NOVEL NEXT B2. Chapter 19: Between Blood Contracts and Borrowed Pajamas
Cordelia led Mo through corridors she'd never seen before, up a staircase that definitely hadn't existed yesterday. The Academy's architecture was fluid at the best of times, but this felt deliberate—like the building itself was creating privacy.
"Wait," Mo said, still catching her breath from the event's intensity. "Aren't they about to announce the results? The scoring?"
Cordelia waved a dismissive hand without breaking stride. "Oh, please. As if watching numbers appear on a board matters more than what I'm about to show you. You shouldn't worry about such petty things."
"Petty? It's the Tournament rankings!"
"There are more important things in life than academic validation, darling. Besides, your performance was adequate. The scores will still be there in an hour… and even later."
Mo hurried to keep up.
"That was either very stupid or very clever," Cordelia said once they were alone, "what you did with the blood contract."
"It was brilliant," Mo corrected, feeling defensive. "I technically used violence—drew blood from both leaders. That should protect my Ball points."
Cordelia's expression suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. "Perhaps. It wouldn't be the first time judging depended on technicalities, but they love crushing upstarts even more. We'll see if they accept your... creative interpretation."
"How confident are you about your own standing?" Mo asked. "You seemed pretty relaxed with the outcome of your real."
"Surgical precision is a dragon specialty." Cordelia shrugged. "As for standings? Who cares? The rankings shift like sand in an hourglass."
"But surely you have experience from previous years? Patterns to watch for?"
Cordelia laughed—a sound like crystal breaking underwater. "Previous years? The Tournament reinvents itself every time. New scoring systems, different task structures, creative interpretations of 'villainy.' Three years ago, someone won by organizing a charity auction where a couple of students from minor Houses were sold off in perpetual. The year before that, the winner literally set fire to the scoring board and declared themselves victor by default. They were a dragon, I should mention. It may have affected the final decision." She paused at an ornate door Mo didn't recognize. "The only consistent rule is that there are no consistent rules. Which is why I'm doing this."
She pushed the door open to reveal a suite that made Mo's jaw drop. Not because it was opulent—though it was—but because it felt right. The sitting room had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Academy grounds, but also somehow showing glimpses of other realms—Blackthorn Keep, Earth's Bath where her bookshop waited, even what might have been dragon territories shifting between volcanic peaks and underwater cities. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with texts in languages Mo recognized and many she didn't.
In one corner stood a coffee station that would have made her old café jealous—not Earth machinery, but something far more elegant. Crystal decanters held beans that shifted color based on desired roast, while a silver apparatus hummed with contained fire magic, ready to brew perfect cups through pure thermal manipulation. The milk frother appeared to be a trapped wind sprite in an ornate bottle, and the sugar bowl's contents rearranged themselves into different varieties based on proximity alone.
"The Academy's Premier Guest Suite," Cordelia announced. "Reserved for visiting dignitaries of the highest order. Dragons, primarily. The occasional arch-demon. Never students."
"I can't…"
"You can and you will." Cordelia's smile turned predatory. "My diplomatic status has some perks. So, I was able to do this. For exactly one night."
"But what's wrong with me staying at my dorm? Is there something I need to know about the Tournament?"
Cordelia looked at her as if she was entertaining a child. Which probably was exactly what was happening, considering their difference in age.
"Ah..." Mo's heart skipped. "Emily."
"The good scholar has been maintaining such professional distance. Must be exhausting." Cordelia examined her nails with theatrical disinterest. "The suite has the strongest privacy wards in the Academy. Even the Council can't pierce them without cause."
"Why?" Mo asked. "What do you gain from this?"
Cordelia's expression shifted, becoming something almost genuine. "You're going to reshape our world whether you mean to or not. Most probably you'll affect all worlds, whether you want it or not. Something has happened during your task, hasn't it? You aren't the only one who has an ally asking the spectators, you know. Even if she may be the best suited person for observing that kind of magic." Cordelia made a pregnant pause. "I'm just making sure that my investment is safe. I think our small collaboration will help both me and my House to improve our standing. Think of it as... ensuring you remember who your friends were when you needed them."
"That's surprisingly honest."
