Ticking of the Clock

"What do you hope to accomplish? How can learning to bend a man's mind help Magda to become pregnant?" Gregorov stalked over to the couch in his quarters and settled into a corner.

Loup trailed behind, trying to frame a plausible answer. None came. Everything sounded far-fetched or manipulative. Ignoring the unspoken invitation to sit with him on the couch, she slouched into the chair, eyes fixed on the floor as she continued to sort out answers.

"You should have told me what you had done. I would have been prepared for the Aurors. It was," Gregorov growled, "the very least you could have done."

"I didn't realize the spell would last that long. I needed to practice."

"And I thought you a professional."

Stung by the insult, Loup slumped lower in the chair and fixed her stare at a point in space. "I had to practice on someone. I know better than to assume I know how to work a new technique before I need to use it for a client."

"A client. Is Magda paying you for your services?" His voice changed from sarcastic to neutral. "You are doing this for money?"

"No," she began and then stopped. If he thought her that greedy, he might shrug it off. "I don't discuss my client arrangements with anyone."

Instead of responding, Gregorov stretched out, swinging his feet up onto the sofa. He closed his eyes and lolled his head back. "You do not need to lie to me. I know you well enough to know when you are not telling the truth or the entire truth. You do not lie well." Eyes still shut, he massaged his head. "In the future, should you deem it necessary to 'practice', let me know. I will be the one they question. If informed, then I will be prepared with an alibi or the spells to deaden the pain and shield my mind."

Loup twitched guiltily. He had taken the punishment for her and seemed to be more disappointed that she hadn't confided in him than that she had pursued the knowledge. "I'm sorry."

Gregorov stopped rubbing his forehead where a red bump had begun to swell. "Ah, well, then all is fine. You have said that you are sorry. A first." He folded his hands on his chest and looked at her, making his observation a pointed inventory from head to toes. "I am fond of you. You are my mate. I would not place you in such a position. I had thought you far more clever and more trustworthy. I am disappointed to find that I am wrong. I had hoped that we were more than what I see now."

Closing her eyes, Loup swore to herself. "Yuri, I don’t know what to say. She needed my help. I didn't know what else to do. I promised." She fought with the tumble of words that she wanted to say, needed to say. "I…" she swallowed and tried again, "Magda needs me to at least try. I can't go back on my promise."

"And there are no promises between us?" Gregorov swung his feet back to the floor and leaned against the arm of the couch. "No, there are none."

Before she could answer, he rose and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

In the hours before dinner, Loup waited for Gregorov to reappear and, when he stubbornly remained behind the closed door, she reluctantly pulled on her cloak and left. Closing the door behind her, she gathered the mass of black wool around her to cut the wind that could be heard whistling through the sagging door to the outside. As she passed the staff room, she glanced in to see if Magda was there. It seemed clear to her that other arrangements would have to be made. Gregorov had to be placated, some sort of gesture had to be made to convince him that she wouldn't endanger him again. There was no Magda. There was, however, Paul Wronski.

Wronski was slouched in his favorite chair, reading. Loup relaxed her grip on the cloak and decided to get a closer look at the object of Magda's obsession.

Against the dusty, dark-colored upholstery of the chair, the sandy blond hair seemed brighter than usual. Watery blue eyes behind a pair of reading glasses appeared as the newspaper slowly dropped.

Loup squinted at him, forgetting that he returned her stare. To her, Wronski was a study in average. He and she were of similar heights and size. Hardly handsome, not ugly, average. There was nothing that stood out physically. She knew he spoke at least three languages fluently and seemed knowledgeable in many topics, most of which she knew or cared nothing about. His expertise in all things magical was limited. Over the past several months, Rose Jones had been working to change that, but progress had slowed after the school year started. She cocked her head to one side, trying to understand what it was that attracted Magda.

"Do I have something on my face? The potions I had the class work on during the last two periods can leave a nasty purple stain." Wronski rubbed a hand over his jaw and looked up questioningly.

