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“Good morning to you too, Headmistress Nox.” Sam inclined her head towards the doors. “If it wasn’t thoroughly unprofessional, I’d say you look wonderful today, so instead I’ll say that you look like you’re having a bit of a morning.”
Magdalene sat down carefully, setting the mug in front of herself. Immediately, Willoughby made his presence known with a loud meow.
“You mean the esteemed Professor Fenway and her usual histrionics? She is very upset that I dared to insinuate that somebody is out to oust me and perhaps even harm me.”
Sam sat back, surprised. “You spoke to her about yesterday?”
“The whole island knows by now, either due to the fact that I had the local electrician up to inspect the damage and give me his conclusions about what happened and fix the damn power over at the faculty dormitory, or because absolutely nothing at this school can remain secret for even a couple of hours.”
Sam smiled, relieved when she could see that the strain around Magdalene’s eyes was starting to smooth out.
“What did the electrician have to say?” Not ready to hear, again, about the shortcomings of the woman she cared for deeply, Sam tried to steer the conversation away from Orla.
“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 was so disconcerted by what she had heard, she honestly couldn’t quite believe her ears, it was simply too outlandish. And asking was a better option than jumping to conclusions.
“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 at Magdalene and felt her shoulders relax slightly. So whoever was after the Headmistress, or Sam—since she wasn’t yet convinced of the former—wasn’t homicidal.
“Just malicious then.”
“Yes, not murderous.” Magdalene seemed to echo her thoughts, and they sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the recent revelations. Just as Magdalene raised her mug to her lips, Willoughby screeched like he was being skinned and gave her leg a mighty headbutt.
“He seems hungry?”
“He seems particularly unpleasant this morning. Not that a cat is pleasant in general.”
“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.” Her tone was pure evil, but at the same time Magdalene looked around as if trying to find something suitable to feed him, obviously already forgetting that she was supposed to act as if she hated the cat. The sausages on the breakfast buffet seemingly appealed and as she got up to get him some, Willoughby suddenly jumped up on the table with a speed and agility that belied his massive bulk, and within a second upended Magdalene’s mug.
Sam jumped, her hand scalded by the hot beverage, and Magdalene was by her side instantly, hissing at Willoughby, who appeared utterly 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, Magdalene pulled her to the side table and tossed all the pats of butter from the bowl of ice cubes they’d been chilling in. Adroitly, and before Sam could fully understand what was happening, she had her scalded palm full of ice and was wincing and whimpering under the gaze of the bi-colored eyes, which held both worry and gentleness.
“This sucks, the cold hurts more than the hot coffee, I swear.” Sam shuddered, but Magdalene held her hand firmly, her own fingers closing over Sam’s fist.
“I would not have taken you for a wimp, Professor. What would your students think?” The tone was teasing and playful, but the eyes stayed gentle and Sam wanted to smile. She wanted to reach out and smooth the line between those expressive eyebrows. Wanted to taste the corner of that generous mouth. She simply wanted. And having Magdalene’s hands on her skin again was worth the burn and more.
“Not a wimp exactly…” It was time to change the subject because Sam was not about to confess how much of a big baby she was trying not to be. Her eyes fell on the spread in front of her, and a glass bottle half full of ivory liquid with a haphazardly scratched off label, standing behind the tea kettles and coffee thermos caught her eye.
“Well, this might explain why my coffee didn’t quite taste as usual.”
Magdalene followed her line of sight, and her face fell. Pale and frozen, her fingers slipped off Sam’s hand and she visibly recoiled from the side table.
Sam looked back at the mess on their table, her own coffee mug cooling rapidly amidst the wreckage. She picked it up again 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.” But Magdalene’s face still looked frozen in shock.
“Is it soy milk, Sam?”
Sam, her hand entirely forgotten, moved to the buffet table, picked up the bottle, and read the remnants of the label. Soy milk indeed. She took a sip from both the bottle and the milk jug, trying to compare.
“I wouldn’t really know soy milk if it came in and introduced itself. But whatever’s in the bottle, is also in the regular milk jug, and it’s not a cow product for sure. Why?”
Magdalene turned back from Sam, who was still holding the bottle with the semi-torn label, and gave Willoughby a long look, before extending her hand which he took as an invitation to pad towards it and curl into.
“I’m allergic to soy, Sam.”