"I have my moments. Don't spread it around." Cordelia headed for the door. "The suite is yours until dawn. After that, it reverts to standard guest quarters. Oh, and Mo? That shrouded Council member isn't the only one who noticed your success today. Be careful who you trust going forward."
She left, and Mo stood alone in the impossible suite, processing what had just happened. A space outside the Academy's usual rules. Privacy from everyone who might judge or interfere. One night where she could just... be.
***
Finding Emily proved easier than expected. The suite had multiple levels, but Mo discovered her promptly on a balcony that shouldn't have existed—one that overlooked Bath itself, not a magical projection but an actual view through dimensional space. The honey-colored Georgian buildings spread below in the afternoon light, real enough that Mo could smell rain on limestone.
Emily stood at the railing with her tablet and laptop arranged on a small table, the mundane Earth technology looking oddly at home next to the magical vista. But what caught Mo's attention were the System messages floating in organized columns around her—not the chaotic manifestations Mo had seen over other people's heads, but controlled displays that Emily seemed to be managing like a presentation.
TOURNAMENT TASK 1 ANALYSIS
Participant: Morgana Nightshade
System Resonance: 87% above baseline
Framework Integration: ACTIVE
"Mo!" Emily spun around, and her controlled professional demeanor cracked to reveal genuine excitement. "I couldn't wait to analyze what happened during your task. The data is incredible… That's the first time I see the System respond like that to anyone else's actions." She paused to look at Mo, a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth. "With you, however, it seems I should always be ready for surprises and novelties."
She perked up just a brief moment later, as if starting from a dream, regaining her professional attitude, and gestured at the floating text, which rearranged itself into charts and graphs. "Look at this… the moment you referenced those thirty-seven executions, the System's awareness spiked. And when you drew blood from both leaders? The magical contract didn't just seal in the simulation. It created resonance patterns that are still echoing through the Academy's dimensional barriers. I wouldn't be surprised if the real Ashworth domain would be affected."
Emily paused as if a sudden realization came to her mind. "There is a real Ashworth domain, isn't it? I forgot to check… But I think I felt the System spreading somewhere…"
"Emily…"
"I'm getting better at controlling the manifestations," Emily continued, practically vibrating with academic enthusiasm. "Instead of just spewing the messages like everyone on Earth did when I left, I can shape them, organize them, even hide the ones I don't want others to see. It's like having a mental interface that I can project selectively. Isn't that amazing?"
"Emily."
Something in Mo's voice made the researcher stop mid-sentence. The System displays flickered and faded as her focus shifted. She finally looked at Mo properly, and Mo saw exhaustion beneath the professional mask—three weeks of distance and intense work taking their toll, hidden behind the excitement of discovery.
"Cordelia organized this space for us," Mo said quietly. "It's very private. Would you... can we talk?"
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Emily's eyes widened slightly. "The Council and the faculty…"
"Supposedly can't monitor it. But we still should probably be careful."
"And what about your status?"
"It is already chaos." Mo stepped closer. "Maybe for the better, you know. But now… I just need... I need to not be the Dark Lady or the villainous student or the Tournament participant or the System's… whatever… for a few hours. I need to be Mo, and I was hoping... maybe you could just be Emily?"
The researcher was quiet for a long moment, golden light fading from her eyes as her magical skill disengaged. Then she smiled. Not the professional expression she'd worn for weeks, but something real.
***
They moved inside from the balcony, and Mo watched Emily explore the space—running her fingers along the spines of books written in demonic script, examining the wind sprite in its ornate bottle at the coffee station with scientific curiosity.
"Hi," Emily said softly, turning back to Mo after her brief exploration.
"Hi," Mo replied, and found herself laughing—nervous, relieved, overwhelmed. "This is ridiculous. We stabilized reality together back in Bath and I can't figure out what to say when we're alone."
"How about starting with the obvious?" Emily moved to the coffee station, and Mo watched golden light flicker in her eyes as her magical skill engaged automatically. "Oh, that's interesting—this entire apparatus has strands of magic reaching towards the System now. Tiny threads spreading through the reality, like capillaries carrying magical awareness."
