They were having a barbeque for dinner. On a balcony overlooking the blue mountains in which Quolldron college was situated, two barbeque stations stood, each sparking with red flames that, according to Wayne, were eternal.
'We never switch the barbie off,' he added. 'Anyone can come and grab smoked aubergine or potato-ribs when they feel their stomach calling.'
Bagsy eyed the selection of goods roasting on the barbeque. There were colourful vegetables drizzled in a glossy dressing, steaming corn on the cob, toasted bread with garlic, tomato and basil on top, crispy bean burgers with spicy sauce and a pitcher of lemonade to wash it all down. Bagsy piled her plate high.
Wooden tables and benches filled up with the few people present at the school. Wattleseed and Kim settled next to Stery at one end whilst Wayne and Sheila sat opposite Bagsy and Mezrielda.
With loud thuds announcing his arrival, another man joined them. A hush fell over the table as the occupants turned to look at him.
He was short and wide, and looked as though someone had stacked an assortment of boxes on top of each other in the rough shape of a human and called it a day. He was white skinned and his face incredibly square, with a knife-sharp jaw line. His hair was wispy, grey and, unlike his protruding gut, receding.
He smiled at them all, further wrinkling his already wrinkled face, and revealing perfectly straight teeth. 'G'day,' he greeted them, taking a seat next to Stery, who was giving him an oddly disapproving glare. 'I'm Principle Diggles. Great to meet you all.'
'Principle Diggles, it's fantastic to meet you!' Wattleseed raised a glass. 'I'd like to thank you for the go ahead on the exchange programme with Hogwarts, and your support of the S.P.R.O.U.T. project. You've been an asset!'
'Oh, ho ho,' Diggles laughed, abashed. 'I can't take all the credit. Stery did a little something here and there, didn't you?'
Stery grumbled, looking down at his plate. Bagsy knew that look, she'd worn it many times herself. She got the sense Stery had done all of the work.
'Why don't I tell you about what I'm wearing?' Diggles said suddenly. Mezrielda choked on her drink in surprise at his wording.
Stery narrowed his eyes. 'I'm sure they'd rather just eat.'
'Nah,' Diggles scoffed, brushing his colleague off with a wave of his elderly hand. 'Look here, now.' He stood up and spun around. He was wearing a cloak that looked like it was made of many different individually stitched fabrics, each brown with white spots in an assortment of patterns. 'This is a traditional cloak the tribes used to wear!'
Stery crossed his arms and leant back, pointedly looking away from Principle Diggles.
Wayne shifted in his seat uncomfortably. 'Isn't it a little insensitive to wear that? Given, you know, where we are?'
Bagsy furrowed her brow in confusion. 'What do you mean?' she asked, but Diggles spoke before Wayne could respond.
'Not at all!' he insisted. 'Why, Stery here gave me permission to wear it. It was a gift from him.'
At that, Stery finally spoke up, though it was with a restrained and quiet voice. 'You told me if I didn't give it to you, you'd dock my pay.'
Diggles laughed, slapping Stery on the shoulder. 'You knew I was joking. Just fun between friends. It does look good on me though, doesn't it?'
Stery returned to silence.
Wayne leant over to Bagsy, his voice low so only she and Mezrielda would hear it. 'There's been a bit of tension here. The school's built on a site that used to be a home to an indigenous tribe of mages. Stery's been suggesting the school be moved to a more appropriate location so this site can be returned to them.'
'Indigenous tribe?' Bagsy echoed.
Wayne gave her a disapproving look. 'You don't think Australia was empty when the colonists arrived, do you?'
Bagsy felt even more puzzled, now. 'Colonists?'
Wayne paused, realising the problem.
Mezrielda said, 'She doesn't know much about history. The history professor at Hogwarts is terribly dull, and they don't cover important things like this in the course.'
Wayne took a moment to think. 'Basically, people came here a long time ago and decided it was their land, even though people already lived here. Now, the people that lived here first want their land back, but the people who now own the land don't wanna do that. Take Diggles, for instance.' Wayne gestured at Diggles, who's arm was slung over an annoyed looking Stery while he talked to Wattleseed and Kim. 'He says it's not his fault his ancestors took this land from the indigenous tribe that lived here, so he shouldn't have to return it, even though he's filthy rich and has his choice of other prominent locations.'
Bagsy looking at Diggles thoughtfully. 'He sounds like a bit of a git.' Mezrielda hummed her agreement.
