I stifle a shudder. Her joke is too close to home.
Naomi stops laughing and peers at me. “Are you alright, Theo? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Giving myself a shake, I try to play it off. “Just got distraught by the idea of tortured kitty-cats, don’t mind me.”
“Wah, yeah. It’s agreed then, no animals for the lovebirds.” An alarm goes off on Naomi’s fancy watch. “Shit, gotta go. See you around, Wilson. Keep safe.”
I give her a salute, then close and lock the door behind her.
—Ludo…how’s everything in Defectivum?—
—Quiet. The girl is still asleep. Duncan Links entertained her with his game machine last night…she…—
—She what, Lu?—
—She giggled—
Wow. That’s huge.
—And our other plans?—
—I’m ready whenever the dog gets here—
Good.
Finally, some things are going right.
Like the dean.
I’m truly stunned that Crankshawe is on our side—and that she knew my mum.
Added to that, my mum had been a student at a magic academy?
Why had she never told me?
I guess I’ll never know.
There’s no point worrying about the past. There’s enough to worry about in the future.
i.e. Tomorrow when River takes the girl to safety, Gods willing.
My stomach is a knot of lead thinking about it.
A hot shower helps.
Then I use an air-spell to finger-blast (as Donovan calls it) my hair.
Getting dressed into the Elite uniform is a whole different ballgame to the sweaty, scratchy, brown polyester nightmare of Defectivum. This fabric is a heavy, weighted silk-wool blend in midnight blue, and my white blouse feels like the softest caress.
Sliding into the tailored blazer, I can’t help but admire the way it makes my small frame look sophisticated.
Then there are the boots.
No clumpy Mary-Jane’s for Electus girls. Oh no.
These are designer leather ankle boots with a sharp, tapered toe and a kitten heel that makes even my stride sound confident when I walk across the tiled floors.
I look nothing like Theo Wilson who delivered sandwiches and occupied Aunt Nancy’s spare room.