She touched the crystal decanters, her expression shifting to wonder. "The Integration is reaching everything inanimate and everyone who didn't have magic before. The wind sprite in this bottle? It is still untouched." Emily shook her head, refocusing, and coaxed the apparatus to life. "Sorry, the researcher in me gets distracted. What I meant to say was—you were incredible today. The way you threw all their references to your own goblin revolt back in their faces..."
"I was terrified the entire time. That's not how I envisioned my life a year ago. Seven Hells, it's not how I envisioned it just a few months ago!"
"A year ago you were what—still running away from your inheritance and serving coffee to humans?"
"A year ago I was learning latte art and memorizing regular customers' orders. My biggest concern was whether we'd run out of oat milk during the morning rush or that I'd use magic spontaneously in front of a client." Mo accepted the cup Emily offered, inhaling the familiar comfort of perfectly brewed coffee. "Now I'm negotiating with dragons and trying not to accidentally break reality while completing my homework."
"That's what made it incredible. You were terrified and you did it anyway. That's real courage."
They settled on the couch, maintaining space between them that felt charged with possibility.
"Three weeks," Mo said. "Was it worth it? All that distancing?"
"Worth it?" Emily turned to face her fully. "Mo, I've been at Blackthorn Keep most of that time. I felt… With all these politics all these powers I am yet to begin to fathom… I needed time to… acclimate myself, if you know what I mean."
Mo shrugged and gestured for Emily to continue.
"But we both needed that time to establish ourselves separately, to prove this isn't just... proximity or crisis bonding. You were right about the fact that there's a power imbalance between us that goes both ways. And it's not like one negates the other. We have to figure out how to navigate that. "
She paused, fingers wrapping around her coffee cup. "But it was also hell. Getting reports about the Tournament preparations from Grimz, analyzing data that showed how much pressure you were under, not being able to even send a proper message of support without it looking like favoritism or manipulation."
"You offered comfort through your work. Every analysis that just happened to provide exactly what I needed to understand about the System." Mo set down her coffee, hands trembling slightly. "You were there even when you couldn't be there."
"Mo..." Emily started, then stopped. "We still should talk about the power dynamics. The age gap. The fact that you're technically my employer."
"We should," Mo agreed. "You're thirty-two. I'm nineteen. You work for my empire, and I'm a succubus who could theoretically influence anyone's emotions. These are real concerns."
"But?"
"But you're also the person who walked into an impossible situation and chose to help anyway. When you could have just continued working for the British government, you took a leap of faith and eyes me."
Emily snorted. "And missed once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become the Earth's first interdimensional researcher? No way!"
The outburst made Mo smile before her expression became serious once again. "You trusted my data when any reasonable scientist would have demanded more proof. You understood the System's patterns when I was still drowning in the implications. You make me feel grounded when everything else is chaos."
Emily was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "The System keeps showing me patterns I can't fully explain. Not just data flows or magical networks, but... connections between people that seem to matter on a fundamental level. We're linked somehow, beyond employment or circumstance."
"What kind of link?"
"I don't know exactly. But it's there in the data, consistent as gravity."
The space between them felt smaller now, though neither had moved.
Mo's succubus energy stirred beneath her skin, responding to Emily's proximity. She tamped it down immediately. "My powers—they respond to you. I need you to know that I keep them controlled. Always."
"I know." Emily's smile was soft but curious. "You had three weeks of exhaustion and stress where you could have let your guard down. But you didn't. You don't." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Though I have to admit, I've been reading everything I can find about succubi since the Integration. Your family's library at Blackthorn Keep has some fascinating texts, even if half of them seem to be propaganda and the other half read like someone was trying to marry supernatural erotica novels with government reports."
Mo felt heat rise to her cheeks. "You've been researching me?"
"Of course I have. I'm a scientist who discovered that demons are real and I'm working for one. I'd be terrible at my job if I didn't try to understand the context." Emily's expression grew more thoughtful. "Though the books are frustratingly vague about actual abilities. Lots of dramatic descriptions about 'irresistible allure' and 'emotional manipulation,' but very little concrete data about how succubus magic actually works."
"Most of those books were written by people who were under the influence of a succubus," Mo said. "Or by succubi who had good reasons to keep secrets."
