Skylar contemplated his chances of murdering his boss. Though appearing like a graceful lady, this creature was anything but. Magic wouldn’t work as a weapon. It would need to be something physical. Just his luck that the opponent had inhuman reflexes. Might even enjoy the beating.
While he folded his arms, Skylar glared at the frail-looking woman. “Don’t you have work to do? Or some sort of orientation for Sydney?”
“Want to be rid of her? Thank goodness. I was starting to get jealous.” Those eyes then focused on Sydney. Their intensity often froze the unprepared. “Nothing personal, my dear. I dislike either gender approaching Skylar.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Sydney. She must have taken that as an excuse to step away even further. Maybe the student was smarter than Skylar thought. “I will do my utmost best to avoid that,” she added.
Another man materialized next to the ‘maid.’ Skylar didn’t bite back his groan. Michael finally arrived. Though fortune was just a fallacy, he suspected it relished torture. Not only running into one rascal, but the unfettered fox too.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over-” Michael paused when he grasped the situation. “Brought down by a first-year student? No, an uninitiated one? How pathetic. I had my doubts, but this more than confirms them. Are you sure that you should be a teacher? Maybe a student instead?”
Rising to the challenge, Skylar peeled his mouth into a grimace. “Willing to be my teacher?”
Michael tilted his heads towards the miscreant. “Willing to take care of this?”
Skylar snorted. “I’d rather be stuck with paperwork. Both are never-ending but I can at least legally set one on fire.”
“Oh!” squeaked the object of their discussion. “To be burned by your love. You know, even if you do it, I’m still completely and utterly dedicated to your well-being, right, Sky?”
Skylar side-stepped the maid’s launch. He had no interest in playing games, least of all today.
“Do stop fooling around, Director,” replied the bespectacled fox. “You have a meeting with the mayor. In approximately thirty minutes.”
Dodging the attempt at skin-to-skin contact, Skylar stepped behind his meat shield. Michael. The bastard might only care about his job, yet no one else could convince the Director to complete the day’s duties. Though Skylar rejected the urge to clutch Michael’s shirt, he couldn’t help adding, “For once, Michael is making himself useful.”
Michael stared down at him. Skylar didn’t care if his actions made him look pathetic. Survival always outweighed personal dignity. “As opposed to you, who never are,” came the harsh retort.
He didn’t need to add any longer. It echoed from the trail of his words. Skylar tasted the bitterness of his failure. The only thing worse was death.
“If I leave, then who will take care of Ms. Histocry? If you will whisk me off to some obscure meeting, Sky will just bully her.” Raising a finger in admonition, a mask of apprehension settled on the Director’s face. “Especially since you think she doesn’t deserve to be here. Sky, you’re just too merciless.”
“I won’t go out of my way to bully her. Just so long as I don’t see her in the hall.”
Sydney glanced between them. “Wait. Back up.” Confusion highlighted her brow. “You’re the Director? I heard-”
“That the Director was a weirdo? A perfect example of what not to be like?” finished Skylar. Those were among the most mellow of the bunches growing on the grapevine. He wasn’t even counting this new one.
Though Lahl and Skylar were old friends, this was the first time he had ever seen Lahl in such an outfit. He didn’t know what caused the transition into cross-dresser. Nor did he want to. It could be something as simple as wanting break the monopoly women held over ruffles. Or something far more complex.
“I’m starting to feel hurt, delightful Sky. Unless this is your new way of expressing love. If so, I whole-heartedly agree. As for your question, I am the 39th Director.”
“That the Director was male,” Sydney finished, shaking her head. From the way her eyes warily roamed over the maid uniform, she questioned that last piece of information.
Finally showing a gleam of intelligence, thought Skylar. “Because this idiot is.”
“Yes, this idiot has no sense of propriety,” added Michael. The ebony glasses slipped down his nose as he massaged his brow. “Wanting to wear that hideous outfit to meetings. He tried to wear it to the opening ceremony.”
Skylar could imagine that little scene. Him on the podium in that? A maid as the Director? Who would want to attend a school where a maid headed the administration? With a wince, Skylar wished to escape his imagination.
“My, will wonders never cease? You two just agreed,” the Director exclaimed. He clapped his hands together. A French manicure. “What a momentous occasion. Besides, the mayor won’t mind.”
With a growing exhaustion, Skylar waved his arms and ordered, “Lahl, I hope you’re not planning on wearing that. Please tell me that you still have all your suits. Please tell me you’re not going in that. It’s a meeting with the mayor. Can’t you at least pretend you didn’t fix the race?” The day hadn’t even started and Skylar already wanted a nap.
Twirling about to showcase his uniform, Lahl batted his eyelashes. “Everything looks good on me. So what does it matter? I changed once today. I’m wearing it. Life is too short to allow people to decide what I wear.”