Wayne let out a resigned sigh. 'He makes all the decisions, though, so there isn't much we can do about it, and this doesn't even begin to touch on the harder to spot, society-wide issues to do with it. There isn't enough time in the year for me to explain it fully.'
Wayne seemed to want to leave the topic there, so Bagsy didn't push it further.
Once the plates had been picked clean, and Diggles had finished talking animatedly about how he planned on expanding Quolldron college with an extra quidditch pitch and a second conservaterrarium, they headed to their rooms.
'Oh! Bagsy, Mezrielda,' Wattleseed called to them, hurrying over as they were beginning to descend the winding steps to the tiger's dormitory. 'Here is your schedule for the week. There's a lot to see and do, but I've also ensured you have some free time to look around on your own. Wayne said he would love to give you some insights on what it's like to be a student here and to live in Australia, so if you want to see some cool stuff you should speak to him.'
Stery, who was a few steps behind Wattleseed, gave them a polite bow. 'Also, I'll be seeing you first thing tomorrow for your induction into the cazza. You aren't allowed in there unsupervised until you've received one, so be sure not to miss it.'
Promising they wouldn't forget, Mezrielda and Bagsy hurried back to their beds, and settled in for the night.
'Try and put magic from your mind,' Bagsy offered lamely to Mezrielda as she squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush.
Mezrielda, now free from the distraction of the barbeque, was lying on her bed, having returned to her brooding. 'I'll try,' she muttered non-committally, pulling the thin sheet on the bed over herself and closing her eyes. She was still for only a few moments before throwing her arms and legs out, letting out a frustrated grunt.
'What's the matter?' Bagsy asked, half-way through brushing her teeth.
'It's not a coffin,' Mezrielda complained. 'And there are no curtains to pull closed, either. It's like sleeping in an open field.'
Bagsy, who couldn't imagine something worse than sleeping in an enclosed space, had to take a second to consider why this would be a problem. She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she put her toothbrush down next to the sink. 'What if I quickly attached some planks around the bed, so it was more like a coffin?'
Mezrielda propped herself up and shot a considering look her way. 'Wouldn't that be rather loud, and take a fair amount of time to execute?'
'Not really. I'm quite good with magic magnets, after all the things I've made with them, so it wouldn't take me long to attach some to some planks and calibrate them to the vertical surfaces on the side of the bed.'
Mezrielda considered it for a second, then shook her head. 'No, no. I'm being childish. I don't need walls around me, I'm just being silly, and I refuse to be silly.' Deciding that was that, Mezrielda turned over, facing away from Bagsy, and pulled the sheet up and over her head.
Accepting her friend's decision, Bagsy got into her own bed and slept.
The second day was a little cooler than the first, but the conservaterrarium was stiflingly humid. Assistant Principle Stery led them around the cazza, explaining what certain signs meant in terms of danger and lethality, what plants they were and weren't allowed to touch, and how to call for help in the case of an emergency.
Once he was done, Wattleseed appeared with three notebooks, one for each of them, and settled down. 'Look at the timetable I gave you,' he reminded them. 'Stery is going to give us a lecture now.'
Stery was a strict lecturer. He began by outlining his main rule – they weren't to interrupt him and, if they did, he'd have them cleaning out the waste bin for the cazza at the end.
For about an hour and a half, Stery told them about the variety of plants Australia housed, and their uses in potions. Apparently, Stery's thesis had been on the ability to replace potions ingredients from magical creatures with plant versions, which were easier to find, cheaper, and didn't require the capture and maiming of sentient beings.
Bagsy had to admit that if the potions storeroom back at Hogwarts was filled with plants and fungi instead of eyes and dead fish she would find it a more comfortable environment to work in.
Eagerly jotting down notes, Bagsy tried to memorise all the different trees native to Australia. There was the Gympie Gympie tree, which had tiny hooked hairs all along its branches and bark. Merely brushing past it would stick them in your skin, causing what Stery described as 'the most excruciating pain imaginable. Like being electrocuted and burnt with acid at the same time.' He had then proceeded to point upwards where, contained behind netting, he claimed was their own miniature Gympie Gympie tree.
When Wattleseed had leapt to his feet and moved excitedly in its direction, Stery had placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. 'It's not worth it,' he'd warned Wattleseed, who'd gazed longingly at the tree before giving up.
