Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The council meeting room was in an oft-neglected part of Ludlow House.
Over a plush rug sat a long, rough-hewn wooden table.
On the walls were old black-and-white photographs of Ludlow Ranch from when it had operated as an actual ranch: cowboys herding cattle, horses grazing in front of the mesas.
Sconces laid a warm yellow glow onto bookshelves filled with books of Magic.
A woman was already seated inside, knitting needles floating in the air behind her, lazily completing the sleeve of her cardigan—Dr. Amy Nguyen, Professor of Comparative Literature and faculty president of the knitting club. Streaks of white hair ran through her messy bun.
“Ah, the dimidiums.* Was wondering when we’d be seeing you again. The other half of you, at least.”
Max didn’t just happen to know what I was feeling in the hallway by chance.
We weren’t each other’s objects; people couldn’t be objects, but our Magic was inextricably bonded, like two halves of a whole.
Alone, we could barely manage the simplest of spells.
But together, as dimidiums needed to be, our Magic had garnered itself a bit of a reputation.
It was the reason he’d volunteered every time Robetresse had asked me to come back.
Because if I came back, so did his Magic.
Max smiled and touched the brim of his hat. I said a brief hello before letting the thick strands of the Wall envelop me in my own private cocoon.
We were an odd pairing, I knew. The quiet, studious girl from the country and the lovable cowboy. I was the half that didn’t fit, the person content to fade into the background, typing up our research, while the beautiful part of our duo flashed his smile and made the crowd swoon.
The door opened, and one by one, the rest of the council members trickled in. A man in his seventies with a long, white, frizzy beard grunted in our direction.
Dr. Ellendale de Vries, Dean of the Numerology and Mathematics Department, and more frequently nursing a foul temper than a good one.
He took a seat at the far end of the table from Dr. Nguyen, for they harbored a long-standing, mutual grudge, and took out his abacus, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper.
Behind him trotted bookish, mild-mannered Lucas Perez, head of the Archaeology and Arcane Artifacts Department.
In his spare time, he ran an antiques shop with his wife where they studied the objects of people long dead, trying to determine if Magic could persist through death.
I looked down as his eyes zeroed in on mine.
He’d offered me a fellowship right before I left town.
A dark-haired teaching assistant I didn’t know sat behind Ellendale, and shortly after came Maritza.
Last to enter, sweeping into the room in her signature lavender, steel-toed boots, was Dr. Thea Robetresse.
She wore a huge handsaw* on a strap across her back and had amber tips to her box braids that looked a little like wood grain itself, going from ebony to oak to light ash.
She had a good-natured laugh and was known to her students as kind, with a philanthropic spirit uncommon in the Magic community.
However, since opening the school, she’d become more withdrawn from the public eye.
It seemed the years of attention and rumors of a past with experimental Magic at Britton College of the Arcane had taken their toll.
These days, she preferred to concentrate on her foundation, which was focused on discovering Magical ability in underrepresented communities and recruiting more Black Magicians across the country to attend S they’ll be at our gates with pitchforks. ”
Ellendale’s abacus clicked. “Basile,” he barked at the teaching assistant behind him, “pay attention.”
Dr. Robetresse nodded. “Which is why I’d like to get Danica’s condition reversed as quickly as possible.
Truth be told, I fear the Marble County Police Department will be supportive of the priest’s wishes, and I don’t know how long I can hold off the police and the Church.
Once she’s back to normal, we can just say it was shock that caused her condition …
and not what we know must be of Magical origins. ”
Maritza opened her mouth to protest, but Thea raised her hand. “I will not be entertaining any thoughts to the contrary.” She lowered her voice. “We’ve discussed this, Maritza.”
Maritza leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “The Devil’s boots don’t creak.”
Dr. Robetresse gave an exasperated sigh, and Max sat up suddenly. “We can do it. Give us a few days; we’ll fix her right up.”
I slid down a little further in my chair. A few days? We didn’t even have the slightest clue what was causing this, but that was Max. He liked to give people good news. I was always the one who had to fix it later, like a little storm cloud coming to rain on people’s hopes and dreams.
Robetresse seemed to share my doubts. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Middlemore. Graduation is at the end of the month, a little more than three weeks from now. If we don’t have the culprit identified by then, we lose our window of opportunity.
Though, in truth, I doubt we’ll have that long.
It’s not just the matter of the police. Ms. Hagood’s parents will certainly want answers before they lay their child to rest. They’re on their way here as we speak,” said Dr. Robetresse.
“I just can’t imagine why Danica would do this,” said Dr. Nguyen. “I had her in class. There was no indication she was a ruthless murderer.”
Dr. Robetresse flipped to a new photo on the projector, one of the same blond girl, this time hugging a brunette. Both had bright smiles. “The two girls had something of a romantic relationship, as I take it. Apparently, Dani was quite devoted to her.”
“It was probably a botched spell,” Max decided, overconfident as always.
But I frowned. It didn’t make any sense.
That was the whole point of Object Theory, the entire reason we practiced the Three Arts at Seinford and Brown.
Magic wasn’t all sprinkles and fairy rainbows.
It had bounds within which you needed to operate and very real consequences.
People died all the time. It was why students at our school practiced a safer, limited Magic using their objects.
Objects acted as a protective mechanism, protected you from the worst of Magic’s toll when you made a mistake.
Even so, few students hadn’t attempted something past their skill level at one point or another and ended up sick in bed, vomiting out excess Magic.
But never had I seen someone as bad off as Danica.