Page 91 of Magdalene Nox

“Samantha Threadneedle, what the hell do you think I’m doing?” Magdalene, irritated with herself for being so easily outwitted, so easily ensnared like a damn rat in a trap, rammed her entire upper body into it, while holding on to Willoughby. To her abject horror, the door didn’t budge. A loud crash sounded as something collapsed on the other end of the attic, where the fire was making its way through the debris.

Her own efficiency and precaution were to blame for impeding them now. There was nobody to curse but herself, since she’d given the goddamn order to make this place more secure.

“The latch! Remember the massive latch we installed to keep the girls out?”

Sam nodded as she pushed at the door herself, putting her whole weight into it. The old wood rattled a bit on the hinges but did not give in significantly.

Whatever noises they had heard before were probably the footsteps of whomever had lured them here, then slammed and secured the door from the outside.

Who would do this? From rats and flowers to this?

They were locked in with the fire ravaging a few feet away. The sharp smell of melting plastic and burning, rotting wood was nauseating, and it was all Magdalene could do not to gag.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, but all she could think about was how foolish she had been, how arrogant in her absolute belief in her own power, in her own immortality. And in that they had time.

They had both fallen prey to the simplest, most imbecilic trap in the history of tricks and now they were confronted with the consequences of said arrogance.

With smoke rapidly filling the attic as the fire made quick work of the old shelves and crates, one look at Sam’s grime-stained face told her that the door was by far not the only obstacle they were battling.

Sam’s eyes were wide, the whites almost entirely consuming the beautiful ashen irises while the parted lips were colorless. The scene in the elevator from months ago, flashed across her mind. Claustrophobia.

No, no, no…

“Sam…” It took all of Magdalene’s strength and presence of mind to keep her voice absolutely calm, but she could feel her hands trembling, even as she held the squirming, frightened cat. In front of her eyes, perhaps sensing that Magdalene’s resolve was frayed, Sam grit her teeth and took a deep breath.

“The lock and whatever else is holding this thing may be new, but the hinges and the wood are old as dirt, and probably brittle. If we push together on this end…”

With the fire burning hot at their backs and Magdalene clutching the trembling Willoughby in her right arm, their shoulders hit the door with perfect synchronicity. Two tries, and the hinges flew off the rotten frame, just as Sam had predicted. What they hadn’t anticipated was that the two of them would spill onto the floor, propelled by the force of their push and the splintering of the door.

“You okay?” In the light of the blaze consuming the attic, Sam’s eyes were made of coal and fire, the anger in them just as raw and just as deadly, mirroring the rage that was burning in Magdalene’s. Sam nodded, grabbing the frightened Willoughby from Magdalene’s arms and holding him to herself tightly. “Good.” Magdalene gulped down the bile rising in her throat and shook off the remnants of fear. When she spoke again, her voice was dead calm. “We have to get the children and the staff out.”

Before Sam could nod again,Magdalene grabbed her free hand and took off. She didn’t turn to see the Sky Blue Dragon breathe fire, consuming itself, spewing ash and destruction on everything around it. There was no time. The beast that she was sworn to protect was wounded, and she had no idea how to save it, or if she’d even be able to. She might as well try and salvage what she could, though, and she’d be damned if she’d fail. With Sam, Willoughby still in her arms, following her closely, Magdalene felt the earlier tenuous hold on time yet again, her fingers gripping tight.

Please, hold on… Don’t let go…

Whether she said that to herself or to the wounded dragon throbbing in the throes of death around her, she didn’t know, as she raced to save what she still could.

25

OF RAGING INFERNOS & BROKEN SHACKLES

By the time Magdalene marshaled the faculty, the attic was destroyed. She tried to take some small measure of solace in the fact that it was her flawlessly designed, religiously practiced, and now perfectly executed evacuation plan that saved everyone, but the aftertaste in her mouth was stale. All smoke and bile.

When the roof of the Sky Blue wing had collapsed and the fire was consuming the Amber’s third floor, with Viridescent slowly crumbling around itself, Magdalene wanted to shake the damn volunteer firefighters.

Why did she think that, despite the wings being kindling, the Main Hall with its marble and granite could still be saved? Their dejected faces and resolute head shakes at her mere mention that something might still be done for the central building were a depressing sight.

There was no saving the school.

The thought hit her dead center of her chest and burrowed there, as if the Dragon was trying to hide from the inferno he himself had unleashed. He whimpered, wounded, and Magdalene wanted to weep. She had tried so hard for this damned place, and now that she had finally made her tenuous peace with it, when she had at last taken the role she had always been destined for, it was all dying around her.

She turned, unable to take her eyes off the fire, the crashing shingles and breaking glass cutting her to the very core.

I won’t be able to save the school.

She had failed, and damn if it didn’t hurt. Magdalene closed her eyes and felt a tear roll down her cheek.

How many times had she dreamed of this very scenario? How many times, at sixteen, at twenty-six, at damn forty-six had she wished it all to hell, wanted to watch it burn? And now that it was happening, now that the useless men from town stood around her, wringing their hands, shrugging, and looking away? Now that the entire student body and faculty were standing around the ash-strewn grass of the quad in small groups, watching the beast die in front of them? Why did it feel like she had killed it herself?

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