Chapter Three #2
“And not even a single sorry? I would have settled for an oopsie daisy.” A chuckle behind her reminded Maggie that she should definitely keep her voice down, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Taliesin’s complete disregard for their safety.
Whatever had happened in that lab had endangered a building full of students and teachers and would be inconveniencing them all for much longer.
And he couldn’t be bothered to say anything about it?
No, she sincerely doubted that Arthur Taliesin had ever taken accountability for anything in his miserable life.
—
All Monday morning, Maggie had been meaning to find a moment to check her email to learn who her office mate was going to be, but her classes had kept her very busy. Each one ran long as students had dozens of questions about the pall and what it would mean for the rest of the semester.
During her last class, she did her best to reassure them.
The pall’s origins may still be a mystery, but she was, at least, confident in the wards protecting the campus.
“The pall is contained. It cannot seep through the rune wards,” she promised.
Visible relief cascaded over some of the more nervous students.
“What about fantasmia?” a student named Francis asked. Wraiths, ghouls, and even banshees were common enough that every home was warded against them, but they were sure to become more of a nuisance the longer the pall lasted.
“Palls act as beacons for fantasmia. They are drawn to the power the pall pulls from the underworld,” Maggie explained.
“It’s reasonable to expect increased sightings the longer this thing is around, so be smart.
Don’t travel alone, especially at night.
Wear protective runes. And call the campus wardsmith if you notice anything strange. ”
When she finally dismissed the class, she made a beeline for her office to boot up her old computer.
The basement was a flurry of activity. Her colleagues were busy rearranging furniture and chatting far too merrily with their new office mates.
Maggie sighed with relief when there wasn’t anyone from the third floor waiting outside her office for her to return.
As her computer whirred to life, Dahlia’s high-pitched twinkle of a laugh cut through the din in the hallway.
Maggie leaned back in her chair to peek out her door and saw Dahlia struggling to carry a heavy wooden desk along with a young Alchemy and Transmutation Biology professor named Jim.
His class was a favorite among students.
Of course it was. Who wouldn’t want to learn how magic could be used to transform a butterfly into a songbird?
She had shared a wall with Jim’s class last semester, and Maggie had appreciated how courteous he was, always checking in to make sure the days he spent demonstrating transmutation didn’t interrupt her exam sessions.
Maggie spun away from her computer. “Do you need any help?” she called out to Dahlia and Jim.
“Please!” her friend said, straining under the weight of her end of the desk.
Maggie lifted the desk next to Dahlia, catty-corner to Jim. A soft sheen of sweat had formed at Jim’s brow, and his winter-pale skin was ruddy with effort, but he had a good-natured smile on his face.
“Maggie! I haven’t seen you all semester.”
“You’ll be seeing a lot more of me now,” she said as they angled the desk into Dahlia’s office, pivoting until it just fit.
The office was chaotic, and that was putting it kindly.
Stacks of file folders propped up stacks of books; the trash can overflowed with discarded papers.
Maggie knew from experience that every drawer looked like a kitchen junk drawer, but Dahlia had somehow cataloged their contents and could point you to anything you needed.
Dahlia’s walls were plain apart from a giant chalkboard hanging on one wall that was currently covered in her careful runes, and she had managed to clear a single, desk-sized space by the door.
Somehow, as they angled the furniture into the office, only a single pile of file folders fell over, spilling papers across ancient linoleum.
Jim stood beside the desk, catching his breath, and surveyed the state of his new office as Dahlia gathered the fallen papers.
“It’s okay to be horrified,” Maggie said.
“Dahlia and I shared a classroom our first year at Hawthorn, and I swear I found an X-ray of her foot in our desk at the end of the year.”
“I’m sorry…what?”
Dahlia scoffed. “That was four years ago, Magnolia.” Maggie scrunched her nose at her full name as Dahlia went on. “I sprained my ankle on campus, and one of the nursing students graciously offered to make sure I hadn’t broken a bone, I’ll have you know. She gave me the X-ray as a keepsake.”
As Maggie and Dahlia continued to squabble about things that happened years ago, Jim studied the runes on the chalkboard appraisingly. He drew closer to a spot on the chalkboard and interrupted their bickering. “What’s this?”
Maggie leaned over Jim’s new desk to get a closer look and practically screeched. “Gods below, Dahlia, are you for real?”
Jim began to read it out loud. “Tall—at least six one. Has a younger brother. Funny in a self-deprecating way.”
Maggie shushed Jim and looked around like there might be someone listening.
“That’s for inspiration,” Dahlia said, ignoring Maggie’s protestations. “We are trying to find Maggie’s mystery man. We went to the Beltane festival on Brig Beach, and Maggie fell in love.”