Chapter 8
MAGNUS
T he buzz of eighty chattering girls filled the front lawn of Sion Academy. I stood at the entrance of the main building, invigorated by the energy in the air.
White shirts and plaid skirts gathered in four groups, representing each of the four grade levels. Each group of twenty students was assigned to a teacher, an escort, who would lead them off campus for the short walk to the church.
I glanced at my watch, and right on time, the groups began to file through the gate. Plaid uniforms bounced and twirled, wriggled and skipped, constantly moving. Teenage girls and their endless energy.
The trail of green plaid streamed through the gate and down the street until one group remained.
I checked my watch. 7:50.
The last group didn’t move.
“Father Isaac?” I met his eyes over the crowd of students. “What’s the holdup?”
The elderly priest adjusted his glasses and squinted at his phone. “I’m missing one.”
“Who?” I made my way toward him, scanning a few of the faces in his group.
Seniors.
I knew who the no-show would be before he said, “Tinsley Constantine.” He looked up at me. “I’ll go get her.”
Father Isaac was a brilliant music teacher, exceptionally attentive and good-natured. The students adored him.
Tinsley would eat him for breakfast.
“Wait here. I’ll deal with it.” I turned to the girl at my side. “Carrie. With me.”
I walked fast, cutting the ten-minute trek in half. Carrie tried to keep up, her shorter legs forced into a jog.
“Have you seen Miss Constantine this morning?” I hit the stairwell and took the steps two at a time.
“Yes,” she panted behind me. “She was with us when we left our rooms. She must’ve turned back.”
I glanced over my shoulder, marking her winded breaths and the sweat beading along her brow. “Add thirty minutes of cardio to your daily routine.”
“I have a full schedule this year.”
“Get up earlier.”
She blushed. “Yes, Father.”
The girl was an extraordinary vocalist in the church choir.
Highly intelligent. Strong work ethic. Her mother was the first African American senator in New Hampshire, her father the state attorney general.
A powerful political family, and my investigator had yet to uncover any corruption among them.
Carrie was mostly well behaved, but she needed to choose better friends. She spent too much time with Nevada Hildebrand, heiress to the multinational Hildebrand pharmaceutical corporation. Nevada was wild and desperate for attention. I gave her a month before she was suspended.
When I reached Tinsley’s dorm, I pounded on the closed door and stepped away with my back to the room. I wouldn’t put it past her to come out undressed.
She didn’t come out at all.
“Open it.” I nodded at Carrie, keeping my back to the door.
She obeyed and slipped into the room. Her footsteps halted. Then she whispered, “Girl, you’re in so much trouble.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Is she decent?”
“Define decent. ”
“Is she wearing her uniform?”
“Yes?”
Why did she answer that like a question?
I turned and found Tinsley sitting on the bed and shoving cookies into her mouth. She hugged a box of them to her chest and reached in to grab another handful.
“If you take one more bite, your punishment will double.” I glared at her.
She glared back and crammed the cookies into her mouth. Crumbs tumbled down her untucked shirt and gathered on her skirt. A skirt that wasn’t long enough to cover her thighs.
“Stand up and join me in the hall.” I clasped my hands at my back with my feet braced apart.
She took in my stance and slowly rose.
Jesus. Most of the skirt had been sheared off. It was so short that only a strip of plaid peeked out from beneath her shirttails.
Rather than hiding the destruction, she held the box of cookies out to the side and struck a pose. “Rate the fit.”
“The fit?”
“Old people,” she huffed under her breath. “The outfit. Rate the outfit.”
Carrie choked on a laugh and quickly blanked her face.
“I gave you an order, and every second you disobey is another strike.”
“You’re no fun.” Tinsley tucked the cookies to her chest, munching on another handful as she marched into the hall.
“Carrie, grab the scissors off the desk and join us.” I held out my hand to Tinsley. “Give me the food.”
She pushed her lips out and stepped back, hugging the box tighter. “I haven’t eaten since lunch. Yesterday. ”
“Catholics fast at least one full hour before receiving the Holy Eucharist.”
“I don’t know what that means but… phew. Good thing I’m not Catholic.” She ate another cookie and stared at my waiting hand.
I didn’t move, didn’t look away as I mentally added up her infractions.
Her breathing hastened, and she slowly moved the cookies toward me. I gripped the box, and she held on for a moment, tugging, testing me, before letting go.
Carrie appeared at my side. I took the scissors and gave her the cookies.
“Hold out your hand,” I said to Tinsley.