'Why must the things we love hurt us?' Wattleseed had moaned mournfully, to a sympathetic nod from Stery.
Next, there was the Strychnine tree, whose fruit contained seeds so deadly a single portion could kill you. Finally, there was the Kingslayer tree.
Stery pointed to the one they had, nestled at the back. It was a large tree with lots of hanging tendrils that were white and moved like ribbons. It looked a bit like a willow tree, Bagsy thought.
'This is perhaps the most dangerous tree of all. Wizards, witches, spellcasters, muggles and all manner of beings have been caught and forever trapped by them. Those tendrils?' Stery poked his wand at one of them. Instantly, they began to wrap around it, moving along the wand and towards his arm. Stery swished the wand free and took a step back, reactivating the shield around it that kept students from its branches. 'They'll slither all over you until they reach your mind. There, they'll overwhelm your own will and turn you into a mindless slave. At that point your fate is sealed; it'll keep you trapped under its control until its leaves have drained every ounce of energy from your body. No magic can reach into the lair claimed by the branches of a Kingslayer so no one can help you back out. If someone has an incredibly controlling personality they may be able to withstand it for a bit longer, but the result is the same, just more prolonged. Once it gets you, you can never be retrieved.'
Bagsy shuddered, moving away from the tree. She glanced down at her notes, where she'd made rough sketches of the Gympie Gympie tree and its hooks and the Strychnine tree. She wasn't sure if she wanted to try and depict the Kingslayer tree – even a drawing of it would look ominous now that she knew what it did.
'I'm teaching you about these three trees because it is believed that these three are the origin for something infamous amongst wizard kind,' Stery continued, leading them back to the centre of the conservaterrarium where they'd spent most of their time crouching or kneeling as they'd listened. 'Can anyone guess what?'
Wattleseed tilted his head in thought, as though he didn't already know the answer, which Bagsy was sure he did. Mezrielda seemed bored and was staring out of the massive windows composing the walls of the cazza, watching the horizon of the blue mountains as if plants were as boring as watching paint dry. Bagsy, on the other hand, was biting the tip of her quill and thinking hard. One tree killed you if you ate its fruit, another caused you excruciating pain if you brushed by it, and the final one controlled your mind as it stole your energy.
When no one said anything, Stery sat down opposite his three listeners. 'Have you ever heard of the unforgivable curses?' he asked, one hand fiddling with the three jewels on the end of his bushy beard. Bagsy shook her head but noticed that, very suddenly, Mezrielda was paying attention. Stery nodded at her. 'You look like you do, given your reaction.'
'Every decent spellcaster knows what they are,' said Mezrielda. Bagsy averted her eyes. She didn't know what they were.
Stery seemed to notice Bagsy recoiling. 'Just in case you need to jog your memory I'll go over them now. There are three unforgivable curses. One, the cruciatus curse, causes you great pain. Another, the imperius curse, controls your mind. Finally a third, the killing curse, rips a person's soul out of their body. A soul cannot exist without a casing and so it dies instantly. The spell cannot be countered.'
Bagsy perked up. 'Each of the three trees corresponds to one of the curses.'
'Indeed. It's believed that the trees use the same form of magic that each of the unforgivable curses uses. Some argue it's unrelated, but the similarities are hard to deny.'
Finishing off the lecture with a few notes on plants that had gone extinct, or were on the verge of extinction, Stery dismissed them.
The rest of the week went by very quickly. They spent most of their time learning about plants native to Australia; what kind of soil they liked, what environments they thrived in best or how rare they were. Bagsy enjoyed every second and had a jam-packed notebook as they approached their final day.
'What have you got in yours?' Bagsy had asked Mezrielda at one point, reaching out and slowly opening the cover. Mezrielda had slammed it shut, catching Bagsy's fingers in the process. 'Ow!' Bagsy had complained.
'Stay out of my business,' Mezrielda had snapped. When Bagsy had pouted at her for a minute straight, Mezrielda had drawn in a resigned breath and opened her note book.
She hadn't written a single thing about plants. Instead, the pages were filled with doodles of all the trees, flowers and shrubs, of the view through the windows of the cazza and, when Bagsy turned a page, even of Bagsy herself. When she'd got to that section, though, Mezrielda had snatched the book back and no amount of pouting and pleading had managed to convince her to return it.
