Dearborn cracked her neck again, hunched her shoulders, and drew in a deep rasp of a breath. Morrigan felt a familiar creeping horror, and even the adults in the room seemed to cringe away from the Mundane Scholar Mistress as she began to warp into her Arcane counterpart. It was like watching the wilting of a flower on fast forward. The gnarled, milky-eyed Murgatroyd emerged, brown teeth bared, and fixed her hollow gaze on Morrigan. “I told you,” rasped Murgatroyd. “She ought to have been in my school. Dearest Dulcie is correct. This is a failed experiment. But it is not the beastly girl who
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