“To find more in-depth information on simulacra and their creation, we will be opening our own books and turning to page three-seventy. Your homework will be finding a legendary object that interests you. You will then detail how you would create a simulacrum with the highest possible leach of ability. Keep this in mind as you read.”
With that, the light in her students eyes died. Their vacant expressions returned at the mere thought of homework and using their books.
They slowly complied and pulled out their books in the end.
Nel’s Bad Day
“Abomination receives treatment for hand maintenance,” Nel mumbled to herself as she typed out the words.
She had no idea what she actually saw, and she didn’t care. Nel doubted it was anything terrible based on the girl’s actions over the last four months. Whatever was going on there, she didn’t want to give any more reason for Sister Cross to think about replacing her.
“Besides, it might actually be treatment for her hands.” She didn’t type those words.
Nel moved back to her altar. At first she’d been worried. The girl was an abomination, but she was still a girl. A scraggly looking man with a disheveled goatee standing next to her set off alarm bells.
She’d only tuned in as they were all naked. The man quickly dressed, however. He walked up and started poking and prodding the abomination. It was only then that Nel had noticed the tubes connecting the abomination to the demon.
The man had left them lying in their chairs and walked over to one of the buildings. Nel followed him. He took out a gigantic binder and started writing.
Nel tried to read over his shoulder, but it was in some kind of code. At least, it wasn’t any of the twelve languages she knew. He returned to the room with the abomination, made a few more notes in a smaller notebook, and started disconnecting the tubes.
The demon and the abomination still slept there and the man returned to his building.
Nothing particularly interesting as far as Nel was concerned.
With a thought, the black strand flew off to one side and a brown strand took its place.
The little brown-haired girl sat alone in her room. Oddly for a Saturday, her blond friend was nowhere in sight.
Nel could have searched around for the friend, but that could take a while without a fetter.
The poor girl sat on her bed. She had her wand out, continually casting a spell over and over again. It was the usual routine for her.
If she–Shalise, if Nel remembered correctly–wasn’t hanging around with her friends or at school, she was practicing. Both the blond and the abomination helped her out when she practiced in their presence.
Nel smiled as she rooted for the girl. She’d pieced together what happened to her on Halloween; it was almost impossible not to figure it out when you watched the people involved all day every day. If Shalise could find happiness in becoming a warrior, good for her.
Learning her past brought up conflicting emotions in Nel. Most of her conflict lay with the abomination. She seemed to be a kind person. Nothing outside of what happened the night Nel first saw her hinted at anything. That was more revenge than anything else.
She even saved the daughter of Lynn Cross.
That was another thing she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to know about. There was no way she would survive beyond the end of this assignment. The leader of Charon Chapter having a daughter? Unthinkable.
Nel sighed as she swapped the two floating brown hairs. The short one moved into position as the long one hovered off to the side to join the long black hair and the demon’s leg.
As usual, Lynn Cross didn’t appear immediately. She didn’t appear at all. There wasn’t even a trail of light detailing the last fifteen minutes of her life.
Just darkness.
Nel rose from the altar, directing the fetters to their storage spots against one wall as she did so. There was no need to check up on the demon. She was right next to the abomination.
Not that the demon ever did anything interesting anyway. She sat almost perfectly still unless the abomination was around.
With a spring in her step, Nel moved into the bathroom.
Her new home had a bathroom attached to the master bedroom. She no longer had to round-up the guards to go take a shower. Being able to take one whenever the mood struck her might be the best part about Sister Cross’ failed murder attempt.
It was just another way to separate her from the rest of the nuns. Nel knew this. Nonstop baths made her not even care.
She pulled off her habit and left it crumpled on the floor.
Flipping the ceiling fan on–something that helped with both humidity and frankincense–Nel sat on the edge of the already filled bath. It made too much noise to fill often. Sister Cross would take away this one pleasure if she knew about it.