Her eyes popped wide. “No way.”
“The strikes are multiplying.” I kept my voice calm and my face expressionless. “Each one comes with a consequence. It’s going to be a very long day for you.”
“I won’t let you cut off my fingers. What kind of school is this?”
I lifted my gaze to her long, shimmery, pearl-colored hair.
“Not my hair!” She wheezed frantically and thrust out her arm. “If you draw blood, I’m suing.”
“The other hand.”
She growled and switched arms.
With a snap of the blades, I cut through the delicate diamond bracelet on her wrist and caught it as it fell.
“No!” Her jaw hung open, her breaths bursting out. “My brother gave me that! It’s a three-thousand-dollar tennis bracelet.”
“Now it’s worthless. Just like your uniform.” I tossed it toward the trash can in her room and handed the scissors to Carrie. “Which dorm did you steal the food and scissors from?”
Tinsley stared at her bare wrist, her eyes stark with rage.
“I have infinite patience, Miss Constantine. But right now…” I looked at my watch. “Twenty-one people are going to be late for Mass because of your selfishness.”
Her rebellion was expected, but she was pushing it too far, and she knew it.
“Last room on the right.” She pointed behind her.
“Return the stolen items,” I said to Carrie. “Quickly.”
As she raced off, I leaned in and put my mouth in the space beside Tinsley’s ear. She smelled like lemon drops and vanilla. And stolen cookies.
“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.” I breathed in her stillness, her helpless fear. “Mommy Dearest forked over a lot of money for you to be here. You’re stuck with me for a year.”
“The best way to motivate me is to tell me it can’t be done.” She turned her face toward mine, the sputter of her exhalations peppering my lips. “Save us both the trouble and send me home.”
Her mouth was too close. I could taste the sugar, the delicious sin that awaited on the other side of that narrow inch. It was just a twitch away. A short, compulsive motion.
Our gazes held, and in that sliver of impermissible nearness, I felt my teeth tearing into the poutline of her lips. I tasted her blood, heard her whimpers, and saw her beautiful pain.
The tread of footsteps ripped me from the reverie.
As Carrie hurried toward us, I straightened, and Tinsley released a held breath.
“Carrie.” I kept my voice smooth and unaffected. “Explain to Tinsley why Catholics practice fasting before Mass.”
“Physical hunger strengthens our focus and creates spiritual hunger for the Lord.”
“Thank you. You can go. Tell Father Isaac to head to the church. Tinsley and I will be a moment.”
“Okay.” She backed toward the stairwell, tossing me a coy smile. “It’s really good to see you again, Father Magnus. I look forward to your Advanced Calculus class this—”
“Mass started two minutes ago.”
“Right.” She spun and took off down the stairs.
Tinsley leaned against the doorframe of her room and slid her fingers along the placket of buttons between her breasts. “What are you going to do to me?”
“That’ll come later. It’ll be unpleasant, but try not to worry about it.”
“What do you mean?” Her fingers quivered, and she lowered her hand.
Delayed consequences had the best effect. The anticipation, the not knowing, was a consequence in and of itself. But it was nowhere near the punishment she would be receiving this afternoon.
A glance into her room confirmed she had four undamaged uniforms hanging in the closet.
“You have sixty seconds to follow the dress code and meet me in the stairwell.” I strode toward the exit.
“Are there any sharp objects along the way?” she asked my back. “So I can throw myself on one of them?”
“Fifty seconds.” I entered the stairwell and leaned back against the wall, seeking the coolness of the bricks.
As I lingered there, my thoughts tried to twist in a dangerous direction. Fifty seconds was too long to stand idle while surges of hot lust became reacquainted with my body.
My reaction to her made no sense. There was nothing even remotely attractive about the little imp.
The lie pricked my heart. Tinsley Constantine was inconceivably beautiful from every angle, unpredictable at every turn, and had a mouth on her that wouldn’t quit. She challenged me, shocked me, and twisted me up. Even if she was just a child.
She’s eighteen. Legal age of consent. Technically, an adult.
That meant Caroline’s parental rights were nonexistent.
Tinsley could leave Sion Academy, screw every male in the state of Maine, and there wasn’t a damn thing her mother could do about it.
Except cut her off. Caroline could and would take away Tinsley’s trust fund, financial support, and the roof over her head.
Maybe her mother wouldn’t disown her if she were expelled from Sion, but she was taking a huge risk trying to find out.
I refused to be part of it. She was my student, and it was my job to educate and discipline her. Anything else was an abuse of power.