Loup shook her head and leaned forward as if checking something. A plot began to brew sluggishly, one that the little nagging voice in her mind suggested that she strongly ignore. "Maybe," she said and reached out a hand as if to rub a spot away.

"Can you get rid of it? You know Siegfried will give me no end of grief if there are purples spots on me." Wronski grinned up at her, looking far younger than his thirty-five years.

"Mmmm." She sounded distracted as if her attention were elsewhere and then rubbed a thumb along his forehead. She looked down in time to see his expression change slightly and caught the briefest scent of arousal. Disgusted, she concentrated her magic as she hissed, " Succombo Tui Mors."

Wronski's eyes glazed and his breathing slowed. Jaw slack, each exhalation sounded loud as Loup waved a hand in front of his face, checking for pupil reaction. It was too good of an opportunity to waste. With Wronski in a receptive state, she needed to work quickly to see if she truly understood what she was doing. But, what to do was the problem. Never the most creative of tale spinners, she hesitated as she searched for a thought to plant behind those vacant eyes.

"Paul, do you hear me?"

"Yes." The response was the barest of whispers. She had to bend close to catch the hiss of the 's'.

"Tell me about your day. What happened?" Loup winced at the question. She was certain it was too general, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

"Got up, taught, had lunch, taught, came back." Each word had the same stress and was said with an infuriating slowness.

Brow knitted in frustration, she drummed her fingers on the top of the chair, trying to figure out what to ask and then what to change. Inspiration was slow to strike. Damn Magda and her obsession with babies. Babies. Sex.

"Are you sleeping with anyone?"

"I sleep alone."

About to ask another question, it occurred to her that perhaps the question was too literal. "Are you having sex with anyone?"

"No."

A brief stab of pity was quickly stifled. "Do you have anyone in mind?" The question was stupid, but she was getting the hang of it.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"You."

Loup groaned aloud. "No. You do not want me." She stopped drumming her fingers and wondered if that took. "Who do you want to have sex with?"

Wronski stared blankly ahead, a slight frown of puzzlement furrowing his brow. "Mathilde von Damme."

With a shrug of non recognition, she guessed that was an improvement. "What color was the potion your class brewed last?"

"Purple."

"The color of the last potion your class brewed was green."

"Purple."

"Green."

"Potion was purple. The octopus ink makes it purple. It reacts with," Wronski intoned, ready to lecture.

"No! It was green!" Loup insisted.

"Strongly held knowledge is difficult to alter," de Rais mentioned casually as he walked past them. "Your voice carries. Perhaps it is time to end your practice. Still, I found it interesting that his choice of sexual interest could be swayed that easily."

"How long have you been there?" Loup looked around the room as if searching for other hidden observers.

De Rais smiled thinly and took the chair next to Wronski. "He is in a deeper state than is needed. You place too much energy into your work. The emotions you seek to influence lie close to the surface."

Squatting in front of Wronski, she tried to look for any hints of how deeply he was under. "I haven't done this enough to know what the levels are. How can you tell? Isn't this how they're supposed to look? What are the clues?"

"This discipline requires subtlety and finesse. Casting the spell alone is not the object. You must understand the mind of your subject, in this case, Professor Wronski. While he is not as capable as you are in the Dark Arts, he is intelligent and far too old to be led with such childish questions regarding his sex life. Surely, you can create better criteria for your test?"

Ego stung again, she lurched to her feet. "I've read the texts I could find. It's not like I've ever done this sort of work before. I think that I've done well just to achieve this. Look, I can influence some things. I'd like to plant a memory to see if it holds."

"Ah. The color of the potion. Perhaps you should concentrate on something less well-understood by the professor."

"Such as?"

De Rais rested his elbows on the chair's arms and steepled his fingers. "If you chose to attempt this branch of the arts, then you must be able to fabricate the new memories for your subjects. Can you not create any other thoughts than the simple color of a potion?"