“You see?” scolded Michael. He gestured towards the bouncy Director with his clipboard. “You see what I’ve been dealing with? He was even worse while you were gone. Utterly insufferable. You think this is bad? You weren’t here for the tantrums. All that furniture. I didn’t expect to burn through a year’s funding in just a month.”
The untouchable subject matter. Only Michael would cross the line without worry.
Skylar closed his eyes against the wave of guilt. So he wouldn’t see the aching agony that would cross Lahl’s face. Cowardly, yet he still wanted to pretend that it didn’t exist. So much remorse and he didn’t have a solution. He didn’t like living without one.
He offered no explanation. Didn’t give a single comforting word or ask for forgiveness.
Lahl vocalized his suffering. His voice dropped from the high and flighty note to his normal, bass-deep tone. No one would mistake him as female upon hearing it. As familiar to Skylar as the grass was green. “A month. A whole month and not a shred of evidence anywhere. And when you returned, you refused to meet with anyone. Or even tell me what happened.”
No longer able to stand the anguish, Skylar opened his eyes. He saw Sydney’s awkward fidgeting but didn’t care. Since she didn’t know the circumstances between them, she was a stable force. Michael pretended to flip through a pocketbook.
Staring at everything else, Skylar said, “Change into something else.”
“No. And you can’t make me.”
With that, stubbornness replaced the searing pain.
Then Michael closed his book and tucked it back into his pocket. “But I can. I will not allow us to be late. My impeccable record is going to remain untarnished.”
“I promise to leave now, if you won’t make me wear a tie,” declared Lahl. “I want to match Sky.”
“Deal.”
Skylar slipped away from the two. Michael acquiesced so easily? He would never be so desensitized to danger that his internal compass would miss it. Whatever Michael had planned, Skylar did not want to know. Whether he schemed to take out the government, or change the meal plan, it was too dangerous to predict.
Lahl saw opportunity within the offer. “And I also want-”
“No. You gave your word. We are leaving now.”
Laughing, Lahl stepped towards Sydney. He gestured towards a plain bush. “Do you mind blooming a flower for me? I would love one in my lapel. Michael never lets me wear any color.”
“Of course, Director,” said Sydney.
Looking away, Skylar prayed that the resulting mess wouldn’t include him. The naïve child. If Lahl could arrange for a politician to get voted out, a teenager was less than clay putty.
Michael started for them. “What are you two whispering about? Get over here at once.”
“Never!” rebelled Lahl.
Skylar moaned, hoping to avoid becoming collateral damage. When Lahl hijacked someone’s magic, the consequences were countless.
Sydney’s jasper eyes widened at the sight of her magic spiraling out of her control. It drove into the dirt, vitalizing the roots with growth energy. Leaves sprouted like a fence. A mist of petals separated Lahl from them. His voice sifted through the debris as he escaped, “Don’t bully her, Sky. You’re a teacher. I want my students to learn from the absolute best. And in turn, the teachers remember what life is.”
“Not again,” sighed Michael, the frustration deepening his frown. Strolling into the mess, he brushed off the twigs that landed on him. It hardly had an effect as the bits pounded him.
“Learn from Skylar?” Sydney grimaced at the prospect.
With an indelicate snort, Skylar countered, “I’m always diligent. Even to half-brains.” His magic shielded him from the petals and spun them back towards the escapee. But the petals soon fell under Lahl’s influence and danced around him.
Laughing, Lahl turned his face back at them. Between his fingers glowed a teleportation sigil. He must have stolen another one from Michael. “Always. Just don’t forget that you belong to me. No falling in love with your students.” Then he vanished as the sigil activated and whisked him away.
The wind abruptly ceased and everything tumbled to the ground. A horrifying mess for the gardeners to address. Even with magic, it would take hours before the path became presentable again.
“Not even if the world hunted me and tied me down to an altar,” hollered Skylar. To emphasize his words, he lunged at Lahl’s fading shadow.
Michael reached the emptied spot first. Clicking his tongue, he ground the petals into a smear. “Don’t worry about that. If it came down to it, I’ll definitely help out. For all his abilities, even Lahl can’t marry a corpse.”
“There’s a third option! A third option,” growled Skylar.
Sydney agreed. “I can grow some thorns for your grave. Since you helped me ‘pass’ the final exam.”
Fiery mint pupils glared at the duo planning his funeral. They wanted to see him in pain? “I can lay you both horizontal before you take another breath.”
While rifling through his pockets, Michael plucked out a tracking and transportation sigil. “Which you won’t because you need to start running. You’ll be in violation of your contract if you’re late. I get to choose the punishment. Castration? Or maybe something even more fun.”
Skylar’s shudder wasn’t faked. Michael’s imagination in that area far exceeded his own. “Fine, I’ll head over to my class,” he sniffed. “Send one of your slaves over with Sydney’s schedule. I won’t be responsible for her tardiness. She better not be in my class.”
As he left, he heard Michael laugh and call out, “Better get used to filling your own paperwork. I don’t get disaster pay.”