be accusing her of something nefarious. Or simply immoral. Whatever her point of contention was today.

Magdalene raised an eyebrow, and next to her, Uttley shrank back, able to recognize her moods by now.

Smart.

He did, however, not budge despite the flinching, and Magdalene almost rolled her eyes.

Nosy.

Which also made him not smart. After all, what did he have to be curious about? Her spats with Orla were infamous and overheard by pretty much everyone within earshot. She was tempted to sigh, but that would have been a sign of weakness in front of these two.

“Well, if you are intimating that I slept with a trustee, Doctor Fenway, then yes, I did… For years, in fact, I believe it’s calledmarriage.” She infused her voice with as much sarcasm and poison as she could muster and watched as the veins in Orla’s forehead and neck did indeed pop. So satisfying.

Before Orla could retort, Magdalene’s landline rang, and her smile only grew sharper when Orla glanced at the display, no doubt as familiar with the number of the island’s Town Hall as Magdalene was by now. Excellent. That side of things was moving swimmingly.

Good, old hag, keep thinking your angry thoughts.

“Mr. Mayor!”

Magdalene waved her hand at Orla and Uttley as a not-so-subtle hint to vacate her office. The expressions of utmost contempt, discontent, and unsatisfied curiosity on their faces warmed her heart.

As she was hanging up, George sauntered into the office, arms—per usual—filled with a plethora of files, notebooks, and haphazard pieces of paper. How she made any sense of that chaos, Magdalene did not know, but some things were better left unquestioned. George was a highly efficient secretary. The little Southern spark plug ran her office like a well-oiled machine.

“The workers have finished moving the archives to the attic, Maggie.”

The appellation that no one ever used, and certainly nobody else ever dared, still abraded her ears. She didn’t care for it and had to resist the urge to grind her teeth every time George availed herself of it. Magdalene recognized that her affection for the woman and a desire to not offend the small number of people she tolerated had prompted her to put up with things that she perhaps shouldn’t have.

Her old therapist would be proud, because, emboldened by her spat with Fenway, Magdalene straightened up. She had made a decision.

“Dr. Moore, the day shall come when I will ask George to stop calling me Maggie…”

Before she could speak, George, efficient as always, began rattling off a list. “The meeting with the townies is all but confirmed for early next week. The minutes of the latest Transition Committee meeting are in your email for your approval, and I will file them as soon as you give the okay. The contracts for land-use you asked me to look up are in this folder and the ones regarding personnel files are in the boxes in my office. Finally, the visit to the town veterinarian for Willoughby’s followup regarding his weight is set for Saturday.”

… but today shall not be that day, Dr. Moore.

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