"Which is why I'm curious." Emily leaned forward slightly, that scientific gleam returning to her eyes. "Your power—the rose-gold energy—it responds to emotion, right? But is it just influence, or is there more to it? The texts mention everything from dream-walking to life force absorption, but they can't all be accurate."
Mo found herself caught between embarrassment and fondness at Emily's academic approach to supernatural seduction. "I could grant you access to the restricted sections. But you really want to discuss my biological capabilities right now?"
"I want to understand you," Emily corrected. "All of you. Including the parts that make you careful around me, the parts you think I should fear."
"So, what do we do?"
"Right now? We stop overthinking." Emily shifted closer, close enough that Mo could feel her warmth. "We have one night of privacy. Tomorrow your Academy life continues, I'll have to return to your Keep. The world still needs saving, and the System—deciphering. But tonight... tonight can we just be two people who've been missing each other?"
Mo nodded, not trusting her voice.
Emily's hand found hers, and Mo's succubus powers responded without permission—rose-gold sparks dancing between their intertwined fingers.
"Sorry," Mo started to pull away, but Emily held on.
"Don't apologize for being yourself," Emily said, watching the light play across their joined hands. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful." The word hung between them, the smile held distance crackling apart like ice in hot water. "Tell me about the scenario. Not the strategy—tell me how it felt."
So Mo did. She talked about seeing a face so like Grimz's in the goblin leader, about the weight of knowing those thirty-seven deaths had really happened somewhere, about the moment she realized the System was watching and learning from every choice she made.
Emily listened, thumb tracing small circles on Mo's hand, offering comfort without words.
"The Council member from the Synthesis Collective," Mo said eventually, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. "I've been told they tracked my every move today. Like, unnaturally focused. I've never seen one of them before—they're the type who send representatives to send representatives. Showing up in person? That's like spotting a unicorn at a bus stop."
"Wait, the Synthesis Collective?" Emily set down her coffee sharply. "The ones who supposedly exist partially outside normal reality? I've only found three references to them in your archives, and two of those were just rumors about rumors."
She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I just did the same thing you did, didn't I? Representatives, rumors… I've been spending too much time thinking about you."
Mo smiled before returning to the topic. "Yes, that's them. Shadows under the hoods, whispers that come from multiple directions at once. The whole terrifying package."
Then, she halted, her mouth open.
"What?" Emily asked.
"This just reminded me of the night of the ritual. The Headmaster. Part of his shadowy body was consumed by the ritual. And I have reports that he reconstituted it quite promptly after that."
"You don't think he's somehow connected…?"
"No one knows much about him. And that sort of fits the profile."
Emily's eyes took on that golden tinge again as she processed this information. "If they're here personally... Mo, that's huge. From what little I've read, they only involve themselves when reality itself is at stake. Their interest in you specifically..." She paused, visibly working through possibilities. "I can only guess, but given what I've observed about your System connection, they must see something in your approach that matters to them. Your way of handling power, maybe. Or how the System responds to you differently than everyone else."
"Seems to be my specialty. We just need to figure out whether they are on my side or not. With me being the weird anomaly in everyone's calculations."
Emily laughed softly, the golden glow fading from her eyes. "One of many. Though 'weird anomaly' undersells it a bit. You're more like... a walking paradox that somehow works. Barista turned Dark Lady. Revolutionary who preserves stability. The person at the center of cosmic change who still makes time to worry about proper coffee preparation."
She paused, tilting her head with that particular expression she got when analyzing data. "Actually, now that I think about it, your coffee obsession might be the most consistent thing about you. Empires rise and fall, reality breaks, but Mo Nightshade will still judge you for using instant coffee."
"Instant coffee is a crime against taste buds," Mo protested.
"See?" Emily's grin widened. "The multiverse could be ending and you'd still take time to grind beans properly. It's oddly reassuring."
Without thinking, Emily reached out as if to brush a stray hair from Mo's face, then caught herself halfway. Her hand hovered for a moment, uncertainty flickering across her features before she redirected the gesture into straightening her own collar instead.
"Sorry, I…" Emily started.
"Don't," Mo said softly. "Don't apologize for wanting to... for almost..." She trailed off, not quite able to name what hung in the air between them.