Chapter 4 Cendi
CENDI
Morning dawned with Tilly draping herself across my ribs, Simon warming the curve of my knees, and a sliver of sun drawing a line across the floor that both cats pretended was a racetrack.
I bribed them with breakfast, promised an evening play session, and pulled on clothes, eager to participate in Jessie’s first official class as a teacher.
By the time I hurried to the cafeteria, grabbed a muffin, and reached the classroom, the chatter from the handle of people already there had thinned to a purposeful hush as they waited for the class to begin.
My gaze moved around the spacious and brightly lit room.
Jessie had claimed the largest workshop classroom as her own, the one with chalkboards on three walls and big windows.
Stools formed a semicircle in the center of the room.
On the front table was a neat stack of manila envelopes.
Manila envelopes that I was strangely excited about.
Who knew what exciting things were waiting for me within them?
Or maybe they had nothing to do with me or Jessie’s class. I was just in a really great mood. Today felt like the kind of day where anything could happen, but in the best possible way. I had no doubt that magic and mayhem was waiting for us. I just wasn’t sure which form it would take.
“Find a seat,” Jessie called, already in teacher mode. A slim pin on her lapel read Faculty. She kept pretending not to glance at it, before glancing anyway. “Good morning, trainees. Today is the first real step for all of you to stop being hazards and start being helpful.”
I laughed. That was one way to describe us.
Robbie slid onto the stool beside me. Jaylyn took the next one over, hair gathered in a tidy twist. Near the door, Headmistress Beth conferred with Mr. Vanderflit in low tones.
His jaw had that locked look, the set of a man who had not slept.
Headmaster John stood with them for a beat, then drifted to the back.
Drew and Ava arrived together and chose seats there as well.
Why they needed to be here for the first job shadowing class, I had no idea. Observing for clues maybe.
Jessie clapped once. “House matters first. Yes, the key is still missing. Yes, security has been tightened. No, you may not chase strange glows down laundry chutes. We trust our hunters with the chase. Meanwhile, we train. Eyes here.”
Robbie and I exchanged a look. How had our silly friend blossomed from an awkward helper to a confident teacher? We couldn’t be sure, but Robbie didn’t have to say a word for me to know that we were both really proud of her.
She hovered a hand over the stack. “Behold your future managers.”
A hand rose near the side wall. Mr. Clarke.
Crisp suit, precise hair, the air of a man who arranged his pencils with a ruler.
“Ms. Crayne,” he said, every syllable ironed.
“Perhaps this lecture should be delivered by a senior member of the faculty. The program is new. It would be prudent to avoid improvisation.”
Jessie smiled at him, kind and unyielding. “Thank you, Mr. Clarke. Administration asked me to lead. You’re welcome to stay and observe.”
He did not sit. He hovered. His actions were most certainly of a man who didn’t trust Jessie to do a proper job, or maybe that of a man who always preferred to be in control. Next to him, Ms. Ingow studied the window latch with devoted interest, her mouth turned down in permanent caution.
Jessie lifted the top envelope. My name appeared on the label in a clean typeface.
CENDOLYN AULT. The sight put a fizz in my chest. She slid the contents onto the table.
“Inside, you get three things. Case details: name, location, client dossier, mission parameters. Support tokens tailored to the case. And a return form: short questions that you answer when the work is finished. Seal the return envelope, and it vanishes.”
A skinny hand shot up from the third row. “Who sends them?”
“Unknown,” Jessie said. “We don’t call them a council. We don’t call them a board. Here we say upstairs, or them. Some people obsess about it. I do not recommend building your life around a mystery you can’t solve. The work in front of you matters more.”
Clarke sniffed, looking thoughtful. “I’ve noticed inconsistencies. Handwriting shifts. Symbols in margins.”
“Noted,” Jessie said, as if his statement was unimportant. “Sometimes notes appear that weren’t there the first time you read a page. Treat those as nudges, not orders. Use judgment. That’s why we train.”
Vanderflit pushed off the doorframe and stepped forward. “And remember,” he said, “we are not vending machines for wishes. We should only intervene when a life would improve because of it. There shouldn’t be fireworks for their own sake. Act with a purpose.”
A murmur moved through the room. My chest tightened.
Jessie inclined her head toward him. “Thank you.” She reached into the envelope again and held up a thin square of paper with a thumbprint shape pressed into the center.
“Travel charm. One use. You touch it, think of your client, and it carries you to them. When you close the case and seal the envelope, it pulls you back to where you started.”
A student near the windows raised a hand. “Can it carry more than one person?”
“That’s case dependent,” Jessie said. “Some allow two, some three. Most prefer exactly the number the case requires. They can be fussy.”
Another hand went up, and Alicia asked, “What can you bring through?”
“If you can hold it, you can bring it,” Jessie said. “Which is how I once arrived in a stranger’s kitchen with a lasagna. It helped.”
Marcus Abernathy lifted his pen. “Risks?” he prompted.
Jessie’s posture sharpened. “Don’t travel while your head is a hurricane.
We check each other. I will check you. Charms misfire around unstable warding.
Student travel remains observation-only until further notice.
” She looked at me, then Robbie, then the room.
“That means eyes open, mouths mostly closed, hands ready to take notes.”
Clarke cleared his throat with theatrical precision. “And we’re taking the students on observations today? Already?”
“Today,” Jessie said. “Learning happens in kitchens and living rooms as much as in lecture halls.”
Drew raised a hand at the back. “Hunters will accompany today’s observers,” he said. “Consider us boring chaperones.”
“Understood,” Jessie said, with only a flash of surprise before becoming focused once more. She tapped a short list. “Pairings. Robbie and Cendi with Mr. Clarke. Jaylyn with me. The rest of you, rotations over the next week.”
A low ripple of excitement moved through the semicircle. My pulse answered. Robbie’s knee nudged mine under the table, steady as always. Reminding me that everything would be okay. That he would be there with me.
Jessie got our attention again. “A quick run through of case flow. Today’s case we call the Soft Fix. No lightning. No dragon wrangling. A nudge that turns into a life.”
“Can you give an example?” I asked.
“Convincing a retired nurse to join a community garden,” Jessie said. “Tuning a grief-heavy home so a widower notices the neighbor that needs him. We don’t change who they are. We change the furniture around their choices.”
Clarke made a quiet noise that translated to disapproval. “Ms. Crayne, may I suggest we avoid romanticizing manipulation.”
Jessie kept her tone even. “Consent is non-negotiable. Influence without taking away agency.”
Beth stepped in then, her presence cooling the room’s friction. “Ms. Crayne leads with our full support. Mr. Clarke, your notes on procedure are welcome. Not your undermining.” She let that hang, then softened. “Everyone, breathe. Learn.”
John nodded once, steady as a lighthouse. “Carry on.”
“Questions?” Jessie asked.
Everyone’s hands stayed down. Either we understood or didn’t dare reveal we did not.