'But they were really good drawings!' Bagsy had whined, but the red-faced Mezrielda was not to be convinced.
Most of their spare time had been dedicated to exploring Quolldron's library.
Wayne had crinkled his nose in distaste. 'All the natural wonders under the sun and you want to look at some dusty old books?'
They'd simply nodded in response.
Mezrielda's reasoning had seemed sound; if there was an organisation controlling what people could learn about the blood eyed beast, and that organisation existed in Britain, then somewhere outside of Britain may have what they wanted to find.
On the penultimate day of their trip, Bagsy slouched her shoulders and frowned. 'Is that it?' she asked, as Mezrielda presented her with a small article from a selection of archived records. They were sitting at a metal table in the middle of Quolldron college's library. Unlike the bookshelves in Hogwarts, the ones at Quolldron college liked to play games and move books around or sneak up behind you and shake dust over your head.
'I've spent all week searching,' Mezrielda shot back. 'This is all they have. I may have lost my knowledge of spells, but I still understanding library systems.'
'If you say so.' If Mezrielda couldn't find it, Bagsy trusted it didn't exist. At least, in terms of library records.
Mezrielda placed her finger on the paper, directing Bagsy's attention to it. 'There's nothing on what the beast may have consumed or what powers it may have gained, but there is something on her four apostles, and the great wizard decline and near extinction of 1804.'
Bagsy leant over the document in interest, scouring her eyes over every word.
Wanted by the British Government; the four apostles
1. The Ambassador for Worms
2. The Corvid Queen
3. The Fate Weaver
4. The Breathing Blight
These four powerful individuals are highly dangerous and learned in the art of hiding. They are known affiliates of the Blood Eyed Beast, who has been contained by The Ministry for Magic. They are wanted for the crime of partaking in the cause of the great wizard kind decline (and near extinction) in 1804 in Britain.
Little is known of the first, second and third apostles and how their powers function. However, there are numerous accounts to describe the impact of the Breathing Blight.
The Breathing Blight has the ability to inflict terminal illness within any being. Their plague spreads only from them and not from those they have infected. Whether the spread of their plague requires physical contact, proximity, or merely line of sight remains unknown. Proceed with extreme caution.
Bagsy paused as she finished the document. Her heart was racing, and her palms were shaking. This was the most information they'd had on the beast yet, but it also felt so unhelpful. The breathing blight, whoever that was, wasn't the blood eyed beast. 'It's not... amazing...'
Mezrielda pursed her lips and nodded her head in grim agreement. 'I'd certainly been hoping for better. Be this as it may, we still have the worms. When we return to Britain you can find one and speak to it, ask it what it recollects about the beast, whether it consumed a phoenix-borne, and anything helpful it may know.'
Accepting that this was the best plan they had left to them, Bagsy and Mezrielda returned the record to its place, giving up on Quolldron college's library.
Bagsy wasn't careless, though. She transcribed what they'd read into her notebook, just in case. Any information on the beast and her apostles could be useful, so there was no harm in having a version of it for future use.
Wayne had caught them on their way out. 'G'day. You finished with your boring reading yet? I've got something cool to show you.'
Bagsy fished out her timetable and glanced it over. They had a couple hours before the barbeque dinner. 'Yeah, we're done with the books.'
'Nice. Follow me.' Wayne turned on his heel. Mezrielda followed calmly, while Bagsy scrambled to keep up.
He led them passed the river that encircled Quolldron college, paying no attention to the hissing crocodiles that had Bagsy on edge. Soon, they were following a winding path up the steep slopes of the mountain.
'Where are we going?' Bagsy asked, as they crested a hill and began to walk down its other side.
Wayne was holding his wand in front of him, flicking it this way and that to softly push branches, leaves, and other vegetation out of their way. 'We're heading to the floating field.'
Looking ahead, Bagsy could see the mountain landscape flattening out into smaller hills and ditches ahead of them.
'And there it is!' Wayne announced happily, hopping off a ledge and down a short drop onto the floor below. 'I know it doesn't look like much but wait until I explain it.'
The land stretched out before them, red, orange and clay-grey, with bright green plants. What really caught Bagsy's attention was how the air was crammed full of floating platforms of a silver coloured substance. Some were as large and long as the Hogwarts train, and nearly as thick, while others where small and as thin as paper. They all moved around each other, flowing up and down and left and right in a mesmerising criss-cross pattern like fish in the ocean. Bagsy could imagine the movement being confusing, or overwhelming, even. The platforms were swift, and they tangled around each other in seemingly random ways. Yet, as she watched, her eyes found no difficulty in predicting exactly where the platforms would move. Without realising it, she was walking towards them, entranced.
