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They stood in silence for a moment. And when Sam turned and the early morning sun caught her face, turning her golden, Magdalene did gasp. Timothy turned to face her and laid a hand on her wrist, his smile wobbly, lips trembling with the concealed emotion of the finality of understanding. The finality of complete and absolute loss.
“Or perhaps you have finally found it?”
She didn’t answer, but when she silently stepped into his waiting arms, his hug was warm and safe and yes, familiar. And for once, he did not ask anything of her. For once, there was an understanding between them. And just this once, they were on the same page, even if he was currently bleeding with the red of disappointment and heartbreak.
* * *
She chose notto take his arm as they made their way to the ad hoc stage in front of the school. She didn’t sit either. Most of the trustees, who were huddled at the far end of the stage, returned the nod she directed at them. Even Alden bowed his head.Astonishing.
A glance in front of herself, at the sea of avaricious eyes, and she was ready. Her earlier musings about hornets returned as the volume of chatter increased just before she finally had enough. Her grip on the bell’s handle was too tight, her knuckles white, and she made a concentrated effort to relax her fingers before she rang it three times, quieting the crowd somewhat.
Orla, surrounded by her cohorts of old and young Dragonettes, still chattered away, the disrespect clear in everything from the continued noise to how most of them stood either with their backs to her or sideways, facing Orla, demonstratively reverential to their leader.
Magdalene wanted to laugh out loud. Such small, such ridiculous squabbles, all the while choosing to completely ignore the bigger picture of the school going up in proverbial flames in front of their own eyes. It was telling that misinformation and propaganda were poison so easily spread. All you needed was to identify a common enemy, and people’s hearts would be susceptible to anything.
Well, since I am your common enemy, ladies, let’s get all that hatred flowing freely then…
Her smile razor-thin and infused with all the venom she could muster, she began.
“Good morning and welcome to Three Dragons, distinguished guests. I’m surprised but gratified to find so many of you here today. I find it extraordinary that the Academy is still so clearly near and dear to your hearts, years after attending it.”
She deliberately kept her voice on the quieter side, lowering it still, as it forced those in attendance to remain entirely silent to hear her. The majority of the Dragonettes wore confused expressions, undoubtedly trying to figure out whether they should be offended by the pointed jab at both their age and their unusual numerous presence.
A glance at Orla’s face showed her it was a distinctive shade of puce now, which was very gratifying, but Magdalene was aiming for purple. She so adored pushing all those moth-balled buttons. Magdalene bit the inside of her cheek to hide her fiendish pleasure and continued.
“Still, I appreciate the unwavering support the school has received this summer. Because no matter our differences, one thing was always clear to me, even before I signed on to become Headmistress of Three Dragons. Under no circumstances could I let this school down. Too many people have cared about it too much for the past two centuries of hard work, to have its existence squandered on empty promises and elitist pretenses. I was called in to save the school, and I was given the requisite authority to do so by the trustees.”
The rustling behind her could only be Alden, since that was as big of a barefaced lie as she could have dropped on him. But since no one could contradict her in public and denounce her attempts at rewriting recent history—with the trustees basically imploring her to close the school and save whatever money could be saved—she cast her eyes over the six hundred or so souls now glued to her every word.
“When I took over the school, I found it in a crisis that, if not stopped and reversed, meant Dragons would have had to have closed its doors within twelve months.” The collective gasp was so resounding and perfectly synchronized, Magdalene felt in total control, the crowd now eating out of the palm of her hand.
A lone cry of“lies!”sounded from behind Sam and Joanne, and Magdalene licked her lips to hide her smirk. She had gotten her wish. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Orla Fenway, now the color of a plum, had finally reached the end of her rope.
Nonetheless, Magdalene was entirely unimpressed and unperturbed by the outburst. In fact, she didn’t even turn her head in the direction of the shout, instead proceeding once silence reigned again.
“This is fact.”
Three words, and a pin could be heard dropping. Yes, now they were all facing her, breaths bated, every set of eyes glued to her. Yes, now Orla Fenway, Stanton Alden, and the rest of these useless people did not matter. She had them, their attention. And for all their animosity, she had their respect. It was reflected in the hundreds of eyes watching her every move.
Magdalene counted to ten in her head, giving the hungry horde time to digest the information and to crave more. Her timing was impeccable when she adjusted the microphone, and those seated in the front rows tracked the movement of her hand like hyenas following her lion.
“It is also a fact that the previous administration had a very tough time running the school under some of the most difficult conditions. I would like to express my gratitude that they did so to the best of their ability.” Sarcasm may be the fool’s refuge, but Magdalene was past caring.
And the way Orla was spitting fire, raging to everyone around her who would listen in that stage whisper of hers that was louder than her actual voice, Magdalene knew it really didn’t matter what she said. She could have announced that Dragons had obtained funding for the next thousand years, and Orla Fenway would have picked up a pitchfork and gone after her, braying at her acolytes to follow.
Burn the witch, indeed.
Magdalene closed her eyes for a second, trying to dislodge the images her brain was conjuring. Was it not enough for actual demons to be haunting her? And yet this hit decidedly different than the hunting done by the wolf. This felt immediate, the sea of people screaming for her to be burned at the stake. So did her own psyche have to supply her with visions of being set on fire?
Brains were wonderful, awful things sometimes, and so were people. Especially zealots, no matter which side of the issue they were on. They were never helpful. They just wanted to see the world burn.
She swallowed hard, desperate now to dislodge the lump in her throat she herself had placed there. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse.
“Moving forward, I would like to inform you all about some of the changes that will be taking place at Dragons. Changes that I believe will save the school, and not only improve its situation, but guarantee its legacy as well as its survival.”
When she placed her hand palm down on the podium, the signal was immediately understood by those involved in her little subterfuge. A few seconds later, there was some movement to the side, and a beautiful, distinguished woman in a black suit stepped towards the front of the crowd.
“The trustees had a list of conditions for my appointment. Some of them were presented to the faculty at the beginning of summer and subsequently sent to all the families and Old Dragonettes via the school newsletter. Chief among those conditions was the return of the school to its spiritual roots.”
