Catherine let out a string of curses under her breath as her high heels clicked down the sidewalk. There was no reason why Zagan couldn’t help, or the stupid little girl, or any one of Martina’s other minions.
But no, the woman had to give it to Catherine.
Catherine had dropped to her knees in front of Martina. One patch on her thrice handed down pants tore loose. She clasped her hands together and looked up at her tormentor. “Please missus,” she had definitely said, “the nuns stalk the streets. They hunt for black blood. I’ll never survive.”
“You are my familiar. You will do as you are told,” Martina had said immediately before laughing in the most evil manner possible.
That laugh might have been impressive under other circumstances. It would have been more impressive had it not rested firmly within Catherine’s imagination. She might not have minded serving someone with a laugh that good.
The actual conversation may have involved several undocumented uses of specific fingers on the human hand, but that wasn’t how Catherine would be repeating the story.
There was one specific element she had actually been worried about. Apart from her general distaste for menial labor, that is.
Walking through the town in the early morning alone with those abhorrent nuns stalking around was going to get her killed.
Worse, Catherine’s clothes itched. Every step she took rubbed some part of it against some part of her. It was supposed to be real fur, yet it brushed against her skin in the most unnatural way.
When she had first been appointed as Martina’s secretary, Catherine tried to minimize the amount of cloth touching her sensitive skin. Martina put a stop to that. Apparently it wasn’t appropriate for a secretary to dress in such a manner. Parents would look down on a school that had one of its staff dressing in such a revealing manner.
Prudes.
Every last one of them.
Her current attire seemed to be pushing the limits if Martina’s expressions meant anything.
Catherine would push them more, if only to annoy Martina. She’d find the exact limits and go one step further. A new dress was set to arrive in the early days of next week specifically for that task.
With any luck, it would be more comfortable too.
That might as well have been forever away. Walking through the town in her current clothes would have to be dealt with for now.
Using her sharp fingernails, Catherine ran her fingers down the seams at her sides. The dress split straight down the sides. Only a thread at the very top of her dress, just beneath her arms, kept the back and front of her clothes from peeling apart.
Far more maneuverable.
Modesty stayed intact as well. For the most part. The dress might have swung too far apart from her belly and her legs as she walked. But who cared about that anyway. Even if someone did care, it wasn’t like anyone else was going to wake up at such a horrible time in the morning.
Anyone aside from nuns, that is. Catherine kept a careful eye on the early morning shadows.
She’d be teleporting out at the slightest hint of a nun. Martina could go screw herself. Her familiar status protected her from banishment, but she wasn’t willing to risk having to claw her way out of the depths of the void if they attempted more hostile actions.
Catherine opened the glass cover on the first bulletin board outside the nearest building off Brakket campus. She carefully pinned the sheet of paper up with four thumb tacks exactly on the designated points.
Messing that up would just bring more ire from her employer. And not the good kind.
With the paper firmly in place, Catherine double checked that she hadn’t damaged the paper in any sort of excessive manner. Nodding to herself, she pressed her palm up against the paper. She was sure to keep her sharp fingernails from scratching or puncturing the thin paper.
A light push of her magic charged the intricate runic array printed on the backside.
Catherine gave a vicious grin as she slammed the glass cover shut. Sadly the stack of notices did not seem to decrease in the slightest with only one missing. A hundred left to go.
She ignored the flapping of her dress as she walked to the next bulletin board.
Now she just had to survive the rest of the distribution. Hopefully, the nuns would be too busy with the aftermath of the previous night to notice her.
At least that problem would be taken care of soon.
Chapter 018
Zoe Baxter had been feeling off-balance the entire day. There was a weight in her pocket unlike anything she’d felt before. It didn’t hold back her movements or tear through the threads holding her pocket together. For all she knew, the weight was nothing but her imagination.
Symbolic, most likely.
Cursed metal, otherwise.
When she first put the ring on in the presence of Ylva, it shrunk down and latched onto her finger. She nearly went into a panic. It took a lot of self-control not to pull out her dagger and chop off her own finger. It was only because Zoe had the presence of mind to simply try pulling the ring off that she still retained ten fingers.
It stretched to its full size and could be pulled off easily. She left it on until the moment she left Juliana behind in the cell house. After that, Zoe tore it off and dropped it in her pocket, much to Eva’s amusement.
Since then, Zoe kept it in her pocket. If it actually offered protection, especially against the current troubles plaguing Brakket Academy, it was too useful to leave in a desk or throw away. It could help should students find themselves in trouble, though she doubted it would work with anyone else given her name was engraved on it.
Wearing it and standing between her students and threats would have to suffice.
At least, that was how Zoe justified carrying it around and how she justified allowing Juliana to wear hers. Juliana at least wore several other rings, mostly to use their metal in the case of an emergency, so one extra ring seemed to have gone by unnoticed by the students and staff thus far.
She had no such justifications for experimenting with the metal. The fascinating properties had her mind whirling every time she thought about it.
Aside from the obvious weight discrepancy, it acted almost like a focus. Magic could be channeled into the ring. If it went unused, the magic would simply vanish. Regular foci disperse excess magic into the environment. The void metal would be able to channel exceedingly dangerous spells with very low chances of either exploding or catastrophically dumping the magic.
Of course, it was only a ring and not a large one at that. The total capacity for holding magic at that size was severely limited. A full, proper focus made out of the material would be invaluable.
That was far from the strangest property of the metal.
“Professor Baxter?”
Zoe blinked. She glanced around the class until her eyes came to rest on the speaker.
“Yes? Mr. Harrison?”
“You were telling us about magic numbers.”
Zoe nodded. “So I was. I fear I’ve been distracted today.” She glanced at the clock hanging in the back of the room. “Only three minutes left of class. Remember your essays on theoretical alternate types of foci are due on Monday and have a good weekend. You’re dismissed.”
The students gathered up their belongings. Half of them were already packed and ready to go, waiting on the edge of their seats. Those ones were out the door the second the words were out of her mouth.
Others, the more respectful students, politely cleared their desks. They lingered, talking with their friends or simply enjoying the time. Soon enough they filed out as well.
One seat was never pushed away from its desk. Its occupant hadn’t shown up for class. It was doubtful Susie would be back any time soon, if at all. The burns she suffered were treatable. The elves were known for their potion brewing skills; they had access to materials that they worked hard to keep out of everyone else’s hands.