Wayne held out his arm, holding her back. 'Steady there, mate,' he warned. 'This field is filled with floating blocks and boulders. Just because you can't see them won't make them hurt any less, even if it may look like just an empty field.'
Bagsy frowned up at him. 'What do you mean, you can't see them?'
Wayne, dropping his arm back to his side, gestured with the other one at the floating platforms. 'There are invisible walls and floors floating all around here.'
Bagsy turned back to the open area and at all the brilliantly silver-coloured platforms that glinted in the harsh sun. She could see them – could Wayne not?
Ignoring Wayne's warnings, Bagsy moved forward.
'Hey, wait!' cautioned Wayne. 'Let me go first. There's a trick to getting on one but it takes lots of time and learning to figure out where they are–' Wayne's voice cut off as Bagsy easily hopped onto one of the platforms and began ascending into the air.
She put her hands on her hips and smiled down at Wayne. 'Like this, you mean?'
Wayne's mouth hung open. 'But... but how? You didn't even feel for the vibrations or listen for their movements.'
'She didn't need to,' Mezrielda murmured, something like glumness on her face. She folded her arms and looked up at Bagsy. 'They're invisible to us but you can see them, can't you?'
Not picking up on the melancholy tinging the edges of her friend's voice, Bagsy nodded her head. 'In fact,' she said, a mad idea coming to her. 'Watch this!'
She leapt from one platform to the next, her eyes working a mile a minute, reading the movements and predicting the paths of the platforms. She hopped from one to another, ran along the edge of a third, and jumped clean over a block to land on the platform beyond.
Before she knew it, she was high in the sky, easily jumping from one silver surface to the next. Usually, heights made her stomach feel like mush, but up here, where she knew she could trust the platforms, and knew she wouldn't miss one or misjudge where it was shifting to, there wasn't the smallest tweak of fear in her gut. The field of floating platforms seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon and Bagsy felt as if they were all calling to her.
After a while of climbing, she lay down on a flat platform and looked up at the sun. Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes, simply feeling the moving substance below her. It felt alive against her skill. Turning one of her hands over, she pushed her palm into it, and felt it give a little. Whatever it was, it was soft and malleable. Able to change, able to adapt. Bagsy liked it more than she could describe. She wondered how long she could stay sunbathing up here before Wayne and Mezrielda would get worried.
She was landing on the idea of calling down to them that she wanted to stay here longer when something strange flew overhead, casting a shadow and blocking the glorious sun for a few moments.
Bagsy saw, with a raising of her eyebrows, a flying red tent. It was large, and hexagonal, with two flaps on either side beating like wings. Bagsy sat up in astonishment and watched as the tent flew to where Wayne and Mezrielda, now specks in the distance, were standing.
Getting up, Bagsy set off towards them, jumping and hopping and running until she was back on the ground. The tent had already landed by the time Bagsy re-joined Mezrielda and Wayne, tent pegs appearing from nowhere and securing it to the ground. Mezrielda was taking cautious steps beck, but Wayne seemed unperturbed.
'It's just the acting troupe,' he explained to Mezrielda. Bagsy walked over to them, standing behind the two. The tent was unfamiliar and even if Wayne didn't seem bothered, Bagsy was.
Its red colour towered over them, and the front flap of the tent was lined with golden embroidery. The whitest hand Bagsy had ever seen, as if it had been painted so, pulled the entrance material aside.
A man walked out, a grand smile on his face framed by a thick, bushy moustache. His eyebrows where thicker and bushier still and were sat below a flat cap perched neatly on his head. His hair was as strikingly red as his skin was white, and his eyes were two different colours; one green and one blue.
'My, my, what do we have here?' he greeted them in an accent that was American, like Kat's, but far more southern. 'Why, it seems we have some aspirin' actors and actresses ripe for discoverin'. How'd you do? Name's Philipupus, but you can call me Philip.'
Bagsy looked the man up and down. His striped shirt, braces, bow tie and sleeve garters were all a different garish colour that, up until this moment, Bagsy hadn't known existed. Only his black trousers seemed normal. Something was definitely fishy about this individual.
