Doors, dumpsters, and bins all forced her to push off of the wall. The alleys went on around until she reached the entertainment plaza outside the school. There were no alleys after that. Wide open space lay between her and the school.
Space filled with nuns.
She hadn’t been told explicitly–Nel never got told anything if Sister Cross could help it–the new dean of the school didn’t like the nuns wandering the grounds. That should help her, at the very least.
Now to get rid of those two.
Nel took a deep breath.
She pinged out Sister Mable’s death across the source, aimed at the Charon Chapter nuns.
Even at the distance she was at, she could see it work. The two nuns jumped from their slouched postures to being ramrod straight. They glanced at each other before standing. There was no hurry in their footsteps. No haste, nothing to betray that something was wrong to any watchers.
But they were agitated.
It was a dangerous move. If anyone knew her building had been attacked, it would be very suspicious that she didn’t relay the death sooner. Her only hope was that none knew. They would show up and find the body of Sister Mable. Nel wouldn’t be there, of course. They’d think she had been kidnapped or killed.
Hopefully killed. In either case, she should have a few days before Sister Cross could secure the release of her fetter from the vaults.
As the nuns left down the main street, Nel emerged from her alley. She didn’t want to pass between the dorms. Too many people could see her there.
Nel slogged through the mushy snow behind one of the dorms. There were still windows, but only the ground floor would be able to see her. Far fewer people than between the dorms.
It wasn’t pleasant. Her toes ached. That couldn’t be a good sign. If she could feel her toes ache over the pain in her wrist, eyes, or back, it must be bad.
She was so close.
The dorms left behind her. The school approached. Nel had wandered the halls enough while spying on the students to know where she needed to go.
The main lobby was deserted. A Saturday wouldn’t have students inside. There was no school. She might not find the help she sought.
Nel had to try.
The large open windows let the sun in while keeping out the cold.
It was glorious. There was a slight urge to raise her arms in praise of the warmth.
She couldn’t muster the effort.
The sofas near the entrance looked so inviting. So soft. Nel stumbled towards one. A brief rest.
No.
Nel tore herself away.
Using her glimpse to avoid any confrontation, Nel made her way though the school.
She found the classroom.
Nel threw her glimpse into the adjoining office.
Nel almost laughed. She might have, it was hard to tell. The teacher was inside. Grading papers or something, the vision didn’t hold out long enough to tell for sure. It didn’t matter.
She was inside.
Not wanting to be mistaken for an attacker, Nel shut off her connection. As her eyes ceased burning, the pain flooded over her. She clamped her jaw to avoid screaming.
Nel reached for the door.
The handle was locked. Nel hammered on the door. It didn’t come out as strong as she intended. She kept at it. Banging on it. Rattling the latch. She almost thought about kicking it before remembering her lack of shoes.
Forever passed before the door opened. The professor stood in the doorway. Her hair, cut from the chin to the nape of her neck, tossed behind the teacher as she dashed forward to catch Nel in her arms.
“H-Help me,” Nel’s voice croaked as she stuttered. Without her connection, she could feel the cold. It surrounded her. Enveloped her. Closed in on her. She had to get one more sentence out.
“Sister Cross is trying to kill me.”
Nel’s vision went dark.
Lynn’s Conclusion
Eva slumped over her desk. Basila lay curled up on top. Eva lightly prodded the sleeping sculpture, poking the side of its scaly head.
It didn’t seem to like that. Every now and again, it would snap at her finger. Some kind of mental conditioning kept it from biting hard or with its fangs. It ended up suckling around Eva’s spindly finger.
That only made Eva prod it more.
Her master didn’t have any useful advice about her eyes. He only said, “don’t take the first deal you hear,” and stalked off to his section of her prison.
Devon took his own advice very seriously, if his continued lack of an arm was any indication. He didn’t even ask Arachne. Maybe he was worried about what she’d ask for. It was more likely that he just didn’t want her odd claws.
