Quinn turned to her, looking somewhat more lucid than he had a moment earlier. “What? Do you think so?”
“I’m sure. Come on. This way.” She pulled his sleeve more urgently. “Listen, they’re going to come back any second and they’ll be furious.”
Still clutching her torn dress, Vera seized Quinn’s hand and pulled him along the dark edge of the building toward the back, away from Simeon and Sikes. Quinn half stumbled along beside her. “My spectacles!” he suddenly exclaimed. Vera swiveled, and for a desperate moment they both pawed at the ground in the darkness.
“Got them!” Vera gasped, scrambling to her feet again. She grabbed Quinn by the elbow and hauled him up. As they reached the back of the building, Vera fumbled in the pockets of the torn dress to retrieve a key and then, with shaking fingers, unlocked the nondescript door at the rear of Langford Hall. They slid through the open door, and Vera shut it, locking it again from the inside, before leaning back against it with relief.
“We’re safe here,” she said, panting slightly from the exertion.
Quinn stood stooped over, his hands on his knees. Now he stood up, sweeping his hair back with a trembling hand.
Vera stared at him and her eyes grew wide. “Why, you’re only a child.”
Quinn straightened himself up. Now, finally, I could see him without the spectacles that had altered his appearance. The hidden features were not what I’d expected: a soft, rounded face; smooth, faintly Spanish skin; no mustache or beard to speak of. He did look very young. “May I have those back?” he asked quietly. He seemed much less drunk now, as though the shock of having cast fire upon two men had somehow jolted him into sobriety.
“Of course.” Vera handed the spectacles back with alacrity. “I didn’t mean…How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?” Quinn took the spectacles without comment. He tucked them into the outer pocket of his jacket, and his face once more took on its former aspect. “I don’t mean to pry,” Vera went on carefully, “but surely you’re too young to enroll?”
Quinn took a deep breath; he still looked rather unwell after all. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone.”
“I won’t,” Vera said, reaching out impulsively to squeeze his arm in a friendly, maternal manner. “Your secret is safe with me. There’s nothing to be ashamed of—on the contrary. You must be very talented to manage enchantment at such a young age.”
“All I did was vomit on their shoes.” Quinn looked doubtful.
Vera laughed. “You know that’s not what I mean. The flames. Wait…” Her eyes narrowed. “Was that false fire?”
Quinn shrugged. “I really don’t know. I was trying tocleantheir pants, not set them alight.”
Still smiling, Vera shook her head. “True flames or false, neither is easy to conjure. Are you already in second year?”
“This is my first semester.”
“You astound me.”
Quinn grinned, not with his usual buoyancy, but with a more subdued air of sincerity. “It’s nothing so remarkable. I’m just very fond of studying.”
“Well, I’m in your debt,” Vera said softly. “I was in real trouble.” She looked down at her torn gown.
“Your dress!” Quinn exclaimed, as if seeing it for the first time. “What happened?”
Vera looked at him with something between pity and amusement. “Never mind. You need only know that you arrived just in time, and I’m grateful. Can I ask your name?”
“Call me Clem,” he said, giving a small bow.
“Clem, I’m Vera.”
“Vera,” he said, looking around, “where are we?”
“Oh—it’s the servants’ entrance. I work in the kitchens now, but I used to clean the dormitories and I still have a key. Comes in handy.” She smiled.
“I see.” Quinn looked up the narrow stairway and then back at Vera. “I’m sorry about your dress. We must find a way to get you home.”
Vera winked. “I’ve got the solution to that.” She passed Quinn and walked along the short corridor toward a door at the end. “As for the gown…” she sighed. “Well, it will beexpensive, but I’ll find someone who can mend it. It cost me a week’s wages; I’m not going to throw it away.” Vera opened the short door at the end of the corridor and revealed a storage closet full of cleaning supplies: mops, brooms, rags, buckets, and brushes. “Spare uniforms!” she announced, taking a shapeless, tan-colored garment off a wooden peg. “Would you?” She handed Quinn the torn dress and slipped into the tan uniform, buttoning it up the front. “Now just an apron and I’ll become invisible,” she said. She tied the apron neatly and took off the pearl choker and diadem, slipping them into a pocket. “See? I can do some magic as well.” She smiled.
Quinn smiled back. “I see what you mean. You do look quite different.”
“That’s how you can be sure your secret is safe with me. I rely on disguises, too.”
“So you do,” Quinn said thoughtfully.