'Hello,' Wayne responded calmly. 'You're here for the auditions, aren't you?'
Philip smiled deeply. 'I ain't here for them, my young prodigy, I'll be the one who's running 'em.' He bowed as more people spilled out of the tent opening behind him. People in colourful garbs with pointed hats and shoes, and all wearing matching sleeve garters that where either red, white or gold, dipped their heads to them.
'Oh,' Wayne breathed. 'Well, then, do you need me to show you to the school?'
'No, no, not at all.' Philip waved his hand dismissively. 'I just stopped by for that young lass hiding behind y'all. Saw her up in the clouds. Looks something special, she does.'
Bagsy started, taking a step back and clasping her hands in front of her. She was certain Philip was talking about her.
Wayne glanced back at Bagsy and then at Philip. 'Huh?'
'See here, my friend,' Philip explained, pulling a book from his sleeve that was far too small to accommodate it. 'In collaboration with the Wizard Wireless, we're casting for Live Picture Production's brand-spanking new, wireless adaptation of Erwine Swampworth's Vampire Affairs.'
On the announcement of the title Philip held the book out in front of him and made jazz hands with the other for effect.
Mezrielda's fists clenched and her shoulders hunched. Looking at the back of her head Bagsy could easily envision the anger already forming on her friend's face. Unlike most spellcasters their age, Mezrielda was pointedly not a fan of Vampire Affairs.
'That lil' missy right there,' Philip continued, gesturing at where Bagsy was trying to shrink into the smallest size possible, 'would be simply divine in the main role.'
Bagsy's eyes widened in horror. 'Th-the...' she stammered. 'The main r-role?'
'Quite right,' Philip confirmed. He was eyeing her in a most odd way.
'B-but... I've never acted before. I don't know how!'
Philip scoffed, walking toward them. He was tall and lithe, as if someone had grabbed his head and toes and stretched him out. He moved past Mezrielda and Wayne, Mezrielda glaring harshly at him, and threw one of his long arms over Bagsy's shoulder, hunching down to her level. 'My darlin', you don't need to be good at acting, you just need to look the part.' He gestured at the gathered members of the acting troupe. 'We take care of the rest.'
Wishing this strange man would leave her alone and remove his arm from around her shoulder, Bagsy shied away from him. 'I'm okay, thank you,' she managed to mutter, turning her head down and trying to imagine Philip wasn't looming over her.
Releasing her at last, Philip removed his arm and straightened up. 'Well, I'm guessin' if you don't want to be a part of the production we can't make you. It's a shame, to be sure, but we've got a whole flock of schools to scout. I'm sure we'll find someone else who looks as much like the protagonist as you do.' With a wave, and a speed equalling the one they'd used to arrive, the acting troupe packed back into their tent and took off, flying into the sky.
Bagsy wrapped her arms around herself, suppressing a shudder. 'That was horrible,' she murmured. 'Can we go back to the college, please? I think I need a bath.'
Mezrielda shot her a sympathetic look. 'I hate him as well,' she added in a low, gritty tone. 'He's a creep.'
Bagsy nodded her agreement, feeling better that she wasn't the only one who thought so.
When they arrived back at Quolldron college, Bagsy's stomach sank.
Mezrielda sneered. 'You have got to be kidding me.'
The acting troupe's red tent was parked on one of the higher plateaus that composed the outside of Quolldron college.
Wayne glanced uncertainly down at them. 'We can give it a wide birth on our way to the tiger dormitory. Follow me.'
Keeping distance between themselves and the tent, staying as many levels below it as they could, they reached the waterfall that hid the tiger dorms.
Sheila rushed up to them. 'Wayno! Mate! They're here, they're here! I'm gonna be famous!'
'Woah, woah. Calm down. Are you talking about the acting troupe?'
'Am I talking about the acting troupe? Of course, I bloody am! It's only gonna be my big break!' Noticing Bagsy and Mezrielda, Sheila lowered her voice and led Wayne away.
Taking that as their opportunity to leave, Mezrielda and Bagsy headed for their room. Dinner would be soon and Bagsy wanted to at least shower before. She could still feel that man's hand on her shoulder and it grossed her out.
'Take your time,' Mezrielda offered as she moved to her own bed. 'Have a long bath, I'll be looking over the notes we took on the record from the library to see if we missed anything.'
'Thanks,' Bagsy said quietly, shuffling to the bathroom.