Page 33 of Facade

“That explains a lot,” Clarke said as they reached the intersection where she would turn toward the dorms. “I’ll see you in the library tomorrow.”

“Count on it. Have a good night,” Russell said cheerfully.

Upon entering the common room, Clarke headed for her office first. She submitted the number of empty rooms in the dorm, as well as a count of portable cots and bunks in the storage room, to the Dean’s assistant.

Then she printed an announcement she had typed that morning. She posted the notice outlining the project she and Jace were working on to fix the rodent infestation in the basement. Donations of any kind would be appreciated. A signup sheet was directly below the notice for anyone interested in helping.

With that attended to, she made her rounds. After checking on the students, Clarke iced her knee again, which had begun to throb by midafternoon. Jace wanted to wait another day before meeting in the tunnel, to be on the safe side. As much as Clarke wanted to spend time alone with him, that was the smartest plan.

Her mind went back to Russell’s comments about the staff while she ate dinner. Clarke wondered if she and Jace should look more closely at the maintenance crew and groundskeepers. They might not have anything to do with her dad’s disappearance, but there were no other leads.

She decided to discuss it with Jace when they met in the tunnel. Clarke thought about trying to get another vision, but doubted she would able to concentrate with her knee aching the way it was. Mitch wasn’t just being a vengeful, petty ass for no reason. He was also slowing down her hunt for clues.

The next day, Clarke braced for a water-related attack as she got ready for work. Nothing happened. No geyser in the toilet, no ice on the floor. The faucets and showerhead worked the way they were supposed to.

That made two mornings in a row without an issue. Instead of being relieved, Clarke was anxious. It wasn’t like Mitch to leave her in peace. What was he planning now?

Clarke shook it off as she made her morning rounds of the dorm. The boys were all up and about, some making breakfast in the dorm kitchen, others heading for the cafeteria. Content that her charges were accounted for and behaving, Clarke finished her own breakfast, used the toilet, and grabbed a banana for later before leaving her apartment.

Draping the strap of her messenger bag over one shoulder, Clarke exited the dorm from the front, and began the trek to the Humanities building. The bag was similar to carrying a purse, and therefore comforting in routine.

Her knee was a palette of blue and yellow splotches, but the swelling was down. Clarke still had some twinges, but wasn’t stiff. It was a beautiful day for a walk, warm but not hot, sunny with a few fluffy white clouds overhead.

Students chatted as they strolled through the quad. Clarke tried to appreciate the friendly atmosphere rather than focusing on the lack of clues. That would only lead to frustration.

She was walking past a large fountain featuring two leaping fish, when it suddenly malfunctioned. Streams of water shot out of the fishes mouths, not into the basin, but directly onto her head. Clarke frantically jerked the messenger bag away from her body, trying to prevent her laptop and phone from being drenched. In seconds, she was soaked from head to foot, with water dripping from her nose. `

It was strangely reassuring that Mitch was still up to his nasty tricks. Better the evil she knew than wondering what worse things might be in store. But now, she would be late for class, and might need to replace her phone and laptop. That motherfucker.

Two students that she guessed to be upperclassmen stared at her, then the fountain. Both were frowning as they walked toward her. A wand slid into the right hand of the brunette, and he waved it at her bag.

“That should protect your electronics,” the caster said.

“Thank you,” Clarke said sincerely. “I was worried about that.”

The other student said, “I’m an air elemental, Mr. Voudrie. With your permission?”

“Please, I’d rather not be late to class,” Clarke said.

A vortex of warm air swirled around her, sucking the water from her clothes, shoes, and hair. She had a moment of concern about the charm being affected, but the students weren’t looking at her differently, so it must still be working. She probably looked like she’d been through a hurricane, but that was minor.

“You’re somewhat disheveled now, but you are dry,” the elemental commented.

“It’s better than the alternative,” Clarke said. “Thank you both.”

“No problem. This was weird,” the caster said.

They were both still frowning, darting glances at the fountain, that was now behaving as though nothing had happened. The students were clearly suspicious of foul play, but didn’t voice it.

“Very,” Clarke agreed. “Have a good day.”

“You too, sir,” they said before turning in the direction they had come from.

Looking around, Clarke didn’t see Mitch. He had to be lurking nearby, out of sight. Mitch was getting bold, attacking her in the quad, with dozens of people to witness it.

Maybe he was confident in his hiding spot, thinking there would be no way to prove that he was the culprit. Mitch probably wanted to embarrass her publicly, and hoped that making her late to class would result in her being reprimanded. If so, Clarke was even more grateful that the caster and elemental had come to her aid, thwarting his plans.

Clarke whistled a cheerful tune as she again set off for the Humanities building. If, as she suspected, Mitch was watching, that should piss him off. Provoking him further might not be wise, but Clarke refused to be intimidated by his tactics, and take on the role of victim to his villain.