She steamed at his words, annoyed at the dig at her abilities and far angrier at the truths there. All power, no subtlety. Casting about for anything to work with, she spotted the newspaper now held loosely in Wronski's hands. The paper was an out-of-date USA Today European edition. Loup tugged it from his unresisting fingers and looked over the headlines. Seeing anything in English seemed odd after reading so much in German and French. She scanned the page, looking for something to use. When she saw an article about a Connecticut university, she knew she had found it. The article was about a proposed budget cut as well as new football field being built. Nodding to herself, she turned back to Wronski whose vacant face stared ahead.

"The university," she said, leaning forward until she was almost nose-to-nose, "this is where your mother works?"

"Yes."

"There was no budget for the football field. All the money is going to the chemistry department."

"Nnnnnnnn," Wronski sounded as if he were fighting the information.

De Rais shifted, rustling the long leather coat. Loup didn't have to look to know that he would soon begin adjusting the coat, a sign that she was wasting time and not getting the correct result. She glared over her shoulder at him. "What?"

"Perhaps you should tie the new memory to the actual text. What you have attempted, while entertaining in a pathetic way, is not sufficient to alter anything. Try again, but hurry. I foresee the arrival of the rest of the staff soon."

She folded the paper back so the article was balanced on his knees and then read the dry article out loud and substituted the information into the order she wanted. Glancing over at de Rais who had assumed a sphinx-like expression, she stood.

"Tell me about the university's budget." Loup ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the untidy mass out of her face.

Wronski blinked slowly, as if fighting with conflicting information, and then parroted back the new memory.

The room seemed brighter and warmer. Pleased she turned to face her mentor, allowing herself a smug look of victory.

De Rais sniffed slightly and looked towards the door. "Is this how you will leave him to be found by the others? How long will he remain in this state? Should you not wake him and then ask your question again?" He smoothed his coat silently and looked slantwise up at her. "The exercise is not yet complete."

"Exsuscitare," she said and then snapped her fingers in front of the trance-held Wronski. Wronski blinked slowly. Nothing else changed. "I don't understand. That was the end of the procedure that Kessler had." She slammed a fist onto the back of Wronski's chair. "Dammit! I should have known that he wouldn't have given me the right information!"

De Rais coughed quietly into his hand, alerting her to the sound of the outside door being pushed. The door swelled each winter from the snow. There would soon be the traditional push-clank sound of someone shoving their shoulder against it and then the scrape of the wood against the stone floor.

Panicking, Loup groaned and tried to cast the recall spell to search her mind for the exact information she had read. "This will take too long!" she moaned. "I'll have to move him out of sight."

"What do you excel at?"

The question spun her around to face de Rais. Hands under Wronski's arms, she was about to haul him upright. "Excel?" she repeated and then glanced nervously back at the door. The push-clank sound echoed in the hall. "My Mâitre received the most money for the work that required pure power and will. The work that needed my own energies generated most of his income the last year. Why?"

Shaking his head, de Rais rose from his chair and stepped over to stand between Wronski and the doorway. "Think, Loup. How did he achieve such a deep state? Why are you unable to rouse him from his stupor? Think."

Loup looked from him to Wronski and then froze as the door thudded open and Jones' chatter sounded as if she stood only inches away. "I put too much into it. You said as much." Leaning over Wronski again, she pressed the palm of her hand against his forehead and growled, "Exsuscitare!" Wronski jerked under her palm, spasming. Twitching convulsively, Wronski bucked forward and began to slide out of the chair. "Damn! Somnus!" The pale blue eyes bulged and then went dull as he fell into a deep sleep.

"Excessive," de Rais commented as he retrieved the fallen newspaper and placed it onto the sleeping man's lap. "Perhaps it would be wise to leave with me. I believe you have neglected your studies for far too long." Raising his voice to catch the attention of Jones who entered the staff room with Kessler in tow, de Rais deadpanned, "To truly influence the will, one must be the master of one's own." He dusted an imagined speck of dust off his sleeve and began to leave. "You have a great deal to learn yet. "

Hoping that no one noticed the stink of fear on her, Loup followed a step behind, trying to ignore Jones' irritated glance her way. As she turned the corner to follow de Rais, she could hear Jones trying to wake Wronski out of his very deep slumber.